The Following episode will be featuring Sergals. Sergals are a creation of Mick39 as part of her sci-fi world Vilous; this story is a fiction all its own and the lore is unrelated to Mick39’s creation. Posted with permission.

Written by: Epicstu Wyyvernwriter

Everything had been taken away from him. His family, his home, even his own life all of it stolen before his very eyes. That was the whole reason why this all began, and it all began with a single sin.

*          *

“No,” the Nekolich replied. “Absolutely out of the question.”

“With his soul bound in Hell, Edward would never again fear Blessed water,” the Devil explained, “and the Deceiver would have no way to truly defeat your Wyyvern Knight of Deceit.”

“You can not have him,” the Nekolich sternly replied. “Choose someone else.”

The Devil laughed, “I do not want anyone else. Dolan Crow betrayed Edward and the Iron Ram Knights who fought with him against their own people. He alone told Aleister where to find them, and his soul alone will free Edward’s.” He began walking away, “No Sergal no Fox, and with Edward bound in Hell, the Nine will return to take your Dead from you.”

The Nekolich hesitated, a deal had to be made. If the Nine were to return, the Multiverse would fall to wicked dead. The very defense he had put in place to defend Life would destroy life until nothing remained but Death, “fine…” a tear almost formed in his eyes, but his tears had dried up long ago. He had none left. “Allow me to have him delivered to you.”

“As you wish,” the Devil replied.

*          *

Zesrial had left Aroamourne to try and contend with the Living God herself, taking her primal form as the Wyyvern that is the Underrealm Heaven. A heavy overcast of black clouds surrounded the World she fought for, protecting it from the battle that ensued above. Meanwhile, Harrissa and Michael had brought Pip’s body, still containing his soul, to Hagur’s Tomb to try and save him. There, in Hagur’s Tomb, Michael suddenly froze as a chill he knew well ran down his spine. Before him stood Death, and only he could see her. “What the?” Hagur exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Harrissa asked.

“We are losing him,” Hagur replied. “His body and soul are being claimed by a force I do not recognize.”

Michael did not know what to think, “how could Hagur not know Death,” he thought to himself.

“Michael, what is it you see?” Harrissa asked concerningly having noticed Michael’s confused and fearful look.

Before Michael could answer, Death put a finger to her lips and shushed him with a smile and a wink. “I do not know,” Michael replied to Harrissa, and then Death took Pip’s body and soul from the realm.

As all this was happening, the last of the Church of the Living God looked up and debated amongst themselves what to do. It had been raining heavily for days, and the black clouds above them seemed more calming than they should be. They had witnessed the pillar of fire off in the distance and had seen the coming of their God within the stars above just before the clouds covered the sky. “This can only mean one thing, Brothers.” The Church’s oldest member, Teacher Wrestro, said to the other two who had gathered at the base of Mount Crossing. Only the three of them remained, their religion had been dismissed as myth and the idle mutterings of madmen for seven years now. “The last remaining Warpriest, Pip, has uttered that oldest and most forbidden of prayers to our God. Now our God comes to claim His World and bring about the end of all Life. Then he will devour the Dead created in his wake.”

“Then all hope is lost,” replied Fryer Gunthri, “For when the Living God devours the Dead, no soul will see Heaven. Even Hell will be out of reach.”

“I knew we should have hunted that damn Warpriest down like we did the others,” said Priestess Jinxra. “We should never have assumed he was dead. We should have…”

“It is too late now,” interrupted Wrestro.

“What of the anomalies that have occurred,” Gunthri inquired. “Perhaps the Elvish Dead God, 999, has stepped in to attempt an intervention.”

“The Living God devours the Dead,”  Jinxra rebutted. “What could 999, Dead God of all that is Dead, do against such a force.

“We have weapons,” a familiar voice spoke the shadows surrounding them in the dark and stormy night.

“Impossible,” said Gunthri.

“We have massive war machines and mighty cannons that can lob projectiles into the stars above,” the voice continued.

“We executed you,” said Jinxra.

“All built for the pointless war we raged during what could have been a golden age, but if there had been no war then we would not have them now, would we?” a woman wearing light armor Warpriest robes decorated not with symbols of the Nameless Living God but instead with symbols of 999. “Now we can use them to fight back against the Nameless. Life, here in our World, is his creation, but I believe that Life has a right to defend itself. We have a right to defend ourselves.”

“Who resurrected you, Droirra?” Wrestro asked the Warpriestess.

“At the End,” Droirra began, when my head was separated from my shoulders my soul clung to my body, and I saw allowed to see how things truly are. How they always have been. I saw an anthropomorphic Sabertoothed Cat of black shadow and fur held together by emerald green light. He was 999, and he looked at me as though I was only just then appearing before him. Michael of the Dead saw fit to resurrect me before 999 could take me, however. I owe my continued existence to that Necromancer, and now he needs our help. We can fight back, we must.”

“The projectiles launched from the mortars you mentioned always returned to the earth,” Gunthri brought up a fair point. “We do not know if they can be launched high enough to strike the Nameless.”

“Then we take them to the top of the tallest mountains of our world,” Droirra suggested. “We place one or more at each corner of our globe.”

“Such a feat would be impossible,” Jinxra argued. “The four of us cannot spread such massive weaponry across the Earth before the Nameless arrives.”

Then Droirra pointed to the top of mount Conquest. The others watched in awe as one of the very mortars Droirra had spoken of broke through the sacred Mountain’s peak from within and began to transform. The even greater canon of iron and stone it had become rotated nine barrels around the peak of the sacred mountain it had been made a part of. “Michael taught me a thing or two. I have spent the last seven years traveling the globe and offering apologies to every soul I had a hand in killing who had not already been taken by the Nameless. They have agreed to aid us in this endeavor.”

Gunthri and Jinxra looked to Wrestro. Wrestro glared at Droirra. Droirra stared right back at Wrestro. “Then let us begin building our new defense for this world,” Wrestro finally replied. “There are many more cannons to reforge and place. Jinxra and Gunthri, seek out all who would help, be they Men or Elves, cast all prejudices aside. We must work together. Then bring the rest of the war machines out of storage. Droirra, help the Dead with their task how you can. I will go to the anomalies off in the distance. This War of God versus Life has only just begun.”

*          *

Pip awoke chained in the brig of what, to him, appeared to be a seafaring vessel. By the rockings of what felt like waves and the creaking of the haul, he could tell this was a massive ship larger than any he had been aboard before. It brought back memories of his years of service as a young Warpriest for the Living God he was no longer attuned with. It was upon his arrival to the new world, all those years ago, that he first encountered the Elves and their Dead God.

“Those memories of yours,” a woman’s voice spoke from the shadows. “Lose them, your past is of no concern anymore.”

“Who are you?” Pip asked. “Upon what ocean do we sail?”

“You hear that?” the woman addressed others around her. She and all of them were hidden in the shadows. “He asks what ocean we sail upon.” They all laughed heartily and then all was silent as a chill ran down Pip’s spine. A tall, thin, and translucent Fennec Fox much like the one he had fought and killed stepped out of the shadows towards him. With a voice more terrifying than any Pip had heard before he asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“Are you a friend of the Fox who was Hell?” Pip asked in reply.

The Fennec knelt down and grabbed the back of Pip’s hooded robes and force the Warpriest to look him in the eyes. Within them Pip saw the End of all things, “I am his brother. I am Apocalypse.”

“Then you would know where he is,” a glimmer of hope could be seen in Pip’s eyes. “If he is alright.”

“Yeah, and why would you care?” The Fennec questioned.

Pip shrugged his hood back, revealing his face. “If he remains, I would worship him. I would be his Warpriest.”

“You would worship Hell himself?” The Fennec inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Not Hell, but the Fox that is Hell. I would adorn my weapons and armor with symbols of his might, his justice, and his honor. I would worship your brother.” Pip replied with a serious tone.

The translucent Fennec disappeared, “bring him topside,” his voice demanded

“War,” commanded the first voice Pip had heard. “You heard him.” An Archangel of righteous light stepped out from the shadows to Pip’s right, and an Archangel wicked darkness stepped out from the shadow to Pip’s left.  They picked up his chains and dragged him out of the brig, through a door that slid itself open and closed, and into a dark corridor with dim lighting. It seemed to go on for eternity.

“I would recommend picking your feet up and walking with them,” said a deep ghastly voice from the chains that held Pip. “Although Time does not exist here, seven lifetimes will pass before we reach the deck of this ship.”

“For my Fox, I shall endure the pain,” Pip replied as he made himself limp and awaited whatever Fate he was being dragged toward.

*          *

Edward awoke to a disk of cool water spinning softly over his lips. He drank it and got to his feet slowly. Fire hotter than anything within the Multiverse combined with fire colder than anything within the Multiverse surrounded him and covered all that he could see. “This is Hell,” he remembered it well. Then he beheld a familiar figure bound by chains before him. Then he saw the broken chains he was once bound to, “Dolan?” The lifeless Sergal, bound and on his knees had given the last of his strength to wake Edward up. “Dolan!”

“He cannot respond you,” said a voice of one who sounded exactly like Stu. “He is too weak now.”

“What have you done Nekolich,” Edward looked for the Nekolich but found no one but himself and Dolan.

“I am not the Nekolich,” replied the voice. “Though I am Stu.”

“Show yourself!” Edward demanded. There was nothing he hated more than to see someone suffer on his behalf.

A small black cat came to him walking on all fours and jumped up, landing on his shoulders. His emerald green eyes still had pupils in them, “I was the first,” the cat replied. “Stu’s first life, one of the Nine he had given to become the Tenth. The Nekolich you know him as today.”

“I demand you free Dolan’s soul immediately,” Edward growled.

“Is this not the one who had the heaviest hand in the extinction of your own race?” the First questioned him. “There is not a single true Fennec Fox of the Northlands left in all of the Lands and that Human halfbreed hasn’t enough Fennec blood in her to ever bring your people back. Claim his soul as payment for his transgression, devour it for your people.”

“I am aware of his sin,” Edward snapped. “My people had driven his people to near extinction first. His only sin was an eye for an eye and was no more righteous or less wicked a sin than that of my peoples’. He and I have already fought on the matter, and it has been settled. I have forgiven him on my peoples’ behalf, now release him.”

“I cannot,” the First chuckled in reply. “and without devouring his soul for yourself, you will never make it through my gate. For he is the key.”

Edward looked forward and saw the gate of which the First spoke. He walked to it, “Iron Ram!” he yelled as he headbutted it.

“Even with that legendary headbutt of yours, you will never make it through,” warned the First. “His soul for your own, that was the deal.”

“I figured,” Edward said as he, “Iron Ram!” tried again, “Iron Ram!” and again to break down the gate. “Iron Ram!”

“Why do you persist?” inquired the First. “The gate will never open without the key, and only you can use the key, and the key is this Sergal’s soul.”

Edward fell to his knees. “Just do it,” Dolan managed to find the strength to speak. “I am not worth the end of the Multiverse.” In his sufferings, he had seen the future that would come to pass should Edward fail to reclaim Hell. He had seen the Nine defeat the Nekolich and bring about an age of darkness ruled by relentless and wicked Dead.

*          *

A large four-legged lizard of green and brown scales wearing plated armor ran through the open gates of Aroamourne with a hooded and cloaked figure on its saddle. The figure removed his hood as the Elven guards approached him and the people surrounded the area to see who he was. “It’s Wrestro, the leader of the Church of the Living God!” The crowd shouted. “He led the crusade that nearly wiped our people from this world.”

“I seek Michael of the Dead!” Wrestro announced aloud. “If he is here, let him step forth.”

Michael stepped out from the crowd, “What do you want?”

Wrestro dismounted his reptile and walked to Michael, “To thank you,” Michael raised an eyebrow in response. “Droirra, the Warpriest you saw fit to resurrect,” Michael remembered her well, “has come to us bearing hope for both the Living and for the Dead,” Wrestro explained. “Thanks to you, she now works alongside legions of souls lost in my pointless crusade against the Elven people and their Dead God. Together we are deploying an offensive strategy that may help us hold back the Nameless.”

“Why would the Church of the Living God want to fight the Living God?” Michael questioned.

“Life, here in our World, is his creation, but I believe that Life has a right to defend itself. We have a right to defend ourselves,” Wrestro replied. “These are Droirra’s words, and I find myself in agreement with her. The Dead have been kind enough to aid us, setting up cannons on the tallest mountain peaks at all corners of our World. This has proven to me that the Dead should not be feared, but respected. I and those who remain of the old church follow the Nameless no longer.”

“Is that all?” Michael questioned.

“No, I have also come to aid you in any way I can,” Wrestro replied. “I know the Nameless well and can help you and the Dead who follow you further fortify our World.”

“Then come with me,” Michael said with a smile. “There is much to do.” He led Wrestro to the summoning circle he had placed six days prior. “I am summoning a defender, a Lich Lord from the future who may be able to help. Less than twenty-four hours remain until the summoning is complete. We must do all we can to keep the Nameless from reaching us until then. Heaven herself combats him above the clouds she has laid over our World to protect us from the battle.

Then the rain stopped, and the clouds disappeared, and Zesrial fell atop the summoning Sigil. When the dust settled the Sigil was no more, and Zesrial stood alone in the crater made by her fall. “He is here.”

*          *

Edward laughed. “What reason do you possibly have to laugh about? Have you finally been broken?” the First questioned.

“All this headbutting has jogged my memory of a dream that I had after my chains were broken.” Edward became surrounded by a ring of fire as turned to look at the First.

The fire around Edward was as teal as his eyes. “What is this?” the First questioned in terror. “The Tenth I know would have allowed one of his own Dead to have such Willpower.”

Edward smiled and stood up, “What a fragile deal. Your tenth has set all nine of you along with Satan up.” The teal fires around him formed into the silhouette of the Wyyvern that is the Underrealm Hell and became snow-like. The Nekolich had forged the Hell Wyyvern’s soul to Edward’s mortal soul, and Aleister told him everything in the dream he had forgotten. “Iron Ram,” Edward did not headbutt the gate this time, he only said the words and the first gate shattered.

“You cannot hope to make it through Hell without his waters to quench you,” the First warned. “Hell hates you, the very Idea of such a pure soul holding control over it enrages everything born within it. Nothing can stand against Hell itself.”

The first Stu was right, and Edward knew it. “I am Hell,” he replied as he walked through the first gate.

“I am beginning to see why Heaven chose you and why the Tenth has so much faith in you,” the First and original Stu Writer said with a smile. “For it was not your strength nor your Will that opened my gate, but your forgiveness of the sin, an eye for an eye. For this was the Nekolich’s first sin, my sin.” Dolan’s chains broke, and he fell to the ground. “The Sergal is yours as is his fate.”

Edward walked over to him and picked him up, hoisting him over his shoulders, “come now, Friend. Don’t tell me you’re getting sleepy.”

“You stubborn fool,” Dolan muttered weakly. “I will only slow you down.”

Edward laughed, “You are welcome, Dolan Crow.” The Gate of the First became reforged in his teal snowfire and closed behind him.