Soul hunters

1. Dark fog

A deafening scream echoes through the gleaming black room. The giant creature is waving some kind of weapon. It is pissed as hell, cursing and drooling as it stares into the eyes of another monster, a little smaller than it, but just as disturbing. The language they use to exchange curses and insults is ancient. It is reminiscent of that of the first visitors. I know it, so I can tell you what they say to each other.

I must first make a premise: although I will try to translate their phrases for the purpose of revelation, some terms will remain a mystery to you. Even if they are translated and explained, you will have to deal with them as you do with dreams or nightmares.

The larger being, the one that screams the loudest, I will call Uter. The other, smaller monster is Aros. The two clash for a purely commercial reason, a question of values. Uter accuses Aros of stealing half a cube of souls from him; Aros denies it. As they shout, the large primordial stone bracelets light up. A kind of aurora borealis is created in the room. Beyond the third universe, the most valuable thing is space-time. Hunters would go so far as to dematerialize entire worlds for a tiny ball of this glowing vapor. They are willing to go against the Creators, to go mad. Space-time is like a drug, addictive. The only bargaining chip to get it is souls. I also want to clarify the size aspect, Uter is about the size of a small planet, if we have to refer to the solar system, we are between Earth and Mars. However, you have to understand that matter is important to a certain extent, Uter, for example, manages to dematerialize. Screams reverberate in the huge black cube, finally Uter disappears, dissolves, Aros lets out a primal grunt, blows out of his nostrils like a bull, then, weapon in hand, slams into one of the walls. The cube opens and Aros stands on a shiny platform, kneels, touches the giant black mirror and disappears. Universes are like oceans to you: unknown. The strange and uncanny beings that inhabit their depths have been there for millions of years. Just as in the extreme regions of distant universes. You humans, your little planet, the solar system, is like a shell in a tiny rock in the Mariana Trench.

Florence, Luca sleeps peacefully in his little room. The heating is on, the window is open, the night is dark and deep. His slender arm, free from the sheets, instinctively seeks the cold floor. The light of the small night lamp dims until it goes out. There is only darkness in the room now. Under the bed, the darkness seems even thicker. His arm now touches the marble floor. Luke begins to breathe laboriously, moving his head jerkily from side to side. His face is locked in a grimace of pain. He tries to pull his arm into the sheet, but as in the dream, he cannot move it. He is stuck, paralyzed.

A dark mist begins to form around the slender limb, divided and penetrated by red veins. The bed is now enveloped in this gaseous ooze, Luke breathes hard, begins to drool from his mouth, then with an unnatural movement, arches his back, like someone doing a bridge in gymnastics. The mouth opens, too much, the face becomes just a mouth. Luca is unrecognizable. He vomits a fountain of bright white steam. A light in the darkness. The steam forms a vortex, darkness with red veins imprisons him, he disappears. Luke is lying in bed, his face is normal again, his body is intact, his eyes are closed, he seems to be sleeping, but he is dead. His soul has been ripped from him and life has followed.

Uter chuckles, the fur covering his taut body moves, pulls in and out, like the skin of a horse to ward off horseflies. He has huge hooves, and his posture resembles that of a devil painted in the Middle Ages. He has added a tiny cube to his belt, imprisoning a living, young, priceless soul. It is the last piece; he has completed his Gritt, a sort of Rubrick's cube overflowing with souls. He smiles with an ironic grin. Now he will cash in his orb, having sold the souls on the black market of Att. A place engulfed in flames, they call it the Dark Fire because it gives no light. There are no worlds in the known universes that are not threatened by the Hunters. The suffering they cause seasons their prey, making it tastier, fresher, more vibrant. I survived, my destiny was designed by the first creators, I am immune to the dark fog of the hunters, my name is Doom, and today I will kill Uter.