Chapter Four: Slight Delay
[General POV]
[Location: ?????]
In a mysterious and forgotten dimension, where monstrous and enormous monstrosities dwell, only the strong survived. And, seated on a throne in a castle made of a trillion skulls, was a colossal shadowy being so large, with an aura so vile, any normal living being near him would instantly corrupt and wither away — That, or, in his slightest of irritations, they were burned to ashes in flames so violent and so vile, they tortured their victims until they were but ash.
The air around the figure stilled in terror; light failed to illuminate any features such a being would possess and its presence was one that caused the very environment to hold its breath as if in horrified patience as to what the being seated on a throne of 500,000 skulls — which to easily the size of a mansion to us — would do next.
The only detail that could be seen from the thick darkness of this malicious being's form were the eyes. Twin gateways of nefarious unnaturally green flames and malevolent dark violet flames with black tints lining each thread of evil green and vicious violet.
The monstrous form of shadowy balefulness held such a presence that the nearby monsters and demons — some the size of three-story buildings with claws as long as a pickup trucks, with auras strong enough to cause powerful psychics to go insane just sensing their presences alone — dared not get too close. No one wanted to get this being's attention. Most avoided him if they could help it.
After all, only a suicidal fool dares get close to the King of Demons and Monsters. Even demons weren't that insane. Supposedly.
It was a quiet evening in this mysterious realm. The King of Demons had had to completely disintegrate a few annoying high ranked demons who had secretly led a revolt for the last couple of annual cycles.
He was completely aware of the secret meetings, quiet gatherings of demons and gradually growing unrest amongst these particular clans of his denizens.
In fact, it could be said he let it reach a boiling point on purpose. After all, with his senses, nothing happens in this dimension that he is unaware of. He wanted the revolt to happen. And so it did…Only to get completely obliterated near instantaneously. 19 billion denizens were obliterated in less than 5 minutes.
And the king? He had the time of the century in that 5 minutes. It was merely a period for him to let loose a lot of his building annoyance and irritation.
'Those high ranked demons weren't weak,' he thought to himself as he observed the lesser demons scurrying away. They swept up the ash remains of their betters off the floor of the throne room. 'There were six of them and each had enough power to conquer a star system by themselves…Unfortunately, next to me, they were all weak , so their resistance was merely to behave as my entertainment.
'And in this place that we have all been banished to, where the world is hostile and unconforming, and the very air is poisonous by design — Entertainment is all I have.'
In his frustration, the King let out just a drop of his repressed aura.
Instantly, the horde of demon workers all throughout the castle were ignited green-violet flames, screaming agony as every cell in their bodies were set ablaze. The blaze attacked their souls, torturing them, as every second were centuries worth of agony compacted upon itself. They were experiencing centuries worth of pain every second, even as their bodies burned alive, slowly becoming decayed and withering to ash — And what remained? Were the ashes of the workers of the castle, in heaps and piles of the places where the worker had previously been.
Narrowing his eyes, the Demon King sucked back in his aura, mentally checking himself. "I forget how weak these 'high ranking' demons are. It's a shame. Now I've got to replace them. What a bother.
"I'll leave the recruiting to Asmodeus. She's always been pretty good at keeping an eye out for talent," the Demon King muttered as, with a sweep of his hand, the corpses of demons ceased to exist—and with them, their ashes.
"I should be nearing the time that veil thins. Perhaps I should have the Fourteen prepare the legions…? Soon, yes, soon." Turning in a specific direction, the Demon King picked up a powerful soul's sudden appearance on this plane. "What is this? A human's soul? No, a human consciousness so powerful it's being translated as a soul by the fabric of this dimension. How interesting… So they've found a transmigrator to replace me? To try to actually defeat me? Ha! I welcome the challenge, strange mind."
And then, just as quickly as it registered in the Demon King's awareness, the consciousness vanished, once more returning to Earth.
'Earth… So long has it been since I've tasted your children's blood. I'll savor it this time,' the Demon King thought, already thinking up schemes to enact. 'This time, I have no intentions of failing. And there's no awakened Chimera to beat me this time. The Raekens are all but wiped out and the Hewitts are nowhere near as powerful as they were when they orchestrated my banishment. The Nightshades are all pretty much obliterated, just like the dragons belonging to Reakens. The Bryants have lost their chimeric powers, mostly due to a polluting of bloodlines. I sense 1 or 2 lineage left with the Ghost Rider spark, but that is all. The Stewarts have all but become blind to their duty and have lost their ability to awaken their power for the most part and the Romeos have become infertile to produce a male heir. They'll cease to exist in a century or two… Not that I'll give them that long. The Thinning of Veils nears and, with it, my freeing of this place and the invasion of the Human Realm. The only ones who still pose a threat are the Hewitts, perhaps the remnants of the Reaken and Nightshade lines, but they won't be able to do anything when I finally escape this place. They've all become too weak to defend themselves.'
"This time, Earth will be mine," the Demon King smiled a show of sharpened and ugly fangs, releasing a chuckle that echoed all over the forgotten dimension, chilling all of its three trillion denizens to the bone before it stopped. "And Asmodeus! Recruit some new workers for the palace! I sense we'll soon be very entertained."
[Derek Hale POV:]
[Beacon Hills Middle School, Earth]
"---ister Hale! WAKE UP!" a voice screamed out his name. "You're going to be late for lunch."
Jolting up, Derek became alert, quickly taking in his environment, scanning his surroundings for threats.
All he saw, though, were a mostly empty classroom except for the teacher, Mr. Forbes, and his own desk, which had remnants of his drool on it.
'With the way he screamed my name,' Derek thought, 'there'd have been a school shooting or something.'
Derek thought, minutely glaring his blonde History teacher of Beacon Hills Middle School before steadying his breathing and preparing to leave.
He had lunch with the few members of the pack that were around his age, but as he rushed out the classroom, he couldn't help but mentally kick himself for forgetting something important.
He remembered the dream—the face of the stranger who spoke to him and the name of the stranger… but nothing else.
"Madison…" Derek thought aloud before entering the already busy cafeteria.
He made a mental note to scan his mother's archive to see if she knew any psyches with that name.
Then he made his way inside, where three of his packmates were already waiting for him, waving at him to come over.
[Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, Earth]
[Theo Raeken POV]
Theo Raeken found himself in the hospital. Again.
For the same reason as before: His heart.
'At least this time it didn't result in a coma,' Theo mentally noted as he awoke to find Tara gone, likely at school. Even she cannot beat mandatory attendance of academia.
His parents, predictably, weren't present. They never were. Theo supposed they paid the medical bills and took him to his necessary appointments when set, so he never complained about their absence when it came to his hospital room.
'Beggars can't be choosers and all that,' Theo supposed.
When he noted his relatively safe environment, he relaxed a bit. General beeps of the monitors and screens showing data a typical eight-year-old would never have known how to read, but Theo was never a typical eight-year-old. His weak heart and messed up body prevented him from having a proper childhood, and the few friends he did make (ie: Scott McCall, whom he related to because of their shared asthma condition, and Stiles, who was just his friend by proxy) he wasn't able to hang out with too often without it resulting in a visit to the hospital for some reason or the other.
'This damn weak body,' he was internally frustrated. He didn't mind the loneliness. He knew even without this medical condition, psychologically speaking, he was different in another way.
He didn't see things like other kids. If anything, he saw things for what they were, no rosy gloss, no glazing; just full-pictured realism.
Relationships were irrelevant to someone who could see through intentions, like Theo. They were also improbable for one diagnosed with multiple terminal conditions.
Theo was not a nice person, but he wasn't naturally evil. He didn't want to continue his friendship with Scott(and, okay, Stiles, too) if he was going to die anyway. It would be cruel, even for him.
And yet…
His consistent and repetitive hospital trips made him more familiar with these machines than he was with his own friends. It was like, at some point, they themselves(the machines) became the friends that he himself had to replace his actua. They made him more familiar with the language of vitals and machine and strange, medicinal liquids than he ws with sleepovers and sociallizing through videogames and riding bikes through the preserve.
If he were someone who had nothing wrong with his ability to empathize, he would cry here.
Unfortunately…
His friends were now machines that processed information, squeezing leather clothes that check heartbeats and data screens that displayed his personal vitals.
'They don't have to be, though,' Theo thought, thinking of a certain language of strange, unnatural clicks and mechanical whirls he's been haunted by recently.
[Heart Condition: Terminal]
[Physical Condition: Terminal]
[Possibility of Termination: Imminent]
…
[Situation: …Treatable]
Shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts of the words of those strange voices, Theo suddenly remembered his dream—his eyes widening slightly as he processed it fully."Hazel…" Theo thought, remembering her promise. "Can you truly heal me?"
And so he waited.
And waited.
Until at sunset exactly, like a ghost moving through a crowd, unseen and undetected, a short figure wearing a dark purple hoodie, came into his room, hood on. They seemed to have phased through the door — and, considering no one came in after them, Theo doubted anyone else even seen them or detected their presence.
Neither said a thing as, even from beneath the hood, Theo still saw those familiar chocolate brown eyes. He watched as the hooded figure walked up to his lying down form, hand outstretched.
"Brace yourself," the familiar little girl's voice sounded from beneath the hood. "This will be incredibly painful."
"I don't mind pain," Theo snarked, boldly.
"Then this should be child's play, I hope," the girl shot back, causing Theo to reluctantly cheese a lopsided smirk that gave the girl pause. "Here goes."
A moment passed as Theo mentally braced himself for pain, wincing.
When he felt nothing, he opened an eye and quirked a brow. "Performance issues?"
"No." The eyes of the hooded figure glittered with a mischief that gave Theo's heart a sudden freeze. "There's a slight… delay."
"Dela—?" but Theo hadn't been able to finish the thought before an unimaginable pain assaulted his body.
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