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"...Xornoth?" Scott asked quietly, peeking inside of aer brother's door.
"Yeah, Scott?" They grinned, turning from their desk to look at aem. "Do you need something?"
Scott stood just outside of their room, clutching the door with one hand. Ae didn't really want to talk about it, but he was beginning to grow increasingly disturbed by the domestic afterlife he found himself in.
"Do you remember-" he hesitated, shrinking in on aemself before fully walking into the room and shutting the door. "Do you remember the corruption?"
Xornoth turned to look at their younger brother, confusion evident in their eyes.
"What corruption? What do you mean?"
"Before we died. Before I killed myself."
A confused, horrified look crossed their face before they stilled, eyes becoming blank.
For a short, terrifying moment, Scott thought aer brother was becoming the demon again. He didn't want to fight his older brother after months of peace.
Xornoth looked back to him, a pained look on their face.
"Yeah, I… I remember," they said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Scott."
Scott rushed over to aer brother, hugging them as tight as he could. Xornoth held their younger brother, hushing him soothingly. Scott cried in his brother's arms and clutched them like the children they never were.
Xornoth tucked Scott's head underneath their chin, holding aem to their chest. They rocked back and forth with him in their arms, soothing aem as ae sobbed.
"But I- I fixed it, right? When- when I used the Soul Sword? I undid the corruption?" Scott whispered when he calmed down. A pang went through Xornoth's chest, barely keeping themself from crying, too.
"Oh, brother," they sighed, "I know better than anyone that there was no way to 'undo' the corruption. The Soul Sword… it sends the victim to whatever afterlife the user wants, right?" Scott nodded quietly.
"And you wanted to undo the corruption? You wanted to go back to a time when the empires could live in peace and I could still be your brother. So, Ehor sent you to an afterlife with me where I was never corrupted."
"What about the others? They're here, aren't they-?"
"No, Scott. They aren't. It's just us."
Scott stayed quiet, still hugging Xornoth tightly. He hadn't been able to contact Ehor since he'd got here, could he? He'd gone to church and prayed and called out, but ae had never gotten a response. Ae had assumed that ae had fixed everything.
"Did you know?" ae looked up at aer brother, pulling away from them.
"I think I tried to forget. I wanted to believe that you had really fixed everything."
When Scott had been chosen as Ehor's champion, he had been honored. He was proud to be the future ruler and the pride of the church.
But Ehor had been so demanding. He expected Scott to be perfect. He barely responded to prayers and when Scott was bestowed with so much higher power, he left to let Scott learn and fend for aemself.
Had Exor been like that to Xornoth? Xor seemed so powerful. They were confident and strong and could never truly be contained. They so easily spread their influence throughout the empires and nearly defeated Scott.
Had Exor been… kinder?
"Was Exor kind to you?" Scott asked suddenly. Xornoth thought for a moment, smiling faintly, before speaking.
"Yes, he was. He promised me power and taught me how to hone my skills. When my mortal body failed me, he turned me into a demon so I could survive. He was better to me than our father ever was."
Scott winced at the mention of their father. The two had grown up in fear of both of their parents, but their father was the king. They were supposed to look at him for how to rule Rivendell, yet he struck them.
"He-" they hesitated, "He promised we could be brothers again."
And didn't that just make Scott want to cry again?
"But you don't like all this, now that you know it's fake, right?"
Scott paused. "I want another chance. I want to rule again."
He felt so selfish for admitting it. Ehor had granted him all the power he would need, and he had wasted it. Yet he still wanted more.
Something glinted in Xornoth's eyes. "You can," they murmured, "you can have another chance at life. All you'd need to do is make a deal with Exor."
"What would I need to do to make a deal?" Scott asked cautiously.
"State that you want to make a deal, then what your deal is."
Scott thought for a moment. Was making a deal with the god ae spent the last years of aer life fighting a good idea? How much did ae want this?
Ae wanted to see Jimmy again, though. Ae wanted another chance to rule, and most of all, ae wanted to have a choice.
"I want to make a deal with Exor," Scott started. "I want to be reborn into another life where I can rule, again. I want power."
"What are you willing to trade in return?" Xornoth asked, voice unnervingly reminiscent of when they were a demon.
"My humanity. My empathy." The things that had held Scott back from his true potential. Ae didn't want to feel others' hurt, he wanted to revel in it.
Xornoth grinned a terrible grin and held out his hand. Scott grasped aer brother's hand, sealing the deal. A strange feeling overcame aem, as if something was being strained out of him.
Xornoth hugged him again, offering the slightest bit of comfort to aem before he was ripped away into the next life.
"Rule strong, brother."
—
As Scott held the crystals in his hands, he felt a strange power reverberate through his bones. The vibrant colors bounced off each other and created a kaleidoscope effect in his eyes.
After Scott found the cave underneath Chromia, he couldn't keep them off his mind. Something about the crystals seemed familiar, and a voice in the back of his head wondered what it would feel like to be trapped inside of one.
He sighed and moved a crystal into the mortar, beginning to crush it with the pestle. Something about its magical properties fascinated Scott, especially after seeing what its "essence" could do to his weapons.
As he crushed it into a fine powder, he noticed that the powder was similar to the amethyst powder used to make expensive threads. Amethyst thread was commonly sought-after among the richest nobles. It was expensive enough to buy the amethyst for your own thread but to buy the thread itself? That was a whole 'nother thing.
Scott wondered if he could create thread from the crystal powder, too.
The voice in the back of his mind wondered, too.
So it was settled; Scott would find out.
After several days of production, Scott had created a fine, colorful thread from the powder of the crystals. It shone with an unnatural magic, calling to him.
Scott decided to use it to sew together many dyed pieces of leather into a patchwork crown. While yes, he should have used it to create something more elegant, every king needs a crown.
And he should at least stand out.
He worked deftly, making no mistakes in his pattern. The thread seemed to emphasize the color of every piece of leather it stitched through.
His hands bled but his blood simply fell away from the fabric, red painfully dull in comparison to the vibrant scarlet of the dye and vermillion of the threads.
After several sleepless nights, Scott had a colorful symbol to adorn his head; A crown of fools to call him king.
The voice in the back of his head purred.
Scott Major admired himself in his vanity mirror, soft blue hair braided and woven with flowers. The patchwork crown glowed and complimented the other colors that adorned his figure.
He moved his eyes to his bedside window, peering at the god next door. Stratos floated on clouds of thunder and the brilliant smoke from Scott's houses and factories.
Joel was a god, self-centered and snobbish, as was his nature. He had relations with anyone he pleased and neglected his child until it was his turn to be the "fun" dad. His kingdom, Stratos, was kept floating by the prayers of humans he didn't even acknowledge.
Most of all, he stood in Scott's way.
While ruling Chromia was enjoyable, Scott craved more. He wanted to rule over the empires as a whole; he wanted power.
However, ruling over a server is near impossible while a god roams free. Gods demand respect and worship. They don't tend to bow before mortals. In fact, gods tend to favor crushing mortals who dare defy him. That much had already been demonstrated with how he'd drastically changed Jimmy's height.
Speaking of Jimmy, he was another obstacle.
The toy sheriff, while as unintimidating as he may be, was very insistent about his laws. He never let Scott off the hook, no matter how flustered he got from Scott's teasing. Jimmy wasn't at all respected but when he wanted something done, it was getting done no matter what stood in his way.
Scott, of course, had other options. But he felt a certain pull towards the cute sheriff. Maybe, if he could get Jimmy to calm down, they could have something together and Scott wouldn't have to get rid of him.
Back to Joel.
To take down a god, you need a very powerful weapon. You need something forged from hellfire and blood, or starshine and souls. You need sacrifice and the essence of the expansive universe.
Scott didn't like making attachments because they could be ripped away all too easily. But in times like this, he was lucky that he attached himself to people whenever they showed him a shred of interest.
Scott's eyes drifted back over to the crystals. He had a decent cluster stored up in his room. It was meant to just be for decoration, but it seemed far too powerful for someone like Scott to fully understand.
There was definitely a piece of the universe stored inside of the crystals, if not the soul of a former god.
Scott shook his head. He didn't know who he'd be willing to sacrifice. It needed to be someone who wouldn't be noticed, yet still had a connection with Scott. Oli wouldn't be noticed if he went missing, but Scott only knew him so well. People would definitely notice Jimmy or Sausage, maybe not care about Jimmy, but definitely notice.
Scott pondered who he could safely sacrifice when Owen wandered into his room. The orange clad llama-man looked over at Scott and promptly made his way over to drape himself across the man.
Scott pressed his face into Owen's hair and held him for a moment, before an idea struck him. He looked over his former bartender who he'd grown quite fond of and made a decision.
If it was a sacrifice he needed, then it's a sacrifice he'd make.
—
Scott major turned away from the body and instead to his newly crafted blade. It took the shape of a broadsword, glowing vibrantly with the multicolored crystal balde. It was stronger than bedrock and sharper than netherite, obsidian accenting the gold hilt.
The blood on his hands was crystallized into the tip of the blade: deep, crimson and damning. The voice in the back of his head yearned for the golden ichor that would spill from Joel to decorate the sword.
He now wielded a weapon that could cut a rift in reality and destroy any being who challenged him. The power it posed flowed through his veins, going straight to his head.
Scott held the sword, grinning to himself as the voice of his brother whispered to him:
"All shall bow before Scott the Colorful and his leather patchwork crown."