"The home of the gods is always comfortable, but only when you were invited." – Sayings of a wise librarian.
The man still confused himself while tracing his journey, genuinely feeling confused as if his brain were shaking, as if his mind were begging for help in the middle of a scorching desert. But he went on, for he preferred to be over some ground. In the midst of the infinite vacuum of a universe, he flew endlessly in a continuous and aimless direction, hoping to find a place to stay.
The solitude was disturbing, like a hysterical emotion. The man began to imagine, in the middle of a vast universe cut by a limbo yet empty in content, he saw the stars, what was left of them. He saw the planets, what was left of them, and then imagined a universe full of life, full of content and colors — but he did not know that what he saw was a remnant of the past, a distant past, before a great war between divinities and kings began in that destroyed archetype that once held life and history. But left only with the carcass, the universe lost its identity and became absolutely inhospitable.
The man traveled, flew through the void at an immeasurable speed, traveling through the infinite of a universe whose sight resembled more the vision of a poor blind man, illuminated only by a limbo, a dimensional tear that burned silently on the horizon and clarified the evidence of destruction. Then he stopped, realizing that no matter how long he flew, how fast he flew — his life had no usefulness nor purpose, like a waste and a pointless suffering, and even under a biological rule, he thought:
"I can die, can't I?"
And then he tested it, placing his fingers on his neck and recognizing that an essential artery for life passed there, and then pierced it with such force that it made his body explode into several pieces — a force that was uncontrolled, a force that came from a rigid habit that the body where the man's soul inhabited had lived with for eras. His wish was a failure. Even in the midst of the suffering of a loneliness that seemed eternal, the man reconstructed himself entirely, cell by cell, regrouping and returning the body to its original state — like a kind of immortality. Then the man screamed loudly, using the last drop of energy he had left:
— Why!!!??? Why does it have to be like this?!
And then he began to imagine what his situation would be if he had not exterminated the hostile soldiers — if perhaps through them he could have escaped the ruins. While he thought, he looked at the limbo that cut through space, and noticed a discomfort in his chest and then looked: he realized that when he looked at the limbo, the star mark on his chest pulsed stronger, radiating a purple light even stronger than before — as if his heart were desperate, as if it were a reflection of a dark past, of a battle not won.
While he thought and took the opportunity to rest while looking at the dimensional tear, he saw from afar a silhouette traveling quickly, rushing toward the man and arriving before him even before he could notice his arrival.
— Hello, boy, are you okay? — said the arriving man.
He had a simple appearance, but stylish and respectable: he wore a white suit, had orange hair and eyes. His eyes emitted clarity and serenity, not someone to be feared, but someone to be trusted.
— So it was you who prevented my death?! — the man answered harshly, ignoring the new presence of another life and grumbling over his failure to end that which was supposed to be preserved.
— Not at all! I only heard your scream from the other side of this universe, a call for help, and then I came to answer it. Unbelievable that there is actually life in this universe that's nothing but a wreck… — replied the arriving man.
— My name is Pedro, and I want you to trust me. — said the arriving man who now identified himself as Pedro, the mysterious Pedro.
The man seemed hypnotized by Pedro's words. Even though his arrival was a swift and surprising event, truly frightening, the man decided to trust Pedro, who emanated serenity and an almost absolute kindness. Pedro then took the man's hand and they departed in the direction opposite to the limbo, at a speed that impressed the man — it was superior to anything he had ever seen move, even though those had been few things.
— What happened here? Why is there nothing? What is that giant luminous tear that I see? — asked the man, seeking answers.
— It was a war, a war between kings and divinities that was fought in this universe. The consequences of that conflict were cataclysmic, capable of turning a universe that used to be the home of countless forms of life into a complete void, illuminated only by the limbo that cuts across space on the horizon, like a crack that was formed and almost turned this universe into cosmic dust. — said the wise Pedro, who seemed to know everything to the man's eyes.
The man was then clarified of his doubts, and with a gleam in his eyes made a simple request:
— I understand, Pedro. That really is information that quenched some doubts that were driving me insane in the void. And more than that, I want to know about my appearance, can you describe me? — asked the man, excited and animated for the first time in his life.
— Of course! And honestly, you look very similar to a great warrior I knew — called Volg. So wait a second, I want you to be able to see your own appearance. — said Pedro while creating in his right hand a small hand mirror out of nothing, like a magic trick.
The mirror was then handed to the man — the man who had seen the mirror be created from nothing and by nothing, the man who expressed a doubtful face but kept quiet, for knowing his own image mattered more: he had trimmed and curly hair, black hair. He had bright and beautiful eyes like the cosmos, deep blue eyes. His teeth were sharp like those of a hunting beast, like those of a demon used to hunting prey. And he had a face with a human appearance, though it deviated from the nature of one.
The journey was concluded, Pedro stopped for a moment and just as he had created the hand mirror, he opened a portal with his empty hands.
— Where are we going? — asked the man.
— Wait and you will see… — answered Pedro.
They entered the portal, the two of them, and then the man marveled at a beautiful place: a long road of shining stones, a bright sky, the image of flowers and giant castles formed in the distance, while the clouds reflected parallel realities like cameras following development, and then the man questioned such beauty:
— What is this? What place is this? Who are you?
— Well then, boy. I am Pedro, Pedro the Creator God, and this is the Divine Dimension of the Superior Gods. — answered Pedro with a slight smile.
The man was astonished, even in the face of the complex information he had just received. He was interrupted by a question from Pedro, a question that crashed into his reasoning with an even more important doubt:
— By the way, boy… What is your name? — asked Pedro to the man, who did not know his name, did not have a name, desired a name.
— I don't recall a name, I don't have a name… — the man answered sadly.
— Interesting. Then, I, as a Creator God, have the duty to name you… — said Pedro, creating with his hands a long and noble sword and engraving a name onto the man's soul.
— I name you, bearer of the name Vlad. — declared Pedro.
— Vlad? That is my name? My name. — said Vlad, accepting the new name, a name that in the future would make a great empire tremble before an infallible authority.
And so they went on, Vlad and Pedro, heading toward a great mansion where Pedro lived, a mansion with banquets and beds, where Vlad could eat and rest freely as he gradually learned more about the world and got to know things calmly, progressively. And this was the beginning, the beginning of Vlad's journey, the one who holds the destiny to live from this moment onward, "A Path: Aimless Toward the End," in search of knowledge about a past that defined an identity and a future, a salvation and a hero.