Chapitre 4 : Cérémony

In the ethereal abyss of the Interstice, Void, the leader, stood with unquestioned authority, his face framed by a brain-shaped helmet, eyes hollow behind a narrow slit, projecting terrifying and ancient wisdom. His presence alone seemed to distort the reality around him, the fabric of space and time bending to his will.

Conrad, less imposing but just as sinister, sported a spherical form, his body fading into the darkness like a disease eating away at the edges of reality. His eyes, small and bright, watched with morbid curiosity, scanning those before him like a child observing insects under a magnifying glass.

Ubik, with his demonic appearance and perpetual smile, floated slightly above the ground. His face, if it could be called that, was a grotesque collection of exaggerated features, his eyes glinting with pure malice. He visibly reveled in the despair and confusion he inspired.

Slan, the only female figure among them, emanated a dangerous and supernatural beauty. Her long hair seemed made of darkness itself, waving in a wind that no one else could feel. His eyes, filled with a lust for suffering, stared at Arden and the others with a promise of pain that was almost sensual.

Together they formed a pantheon of absolute power, dark deities who determined the fate of mortals.

It was in this amphitheater of desolation that Void, the most imposing-looking entity, stood before them, his unfathomable helmet evoking the outline of an enormous brain addressed Arden and the others, revealing to them the purpose of their summons.

"You are now in the Interstice, the place that exists between worlds, where the rules of your reality no longer hold. You have been summoned here by the activation of the Behelit, the egg of destiny in the framework of a ceremony that transcends life and death."

A chill of horror ran through the assembly at these words, their wide eyes reflecting indescribable terror.

"What...what does that mean? What will become of us?" stammered a slave, his voice trembling with fear.

"You will witness the birth of an apostle, a being of immense power chosen by the Behelit. And for that, a sacrifice is required," Void replied, his voice a promise of desolation.

"A sacrifice ?" The question was barely audible, a whisper from a bandit whose usual cruelty had given way to fear.

"Yes. The bearer of the Behelit must strip himself of what he cherishes most, offering as a burnt offering the souls linked to his own, whether by love or hatred."

The revelation resonated in everyone's minds like a clap of thunder. Horrified murmurs rose among the survivors, their pale faces turning towards each other, suddenly understanding the terrifying price of the power that the Behelit promised.

As Arden floated, torn from the ground by an invisible will, the gaze of the divine entities fixed on him with cruel anticipation, the silence was broken by trembling voices, desperate pleas that rose from the depths of the assembly.

"Arden, don't do this, please," a feminine voice whimpered, broken with fear. "Think of those who love you, of those who fought alongside you. There must be another way, another way out…"

A man, once proud and indomitable, collapsed, knees to the ground, hands clasped in a gesture of impromptu prayer. "Arden, by all that is holy, consider what you are about to do. Is it not enough that our lives have been marked by suffering? Must we end up consumed by the ambition of a cursed power?

Even among the bandits, faces hardened by years of cruelty and despair now twisted into expressions of pure terror. "Arden, listen to us!" one of them shouted, his voice hoarse with distress. "We may have lived by the sword, but this...this is damnation. Do not condemn us to an eternity of torment for your quest for power."

The heart of Arden was a battlefield where two implacable forces clashed. On the one hand, the primal instinct for survival, a ravenous flame that consumed all reason, whispered to him that granting Void's request was the only way to escape death's icy embrace. On the other, the awareness of the horror of his choice, the fact of sacrificing those with whom he had shared pain and hopes, raised an insurmountable wall of anguish. Each plea from his companions was a stab to the heart, but also a cruel reminder of his own vulnerability.

In the midst of this inner tumult, an even darker revelation took shape, like a shadow slipping among Arden's tumultuous thoughts. The chains of slavery, the marks of his oppression, had forged in him a resilience tinged with cynicism. He had witnessed the worst atrocities that men could inflict on their fellow men, subject to the will of those who claimed to be his masters. And in this moment of final decision, a bitter truth imposed itself on him: in this cruel world, one was either the oppressor or the oppressed.

"What if... What if the cycle of suffering never broke?" Arden thought, Void's voice sounding like a sinister echo to his own questions. "What if, for every broken chain, a new one was forged?"

This thought froze him with fear, but also ignited in him a spark of revolt against a destiny imposed on him. However, the cold logic of survival took over, telling him that refusing Void's choice was just another form of servitude, that of remaining eternally chained to the fear of death, to pain, and to oppression.

Arden stared at Void, then at the pleading faces of his companions, and finally, in a gesture of desperate abandon, at the Behelit. "Liberty, if it is to be mine, will be stained with the blood of those who share my suffering," he murmured to himself. "Is this the only truth of our existence? To be forced to choose between oppressing or being oppressed?"

His decision, when it came, was a reflection of this heartbreaking inner struggle. "I refuse... I refuse to be a link in this chain of suffering. But at the same time, I cannot accept sinking into oblivion, being trampled upon by those who believe themselves to be my masters." His voice rose, tinged with bitter determination. "I will make this sacrifice, not to submit to you, but to break away from this cycle. To perhaps, one day, break these chains for good."

In Arden's eyes now shone a new light, that of a man who, faced with the abyss, had chosen a path paved with darkness, not out of submission, but in search of a freedom won at the darkest price .

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