My Leviathan – the monster I created to destroy Atlantis. I’d willingly sacrificed the creature in order to wipe that ancient empire off the face of the flat earth – and it worked. Both the city and the behemoth sunk to the bottom of the seas – their remains lost to time and history ever since.
But now Rhokki had brought the Leviathan back to life – and he had turned it against me!
With a final word of rage, my rival abused me for my sins, calling me a parasite, a monster, and a destroyer, and then vanished. I knew he was racing back to Gaia to try to save her from the destruction my energy siphon had caused her. In that regard, Rhokki very well may have saved the entire flat earth from destruction from my ritual.
But I had other problems. I was still trapped in Rhokki’s prison pillar, and the Leviathan was coming for me! Not one to sit idly by and allow myself to be destroyed, I used my mind to reach out to my creation and try to control it. I had created this beast, after all. It was mine. It should answer to my call.
Unfortunately that’s when I realized that all of the original essence of my creature was gone. It was replaced by…something else. What I saw was only the shell of my creation. The beast’s every movement was controlled like a cruel puppet. What else was at play here?
And then I felt it – the dual, conflicting essences within the beast’s colossal frame. I sensed the cold cunning of Lucifer’s trap was in its movements—the way it coiled, the way its jaws snapped with a precision meant to mock and ensnare me. But I also felt the profound, aching rage of Rhokki—a desperate, protective fury that surged from the beast’s core. I knew then that Rhokki, consumed by his grief over my betrayal of his beloved Gaia, had placed a subtle, binding spell upon the creature and, now, he had powered it with Gaia’s stolen energy from my nexus.
But what was Lucifer’s part? His hand was in this somehow too. Always believing himself to be the master of the long game, surely he’d meddled here. Could he have sent his baals to the depths of the ocean to control the creature? But how did they know to come now? And what was their method to puppet the Leviathan? I didn’t know the answers to these questions, but it was clear the beast was a glorious paradox – somehow it was an act of pure, unthinking emotion and cold malice and I was certain it was being led by the very demons I’d once gifted to Lucifer ages ago.
But that was their mistake! I laughed, the sound a mix of fury and mad triumph. They thought me a fool? They thought me a pawn? Hardly. That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to simply fight the beast; I would fight its masters!
All of my thoughts here occurred in the merely fraction of a second in your time – I am a god after all – and while I now had a plan, I still had the same problem: I remained trapped. How could I escape Rhokki’s prison pillar before the beast came for me?
Dissection of a God’s Game
The world was a maelstrom of my own making, a beautiful, violent testament to my power and my failure. The Leviathan swam towards me, a living, roaring wall of scales and malice. Meanwhile I was trapped, bound by the pathetic, glowing cage of Rhokki’s design. Worse yet, my <hellfire> life force was being siphoned away by the very forces that powered my prison.
My rage gave way to a cold, analytical fury. I was a prisoner, yes, but my mind was free. And I could see the entire board at play. The Leviathan’s every movement, every gnashing of its monstrous jaws, was a physical manifestation of a spiritual conflict. Its core raged with the protective fury of Rhokki, the simple-minded brute who wanted to guard the world. And yet, its movements were laced with the insidious, cold cunning of Lucifer’s baals.
I laughed, a silent, contemptuous sound that no one could hear but me. They thought I was beaten? They had given me a problem to solve, a beautiful, intricate puzzle. A simple brute would try to tear the cage apart. A clever, arrogant being would try to find a key. But I… I would make the lock turn on itself.
I stopped struggling against the magnetic field. My divine essence still drained from me, a slow, agonizing leak, but my will remained a solid, unbreakable core. I would not escape with brute force. I would escape with a cunning far more lethal than any weapon. I would exploit the very flaw in their grand design.
I reached out with my mind, not to fight the beast, but to speak to the dual essences that fought for control within it – for I would turn them against each other.
To Rhokki’s essence, the raw, furious heart of the Leviathan, I whispered, “You fool. You think you are protecting her? You think you are saving Gaia? Look at this beast. Look at the destruction it brings. It’s Lucifer’s pet, not yours. He is using your love for her, your grief, to tear apart her world in my name. He makes a mockery of your pain and of your love for Gaia. He laughs at you even now, you pathetic, lovesick animal. You are a puppet. He is the master.”
And then, to Lucifer’s baals, the cold, malevolent will that guided the beast’s movements, I whispered, “Look at him. The raging brute. He thinks he can fight me with his heart. His rage makes the beast predictable, its movements clumsy. You fools are allowing your master to rely on a traitor’s rage. How pathetic. You have turned your clever trap into a tool for a simpleton. I see your plan for I created you little pretties – and soon I will destroy you!”
The effect was instantaneous and glorious. The Leviathan’s movements, once a singular, focused attack, became erratic. It began to tear at itself. One of its immense claws, still guided by Rhokki’s fury, lashed out at its own side, a desperate act of self-harm. Its jaws, driven by the baals, then snapped and bit at its own tail. The two forces within it were now fighting for dominance, a spiritual war that was tearing the physical form of the beast apart.
The beast’s roaring became a tormented scream of conflict. The water around it boiled. And with each self-inflicted wound, the spiritual forces that held it together began to fray. Meanwhile, the magnetic power of Gaia that empowered my prison, was being drawn to the beast, trying to heal the wounds, but the conflict within was too great.
That’s when my prison, the cage of Rhokki’s grief, began to weaken. The binding threads of magic flickered and pulsed, unable to maintain their hold against the sheer chaos of the dueling forces. I did not wait for it to crumble – instead I gathered my trapped energy and, with a silent command of my will, I forced it to resonate at a frequency that directly countered the binding spell.
The cage shattered – exploding in a blinding flash of green light, throwing me free. I reformed my physical body in an instant, my essence still raw and aching from the ordeal, but my will stronger than ever.
The Leviathan, now a shadow of its former glory, thrashed in the water, its body consumed by the spiritual war within. Yet I was not there to simply destroy it – I was there to claim my victory. Reaching out, my hands glowing with a sinister light as I tore into the Leviathan’s core.
Know this – I did not kill the beast with a magical blade or a new spell; I dissected its very soul!
First, I pulled out the essence of Rhokki. It was a raw, screaming knot of sorrow and fury, a magnificent, beautiful core of loyalty that had been twisted into a weapon of war. I held it for a moment, admiring his pathetic devotion to a dead world, before I let it go. I could have destroyed it, but instead I allowed it to return to its master. Why? Because I wanted to ensure that Rhokki knew of his failure – and knew that I would be coming for him in revenge!
After that I reached inside again and pulled out the baals, Lucifer’s cunning demon agents. They were manifested here as tiny, mocking wisps of pure malice, a miniature echo of their master’s will. I laughed and trapped them, imprisoning them inside a small stellarone sphere. These would not be returning to their master. They would be my trophies – and they’d soon suffer unspeakable torments for daring to raise their hand against their creator.
With the two warring essences gone, the Leviathan collapsed. Its massive, skeletal form fell apart, the bones scattering on the seabed, now nothing more than a lifeless corpse. My monster, now truly dead, was a testament to my genius, a creature defeated not by strength, but by pure intellect.
You’re wondering – did I feel any pity at my destruction of the Leviathan? It was after all my creation. In a word – No. I am a god – mortals live only at my will. They also die at my will. These are the facts, there is no need for emotion in the face of such simple truths.
Speaking of cold hard facts, I was forced to face a few myself.
My minions were gone, the nexus was destroyed, and my original plan had been a complete and utter waste of time. I had failed.
But in my failure, I had also won.
My detour to Atlantis had revealed the true location of the Dagaal. I had a new destination.
True – my journey to Atlantis was a grand, theatrical failure. But my journey to Lemuria would be a masterpiece of my own making. I would not simply seek the Dagaal; I would seek revenge. And they would never see me coming.
The Apocrypha of Azazel 