The Infiniti Council - Chapter 3: Making the Nightmare King

[Nathan Saniti]

The Infiniti Council - Chapter 3: Making of the Nightmare King

The blue flames lapped at the dancing shadows all about the craggy chamber that housed the throne of the Nightmare King. The coal black, fiery red, pure white, and ashen horses whinnied from a corner of the room, their riders gathered at a table set near the center. On it, a map of the world lay, pieces set upon it like a board game, occasionally being moved by one of the beings crowded around as they discuss their plans.

"Our time is nigh, brothers," explained Lord Chaos as he positioned a skeletal figurine dead center on the continent of Africa.

"We are incomplete unless you can break your bonds," quipped the most heavily armored of the four, his crimson plating clanking with impunity as he planted his great sword deep into the ground. The cavern shook in response to his outburst. "And I grow impatient." He set his miniature depiction down in the Middle East with a thud of frustration.

"Gird yourself, War," suggested the more malnourished appearing of the four, as he slid his likeness on the continent of North America.

"Indeed, Famine," added Lord Chaos, as he nodded at his only slightly more fleshy cohort. "My plan for someone to take my place as the Nightmare King is nearly at its fruition." He slid another figurine to the part of the global map that has never been discovered by any living being, deep in the heart of the area known as the Bermuda Triangle. This pawn had a familiar vibe ring, shifting from a man clad in multi-colored and bright clothes and fiery red, untamed hair to a man with coal black, equally unmanageable locks and more morose garb as it came to rest in place. "It won't be long now and we four can fulfill our destiny and bring this world, this human world, to an end."

"Just as it was ordained," interjected the final creature, all form of creatures swarming over her body as she places her representation firmly in South America.

"Yes, Pestilence," agreed Lord Chaos. "As soon as I shed this insignificant position, I can reclaim my rightful position as Death. However," he started, tossing seven large, multi-colored, glowing acorns on the map. "I also have a back-up plan."

"Seeds?" growled War, snarling his discontent.

"From the Tree of Life?" queried Famine, a smirk growing on his face.

"Nothing must interrupt my plan," Lord Chaos continued. "Scatter these to your territories," he ordered of the creatures before him, taking one of the glowing nuts in his bony fist. "We must make sure that this time, our plans aren't foiled by mortal or immortal alike. Keeping these from the Tree of Life will do just that. Then, the world will fall at our feet."

The three others gathered two apiece, War letting out a yawp of victory as he held them high in his hand. The others joined him in their cry of anticipated dominance, mimicking his gesture. In the corner of the alcove, the horses once again grew restless.

*******

N. Saniti strolled around the back stage after a grueling Trauma 182, darkness and hatred spewing from his eyes at anyone and everything crossing his path. Accusatory glances spiced with demonic hatred were cast at every male unfortunate enough to be in his line of sight. He hadn't rested since his match, and Kelli had either given up on talking him out of his present course of action, or been distracted by something shiny. He neither knew nor cared.

"Which one of you?" he hissed to himself, barely audible. "Which one of you DARE challenge me for my beloved?" He grabbed an inter, slamming him hard against a block wall, lifting him up off of his feet as effortlessly as if he were a child. "WAS IT YOU?"

The wide-eyed stage hand shook his head furiously in denial. "BAH!" exclaimed N. Saniti. "You are merely chaff," he proclaimed, tossing the regular sized man aside as if he were made of paper. "Not the wheat I wish to reap."

"Perhaps if you had your powers returned to you," soothed an unknown voice from the shadows. "Better still, if you had the powers to know the hearts of men." A high pitched, chilling chuckle emanated from the source of the voice. "And bring them the terror they deserve."

"Who are you? Come out here where I can see you," demanded N. Saniti.

A cloaked skeletal figure poured from the recesses of the dark room, his bony hand outstretched, reaching for Nathan's shoulder. Before he could react, the creature yanked him into the pitch black room. As it did, the landscape began to unfold around him. Blue flames erupted from unlit torches. Spires and spikes reached in all directions in the cavern he had been transported to.

Yet there was no sign of his host.

In the center rose a horrific stair, leading to a singular, crimson and gold throne. The seat beckoned him, and he was powerless to its draw. Floating, or perhaps gliding, rather than walking of his own accord, the gravity of the seat tugged at him until he found himself perched in its bosom. A crown of barbed wire lowered itself gently atop his head, his coal black locks spilling in all directions around it.

He was unsure if it was the chair itself of another force, but the surge of power he felt was intoxicating. All at once, he could feel the hearts of all humanity, and the evil they do to themselves and to others. His head lilted on its axis as the feeling overwhelmed him. He drank it in like a fine wine, before noticing the cadavers sprayed out before him where the cavern floor had been.

No longer was he in a chair at the pinnacle of a staircase, but resting comfortably amid a mountain of bodies. Blood began flowing like rivers from the source his throne had placed itself upon. His throne? Yes. It felt right. Even with the countless bodies strew before him, it felt like destiny.

Without warning, bright light flooded him from his trance as the door to his dressing room cracked cautiously ajar. "Mr. Saniti?" The same intern he had manhandled in his vision poked his head through. "It's almost time for your match."

His lips twitched in disgust at the interruption, yet he smiled as he turned his head to the oblivious man. "Which match would that be, my dear man?"

"Trauma 183?" The man looked on nervously, his hand still on the light switch. "You're taking on Hiroshi Yukio and Eira? Underground rules? Remember?"

"Ah yes. Now kindly leave." His eyes darkened to a near animalistic and predatory glare as he growled at the man. "And turn off that God-forsaken light!" The intern did as he was instructed without question, not wishing to raise the ire of the demi-mortal before him.

As the room went black, Nathan was once again transported into the cavern, sans the body count. The beckoning throne still set on the stair, still calling to him, yet its draw was faint. The skeletal hand once again grasped his shoulder. "Before this power can be yours, you must prove yourself worthy."

"By doing what, exactly?" questioned N. Saniti, never peeling his eyes from the throne.

"I need the Seeds of Death. You know them as the Sins of Man, or the Seven Deadly Sins." The hooded figure raised his head, revealing the skull nested in the hood and the blood red glowing eyes in its sockets. Nathan was taken aback, but he could not shrug himself free of the being's grasp. It clasped its hands around his neck as if to strangle him, yet it didn't tighten. Instead, the hands fell loosely to the horror's side.

In the place where there had been threatening digits only seconds before, hung an amulet, aglow with amber possibility at the center of an ebony star accented with ivory rune etchings. N. Saniti looked at the bauble with dumbstruck curiosity. "How am I supposed to find these creatures?"

The Nightmare before him chuckled whimsically. "As I said, they are in the hearts of all men. Start with those you know. I'm sure you will be able to find what I need." The being shoved him hard, sending him flying, no drifting, backwards.

Once again, blinding light flooded around him, pulling him back to the Pure Class Arena. He shook his head, releasing the vision as his eyes adjusted to the offending luminescence. "It was merely a dream," he muttered to himself as he went to straighten his tie. Blocking his hand from its intended garment was the amulet he had thought he conjured in his sleep state. A devious smile cracked his face as he examined the trinket and himself in the looking glass.

"Or perhaps it was just the beginning of the Nightmares I shall unleash. The man-mountain and the Order's assassin shall be the first to fall at my feet. Then I will watch this world finally burn."