The End of the World
Preksak’s Return
Preksak’s Return
The Overseer stared across the landscape with a satisfied smile. He had traveled town by town to see the fruits of his efforts. Buildings had been destroyed. Monuments were reduced to piles of debris. The blood of Lokans had been spilled so heavily that even the rain could not wash it away. His look of absolute contentment was shadowed only by the hood upon his head. Red eyes took it all in seeming to have an erubescent glow.
You were fools, he thought to himself while laughing quietly. You have done my job for me and soon your lives will be extinguished for good without your precious Artifact.
Their lust to destroy one another could not be overcome even at a time when he threatened their very existence. It could not have been more beautiful. He looked at the relic that floated above the world. The constant ‘thrum’ emanated from its core like a heartbeat. It was weak now beneath Preksak’s influence. His power was killing it from the inside now and it would only be a matter of time before it was weak enough to use the harvester.
He blinked, lingering with his eyes closed for a moment to imagine his destination. After opening them again he was hovering before the device. The gargantuan construct was finally ready for use. The search for Loka was over and his wrath would be felt ten times over for the suffering he had endured.
You and your people will pay, Cryptite. I don’t care how many Guardians you raise or who you name Warden…
There was a moment that bordered on remorse. Preksak recalled the moment he saw Cryptite for the first time. He remembered the moment he was given the power to break free of his bonds placed by Asymptonic. It was fleeting at best. Anger filled him once more and he could only see their actions as betrayal in the end. His smile returned. Soon they would be repaid.
The rifts had been enough to cause a confluence between Loka and the world he had been on. In the short time he’d been able to scour their world he could see a couple of towns he had liberated of life some time ago. Verdant Village and Westfort had apparently merged with this realm. Eastridge was nowhere to be found so he concluded it must have never crossed over. It was of no consequence anyway since the denizens had long since been dead because of him.
His plan was finally coming to fruition. It would have happened much sooner if he had not been trapped within a rift for so long. Another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was ironic that he had Lokans to thank for releasing him in time to harvest their world. It was all nearly too spectacular for him to believe as he stepped away from the harvester and into another part of the world. Blinking was all it took for him to traverse the plane to his quarters where he lowered himself into his chair.
His hands rose to grasp the edges of the hood, lowering the cover to fall upon his shoulders. Patience was a virtue for those hell-bent on vengeance. He had waited this long…a little longer would be nothing….
