Chapter 35
Shinigami
The chapter begins with Marcus, consumed by primal fear in the heart of the Mayan tomb. His eyes begin to tear up—perhaps because he had just eaten his friend's flesh, perhaps from the sheer horror of it all, or perhaps for no reason at all. They were just meaningless tears, like everything else in this terrifying world. Marcus was sweating when the Spanish boy of English descent, P., urged him to calm down.
The boy said to him, "Now, Mr. Marcus, you have two choices. Either you join us as a new member of the cult and come with us in the rites—we dance from midnight until dawn under the red full moon, the Blood Moon—what do you say? Will you come out and sanctify the God of Fear with us? Or will you become a meal for me and the beasts of the cosmos... like your friend?"
Marcus replied nervously, with little hesitation, "Amigo, I'll join you. To the deepest hell—anything but a strange death."
The Mexican whispered in his ear, "Rejection's fate is worse than death, and acceptance's fate is worse than life. Together, we forge our own paradise through our worship of the unknown. Welcome, Mr. Marcus, to the Cult of the God of Fear."
They led him out of the terrifying Mayan temple and walked through the desert beneath countless stars and comets. Beyond the horizon, the red moon illuminated this cosmic masterpiece, painting the sky with hues of terror and beauty. Colors from beyond space lit their path as Marcus and the Mexicans headed toward the center of the temples.
There, in the vast desert, stood numerous statues, each beside a temple. But one statue stood alone in the middle of the wasteland. Marcus anxiously asked the cult members, "Is this the one we're facing?"*
They replied, "Yes, amigo. Here lies the God of Death, the bestower of blessings upon us. We must go and welcome you as a new member."
They rode through the illuminated desert darkness on horseback until the statue was revealed before them. It was a massive undead skeleton, clad in a cloak made of bear fur, its mouth agape and its eyes spewing eerie green flames. The statue was drenched in blood, and beneath it, carved into its base, was a name:
"Zulish the Lich, the Shinigami, God of Fear."
The Spaniards, in ecstasy, proclaimed, *"Welcome, Marcus. This is the new absolute ruler of the cosmos, our master, the sovereign of fear—Zolish."
They began circling it, dancing and chanting strange words in Spanish. Marcus was brought to the center, where they handed him their sacred bible—a book bound in green leather with a golden skull-shaped lock.
The Spanish boy said, "This book contains the teachings and mythology of our cult. Pray to him, for he is close to claiming dominion over all things."
Marcus asked, "What do you mean?"
The Spanish boy replied, *"We don't know the details, but it seems there is a war in the cosmos—the cosmic deities and the Seventh One against the Absolute Entity, the Shadow Demon. Our lord seeks to rule everything. That is the prophecy given to us, but our master has not revealed more. Look—the other cults are emerging from their temples."
Marcus asked, "Why?"
Then, seven more statues appeared beside the God of Fear, Zolish.
The first was a majestic elf witch.
The second was a giant eye with countless embryos.
The third was a massive wolf with teeth from another dimension, a long horse-like tail, and jet-black fur, fiercely illuminated by the red moon.
The rest were so bizarre that Marcus's poor mind could not comprehend them.
The cult leader approached him and said, *"Well, Marcus, right?"*
Marcus replied, "Yes, sir."
The cult leader said, "First, you must dress like us."
They gave him a traditional Mexican robe—dark red with golden skull embroidery on the chest—and a cowboy hat adorned with an inverted cross and bone motifs.
Everyone there wore Mexican attire bearing symbols of their ruler.
The cult leader said, "Good. Now, you must dance with us. Each cult will dance around its idol, but we are smarter—we will dance around the God of Fear."
They began performing strange yet elegant Mexican dances around the the Wizard of Fear , chanting in Spanish:
*"Vive en vivo, el maestro del reino más alto y el dios del miedo."
("Long live the master of the highest realm and the god of fear.")
Each cult repeated its own eerie Spanish chants. Marcus danced along, mimicking them, his body tense with fear.
As this unfolded, the people began to transform.
Those before the elf witch's statue grew scales, jagged teeth, and large round eyes. Thread-like appendages extended from their heads, and fins sprouted from their backs—they became amphibious, fish-like creatures.
Those before the wolf turned into blood-drenched werewolves, their fur matted with gore, their fangs bared.
As for those around Marcus—first, their skin began to melt away, revealing raw flesh, nerves, and exposed organs—livers, spleens, intestines. Then, one by one, they exploded. Blood and human viscera splattered across Marcus's face as they all transformed into skeletons.
They grasped each other mid-dance, their voices rising into a deafening chant. Their eyes erupted with flames—some red, some blue—as the ritual reached its horrifying climax.
As they venerated the God of Fear, the Shinigami, they began reverting to their human forms. Marcus' sweat soaked the ground as he trembled violently, his teeth clattering so hard they nearly shattered. In panic, he stammered, *"Wha—what just happened?!"
The Mexican priest replied, *"These transformations are a gift from the God of Fear. You didn't change like us because your initiation ritual isn't complete yet. But don't worry—the time has come."
**"Step forward to the statue of the God of Fear before you… and take this dagger."
Marcus took the dagger with shaking hands and approached the deity.
The priest commanded, "Now is the time to shatter the walls of fear. Take the dagger, carve out your heart from your chest, and offer it to the God of Fear. Do not fear—you will not die. This dagger is the most powerful in the world; it will preserve you completely."
Fear consumed Marcus.
Tension overwhelmed him. He screamed, turned, and ran—hurling the dagger at one of the cultists. It decapitated the man instantly.
The cultists gave chase.
The inevitable came.
They caught him.
In fury, the Mexicans snarled, *"¡Arrojemos a este amigo infiel al agujero cósmico y dejemos que los dioses hagan lo que quieran con él!" ["Let us throw this unfaithful friend into the cosmic abyss and let the gods do as they please with him!"]
They bound him and dragged him behind the temples—or rather, **beyond time and space itself.
There, a massive rift split the earth—a tear in the fabric of spacetime. Beneath the abyss lay the terrifying void: stars, supernovae, and nebulae swirling in the deepest pit imaginable.
Then they threw him in.
Marcus fell into the lurking terror, plummeting through the vast cosmos—the cradle and land of true horror.
As he fell, his skeleton burst out of his body. Then his soul separated, leaving his flesh behind. He watched from behind as his bones and spirit drifted apart—until he crashed onto a chessboard.
The impact shattered the board, scattering the pieces—only to send him falling again through the technicolor void, past comets, stars, nebulae, suns, moons, and supernovae.
"When the universe opened before him..."
Marcus floated in the void—or perhaps the void floated within him. Time was no longer fixed; it had become a liquid seeping through the pores of reality.
Suddenly, an entity manifested before him—**or perhaps it had always been there, and he was only now able to perceive it.
It stood in the midst of nothingness—not a being, but an embodied idea. Its form was not truly a body, but a fabric of cosmic dust, interwoven threads of light and darkness. Every inch of its being burned with the energy of galaxies yet unborn—or perhaps galaxies dying within it, fading like dreams at the touch of dawn.
It had no face.
No eyes—just three hollow pits radiating golden light , like masks of another reality, remnants of unknown civilizations reflected within. Its mouth was not a mouth, but a tear in existence itself, a hole from which white light poured—as if it swallowed time and regurgitated it, mutated, distorted, meaningless.
Above its head, strange appendages writhed—not hair, but living shapes, twisting arms or perhaps tentacles, or even cosmic pathways bending under their own weight, emitting colored lights like the spectra of dying stars. Some opened and closed like unknown flowers; others stretched into fiery smoke-serpents that coiled and vanished into nothingness.
Its right hand was extended, fingers pointing gently—but not at Marcus. At something behind him, something he dared not look at. In its left hand, it held a small orb—a planet rotating slowly, its atmosphere burning with eternal fire, as if fate itself dangled in its grasp, a mere toy in the hands of an entity indifferent to worlds burning or being reborn.
But the true horror was not in its form—but in the way it existed.
It did not stand there—it tore itself apart and reassembled every moment.Its torso was split open, revealing no stomach or intestines—just a void where stars stretched, a gateway between worlds, as if its inside was merely an extension of the outside.
Or perhaps the opposite.
It was born and collapsed simultaneously, as if it did not live, but oscillated between being and non-being. Every time Marcus looked at it, he felt his own essence unraveling, as if his eyes were mere holes through which his soul was being sucked inside.
And then, suddenly—Marcus was no longer Marcus.
There was no "he." No "I."
He became a spark—a mere point, a burning thought in the mind of an entity that did not belong to this universe.
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He continued falling through the cosmic abyss,past stars, nebulae, pink and blue planets, and green suns—a distorted, undiscovered space—until, in the heart of the void, he saw others falling.
**Bruno and Gabriel.**
Bruno held Gabriel in his arms as he reached out to Marcus.
*"Who are you?"
Marcus: "Seems like someone else was forced to see the truth."
Bruno: "Welcome to the party."
Marcus: "It's a beautiful feeling, falling here with two others. It's truly… indescribable."
Bruno: "I know a feeling that doesn't exist."
As they fell, an enormous black hole emerged beneath them—stretching half the size of a galaxy.
From its depths emerged an
undead figure, clad in a black cloak, wielding a massive scythe forged from cosmic dust. Its blade was crafted from the remnants of shattered moons—so sharp it split the black hole itself, tearing through the fabric of space.
They screamed in terror as the entity **widened its maw and laughed, awaiting their descent.
And so, they continued falling—straight toward the Shinigami, the God of Fear.
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End of Chapter