Chapter Text
Welcome to Objectopia.
It is a wonderful place. Spectacles of colour bless the eyes wherever you look. A paradise for all who may or may not recognize it. Those who resided here, though they might not see it themselves.. Are fortunate.
They usually lived happy, fulfilling lives — reaching for dreams across the various types of land that this utopia provided them. Happiness and peace always greeted them, wherever they looked.
..Everything changed when the Dark Lord rose into power.
Somewhere, out in a grassy field, rain had taken siege of the land. A traveller with baggy clothes completely soiled with rainwater skids across the damp ground, and ultimately, collapses onto it. Both hands and knees alike are covered in fresh markings: cuts, bruises, and everything of the like – Recurring symbols of their “adventure.”
If you asked them, they would not call it an adventure.
“ —Gosh, seriously, what’s the deal here?!” They ended up grappling at the ground in frustration. Mounds of rough dirt come up from the ground in response, “I thought butterflies can’t fly in the rain—”
Right as they say that, from around the corner of a particularly tall boulder, a new kaleidoscope of the creatures suddenly flutter in from around the corner. The traveller had already recognized something off about them – They are particularly moving in strange patterns, hiveminds that they had not seen before.
And that is not the end of it. When they first had to start running, they only ran because they saw..
“Again? Are you kidding me–?!” They stand up, slipping slightly – Their knees buckle, but they never cave, “I swear, this is getting old..”
They start off running again in the opposite direction of the swarm.
Nobody knows who the Dark Lord was before, or where they came from, but they instantly made themself known as the most foreboding and terrifying threat known to the little island.
They were a monster themself – Figuratively and literally. With their powers – Foreign and strange to the people of the land, they were able to instill a new history of violence. Although, their reign was brought upon in the most peculiar manner.
The Dark Lord.. Stole their faces.
Everyone who showed a modicum of joy, confidence, or comfort within their bodies.. The Dark Lord would come and swipe it away – Taking the face of the person for themselves, leaving nothing but the shell of a body behind. Their nightmare soon took over the land.
The utopia was covered in Darkness.
“I’m actually sick, I think—”
The traveller is trying not to keel over then and there, their arm holds their bodyweight on a particularly large stone. The variety of rocks in the area, though slippery with rainwater, are the only cover present within the expanse.
They are cognizant of the looming threat – The butterflies, despite the rain, are still deadset on hunting them down. They are not sure why, but it is likely because of how they reacted to first seeing one of them, out in the light of day.
But then again, who wouldn’t be? They are still trying to convince themself that they reacted appropriately enough – Even if it was slightly extreme, the sight before them at the time was even further beyond that.
The butterfly.. Had the face of a person.
And it was not an illusion of the wings — An illusion like that could not gather that much detail. It was an actual face on the wings of a butterfly. And at the time, they had flinched back and on reflex, had hit the creature with their hands.
It did not take too kindly to that, which then started the pursuit of the butterflies against this poor traveller — As apparently, there were more of them in hiding. All of them had different types of faces, but each had one goal of coming together to chase them down.
They aren’t sure when they’ll stop. They have not tuckered out.
With another breath of air in, they muster whatever stamina they have left to keep running – To hopefully, seek refuge from the rain – And get rid of their stinging, open wounds.
The Dark Lord had taken an abundance of faces from many across the island. Countless amounts of people with untold stories, being removed of agency and rendered helpless – Their corporeal forms at the mercy of their surroundings.
To put insult to injury, with the faces the Dark Lord had obtained.. They forced them upon the bodies of monsters.
Demonic, cursed forms crafted by the Dark Lord themself – Different beings that serve under them, faces being cast upon them and bringing them to life. With these new monsters, their reign of terror was further enforced. The world continues to rest within this period of fear and darkness.
.. Or so it would be, until someone new comes along. A mortal who, in a string of events, would find their way to becoming the hero who fights against the Dark Lord, and eventually, succeeds.
Their story is long and convoluted. But the story presented before you is where it is said to have begun.
It begins with a traveller.. Named Winner.