'Did I fuck over the wrong guy in my past life?' Rue solemnly thought, laminating over Alex's response.
What had he done?
Like really, what did he do to deserve such punishment?
'Terminus? Huh?'
It left a bitter feeling when he thought of it.
Feeling heavy-hearted, Rue just didn't know what to do at this point.
He was royally pissed.
As Rue pondered over old recollections and conversations with his senior Inquisitors of the Church, Alex lay on the ground, his arms spread lazily by his sides and his mind turmoiled by fear, confusion, and extreme awkwardness.
Why is this guy so weird?
Alex couldn't help but sigh.
Out of boredom or curiosity, Alex began to eavesdrop on the man named Azaroth.
"Was it because I slaughtered that one settlement? I even let the children live, you snobby bastards."
Caressing his chin out of thought, Rue, having a spontaneous enlightenment, recalled a passing conversation he had once had with the Cardinal Bishop.
~~~
~~~
~~~
"Rue?" asked a man.
"Father?" came the younger, polite voice of a Rue not yet aware of the true horrors of the world after the veil of oblivion was lifted.
"Out of curiosity or in idle thought, have you ever pondered over the grievances of this world of ours?" came the deep, wise voice of a man clad in a set of orange-accented robes several sizes too large.
The aura excluded around the man left little to the imagination regarding his personality.
Leanette, nonchalant, charismatic, and a subtle contrasting apathetic coldness that superficially layered his exterior.
The man stood quietly, gazing from his study's window towards the distance, awaiting Rue's answer.
After a second, Rue realized that the question wasn't rhetorical but aimed towards himself.
"No, not really, I guess? I've just never cared," Rue answered truthfully.
"As expected," the bishop sighed.
Suddenly the bishop released his latent Will.
The world froze, and color filtered to grayish black.
After several seconds, a powerful golden light expelled from the Bishop and washed throughout his study.
The interior architectural grandeur of the Bishop's personal chambers wavered and contorted organically before disappearing from view as something incomprehensible plastered over.
Replacing the regal marble tile floor was a ground flattened into a plateau of weathered stone chipped from the passage of time. The sky crimsoned, and the surrounding structure spiraled into a style similar to the inner structure of a certain Roman coliseum.
The sun was vacated from this place.
In its absence, what bore was a vast bloodshot eye that nuzzled within the center of the sky.
Flaccid red veins spiderwebbed under the glistering surface of the membrane.
From the bloodshot eye came a never-ending shower of red rain, this was the fruit of its tears.
The rain never collected on the ground, and the ground never dampened from the red rain.
This new world remained the same—a constant monotony of Roman structure and crimson sky.
It felt so sterile.
Its tears, from whatever caused its distress, were essentially meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
This was the Bishop's manifested [Allitilary Projection].
Each corresponding part of this world's Will was indiscernible to the younger Rue.
Even his own Will lacked substance.
He felt mortal again?
He couldn't understand any of this.
His mind lacked the cognitive ability to explore the nature of this eldritch place.
As Rue marveled in twisted fascination, the Bishop suddenly pivoted himself, now facing Rue.
Rue's eyes widened.
The Inquisitor felt beyond shocked.
He had never seen the face of the cardinal Bishop, the very head of the Inquisition Department.
The Bishop's face, contrary to popular belief, was extremely youthful.
Actually? Youthful would be an understatement. The Bishop's face was similar to that of an adolescent, yet the dynamism held behind this façade of youth was the complexion of an ancient observer.
The man's eyes were a dull gray, absent of the light of hope or future.
Spread across his lower face was a picture-perfect smile; however, this smile lacked the feeling of substance—warmth—gained from a genuine one.
It was a smile that never met his eyes.
Meeting the Bishop's gaze, Rue began to feel a sharp nagging sensation take root within the Monoclinic in his brain.
His Initial began to quiver as a tremendous, intangible force pressed upon it.
The Monoclinic felt lacking somehow; his thoughts slowed, and his view on the world took on an apathetic hue.
What was my purpose? Rue internally monologued .
Watching the Inquisitor grovel, the Bishop sighed dreadfully.
With a flick of his wrist, the Bishop manifested a thin film that surrounded Rue's skin, protecting him from this world's parasitic roots.
Pheeeww!
Only a second had passed since the place's inception.
Rue released a deep breath after feeling the crushing weight of despair lift off his shoulders.
"Have you regained your clarity?" the Bishop asked.
Rue replied with a meek nod.
"Good job. Not many people are able to resist the trepidations that come with my perception of the world," the man said with a hearty laugh.
"Father… Where am I?" The inquisitor warily asked.
"Enough with the father this, father that mambo jumbo. It's annoying, and I'm sick of it," the Bishop snarled with a discontent expression. "However, to answer your question—we're in my world, of sorts," he mused with mirth.
Rue furrowed his brows.
"So, a World View?"
"Close, but not exactly," the Bishop corrected. "Can you feel it—that feeling of despair—that despair that insinuates the integrity of meaninglessness?"
"I had."
"Now Rue, you've just entered the Fourth Destination, so I'm sure you're fairly acquainted with what specifically your World View is?"
Rue slowly nodded, confused, and as the feeling of excitement began to flare up, it was like dropping a match into a pile of dry kindling.
"Now think of Yin and Yang, and the concept of arbitrary balance—life and death, elements, beliefs, biases, people, etc…"
"The common nomenclature." The Bishop paused, and the smile on his face grew.
Seeing this, Rue felt his insides shiver.
"It's all bullshit," he uttered slowly. "That will be the extent of the hints I'll give you, though."
sigh…
"However, it seems I've gotten off topic."
"Rue, the only reason why I've taken the liberty to call you today is to warn you of your future."
"Warn me of what?" Rue pressed curiously.
"Kid, you've really fucked yourself over by condensing that Initial of yours," the Bishop said with a wry smile.
"Sir, I'll I may?"
"Sure, hit me"
"What the hell do you mean? What's wrong with my Initial?"
"Now how should I explain this in a way you can understand?" the Bishop thought aloud.
"Why are you being so cryptic? Just tell me," Rue asked, his already piqued curiosity further growing.
"Patience is a virtue, you know?"
"Then it's one I lack! For crying out loud, spill the sauce."
"Basically, Rue, you fall into a little group of people that powerful folks commonly refer to as a weed."
"A weed, really?" Rue snorted, unamused.
"Yep, you're like a weed—and with that Initial of yours, you've basically become a terrifyingly fast, no-good son of a bitch that will only become a large thorn on the ass later on."
Seeing Rue's stupid, incredulous expression, the Bishop sighed before continuing.
"You have too much potential."
"Of course, since you're under the protection of the Church, nothing will currently happen to you, unless 'hey' get daring and forget their place."
Rue nodded reluctantly due to the absurdity of this.
Resisting the urge to snicker, he spoke.
"So I'm a little talented, sure. But why would they care about a measly little pipsqueak, nobody like me?"
"That I cannot say, but I can tell you this." The Bishop's expression gained apprehension.
"What I'm about to tell you, cannot leave this room or enter the mind of another soul. Do you understand me, Rue?"
"I understand, sir." The Inquisitor nodded.