As Retro began to collapse, Atlas darted forward, catching him just in time before he hit the ground. Holding Retro in his arms, Atlas looked up at the phantom lingering in the doorway, his voice edged with concern. "What happened to him?" Atlas demanded.
The phantom, with a smug smile playing on his lips, simply replied, "You'll find out soon enough," before turning to leave. As he vanished into the shadows, only a lingering trace of his presence remained, a reminder of the encounter.
Atlas gently laid Retro on the bed, his mind racing with unanswered questions. But for now, there were more immediate concerns. Determined to make their temporary shelter more livable, Atlas set to work. He took his axe and ventured outside, felling a few trees. With the help of his Relic of Transfiguration, he transformed the logs into sturdy planks, replacing the worn flooring in the house.
Hours passed, and as Atlas was in the middle of preparing a meal, a soft noise behind him caught his attention. He turned to see Retro stirring, slowly sitting up in bed, one hand pressed to his head.
"Hey, Retro," Atlas called out, concern lacing his voice. "You alright, man?"
Retro gave a faint smile, though the exhaustion in his eyes was evident. "Yeah, I'm okay. I had to use what little power I had left to break the command he tried to put on me. Those damn commandments... they're a load of crap." He chuckled softly, though the weariness in his voice was unmistakable.
Atlas felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Glad to hear it. Are you hungry? I whipped up some loaded baked potatoes-my special recipe."
Retro's eyes lit up with a hint of hunger. "Yeah, I'm starving. I can smell them from here."
Atlas smiled, gesturing toward the small table. "Alright, let's sit down and eat."
As they settled in, Retro's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's the deal with you and that phantom? And that book you're always carrying around-I'm curious."
Atlas paused, considering his response. "The book? It's my work journal and a memoir. It can actually split into two separate volumes. As for the phantom... he caused havoc, something I can't quite shake off. It's complicated, hard to explain in words. But if you want to understand, you can read the book. Maybe it'll make more sense that way."
Retro nodded thoughtfully, intrigued by Atlas's words. "I'll hold you to that. But for now, let's eat."
Retro leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I've been meaning to ask about that book, but I always dismissed it as just a regular journal. I didn't realize it was something more important."
Atlas nodded, understanding Retro's initial assumption. "Most people wouldn't notice anything special about it unless they were archivists. We have access to powerful resources, and that's why some have hunted me down, trying to get their hands on my archivist badge."
Retro's curiosity was piqued. "Oh? What's so special about an archivist badge?"
Atlas leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as he explained. "Archivist badges are unique-they only work with the person who owns them. If someone tries to remove the badge without the owner's permission, it will self-destruct in a massive explosion. We can even set a timer for the explosion."
Atlas reached out, handing Retro the journal. Retro took it, but when he opened it, the pages were blank. Confusion crossed his face as he looked back at Atlas, who couldn't help but chuckle.
"Remember," Atlas said with a grin, "I mentioned you'd need permission to use it."
Retro let out a small sigh of disappointment. "You did say that, but I didn't expect it to be like this."
"Don't worry," Atlas reassured him. "I can give you access, but there's a catch-you can't tell anyone about the realm you're about to learn about."
Atlas took Retro's hand, sliding a ring onto his finger. The ring glowed faintly as Atlas whispered a few words, creating a pact that allowed Retro access to the book. "This pact will grant you permission, but it binds you to secrecy about what you'll discover."
As the pact was completed, Atlas stood up, stretching his arms. "It's almost night, and after everything that's happened in the past five days, I could really use some shut-eye."
He walked over to the bed, lying down with a contented sigh. Retro watched him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the book. As he opened it again, the blank pages began to fill with words and illustrations, the secrets of Atlas's journey unfolding before his eyes.
**Page One**
*One day, I set out on a journey to a ruined city from long ago. The path was fraught with an eerie, looming aura, but with my book and relics in tow, I pressed on, determined to uncover the secrets hidden within the decaying walls. As I wandered through the desolate streets, I couldn't help but imagine the city in its prime-its buildings aglow with life, the streets bustling with townsfolk. It must have been a place of beauty, a haven where stories and memories were made.*
*One particular story came to mind, a legend passed down through the ages. It is said that the townspeople once held a grand festival to honor their protector, the Warden. The Warden, a being both revered and feared, was blind, navigating its world through the sounds of the animals and its own echoing steps as it roamed the dark tunnels of the caves surrounding the city. The only thing that brought the Warden joy was music, for it could visualize and find peace in the melodies that reached its ears.*
*During the festival, the townsfolk played a beautiful melody, a song so pure and calming that it made the Warden happy. The sound became the Warden's guiding light, a beacon in the darkness. Moved by the music, the Warden vowed to protect the town from all harm, shielding it from pillagers and robbers with a fierce loyalty.*
*But as the days turned into months, and months into years, the town was struck by a terrible disease. One by one, the people fell ill, succumbing to the fatal plague that swept through the streets. The once vibrant city became a ghost town, its laughter and music silenced forever.*
*Alone and desolate, the Warden remained behind, its heart heavy with grief and madness. It missed the songs, the life, the joy that once filled the city. But as the years passed, the Warden's sorrow turned to rage. It began to attack anyone who dared approach the ruins, its once benevolent nature twisted by the loneliness and despair that consumed it.*
*The legend of the Warden serves as a reminder of what was lost, and as I stood there, surrounded by the echoes of the past, I couldn't help but feel a deep sadness for the fate of that ancient city and its protector.*
**Page Two**
*As I wandered deeper into the ruins, something strange caught my eye-a peculiar object on the ground, almost like a fungus, faintly glowing in the dim light. Intrigued, I slipped on my gloves and carefully picked it up. The moment it was in my grasp, I heard a faint sound, like a distant whisper. My eyes were drawn to another object, this one also glowing as if reacting to the first.*
*But before I could investigate further, I noticed something unsettling-the ground beneath me began to tremble, and from the earth itself, something started to emerge. Panic surged through me as I realized what was happening. I turned and bolted for the exit, but it was too late. With a deafening crash, the ceiling above crumbled, sealing my only way out. I was trapped, and worse, I was not alone.*
*In the dim light, I could see the shape of the Warden, its presence unmistakable. I moved quietly, trying to avoid its notice, but the oppressive silence was suffocating. I took out my journal and scribbled down a few frantic words:*
*"This might be the end for me, but I can't give up so easily."*
*Determined to survive, I steeled myself and set off to find another exit. I turned a corner, hoping to find a way out, but instead, I found myself face to face with the Warden. Its eyeless gaze seemed to pierce through me, and without warning, it charged.*
*I ran as fast as I could, but the uneven ground betrayed me. I stumbled, falling hard to the ground, my escape route cut off. The Warden loomed over me, its presence almost suffocating. Just as I thought this might truly be the end, the ground beneath me suddenly gave way, shattering like glass.*
*I fell, tumbling through the darkness, the world around me crumbling as I plunged into the unknown.*
**Page Three**
*As I descended further into the depths, the cave above me became a distant memory. I found myself in a strange chamber with three distinct paths, each glowing with a different hue. The first path was bathed in a menacing red light, the second shone with a pure, almost blinding white, and the last was a sickly blend of black and yellow, reminiscent of a biohazard. Drawn to the foreboding glow of the biohazardous path, I steeled myself, ready to face whatever lay beyond.*
*With a forceful push, I shattered the barrier that blocked my way and stepped into the unsettling corridor. The walls around me were in constant flux, shifting and changing as if I were walking through a landscape made of living tiles. It was a disorienting sight, and as I pressed forward, I noticed a figure in the distance, faintly outlined in the dim light. Desperate for answers, I ran towards the figure, calling out, "Where am I?"*
*But as I neared, my heart sank. It wasn't a man-it was a creature, a monstrosity twisted by madness. Its flesh had been stripped away, revealing muscle and sinew, and its cold, lifeless eyes locked onto mine with a terrifying hunger. This was no longer a human; it was something that had been driven insane, reduced to cannibalism in the hellish environment it had been trapped in. Terror gripped me, and I bolted, my heart pounding in my chest.*
*I quickly grabbed one of my relics and unleashed its power, freezing the creature in place with a blast of icy wind. But before I could catch my breath, another horror emerged-a monstrous being with a black, spider-like body and a grotesque grin stretched across its face. It lunged at me, and though I managed to freeze it with my Blizzard Relic, one of its legs lashed out, striking me and sending me sprawling to the ground.*
*Gritting my teeth against the pain, I scrambled to my feet and continued running, my mind racing. I had to find a way out of this nightmare. After what felt like an eternity of fleeing through the ever-changing labyrinth, I stumbled upon a desk with an old television set perched on top of it. A man sat in a chair behind the desk, his presence eerie yet oddly calm. He introduced himself as Mystic, the God of Creation.*
*"You're the one," he said, his voice echoing with a mix of relief and resignation. "The one who can free me from this prison."*
*I stared at him in disbelief, my thoughts reeling. "What are you doing here? You're the God of Creation-how could you be trapped in this place?"*
*Mystic sighed, his expression weary. "I created this realm, the Inbetween, as a place to hold the balance between worlds. But my actions angered the God of Gods, the one who created the multiverse itself. As punishment, I was banished here, to this twisted reflection of my own making."*
*As his words sank in, I couldn't help but question everything. "I don't understand," I said, my voice tinged with desperation. "How did I end up here? What purpose could I possibly serve in this? I'm not a threat, nor am I anything special. I'm just a keeper of the archives. I only want to protect those I care about!"*
*My voice echoed through the chamber, but Mystic only looked at me with a knowing sadness, as if he understood the burden I now carried. The weight of his words and the reality of my situation began to press down on me, leaving me with more questions than answers.*
**Page Four**
*Mystic looked at me, his expression solemn. "I don't know what Phantom wanted with you," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and resignation. "But it sounds like he saved you from certain death."*
*I stared at him, my mind racing. "You're the God of Creation. You made this place. Is there any way out? You must know something!"*
*But Mystic only shook his head. "No, I don't," he replied, the weight of his words heavy with despair. "Phantom has corrupted this plane. He controls it now, and he won't let me leave. You're stuck here too, kid, so get comfy-you're in for a wild ride."*
*And so began the endless cycle of time. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. I lost count of how many times I died, only to be brought back again, each death a painful reminder of my imprisonment. Mystic trained me, honing my skills in the art of survival, but the routine grew monotonous, a cruel repetition that drove me to the brink of madness. As the years dragged on, the details of those early days blurred, becoming a dull haze of pain and monotony.*
*Unable to bear the tedium any longer, Retro, now reading the journal, skipped ahead to the final twenty pages. His eyes scanned the lines with growing interest as the narrative shifted to something more hopeful.*
*"I've found a way out," Atlas wrote, his words filled with a mix of determination and desperation. "I've thought long and hard about it, and I've decided to make a pact with Mystic. Our souls will be merged, but not fully. He will stay within me, hidden, until the day we can slip under Phantom's radar and escape this hell. He'll protect me if I'm in imminent danger, especially if Phantom discovers our plan and tries to reclaim his hold on Mystic's soul."*
*Retro paused, intrigued by the implications of this pact. He couldn't help but wonder what limits this would place on Atlas and what power it would grant him. The final pages revealed the culmination of Atlas's journey, detailing the moment when he and Mystic arrived at the center of the three planes-Hell, Heaven, and the In-Between. Beyond them, Earth and the other universes lay distant, almost out of reach.*
*As the pact was completed, Mystic left Atlas a parting gift-the Relic of Transfiguration. "Use it wisely," Mystic had said. "It may save you one day." Before leaving, Mystic offered one final piece of advice, his tone serious yet caring. "Many years have passed, but you haven't aged. The connection to the In-Between has protected you, but don't let it consume you. If you do, you risk corrupting this world and breaking it apart. Remember that, Atlas. Don't let it break you."*
*With those final words, Mystic faded away, leaving Atlas to grapple with the power and responsibility now resting on his shoulders. The journal ended, but the journey was far from over-both for Atlas and for Retro, who now understood the weight of the pact that bound them together.*
As Retro finishes reading the book, he closes it with a deep sigh and looks over at Atlas, who is resting nearby. "Damn, kiddo, you really have it rough, don't ya?" Retro says, his voice carrying a mix of empathy and understanding. "It's not easy being powerful when you've got people always after you. I know that better than anyone."
He stands up, feeling the weight of Atlas's story settle in his mind, and walks over to the fire. The flames crackle softly, casting flickering shadows across the room. Retro adds more wood to the fire, watching as the flames grow brighter and stronger, their warmth spreading through the space.
Meanwhile, off in the distance, deep within the Redwood Forest past the towering trees, stands a figure. A man with a white crown and pure white eyes, his gaze fixed on the house where Atlas and Retro reside. He watches silently, his presence ominous and watchful.
But he is not the only one observing. Another figure stands nearby, clad in a suit with white sleeves and black hair, his eyes also trained on Atlas. He applauds softly, a smirk playing on his lips, pleased to see Atlas forming bonds with the power that resides within him. However, his attention shifts when he notices the man with the white crown and pure white eyes in the distance, and his expression darkens with realization.
Back inside the house, Retro walks over to the window. His hand brushes against the glass, and with a subtle wave, the cracked and weathered window repairs itself, becoming whole once more. An evil smile curls at the corner of Retro's mouth as he looks out into the darkness. "I guess you've got me curious now, Phantom," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with dark amusement. "Let's see how long it takes before this world falls."
He chuckles softly to himself, the sound blending with the crackling of the fire, as the tension in the air grows thicker, the night pregnant with the promise of impending chaos.