From Ashes and Metal
A pile of ashes and broken woods, that’s all what was left of the once mighty cathedral. One hundred and forty-one feet in height, ninety chapels, hosting three giant, metal pipe organs, and several holy artifacts, able to seat the entire city.
This heavenly skeleton of peace and worship was the crown of the City of Arcanith. It was a dystopian cityscape bathed in an eerie glow of several neon lights, casting a surreal pallor over the city streets.
The cobblestone streets were a labyrinth of intertwining paths, lined with towering buildings that seem to loom over the citizens.
The buildings gracing the streets were a mix of old and new, some featuring ornate gothic architecture while others are adorned with intricate metalwork crafted in solid wood and stone. The sky above is cloaked in perpetual darkness, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. The air is thick with the din of honking cars and the hum of neon lanterns, creating a cacophony that only serves to emphasize the city’s unsettling energy.
The neon lights lightening these graceful buildings advertise various establishments and services, some noticeably more occupied than others.
Many people were about, minding their own business. Neighboring this gothic biome, were the remains of the Arcanith Cathedral. The broken ruins, marked by nature, stood in sadness and depression. Dark clouds formed above the once holy debris, clouds thick with liquid that needed draining.
And so, it did.
Every crack, every groove, every pit was soon filled with the grey-ish blue water coming down at rapid speed, bouncing off the surface like sharp glass. The grey stones turned darker, the weeds withstood the heavy fall, and the wind formed a mysterious mist around the base.
A hooded figure, armed with a ragged sack and a leather rope, walked about the debris, gaze locked on the ground, walking with a steady pace. The figure used a wooden cane to search for something specific through the rumble. After minutes of searching, they finally found what they were looking for.
A long, sharp piece of Theadian metal, remnants of the magnificent Pipe Organ that once send waves of angelic sounds back in the church’s glorious days.
The hooded figure slumped over and picked up the metal piece, examining it. Satisfied with the perfect condition, they put the piece into a ragged sack, and continued their search.
The search lead them into the heart of the Cathedral, underground. The only piece close to intact was the rusty cross, absent of one arm. They stood still before the artifact, looking it up and down. A scoff escaped their throat, and they grabbed for the rope, creating a loop.
With a swift, circular motion, they lassoed the top arm of the cross, tugging hard until it cuts loose of the stone pedestal, falling on the ground with a metallic thud, sending echoes through the holes of the ruin.
The mysterious person laughed in a sinister tone. “With Claws and Blood, we’ll tear this city open.”
Four years later
“Ladies and Gentlecreatures! Expose yourself to the Void! For you are about to embark on an adventure of blood and pleasure! For this Underground city is plagued by Sinners, begging for the sweet release of life, brought upon them by the teeth and claws of our Reapers!”
A professional voice buzzed through a metallic horn, sending strong vibrations through the stone ground.
The field was a cylinder platform. Tall, steel fences reached high to the ceiling. Behind those fences stood exiting spectators, their cheers and howls echoed through the area. Upon the platform was another sight, nothing exiting, nothing fun, and certainly nothing amusing.
Dressed in ragged, white clothing and trousers, held together by a leather belt, stood thirty Beings, male and female alike. Skeleton bodies with gaunt heads resting upon their thin shoulders, spiral runes were etched into the flesh of their foreheads with fire and iron. Their eyes were already devoid of light and life, looking around frantically to the raving spectators.
These were the faces of Sinners. People who broke the laws of the Underground and brought to The Figure for judgment. And most of the time, these voices of retribution mostly end in blood.
“Reality can’t be touched, only experienced through body and mind.” The voice continued, eerie and distorted. “But what happens when the mind got detached from reality? It forms an illusion. Hallucinations formed through false sensory input. What you think, is not what you see!”
A bright flashlight fell upon the Sinners, they immediately duck and threw their hands over their heads, as if trying to shield themselves from the burning heat.
“Set eyes upon these! Followers of all things devoid of reality. Sinners!”
The crowd went wild, food and drinks got thrown over the fences. One got hit in the face by a half-eaten burger.
“By the Voice of The Figure, you have been sentenced to death by Claws and Blood!”
“Claws and Blood!” the crowd repeated in unison, followed by another loud roar of excitement.
“Let the Transcendence begin.” The voice ceased, and tall, metal doors opened to reveal multiple rows of fangs, adorned with demonic eyes, burning with hellfire. Gleaming, pearly white claws float in the darkness.
The ’Sinners’ looked frightened, instantly running to the other side of the platform, only to be stopped by the cold, steel fence that shot straight into the air, blocking the way out. They were trapped, between steel and claws.
The Reapers charged, and in only a matter of time, the ’Sinners’ were torn to shreds. Blood, guts, and organs were spilled, seeping off the platform like red water. Spectators who could reach some of the guts and flesh, brough it to their mouth and devour it instantly.
Those left without the spoils of murder, turned to the lucky ones in the hopes to snatch some trophies of their own, which led to a fight among the spectators.
A rough, bulky beast emerged from behind the crowd, reaching with his three-fingered hooves to the fighting Beings and Creatures, breaking them apart. The others immediately stopped, turning their attention back at the fight, where, apparently, the Reapers decreased in number.
With no Sinner to dig their fangs in, the Reapers have turned on each other. With fang and claw, the beasts ripped and cut through the flesh and bones of their colleagues.
Ten minutes later, the entire platform was cleansed of both Reapers and Sinner, save for one. A demonic creature, akin to a great, bearded Cliff Hound with velvet fur and golden stripes across the flank. Four, inky black horns sprouted from his skull like blades.
Arashvan, the Demon of the Underground. The crowd went crazy with the outcome. A giant, metallic bord on the ceiling showed numbers of odds, with Arashvan standing on top, adding another win to his 500-winning streak. The Transcendence has ended.
Beyond the roaring field and steel fences, hidden behind a window, in a small room adorned with metal, stone and silver, sat a group of five, seated in luxurious couches. Leaning against the window seal stood a dark, scarred figure. Looking at the massacre down below, with an amusing spark in her eyes.
