Chapter Text
Once, in some lost ancient time, there was a king. He was a benevolent ruler, dearly loved by his subjects. In their hearts, they had truly believed he was chosen by the divine – that he was blessed. After all, good fortune had graced their kingdom during his rule. Long forgotten were the days of sickness, hunger, and suffering.
Unbeknownst to them, however, the king was greatly troubled. The vast population under him worried him to no end. How does he govern this many people? How was he to rule justly? So many were counting on him; he wouldn't dare disappoint them.
The king dreamed that night. He was in a space of pure light, a place akin to heaven. The brightness, though majestic, rendered him blind – his eyes stinging even behind closed lids. The pain was overwhelming. He wondered if he was to burn alive.
But then a voice spoke, one he did not recognize. "What do you wish for?" It asked bluntly. "Whatever your desire may be, I will grant it."
"I long for wisdom," the king said almost immediately. "If I am to govern my people, I need understanding. I want to be able to discern the right and the wrong; to foresee what lies ahead; to advise them accordingly.
"I yearn for wisdom," he repeated. "That is what I want."
The king woke up the next morning a changed man. Somehow, his wish had come true. In his hands he held all the world's knowledge for himself. He was now the wisest of the wise. No man before nor after his reign shall equal him in any way. Surely, the voice that spoke to him had to be some sort of god.
From then on, the kingdom prospered even more. The people were pleased that their ruler was a just, primed, wise man. With him as their leader, they shall never know hardship again.
It had been about a year since the first sign.
At first they called it a virus – a sickness that medicine would one day cure. With their feeble brains, humanity could only do what it knew: deny. Perhaps if they searched hard enough, they could finally get rid of this anomaly and return to what once was. They'd suffer a little, find a remedy, then bounce back to the ordinary. That's how it's always been, right?
But this was something they've never faced before.
Ironically, they called it Iudicium, the Latin word for 'judgement'. Back then, some joked that its appearance heralded judgement day – that it meant the end was finally coming for them once and for all.
They soon learned to never trifle with fate.
The first symptom of Iudicium could be found in the eyes. Slowly, the person's irises would change to a striking yellow hue, followed by a bleeding sclera. Later findings reported that by then, whenever a person would cry, their tears came out as a burning golden liquid with a pungent smell.
Another sign was the change in behavior. Iudicium aggravated a person's mind to the point of insanity. Moods would change rapidly, fear of the unknown would seep into their bones, and somehow the mouth would spew foreign words that they themselves did not know they could speak.
It was hell. And it was spreading fast. Respectable members of society reduced into a shell of who they were, now like rabid animals roaming the streets.
By the first few months, the world had already plunged into chaos. Order had long vanished with the first transmission. Bodily fluids, society soon realized, were far easier to spread than they imagined.
Madness took over. The unrest descended into anarchy. It was everyone for themselves. Each passing day begged one question and one question only: 'will I survive?'
Avery, like many others left, has pondered over that query countless of times. Whenever he found himself idle, which is rarely given the circumstance, that would be the only thing on his mind.
Will he live to see tomorrow?
He never truly knew the answer.
"Come on... come on..." Avery begged as he tried fiddling with a rusty old padlock. He had found an abandoned convenience store on the way back to his base. He hadn't found any food for the night, and he figured that it wouldn't hurt to test his chances. His current grievance, however, was the fact that whoever previously owned this store was quite the worrywart. The lock on the fridge was enough proof of that.
And because Avery had spent all his good luck on finding this place, he'd been standing there for a whole hour trying to pick a pathetic piece of junk. He was also failing miserably.
Avery raised his head to stare at the packages of food behind the glass. They seemed to have grown bored of him. Hell, Avery was so bent on getting his hands on them that he didn't even consider if they were expired or not.
Still, a stomachache would be better than starving to death. It'd surely be a better illness than Iudicium.
"Screw this."
Pulling up his sleeves, Avery took a few steps back, gathering momentum. With as much force as he could muster, Avery ran toward the fridge before planting his fist on its tempered glass. The brief connection to the surface sent a shock through his spine, making his entire body tingle. His knuckles bloomed an angry red; Avery jumped back in pain.
"Aw, shit!" He yelped. He frantically shook his hand, trying to shake away the ache from his skin. He could feel himself on the verge of tears.
Avery desperately gripped his wrist, hoping it would lessen the blow. It barely did.
Still, he didn't want to cry. He wouldn't forgive himself if he did. It'd be pathetic, really, to cry over something so trivial when everything else had gone up in flames.
So with a pouty lip and an empty stomach, Avery left the store. He had a few biscuits in the morning anyway. He'll live; hungry and quite sore, but he'll survive.
He can always try again tomorrow.
When the time came, Avery rose earlier than the sun. He preferred scavenging at this hour, when everyone else was still asleep. Less people meant less competition.
Avery grabbed a tattered coat along with his beat up backpack before heading out. He sucked in a breath, quietly praying for a safe and productive trip. He was sincerely hoping to find food this time. The rations he had once stolen from a small group of survivors were running out. Though, Avery wasn't entirely surprised about it. He was well aware that karma, unfortunately, did not forget those in debt. He was simply paying the price.
"Those guys were a little weird, anyway," Avery muttered to himself. "Pretty sure they killed others for the same thing."
The morning chill was more unbearable now that the streets were empty. Even as he was inside, looting a shop near a gas station, Avery was shivering from the cold. His coat was doing very little to insulate his body. It already had so many holes and patches in it that Avery was only keeping it for sentimental value at this point.
Besides, it was the only thing he had left before all this.
After he was done, Avery made his way down the street. The shop excursion wasn't too bad. He got a few biscuits, canned foods, and even a couple – unfortunately warm – sodas. They'd be enough to get him through the week. Hopefully.
And even if they didn't, Avery would never say no to some extra supplies. Certainly not.
On his walk, he spotted a large imposing building in the distance. It was wedged between a few important establishments that Avery was sure were already empty. The broken windows outside were a good enough tell.
This place in particular, oddly enough, seemed untouched compared to the rest. Save for a few scratches and obvious attempts of a break in, it was still as clean as it could be.
Well, it wasn't like Avery had anything better to do. Bracing himself for the long flight of stairs, he made his way toward the entrance. Avery's excitement grew with each step. He dreamed of a hoard of food, medicine, maybe even a bed all waiting for him inside. He even started considering moving in entirely.
Disappointment came quickly, however. Once he entered, Avery was quick to recognize where he was. He groaned, running a hand down his face.
"Of course no one comes here! What good does a library offer these days?" He scratched his head in frustration. "Is paper even edible?"
Avery didn't leave, though. He didn't climb all the way to the entrance for nothing. Thus, against his better judgement, Avery ventured deeper inside.
He didn't know what he was expecting, really. Other than tall shelves of books and a few tables and chairs, there was nothing else that the place had to offer. Sure, wood from the furniture could be used to make a fire, maybe torn book pages too, but that was barely anything. Clearly, there was little to be found.
Avery was about to take his leave when he heard something in the distance. A thud. He turned around, trying to make out what it was. The reasonable explanation would be a pile of books falling off the shelves, or a chair toppling over. But even then, what caused it? The library was sealed shut; the wind couldn't have possibly made its way in here.
"Hello?" Avery called out. He stepped closer to the darkness, the space where the light of the rising sun couldn't reach. "Is anyone there?"
Avery wasn't sure why he even bothered. For all he knew, whoever was hiding there could possibly be another desperate survivor who'd rob and kill him at any given chance. Avery wouldn't even blame them for that. With the scarcity of resources, people will take whatever they can get.
Worst case scenario, it was one of those crazy people with Iudicium. The pain of whatever was tormenting them would make them cry their bizarre tears. They'd see Avery and leap at him like a deranged animal. Soon, he'd get the disease himself. He would become one of them. Maybe then he could finally understand what was going on in their heads – finally know what was driving them insane.
That sort of knowledge, though, didn't seem too worth it right now.
Carefully considering this, Avery was just about to abandon his curiosity when he finally caught sight of the other person in the room. Buried under a pile of books was a man. His entire lower half was compromised. Even if the pieces of literature were removed, he didn't seem like he could walk at all. The man was leaning on a nearby wall for support, his head tilted back in defeat.
Despite the peculiarity of the situation, though, the oddest thing about the stranger was his face. A person usually came with a pair of eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and hair. His, however, were completely obscured by a golden knight's helmet.
"What the fuck..."
"Take a picture," the metal shuffled, clinking on the wall as the man raised his head. "It'll last longer."
The quip made Avery's brows knit in irritation. "Not a smart thing to say to the guy who could, I don't know, possibly get you out of there?"
This time, the helmet tilted. "Who says I want to get out?"
"You don't expect me to believe you enjoy being trapped under a bunch of hardcover classics, right? Abandoning you is totally tempting right now, though." Despite his taunts, Avery was drawing nearer. "How'd you even end up here, man? Why a library of all places?"
Although it was barely audible, Avery was sure he heard the man sigh. To be physically immobile while having someone throw questions at you isn't exactly anyone's ideal situation. Nevertheless, he humored the query.
"There's a lot to learn," the stranger said. "I'm in search of something I've yet to know."
"And I am in search of food! Love the difference in priorities!"
This time, the man groaned. He lowered his head, his helmet scraping the wall again. By now, Avery was towering over him. He stared at the top of the head piece, not missing the few dents and scratches from above.
"So," he nudged the man's side with his shoe. "What's with the helmet?"
"My answers won't quench your appetite," the man replied curtly. "Go along, find your provisions. They are sparse around here."
The mention of the shortage soured Avery's mood. He knew that, maybe more than anyone. He didn't need some impaired rando to lecture him about hardship and survival. He wasn't a fucking idiot.
All his sympathy vanished in an instant. Avery scoffed, ready to turn and depart. What does he even get for helping this guy? He'd just be another mouth to feed. A total hassle.
"Well, enjoy reading," Avery added bitterly. He gave a quick gesture before making his way toward the exit. He heard not a single word of protest as he did.
The way back to his base had always been Avery's least favorite trip. He knew the safest routes well, like the back of his hand. He didn't even need to look at his path to get there. He could be sleep-walking and still arrive at the place he now called 'home'.
Because of this, his journey left a lot of room to think.
Thinking was horrible, reflecting was worse. Avery hated being alone with his thoughts. It was moments like these when the past would haunt him.
Avery remembered his parents, how they barely cared. They were mostly absent from his life. They excused it as 'work'. Always work. Once, during new years, they were on a business trip, leaving Avery alone in the house. He had resented them so much that day that he decided to play on his computer for about fifteen hours straight. Who was going to stop him anyway?
Definitely not his parents. Especially now when they've been underground for quite a while.
Lost in thought, Avery failed to account for the hurried footsteps and nearing screeching. By the time he realized it, he found himself face-to-face with a figure charging toward him. He tried to run, but it soon caught up to him. It didn't take long before Avery was on the ground, wrestling with the enemy as he tried his hardest to avoid its glistening tear drops.
With a pipe he found on the side of the road, he tried to push his aggressor off. The latter screamed and clawed, trying to get its hands on him. Like the rest of them, it was spewing something quick and foreign in Avery's ears.
"What in the FUCK are you saying-?!" Avery yelled back.
Just when he felt like he was about to get infected, a wooden axe was planted on his attacker's head. Its yellow eyes looked up at its own blood trickling from its head before it was rolled off to the side. Breathing heavily, Avery lifted his head to look at his savior.
He hated the fact that he caught a glimpse of something gold and shining. They weren't anything liquid this time. It was a dinged knight's helmet.
"Fuck me..."
"Not a smart thing to say to the guy that just saved you, isn't it?" The man chuckled. Tilting his head, he held his hand; Avery could swear he was smiling behind the metal.
Begrudgingly, Avery took it. Once he was up on his own feet, he immediately pulled his hand away as if the stranger burned him. The man took no offense in this, even humming in amusement. He only got so much as a grunt in gratitude.
"Your base?" He asked. He walked toward the already rotting corpse, shrugging at the sight. The man decided against pulling off his axe, silently bidding it farewell. Besides, it was already contaminated.
"You don't expect to follow me, right?" Avery retorted im disbelief. He threw his temporary weapon to the side before wiping his hands on his jeans. "Dude, I barely get on on my own."
"I don't need much. Just space to sleep."
"The library?"
"I can't live there."
"You seemed perfectly fine when I found you," Avery remarked with a frown. "Totally overlooking the whole shtick about 'finding something I don't know'." He made air quoted with his fingers, further displaying his objection on the matter.
The stranger, however, was unmoving. He approached Avery, who suddenly realized how tall this guy actually was. The top of Avery's head barely even reached half of the golden helmet. The man's stance cast a shadow on the shorter's frame. Although he'd never admit it, Avery was a little intimidated.
"You won't even notice my presence," the man promised firmly. Despite his hidden face, through the slits, the stranger's warm breath grazed Avery's face. The latter flinched slightly, quietly hoping it went unnoticed. It didn't.
"I won't hurt you."
"A promise or a threat?" Avery taunted, trying to sound confident in himself. It had been a while since he's properly conversed with another survivor. This much socializing, unwanted at that, was overstimulating him like no other. "I can throw a mean punch if I have to."
The other chuckled at the thought. He lifted a fist to his helmet, striking it the way you'd knock on a door. "And I have a helmet."
"Dented."
"Useful, nonetheless. Want to bet?"
Realizing that he definitely wasn't going to get out of this the way he wanted to, Avery sighed in defeat. He stepped back before pointing a finger into the man's face. "I don't share my rations. You'd have to feed yourself."
"Don't worry so much," he replied. He patted a tattered messenger bag that was slung over his shoulder. "I have my own."
"It's not your wellbeing I'm worried about," Avery clarified a beat too quickly. "I just don't want anyone else cheating me on supplies."
This made the man tilt his head. "Past experience?"
"My answers won't quench your appetite," Avery shot back. He felt internally proud of himself for mimicking the stranger's words back at the library. He hoped the repetition had the same effect as it had on him; he was totally annoyed when the other had done it earlier.
Without sparing a second glance, Avery turned to continue his way to his base. This time, a knight in golden shabby armor followed.
To say that Avery wasn't bothered was a lie. With every step he could hear another behind him. He didn't dare look at first, still in denial about the whole situation.
How could he let this happen? Wasn't isolation the key to survival? Honestly, what good is a companion? He could totally just take advantage of Avery and betray him. Those sort of things weren't unheard of. The severity of their predicament had hardened the hearts of many. Morals had long disappeared. You simply do what you have to do.
"I never caught your name," Avery said at last. He hated having to start another conversation with this guy, but the silence was going to eat him alive. Plus, if he was going to leech off of Avery's home in the near future, he might as well give something in return.
"Is it necessary?" The man behind him shot back. The answer, or the lack thereof, made Avery scoff.
"I'm not letting a total stranger into my base, you know." He kicked a pebble on the road, an attempt in pretending he wasn't so affected by the lack of trust. Not that he trusted that guy either. "It's the least you could do for me."
"Didn't I save your life just now?"
"Yeah, but if you're gonna crash at my place, am I not entitled to at least know your name? Kinda rude, don't you think?"
It was only when Avery heard the other stop that he turned to look at him. The knight-like stranger did not move for a while; Avery debated whether or not he had turned into a statue right there and then.
"It's not that hard, you know?" Avery teased. "Like– okay– I'll go first. My name's Avery."
"I know," the stranger replied. "Your backpack had a tag." He nodded his head toward Avery's bag. The aforementioned man groaned – he made a mental note to rip that stupid piece of stationery off before heading out next time.
"Good to know you can see behind that helmet," Avery fumed. He didn't appreciate how much of a know-it-all this guy was acting. "So, your name or what?"
The follow-up made the stranger stiffen again. For a while, he seemed to silently consider an answer. His discomfort was obvious, and the slow tick of time made it worse; even Avery had grown uncomfortable and was now twisting his shoe on the gravel.
'This is it,' he thought. 'He'll refuse me, so I'll refuse him. We go our separate ways and that'll be the end of that. Oh well! Was fun while it lasted! Not really! So can we just–"
"Derlord."
Avery blinked. "What?"
"Derlord," the helmet repeated. "Call me Derlord."
"There is absolutely no shot that's your actual name."
The taller stared at Avery as if that were the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "Obviously."
"Then why say that?" Avery pressed.
"Why not?"
Avery considered it for a moment. If he really thought about it, he understood the wariness. Regardless of how much they've been bantering this morning, they only just met. His new companion was very much in the right for concealing his identity. In fact, if he had thought of it earlier, Avery would've done the same thing too.
"Highkey kinda unfair," he commented with a shake of his head. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."
"I just told you."
"Derlord is not a name, dude. If anything, it sounds like some fuckass username."
"A username is still a name," the other pointed out whilst crossing his arms. "You know I'm right."
Avery clicked his tongue in annoyance. He turned back around, wishing the day would just be over soon.
"Keep up then, Derlord," he exclaimed a little too loudly. "I'd rather we get home before I run into another one of those psychos."
Behind him, Derlord finally hummed in agreement.
"Not too shabby," Derlord hummed with a nod.
After a while of walking, the two men found themselves in front of a dilapidated motel at the edge of the city. Most of the windows were shattered, and soot marks crawled on the peeling walls. Even the fire escape staircase seemed perilous – its metal railings sticking out ominously.
Feeling a bit personally offended, Avery shot Derlord a glare. "You want to go back to the library?" He asked rather threateningly.
"Didn't I compliment it just now?"
"Don't even. You were sarcastic."
"That's your assumption." Derlord didn't wait for Avery to retort, opting to take another look at the establishment instead. "Which floor?"
Avery snorted. "Well, aren't you demanding?" He led the way to the stairs, intentionally shoving past Derlord as he did. The latter didn't give him the satisfaction of a response, though, much to Avery's dismay.
They made their way up to the first two doors on the second floor. Although there were about five rooms in total, the other three were severely damaged during a fire. One of the rooms was even missing a door entirely. Derlord tilted his head at the sight. He followed Avery to the second door.
"I only have one sleeping bag," Avery said almost immediately upon entering. He glanced at Derlord suspiciously. "What do you plan to do about that?"
Again, Avery's efforts to catch Derlord off-guard were very much in vain. Rather than worrying about sleeping arrangements, he simply shrugged, his helmet grazing his shoulders. "I can sleep sitting up."
"Like what you did in the library?"
"Mhm."
Avery had a lot of questions about that, but he didn't have the energy to press on. He had left before dawn, and now it was almost noon. It appeared that picking up his new team mate had cost his usual journey to take far longer than he wanted it to be.
Actually, could he even call Derlord his team mate?
"I'm taking a nap." With that, Avery beelined toward his sleeping bag in the corner of the room. He made quick work of his jacket, carelessly tossing it on a nearby chair before cocooning himself. As he was laying down, he took a peek at Derlord, who was also watching him curiously.
"What?"
"I didn't say anything."
"You were staring."
"How can you tell?"
"Are you always this much of an ass?" That made Derlord turn away. Finally; a small win for Avery.
"Do you mind if I walked around?" The former asked. "The motel premises, I mean."
"I'm not your mom, man. Go knock yourself out." Avery turned to face the wall, not really caring for his new roommate anymore. He'd had enough for Derlord for now. If he wanted to go check the place out, then why not? Not like Avery had anything private lying around. He's long rid of his truly personal belongings anyway.
Plus, with Derlord out of his hair, he'd get a couple of moments of needed peace. Their back and forth had pretty much drained the daylights out of him.
After letting the silence sit for a while, Derlord made his leave. He made sure to close the door with a soft click, not wanting to disturb Avery's slumber. He was mature enough to allow that courtesy for the man who was technically his landlord.
His first stop was the room next door. It was identical to Avery's room. There were no furniture to be found, and the perpetually open window was letting too much sunlight filter in. It was irritating, even through the narrow slits of Derlord's helmet.
The only major difference between the two units was the graffiti sprayed on one of the walls. It covered almost the entire surface – the message clear and chilling.
'I know everything.'