A disembodied head with spider-like legs sprouting from its neck joined a horde of other fragments of what used to be men. Each piece independently crawled along. Downward, they went into the depths beneath the Great Tree of Hogar.
When two or more of these pieces met, they fused in places and at angles that would churn the stomachs of any mortal who saw it. A black goo glued an arm to a head, a hip to a neck, a leg to a shoulder. There was no rhyme nor reason to the assemblage.
Eventually, the gory fragments formed a cohesive mass of human remains. The mass collapsed under its own weight and plummeted into the depths, where it made impact with a pool of tar and sank into it.
A voice… no, not quite. Two voices failing to talk simultaneously, echoed in the darkness. "Welcome… home… my loves." The delay was just off enough to feel unbearable. "Come… to Daddy."
Black, leech-like masses of goo dragged themselves out of the pool of tar. The shells of human remains they used remained at the bottom of the tar pit. They crossed a stony floor silently, leaving smears of oily residue that smoked in their wake.
At the center of the chamber rose a throne whose construction defied reason. The chair itself was sculpted without hands, but by will alone. Stone impossibly twisted, pulled, and warped from the very floor upon which it stands. Faint hints of organic shapes lingered in the twisting, like grotesque spines and ribs.
Upon the throne sat the figure of a man. His silhouette suggested majesty, but his skin was fallow, his body emaciated. He seemed to sweat the very goo that crawled towards him. Each glob of goo was sucked into the man's form on contact, revitalizing him like a sponge.
A contented sigh escaped his lips.
The figure was —and wasn't— the God Killer, Kagunokon. Sixteen years ago, what remained of his physical form died alongside Kamoshami. His spirit sank into the depths of the Tree, where it latched itself to single drop of sap. For ten years, he spent every waking moment corrupting each trickle of sap that bled into the depths. And all that time was spent hiding from Kaniso's relentless investigation.
That was until he had harvested enough goo to wield his form against Kaniso.
Now, the body sitting in the throne was both Kagunokon's manifestation of will in the corrupted blood of the Tree, and all that remained of the physical form of Kaniso.
Sitting there, the God Killer did what he did best: he plotted, he schemed, and he was patient. While he was always conscious of each part of himself, no matter how far, every time a piece of himself returned, it refreshed his memory, as if he were reading an old journal.
As the memories of each glob of goo reintroduced themselves to his mind, he saw all the pieces fall into place. He would have to correct course immediately.
Kagunokon summoned Kaniso's spirit rings to use them himself.
"Stop!" The plea was weak and desperate. Somewhere in the husk of Kaniso's physical body, his spirit is trapped. This was by design.
"Dreamer,… you still… resist me? Your… endurance …is commendable."
"Just let me die already," he wheezed.
"You… know… I won't."
Kaniso's physical form was desiccated and frail, but his spirit rings were virtually pristine. After years of extensive experimentation on countless sprites, mortals, and Templars, Kagunokon learned the delicate art of spirit ring manipulation. At first, it was like a bear learning how to weave lace, but eventually he figured it out.
These rings, structures to which the entire Celestium depended, were immortal and immutable to everyone but him. They could crumble like sand in his grasp. He was cautious and patient in his pursuit of leveraging Kaniso's powers to his benefit.
The ring exclusive to the Avatar of Dreams was full of various glyphs, but Kagunokon knew them all by heart. He found the glyph for communicating via dreams and activated it.
High Priest Gaias was lying in a bed, recovering from being assaulted violently by Goji. He drifted in and out of consciousness.
While asleep, he heard a familiar voice.
"Gaias, my loyal servant, why have you failed me?" Kagunokon asked in a voice that mimicked Kamoshami.
"Forgive me, my Lord and Master. I am a weak old man. I was no match for that boy."
"I forgive you," Kagunokon feigned benevolence effortlessly. "But you must complete your task, or my kingdom will fall into ruin. There must be no Sunberry Children. Their blasphemous lies cannot be allowed to spread." He let the unspoken doom of failure linger in silence. "Do you still have the dagger I crafted for you?"
"I do, Master," the High Priest's voice was strained. He was desperate to please.
"Excellent. You must finish what you started. Fill that dagger with the powers those children stole from me. I will lend you my strength. We must not tolerate failure. You must do this."
Gaias woke with a start. He was completely healed. He felt that had been imbued with the strength of a man decades younger than he was.
On the floor around his bed lay the bodies of the four monks who failed to hold Tari down; their faces were frozen in an expression of terror and agony. Gaias shuddered to imagine their punishments for failure, but such sympathies were quickly quashed by the pride he felt at being his God's favorite. He didn't even consider that his newfound strength was harvested from their remains. He ignored the bodies of the failures Kagunokon punished.
He unwrapped a bundle of velvet cloths to reveal the serpentine dagger. The crystal in the cross-guard still contained the powers of the girls he murdered. Soon, his master would bestow all that was promised upon him. All that remained was Tari.
Kagunokon pulled away from the Dream and dispelled the ring he used. He quietly sat back in his throne and rested. Slime and ooze crawled in and out of his stationary form, forming a mocking semblance of muscle and sinew.
He opened his eyelids. The sockets underneath were vacant and hollow. With a squelching sound they were quickly filled with balls of ooze that pretended to be eyeballs. They changed color to mimic the black pupil, icy blue iris, and pure white sclera of Kaniso's eyes, the very same eyes that once occupied those very sockets. He could move them about like eyes. But these eyes were no more functional than those of a doll's. Kagunokon did not need them to see.
Soon after, the rest of his body filled with enough of the corrupted sap to allow him to rise up and stand. With the stiffness and inhuman motion of a marionette, he rose up from his throne and looked up.
Above him, a shimmering pool of black tar blocking a skylight began to shimmer with a white light that rapidly grew in intensity. Shiratakemaru, the Avatar of Victory, in the form of an anthropomorphic white tiger, ripped through the tar and launched himself into Kagunokon's lair. His very being glowed with bright light haloed in a ring of violet light as a testament of his continued connection to Yukito, the God of Courage.
He landed on the ground before Kagunokon, claws bared, breath ragged, and eyes ready for combat. Before him stood Kagunokon, in all his corruption, as the form of Kaniso, the Avatar that Shiratakemaru failed to protect six years ago.
Above them, the pool of tar closed itself again. Silence fell. They were sealed off from the outside world. Shiratakemaru's aura dimmed, its color lost its vibrancy. And in that moment, the Avatar of Victory retracted his claws, calmed his breathing, and bowed his head in reverence to the God Killer
"Your speed… continues… to impress,… my White… Tiger…." Kagunokon's false eyes beamed with false pride.
"Thank you, Master," Shiratakemaru respectfully replied. Six years ago, Shiratakemaru witnessed first hand what Kagunokon's powers were. The merciless brutality and effortless efficiency with which he dispatched Kaniso was so overwhelming that there was no room for doubt in his mind: this being will win. Kagunokon was going to be victorious with or without him. As the Avatar of Victory, it was his moral obligation to align with the inevitable winner.
"I… must thank you… for revealing the extent… of those Sunberry Girls'… potential." His phony ice blue eyes watched for his response.
"I live to serve.," No part of Shiratakemaru felt regret or remorse for betraying those girls to his master. It was inevitable. Victory required sacrifice.
"You continue… to play your part well… To them,… you are… a hero. None of them… even suspect you."
"Victory requires cunning, master."
"Indeed." A pause, those fake eyes regarding Shiratakemaru with intent. "That Okomikeruko… continues to be… a threat. I want him… turned."
"He will be difficult. As a fully established Avatar of the Goddess of Wisdom, there is little we can use as leverage."
"Find… the necessary… fulcrum. Perhaps… the elf."
"Kyou Denrei, the Templar. It shall be done."
Another pause.
"Something… bothers you. I will not have… doubts… in my ranks. Speak… your… mind…"
"Yes master. I wonder why you didn't just kill the boy. Why the rescue?"
Kagunokon sat back down upon his throne and stopped using Kaniso as a puppet. His singular voice emanated from the unmoving corpse. "That boy is part of a set," he began, "one male, one female. They both exist outside of the Celestium's Stewardship. I must destroy both at the same time, else this universe's 'hero' cycle will endlessly seek to thwart my designs. The perpetual reincarnation of these tethered souls must be broken."
"Who is the female, master?"
"I will discover her identity. She may not yet be born." He paused, and pondered the possibilities. "In the meantime, that boy is an empty vessel, capable of housing great power. I can make use of that power. With it I can accelerate my plans."
"You will let the boy complete a hero's quest to gain power and favor, just so you can use it against the very worlds that believed in him?"
Kagunokon was pleased that Shiratakemaru was so perceptive. "There is a reason your planet's lore refers to him as the Harbinger. I can allow his quest. In the meantime, I will continue to regather my strength. His failure will be unparalleled."
Another pause.
"I have a gift for you."
"Master?"
"My latest masterpiece. A shard of my pure essence perfectly sculpted into a seed. Once planted in the spirit of an Avatar, it will slowly sever their connection to their Deity. With the right push, they will feel forsaken, abandoned. They will join me.
"I have special plans for this shard. It won't work on the likes of Okomikeruko, he's too united, too many rings. A lesser Avatar, one that has not yet fully ascended, would be ideal. I know. One of Kaniso's sisters, Minori or Sumitsu. I'll leave the decision up to you."
"Yes, master." He accepted the shard carefully to avoid it going into himself.
"No…" A third voice weakly protested.
Shiratakemaru knew that voice. It belonged to the only soul he failed: Kaniso, the Avatar of Dreams. The corpse Kagunokon occupied spoke of its own volition. Some piece of him still lived.
"He's awake." Kagunokon mused. "Kaniso the Dreamer, don't you want company? Don't you want to see your sisters again?"
"Stay away from them." Kaniso's voice was thin and raspy, and he coughed when he spoke.
"Or else?" Kagunokon mocked. "You're in no position to be making threats, Dreamer. Your transformation into my Blue Dragon is nearly complete. One of your sisters will become my slave. The other, I shall use you to kill her. Go, my White Tiger, and choose."