Reign Of Worm - Chapter 16 40 Years

It’s been forty years. Forty years I have struggled to find my way out of this hell. When was it that I gave up? Finally accepted my fate? Even now I recall the faces of my friends, family, coworkers- All full of disappointment. How pathetic am I to still feel the shame of it? And even now I am obstructed from the sweet release of nothing

80 years. It was 80 years ago that I found myself in this new world. Fresh out of the old and into the new I went. In an ironic twist of fate, I even became that which I was disgusted by. Fresh into this new form, and still mourning over what I lost, I almost was taken by the most ferocious of enemies. But then it came to me. The voice.

You can go back, it said. Back to what you remember and yearn for. I believed it, I truly did. It gave me hope, and I rose. I killed and massacred many a species, and rose in strength, ready to conquer all. But the pull wasn’t having it. It wanted me to go down.

I’m not certain of when it started, the pull. It began as a thought, just a fleeting question- I wonder if there is anything below? I didn’t pay heed to it then, but I couldn’t resist for long. The pull quickly grew. I wanted to go deeper, I needed to go deeper. So what could I do but acquiesce? I went farther down into the depths.

It was a mistake. I thought I was strong. I was wrong, completely wrong. I was so very wrong. Even the weakest of creatures from below were life-threatening. I wanted to go back up, get stronger before heading back, but I couldn’t. It hurt to rise, a pain from the very depths of my form. So there was nothing I could do. I had to make sacrifices. I had to evolve.

It was simpler than I had first thought. Painful yes, but what could be more painful than my first death? Not this, at least. I started with my body, growing in size, adding bits and pieces everywhere, and I became fearfully powerful. Or so I thought.

It was only when I encountered it that I realized how wrong I was. I only wanted to be strong enough to go back, but if only my body was strong, then how could I do it? It was it that taught me that. That thing. The wretched abomination that looked incredibly weak but pelted my mind with sharp needles of pain. It hurt so much! It was then I realized I had to take another path. A different path. The path of the mind. And so I did.

I quickly saw tremendous progress in my mind cultivation. In fact, it took nary a day before I was powerful enough to resist that thing’s attacks and destroy it. But I knew it was not enough. So I continued to train and improve. On and on, day and night. Nonstop I grew stronger. But then it came back. I knew I was in trouble yet again. I had gained my strength too quickly. The urge to descend resurfaced.

My days at this level waning, I knew I had to do something quickly. I furiously dove into the indigenous creatures of this level, tearing them to shreds in order to gain some strength, any strength, before I couldn’t bear the pain any longer. I had some success in that, I suppose. It wasn’t long, however, before I gave in and descended once more.

This level. It was this level that haunts me to this day. The most eventful one by far as well. At first, I thought I was prepared, I knew I would be way weaker than the rest, but I was in for a treat. Not even a minute into this new land I was forced to hide and evolve again. But I persevered, carried on by my only desire. My desire to meet them once more. It was the only thing driving me to continue, and continue I did, eventually being strong enough to subdue half of this level’s habitants. It was then that the voice came back, encouraging me yet again. And yet again it spurred me on.

It told me I would be able to meet them soon. Just a little bit more. Not even the next level, just the end of this one. I was so excited at the prospect of being able to join them again. To talk to them, be with them. I trained night and day, body and mind, gaining strength at speeds I can no longer even imagine, soon surpassing this level. It was then the voice showed me. They were here. But they were dead.

Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t when I arrived. It was me. I murdered them, massacred them. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t my fault, but I knew the truth. It was only my fault. When I saw them, I was overjoyed. I had approached quickly, wanting to meet up for a chat, but they ran away screaming, calling me a monster. I was shocked. Mortified, even. Monster? How was I a monster? Even then I thought it was just a misunderstanding, but it was too late, they were gone.

I was sad but hopeful. I saw them once, maybe next time we could even have a chat! But no, that night changed everything. They came back that night. And they came to kill.

Thousands of their kind marched over the fields of what they called the expanse. Armed to the teeth and chanting battle songs they ran towards me, I could feel their intent to kill me. I was shocked, and something snapped within me. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just broke. I killed them all. They would go on to call it a cold-blooded massacre.

I cried when I came back to myself. I cried for many days and nights, before sadness gave way to rage. How could they? I tried to talk, to be peaceful, and they hunted me? They deserved to die! And then they pinned the blame on me? I would make them pay. I would make them all pay.

Four days and three nights. In that time my wrath swept across the entire expanse, killing anything and everything it came across. Nothing could behold my fury. All it took was four days and three nights. That time would go down in history as one of their darkest times, and this expanse was sealed off, prohibited to anyone and everyone in fear of my wrath once again lashing out across the lands.

What came from that, you ask? Nothing. Nothing was solved by my desperate act of violence. They were still dead, I would never be able to meet them again. But the voice came back.

It tried hard to keep me going. It told me I could meet them again, I just had to head even deeper. But I knew the truth. I never would be able to talk to them as we used to. Never again would I be able to appreciate the warm smiles, hugs, or friendly competitions. I was disconsolate.

That was forty years ago. After that, the pull had come and gone multiple times. I continued to go farther down, diving deep into the unending depths, this time with little purpose. I simply had nothing else to do. Everyone grew to fear me, and I was given a nickname. The Devourer. Had a nice ring to it back then. Now it’s quite frankly overused.

Twenty years ago, the voice came back, this time with a different goal. It told me to stop, to wait. It soothed me, calming down the pain I felt from long ago. So I listened. It told me a friend would come to me. This friend would be like me, and would be able to accept me, unlike all of the others. He would lead me to happiness, and we could be together forever. The voice promised me all of the things I could want. It promised me what I had been wanting for so many long years. All I had to do was wait.

So here I am, my friend. I have long since stopped growing, without help I have reached the peak of what I can do. So here I patiently wait. I wait for you to meet me here so we may have good times together. I await your presence, so do not keep me waiting for long. Though years pass by like minutes, I can feel myself growing restless. If you take much longer, I lose myself. My primal desires grow restless, and I fear I can’t suppress them much longer. So here I wait for you. Come to me. I have been waiting for forty years. It’s been forty years. Forty years.