Sovereign of the Karmic System

621 To Fear Death

Following the death of the aspect of Horror, the atmosphere within the pantheon of aspects of existence had started to change. A change brought by a reason mortals, to the aspects’ dislike, could understand.

Most of the aspects of existence had lived unbelievably lengthy lives. With the youngest of their kind being several millions of years old. A number of them had spawned before any other sentient creature had started inhabiting the multiverse, and some others, albeit very few in numbers, had lived to see the birth of stars and life, and witnessed the evolution of each universe.

To the latter, only the creation of the interdimensional portals and the origin of the Trigate, had been and still remained a mystery.

Despite the incredibly vast differences in age among the aspects of existence, however, they all had one thing in common. A fear they shared regardless of their power, status, and seniority.. And that was the fear that their existence would come to an end.

Being the personification of a certain power, their existence had never been bound by life and death, but to the presence of the power itself. For that reason, not often did their kind experience the end of existence. They weren’t mortals, after all.

Even when Death herself had spawned, the other aspect of existence had refused to acknowledge her terrifying reality, for they rejected the idea that they too, being alive, would inevitably come to meet the endless embrace of death one day.

For this reason, Death’s appearance, just like that of Karma and Destiny, had been received with scorn by the rest of the pantheon, causing her to live a life of isolation. Yet the old lady had never resented her peers for the type of life she had lived. It was in her nature to be alone, and wait patiently for those who had lived, to join her endlessly calm existence of her power.

Such scorn, however, only lasted until the first aspect of existence had perished at the hands of another. An event turned tale, then lore, which was recounted for uncountable years, and still shared between aspects of existence to this very day.

The victim of this tale was the former aspect of War.

Many years in the past, the first aspect of War had been born. He was proud, fearless, and belligerent beyond rationality.. Just like one would expect him to be, and in his infinite arrogance, the aspect of existence had refused to bow down to any other.

With a goal of absolute domination, he had focused on the expansion of his domain, subjecting lower aspects of existence to his rule while never accepting to fall under a superior. That was, however, until he had met the aspect of conflict.

Unaware of Conflict’s immense superiority and reach, War had challenged the former’s dominion, declaring that the nature of conflict was but as subcategory of the nature of War. After all, war bred conflict, He thought.. Unaware of how sorely mistaken he was.

The moment the former aspect of War had encountered Conflict, his arrogance had signed his death penalty.

Before the former aspect of War could even make his case, and demand in front of the rest of the pantheon that Conflict and all under him were to fall under his control, a single snap of Conflict’s fingers brought his empire to a sudden end.

Horrified by the unexpected reality, the former aspect of War felt the impossible difference in powers land on his skin. Not even the time to regret was given to him before his body had been flattened, twisted, ripped, and crashed at the same time.

This outcome was witnessed by many aspects of existence, who did not care much for their peer’s fate, but showed great interest nonetheless. And that was due to the presence of one of the latest spawned members of their kind. The aspect of Death.

For years they had seen her rule a plane of death. A storage of sleeping consciousnesses that found eternal peace in the embrace of her power. The Underworld, she had called it. And while they had refused to acknowledge that death was also ingrained in their existence, they had come to believe that, if they were to perish, an eternity of peace would have been more desirable than total annihilation.

It was for that very reason that they had decided to spectate the encounter between the former aspect of War, and Conflict. Or to be more precise, it was for that reason that they had decided to witness the death of the first aspect of War. They needed to confirm it. They needed to know whether death included them or not.. For the answer would dictate the way they would conduct the rest of their lives.

As the figure of War was destroyed, the collective attention of the entire pantheon was directed towards an old lady, who quietly sat at her seat, seemingly minding her business. They were expecting for the consciousness of the first aspect of War to embrace death, like the consciousness of many mortals had before.

However, what they had hoped for, did not happen. With a faint shake of her head, the aspect of death confirmed that, once their kind died, their consciousness would be destroyed forever, creating a general sense of disappointment that forever changed the behavior of the members of the pantheon.

This notion was further confirmed as, millions of years after the death of War’s first aspect of existence, a new one had been born, devoid of all of its predecessor’s memories or knowledge.

Knowing this, the aspects of existence had come to reach an agreement. A pact which dictated that, if avoidable, no lives were to be taken among the members of their kind.. and that instead, each conflict had to be resolved through the exchange of universes, or be fought by the aspect’s followers.

This agreement had been maintained throughout billions of years, and now that two aspects of existence had perished in the span of what to them was equivalent to a few minutes for a mortal, they felt as if they had been reminded that they too were not untouchable. All the wars of conquest and vengeance that led to the conflict between aspects of existence, could bring to a permanent death.

Once reminded of this, the collective spirits of the aspects of existence seemed to calm down, as the most grievous of wars came to a stand still, while the ones fought for less important reasons came to an end altogether.

With the restoration of a welcomed, yet fickle peace, the domains focused on recovery and recruitment, ready for when their lords chose to resume their crusades.

—–

In one of the universes that welcomed the slowing of the hostility the most, was a world of cultivators not much different from the one Daniel was born into. A garden planet with clear oceans, green pastures and tall mountains, covered in the occasional bustling city.

While similar to Daniel’s home planet, however, this world had an extremely different feel to it. All of its flowers and insects, trees and forest dwelling animals, sky faring beasts, marine life and humans themselves. They radiated vitality, and gave off a feeling of contentness and righteousness. They were pure.

From the eyes of a stranger, they appeared almost holy, as if incapable of ever harming anything or anyone.. But that was not the case. Insects drew nutrients from plants, birds picked on fish, and humans hunted for game like in any other world. They conducted their lives how they were meant to, but they did so with extreme respect for what they were taking, and for what they were damaging.

In one of the planet’s poles, right at the edge of an immense expanse of ice, sat a boy dressed in thick white furs. Extremely pale, and with a reddened nose and cheeks, he exhaled into his leather gloves, as he stared at the small blocks of ice drift away from the mainland.

In between his hands he was holding a fishing pole, with a fishing line that came down onto the water, and disappeared in the shadowed waters. By his side was a large wooden bucket, inside which three fishes swam in circles in just the right amount of cold saltwater.

The boy’s green eyes peered at his breathtaking yet familiar surroundings, as he waited for a fish to bite.. And finally, an hour after the last bit of success, the line tensed. Almost surprised, he started to pull in a hurry.

With some effort, the boy kept reeling the fish in, until finally, a relatively big fish jumped out of the water, revealing its appearance to be identical to that of the others the boy had already caught. A foot in length, with a thin gray body, the fish was similar to a garfish, but had two small horns above its eyes. It too, just like the boy and the other fishes, gave off an air of holiness.

As the fish landed on the boy’s lap, he slowly took the hook out of its long and serrated mouth.. But then, right before he could throw it into the large bucket with the others, a large shadow emerged from the waters, and landed onto one of the blocks of ice like a small tank.

The young boy turned towards the figure with newfound interest, and immediately recognized what it was. It was a blue-colored seal pup the size of a large cow. Plump, with large black eyes, the large seal was looking back at the boy. Or, more specifically, it was looking at the fish he was holding. Then, it started to hop in his direction.

Seemingly unbothered by the sight, the boy grabbed the fish firmly, and waited for the enormous seal to come close. Once only a few feet away from him, the boy looked down on the fish, and with apologetic words, he said in prayer, “Off to lady Death you go..” The seal too, hearing these words, waited quietly, almost as if it understood the few words the boy was reciting, and deeply respected their meaning.

Once he finished, the boy grabbed the fish by the tail, ready to throw it at the seal, but before he did so, a second shadow appeared from the depths of the ocean. One that rapidly grew in size, and that seemed to catch the attention of the now worried seal.

No longer bothered with the prospect of a quick meal, the seal tried to jump back into the water, but as its large black nose touched its surface, a show-white hairy arm emerged from the water, and grabbed the seal by the loose skin of its neck. Then, with impressive strength, it raised its large figure in the air, and dragged it underwater.

The mirrored water moved around, producing bubbles and ripples, but then, after a few moments, it stopped, just in time for a faint red color to taint its original limpid transparency.

The boy looked at the water in disappointment. He had hoped to see the seal survive, for he had found it quite adorable.. But this day was not his, and it became prey. This disappointment, however, did not last long, as the boy looked back down at the fish, which was still moving around in his hands, and said, “Not yet, then.”

He then put the fish into the bucket, stood up, and after gathering his fishing cane and the bucket, he turned around and left the fishing spot.

As he walked, he followed a path marked by a road dug inside a thick layer of snow. A road that led to the base of a mountain of ice, where thousands of dwellings made out of compacted snow formed quite a big village. Above it, several columns of smoke rose to the sky, dissipating far before their path led them to join the fast moving clouds.