I'm Actually Quite Selfish

[Tearen Wover]

The towering mass of bone-plated might that was Gamil lumbered towards Tearen, blue fire explosively punctuating every footfall. His entire body was enwreathed in scintillating psionic power, drawn from every last crevice of the coliseum. Tearen stood sheepishly before the Knight of Hatred, his halberd hanging listlessly in his left hand. While the shadow was aware of what was happening on some level, everything at the moment seemed distant. With a lack of hatred and anger in his heart, Tearen had little reason to do anything in the Underverse, or indeed, the Omniverse. The ex-enigma inhaled a deep breath, and allowed time to slow to a crawl. His burning green eyes flicked over the full extent of Gamil’s form as he pondered his situation.

So much of his existence in this isolated reality had been based around the pursuit of vengeance, for a perceived slight against him. Despite having thought himself free of the influence of emotions, as Nealaphh he had been fueled almost entirely by anger. A desire to see Omni thrown down, beaten, and humiliated. To see himself vindicated as ruler of the Omniverse and its reality reshaped in his vision. Really, it was a rather selfish goal; he could see that now.

The reverse sickle gleamed with blue hatred as it crawled down through the air. Flecks of spittle rained from Ilthiax’s maw as the demon handler screamed at Tearen to move out of the way.

Time continued its ponderous progression.

But, now, having had his anger and hatred removed, what did he have to motivate himself? Ambition could not exist for its own sake. There had to be a driving force behind it. Guilt? After all, he was certainly one of the strongest Primes in the Omniverse. It would be wasteful to become apathetic at this point in his new existence. But then again, he didn’t really care what other people thought of him. Curiosity? This had more potential as a motivator; there were many mysteries to the Omniverse that Tearen desired to solve...but...to what end? This was, after all, a finite reality. What would he do with himself once every crevice had been sniffed out and catalogued?

Tearen looked up at the gleaming edge of the ancient sickle, still bearing down on his head. The Shadow wondered at the connection between Gamil and the Sickle, and to that extent, Gamil and Ilthiax. The demon handler’s memories had been almost completely devoid of anger or resentment towards the Knight of Hatred. Had Gamil consumed Ilthiax’s ire in the same way he had done to Tearen? It was an interesting feeling, knowing that a part of him had been removed in such a manner. The Shadow was beginning to feel that Gamil had done him a favor, in that regard.

Surely in a land of demons and monsters, a lack of hatred and anger could be seen as a crippling weakness. Tearen, however, had something that demons did not. As a human, or at least something very close, he also had a capacity for compassion. Empathy.

Love.

Love was as strong a motivator as hatred, surely. After all, the two emotions were not opposites, strictly speaking. Both required an investment of emotion, obsession and energy. Both inspired passion and direction. There was really only two people that Tearen had ever really felt love for, however, and as far as he knew, they were totally beyond his reach. He wasn’t sure he could ever bring himself to find a new wife, but the ex-enigma did have a daughter in the Omniverse, from a certain point of view.

Rebecca.

The mutated child had possessed such an unmitigated love for him, even as the twisted creature that was Nealaphh. Sure, her brain had been programmed to perceive him as such, but that didn’t make the elation she felt any less real. Tearen’s heart suddenly plummeted below the cracked tile of the arena floor. He had sent her along with Jade Harley like baggage to be passed around. Disposable. A tool. It wasn’t right. Rebecca deserved better. Tearen glanced again at the looming sickle blade, now just a foot from his face. He needed to get back to her as soon as possible and fix this ghastly mistake. The Shadow had full confidence that Jade had kept her safe, but that wasn’t enough. After all, Jade herself was barely more than a child; she couldn’t be expected to shoulder the burden of Rebecca indefinitely, no matter how delightful the Little Sister may have been.

It was decided. Tearen was done with the Underverse. It was time to leave. No quests of glory, no need to prove himself master of all others. Right now he had one obligation.

Still...he could not lose the advantage of his extreme foresight. Though it may be perfectly possible to simply forfeit this match and fly off into the artificial night of Azgradurg, that was not necessarily the best option. There was no doubt that the demons would fly into pursuit of him, and he would be much easier to track that way. After all, Ilthiax, and by dint of association, Grooota, saw Tearen as valuable to their interests. If, however, Tearen simply let Gamil’s sickle cleave him in twain, the Prime would have the advantage of reincarnating at a discreet, unknown location. On top of that, any interest in his prowess as a gladiator would be greatly tarnished, if not obliterated. Yes, this was the best course of action.

Tearen released the flow of time, and there was a great crash of metal against glassy flesh. A surge of demonic roars echoed through the arena as Tearen’s body sloughed off of Gamil’s flaming sickle. Ilthiax just about vomited with surprise, and even the Knight of Hatred seemed in shock that his trump card had been so overwhelmingly effective.

But that in and of itself was not what had rattled Gamils ancient bones the most. In the scant milliseconds before the sickle had hit home, a single, smug whisper had drifted through his mind.

I win.