Neo-Odyssey

Chapter 21

Now was the climatic moment, the finale of this grim season...

"So, you're the one who's been giving my minions so much trouble"

The towering    beast in black laughed amidst the stony ruins of a shattered cityscape. Black inky tendrils swirling lackadaisically from its back, smaller tendrils crowning its head swishing in bemusement. Its glistening, jagged form took plodding step after plodding step towards the one who dared defy it; a mere human, clad in shining armor.

"I'll show you trouble, monster."

In the blink of an eye the knight in shining armor seemed to disappear, reappearing before their foe, twin blades drawn and angling forward to skewer the amorphous monstrosity.

"Impressive trick. For a human."

The knight in shining silver was stopped in their tracks, as the jagged arms of the killer before them moved too fast to evade, grabbing both blades in a tight grip. Crimson dripped from his hands as it easily wrestled control, stretching wide and twisting the weapons into an untenable grip with a slow, indulgent sadism.

"I'm surprised your species could conjure up anything capable of cutting me. Not that it'll do you any good. You've my respect for forcing me to personally see to your demise, but it's high time I end this foolishness, and exterminate you animals once and for all!"

It's mouth seemed to open, the unsettling coal surface of its face pulling back to reveal jagged thorny red teeth, and a spiked tongue washing over them impatiently.

The creature would have to wait though. For right when the blades were about to be forced from the hero's grip, they dissipated into what looked all the world like sparkling stardust. In a flash, the knight in shining armor backed as far away as they could, their afterimage skewered by sharp spear like tendrils emanated from their foe.

"Humanity will survive you, Killer. Our world will awaken from the nightmare you've unleashed upon us. Mark my words on that!"

"Oh? Ohhh... is that soooo? You humans, so creative. So many names for me. Tyrant, Killer, Cataclysm. And then there's you, what is it they call you again?"

A short silence ensued, a light breeze sending dust and smoke billowing between the two.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter. None of this matters. None of you verminous animals matter. Your greatest lasting legacy will be as a footnote in the annals of history. As it should be for what you did. My people gave you all so much. We came to you ever so kindly, showed you the next step that lay beyond your primitive science, offered utopia in one hand and ascendancy in the other. And what did your kind do?"

The Cataclysm began laughing glumly, arms spread impossibly wide, tendrils lashing out from its body, the miasmatic darkness that it radiated bleaching the warmth and light from the space around it.

"Let's not forget. This ruined city, this ruined world we now share, that was not our doing. I'm simply finishing the folly your kind unleashed upon us all. If I'm being honest, my campaign of total extermination is more mercy than you all deserve!!!"

The hero stayed silent amidst the taunt, taking up a battle-ready stance, glimmering blades reforming in a flash of prismatic colors.

"I didn't choose this anymore than you did. Nor do those who remain."

The Cataclysm tensed his fingers, which were elongating into pronounced claws. Six tendrils upon his back swayed in a rhythmic pattern, red glowing eyes locking onto the prey before the apex predator.

"So says the jumped up nobody. I am the most powerful person to have ever lived! I don't care if the Dranul gave you that armor, if the lingering scraps of your pitiful governments cooked it up, or if you somehow made it yourself! All it makes you is one noisy, annoying insect, buzzing around me without a lick of sense! You, then the rest of your kind! One swat is all it'll take! One blow! Then you're all history!!!"

The scene froze right as the hero seemed to move forwards, the insane tyrant towering over them like a giant. The stoic image of the reluctant, determined knight in shining armor contrasted well with the cackling, indulgent evil of the Cataclysm...

...or, at least, that's what Clarice Ferrell thought.

Will our brave hero overcome the Cataclysm? Who'll Monarch side with when they arrive? And can the ESP evacuate the refugees to their new sanctuary before it's too late? Find out next time... on World Arisen!!!

"Goddamn cliffhangers..."

She'd been binging the show for hours now, ever since landing on it after mucking about with the pseudo-TV channel controls, or what she assumed to be channel controls, for longer than she cared to keep track of. Most of the programs were... unintelligible, she supposed. Without any context, she couldn't distinguish what was meant to be what. What looked like a news channel, focusing on the modern world, could turn out to be a take on Analog Horror. A show about some flying forest could just as much be a historical as a sitcom, or maybe even a fiction inside this mind numbing fantasy land.

The only channels she'd made heads or tails of before stumbling on World Arisen were a shopping program, which seemed to be just as mindlessly boorish no matter the greater context around it, and a cooking program. Even then, the cooking program might've been something fictionalized, meant to serve as a framing device to teach the audience the recipes on-screen.

Then she found it. A marathon for what felt like an anime by way of baroque moody Renaissance oil painting - World Arisen.

Some stylistic choices aside, like the lack of actual fucking names for the characters, and the aloof, mythical presentation the main villain and hero were given, it was pretty fun. The side characters did most of the heavy lifting for serious character interaction, the art itself was stunning, the world had a suitably apocalyptic atmosphere and aesthetic, etcetera.

Plus the fight scenes.

Something about them really tickled Clarice's fancy. She'd rushed right back to vibing atop her bed, eyes honed in on every subtlest detail, when the first one popped up, Of course, she'd been getting more snacks at the time, and had had a headache cleaning up the messy spilt results of her knee-jerk reaction, but it'd been thoroughly worth it.

Hopefully 'room-service' can finally clean that up sometime soon. In the meanwhile, till the next episode plays, what'll I be snacking down on next?

Lucky her, the fridge seemed to magically restock itself, and she'd been happy to grab bowl after bowl of not-popcorn to snack down on. Plus some water on the side, poured from the washroom faucet into the cup she'd been drinking coffee out of before maxing out her caffeine levels.

"Room service!"

Speak of the devil.

The voice came with a scant few ginger knocks on the door to the guest room. It sounded old, wizened, and warm. Like what you'd expect a stereotypical nice granny to sound like.

Clarice was, as such, put on edge. Too good to be true and all, especially considering the monster she'd seen roaming around last she tried popping her head out.

Not that I don't want to get room service. Like, I put in the memo for it and everything.. Uuuuugh, damn it, I was too into the show to think that through! Now what do I do?

"Uh, no, no thank you. I'm good."

"Now now, miss. I was being polite. You called me down here, and I know a shy fritter when I hear one. Now, just give me a moment to get this lock undone... and.... almost..."

The heavy vault wheel for the fittingly vault-like door began to turn on its own accord. Loud and clanky. With enough force that Clarice was sure she'd break a bone if the airline pilot tried to stop it from opening.

Well, I guess we're doing this now.

It opened with gusto, a chill wind blowing inside as a diminutive, cloaked figure shuffled hurriedly in, before closing the door behind.

"Leftie loosie... and righty-tighty," the ancient voice croaked as, a hand still firmly pressing against the door, the wheel turned rightwards by itself, shutting closed.

"Oh me oh my! Mini-Macrol's all over the floor. Tsk tsk tsk, this just won't do..."

The small person waved a hand, and the food seemed to sink into, and disappear within, the soft doughy floor.

"There. Hmph, so inconsiderate... looking at you, I wouldn't have taken for a smartly dressed young lady to be such a lazy-bones lay-about. Who waits hours on room service to pick up bite-sized snacks instead of spending a minute to do her host the courtesy!"

Clarice rubbed the back of her head, looking away from the irate little gremlin. It was the first time Clarice had been so scolded since she was a little girl. There wasn't a person who knew her who wouldn't have been disappointed, up to and including herself.

"Sorry. I guess I was too caught up in watching the show..."

"Show? Oh, which one? And how long have you been keeping the portrayer running, miss?" The cloaked person asked as they shuffled forwards some more, leaving a distinct trail of thick dust in their wake.

"I dunno? Half a day? I had a long nap a couple hours ago and wasn't running it then."

The little person nodded at that, shuffling over to her bedside before taking off the hood of their cloak, letting a mess of unkempt hair whitened by age flutter out.

"Three... four... five... how many hours have you... oh goodness, you really were captivated, weren't you? Well, seeing as how the rest of the room looks immaculate, I suppose I can overlook your rude first impression. Now then, dearie, could you please put the portrayer on pause?"

"Wait, this TV can pause?"

"Tv... oh my, what a quaint turn of phrase. You're just like that kind young woman down from the hall. A curious castaway that one. Months now and she's still not really... oh, excuse me, I'm rambling aren't I? Suppose it's the old gossip monger in me. Here, let me just-"

The old woman stretched out a hand, Clarice tossing the 'remote' her way. Flicking a nob, the current image on the screen, a midpoint of the intro section just past the 'previously on' recap, froze.

It was a nice shot, an aerial of the ruined city that the mc and the side cast had been based out of for the whole of the first season... and had used as an outreach hub when the second season took on more of a globe-trotter feel, at least till the Tyrant's forces had determined their location in the final stretch of episodes.

Clarice really did hope to see where Season Three would take them from here. Though, she could also wait. It's not like the show was going anywhere.

"Young lad, could you please scoot over?"

Clarice acquiesced, shimmying across the bed enough for her to leap right on top of the now spacious patch next to her own position. An impressive little spectacle considering the diminutive woman front flipped twice her height to get all the way up.