The dark gloom of the cathedral cleared up slightly, transforming the air pervading the entire space from one of ominous tenebrosity to one of simple gloom, a gloom that typically tagged along with melancholia.
The intricate and archaic designs of the cathedral were now visible, but no importance was placed on them currently, for at this very moment, two individuals took the spotlight–a red "spotlight."
The stain of blood and gore formed a somewhat circular stain on the floor of the cathedral as Zenith and Morgur stood at its very centre, pieces of flesh and clothes plastered all over their faces and bodies.
"Really, why would you do that to the poor child?" Zenith, although having nearly the same voice as Andrew, sounded and even looked different from Andrew. In both form and speech, they differed considerably.
Unlike Andrew's grey hair, which was borderline white and reached only his nape, and his pair of mercury-like irises, Zenith had pitch-black hair that reached past his waist and a pair of eyes absent of the white pigment of the sclera.
"Poor thing didn't really deserve this treatment," Zenith said while raising his hand to wipe away the filth from his face.
"You are not the Visionary nor Andrew… who are you?" Morgur tilted his head slightly as he asked, puzzled.
"I'm Zenith, of course. You definitely haven't heard of me, but fret not, young one, you'll definitely remember me soon," Zenith uttered in a carefree tone as he forcefully pulled himself downwards, ignoring Morgur's hold on his body.
"But my question still demands an answer." The initial darkness of the cathedral rushed back in swiftly. The darkness was even greater this time as the few light sources went off.
Morgur felt as if the darkness was alive as it gently caressed his skin. His eyes, which were already warped by him to perceive the world in the deepest darkness, were made ineffective.
"For what purpose did the girl have to die?" He heard the voice of the strange man drill into his skull.
"Was it for fun?" Morgur's flesh ruptured slightly, which he promptly closed up with his ability whilst he tried to perceive where the attacks were coming from.
"Was it simply because she was powerless?" Countless invisible needles pricked his skin and stabbed into his bones instantly.
"Who are you?" Morgur demanded in anger. At this moment, he was already shapeshifting into a metallic type of creature.
"I'm Zenith, of course." The darkness vanished and something darker was standing just a couple of steps away from Morgur.
There he stood, a towering individual of three metres, abysmal black eyes that had no white. His hulking body dwarfed Morgur by far. He now wore a black regal robe that swept the floor, his pitch-black hair now reached just past his nape, and his complexion was pale in a beautiful way.
He looked like he was carved out from the most perfect chunk of marble, a beautiful specimen that shared no features with Andrew. He had a strong, masculine jawline that was very prominent, his brows were dense but clean. His features were ones that spoke of royalty, the kind only spoken of in fairy tales. Beautiful, gorgeous, commanding, merciless, coldness–these were a few of the words that slightly described Zenith.
"What I sought was the Visionary." Morgur ignored the towering individual whose shadow eclipsed him and instead began walking away as he let his thoughts be heard.
"But you will do. Still, it's quite unfortunate it isn't him," Morgur mumbled to himself as his form began shifting again, from the metallic humanoid into a marble-like humanoid. This new form had red cracks running through its entire body like some sort of intricate design. His eyes glowed a reddish hue.
If anyone had seen Adrac's Primordial form back at Grede, they'd realize the clear similarities between these two individuals. Indeed, Morgur had modeled this new form after Adrac's Primordial corpse.
"I just have to beat the Visionary out of you. Fret not, you'll still be alive when I'm done with you." Morgur, finally some sizable distance away from Zenith, who stared expressionlessly, gave a fiendish smile that caused more red cracks to appear all over his face as his marble skin stretched and compressed to allow him to make an expression.
Morgur was over four metres in height. Although he was still a considerable distance away from the ceiling of the cathedral, his presence was still obviously felt, as his statuesque form that screamed of power was not something that could be ignored.
But all this presence and power vanished instantly when Zenith was gone from where he stood. Before Morgur could even conceive what was going on, he felt an insurmountable grip around his neck as something lifted him from the ground as if he was nothing.
"Do I look like I jest, boy? Do I look like an ocean of bliss and weakness to you? What is it about me that makes you such a daring, ignorant child?" Zenith pulled the four-metre-tall giant to his eye level. His black, abyssal gaze penetrated into the red of Morgur's eyes with emotions so chaotic that there existed no need to describe it.
Zenith was somehow taller despite having been estimated to only be three metres. His frame was also contradictory as he still remained larger than the giant form of Morgur.
"I ask you once again… why kill the poor child? What purpose does her macabre death serve?"
Morgur's neck fractured with a chorus of brittle snaps, innumerable cracks crawling across the flesh like a spiderweb on shattered glass. A dark, wine-red liquid seeped down in slow threads, yet not a drop dared stain Zenith's unmoving hand.
It does seem this isn't going to be easy. This individual's force is far beyond that of any Chosen. I can barely compete, yet there exists no hope of actually winning against such an insurmountable power. If I had to guess, I'd say this being is on par with the likes of Maliketh–a divine will that cannot be surmounted.
Morgur's nerves fired impulses at an impossible rate. His new body could bear the burden of such drastic anatomical redesign of his brain, allowing his perception and reasoning to remain, in a way, similar to the mundane patterns of the normal human mind.
But that was never the plan. The plan has never been to win. As long as you aren't the Visionary, I fear nothing, for what I have dictated shall come to pass. Morgur smiled inwardly as his body quickly shapeshifted into a slick, glistening goo that simply slipped through Zenith's supposed, insurmountable grip.
He re-formed at a distance, reshaping himself with dreadful grace into Andrew: long grey hair that caught the cathedral's dim light, mercury-bright eyes, a frame both tall and strangely delicate, a beauty that leaned toward the feminine. The mimicry was flawless, voice and all.
"For a greater purpose," he said, Andrew's own cadence spilling from a mouth that wasn't his. "Her death redeems a meaningless life. At least she died knowing she served something larger. I could have made it gentle… but I do so enjoy the impression it leaves on you."
The laugh that followed was Andrew's laugh–cold, unhurried, slicing through the cathedral's hush like a razor through cloth. Every note of that sound was Andrew, and yet a blasphemy Andrew could not forgive.
Zenith's form wavered as Andrew met the eyes of his perfect double. Hatred surged, raw and irrational, a bloodlust that scraped at the edges of his sanity.
"You imbecile! What did she ever do to you? She was a child, just a miserable child who had already endured the hell you forged! Was that not enough? Did you have to take her life? And in such a twisted manner? What are you? What the hell is wrong with you?!" His voice cracked, grief and fury colliding like blades.
All thoughts of Zenith bled away. There was only Mira, her body swelling grotesquely, time itself slowing, until she burst into a rain of blood and meat. That image alone remained.
"O Andrew, you wouldn't understand." Morgur chuckled, still wearing Andrew's stolen face, and stooped to pluck a strip of what might once have been flesh. He lifted it to his lips and chewed with deliberate relish.
Andrew's eyes widened, a chaos of rage and disbelief, as his twin savored the morsel.
"Very tender… sweet, as you'd expect from such a pretty girl." Blood darkened Morgur's smile.
He crouched again, selecting another wet fragment. Rising, he locked eyes with Andrew.
"Would you like a bite? I don't mind sharing."
Silence answered. It was thick, oppressive, almost physical.
Kill. Kill everything that breathes.
Lay carnage. Lay carnage upon all that lives.
Bring them ruination, for they begged for it.
Choose from among your cohort the one most fitting to embody your desire.
Erase him, Andrew. Torment him. Make him crave the sweet release called death. Let him long for an end, and when he does, strip that blessing from him.
I want to kill him so much it hurts. I don't know what to do to him. I don't know…
But one thing I know is anguish. I feel so much pain. I feel so much wrath. I feel so much hatred. I want release. I want him to yearn for death.
Still… silence.
"Do you know what it's like to feel something, to experience a force so powerful, so far beyond measure, that you simply become… empty? To not even know how to respond because it's too much? When the only viable option is to just… bring ruination?"
The strange brightness that had clung to Andrew vanished as the gloom of Zenith seeped back into the cathedral, saturating it in tenebrosity once more, before quickly receding to reveal the visage of Zenith.
The strange brightness that had hovered about Andrew guttered and died. Shadows flooded the cathedral as Zenith's darkness rolled outward, a tide of tenebrosity that swallowed the last glint of light, before drawing back, revealing once more the terrible visage of Zenith.
"The peak. The Zenith. That's what it is." Zenith took a step, and in the next instant was staring down at Morgur, who still wore Andrew's face, their foreheads separated by only a few inches.
At that moment, two other individuals appeared.
"The fuck is that?" the blonde shrieked in horror.
"Just activate your Nullification, damn it. What the hell are you blabbering about?!" the other, an absolutely stunning female in a windbreaker, barked as she yanked the blonde away from Zenith and Morgur. Her gaze never left Morgur, or perhaps Andrew.