Chapter 394 - The Prodigal Son

“You’re not real,” Zeke growled, his fingers tightening on his hammer’s grip. “You can’t be real.”

For a long moment, his father sat languidly on the elaborate and impressively jeweled golden throne. Cocked to one side and leaning on one of the armrests, he looked little different than the last time Zeke had seen him. But gone was the look of disgust the man had worn when the doctors had told Zeke that he’d never play baseball again. Back then, he hadn’t even said a word before leaving the hospital room, and Zeke had never seen him again.

Until now.

He pushed himself to his feet, stretching as he looked down on Zeke. “You know that for sure?” he asked.

Zeke didn’t hesitate to say, “I do.”

The older man took one step down the dais, asking, “And how do you know this?”

He took another, and Zeke answered, “Because you’re not nearly pathetic enough to be him.”

In response, the creature wearing Zeke’s father’s face clutched his chest as if he’d been wounded. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he said, “Ouch. Really. Right in the emotions.” He took another step. “You’ve really got a lot of anger in there. Anyone ever tell you that? You should chill out a little. Maybe go find that girl you –”

“What do you want?” Zeke asked, interrupting.

“I just want you to be happy, son,” it said. “You could go and find some nice city. Build a life. You’re going to live for hundreds of years at this point, right? You could just set up, raise a family or something. Maybe pick up some hobbies.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Zeke growled, carefully enunciating each word as the man – or thing – found the bottom step. Zeke noticed that the man appeared to be wearing an old pair of blue jeans, scuffed work boots, and a white tee-shirt. The only thing missing was the beer his father usually had in his hand.

Aside from a few extra pounds, a bit of grey in his hair, and some wrinkles, he looked remarkably similar to Zeke – a fact that the younger man hated with every ounce of his being.

“We’re not so different, you know. I had anger issues, too,” he said. “I’m sure you recognized that similarity, right? And I was a decent ballplayer in my day. Just like you. Then, life happened, and, well…you know what came next. I tried to keep you from turning out like me. I really did. That’s why I was so hard on you. But you ended up going down the same path. If you hadn’t died back then, your life would’ve turned out the same as mine. Just an old, broken man who’d lost a grip on any potential he used to have. You’d have ended up down at the bar, telling everyone about your glory days. Maybe you would’ve had a son of your own. You’d have seen then that my methods had merit. They turned you into the man you are now, right? Well, if it was good enough for you, it would’ve been good enough for your son.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Zeke spat.

“Oh, not anymore. Definitely. You’re worse. I never killed anybody. You have, right? All that anger. All that rage. You’re half demon, for God’s sake,” he said with a disappointed shake of his head. “Thought I raised you better than that.”

“You didn’t raise me at all.”

Zeke wasn’t certain how he meant that statement. Sure, his father hadn’t had much of a hand in how he’d been raised. Not outside of baseball. The creature in front of him wasn’t his father, though. Even if it was getting more difficult to keep that in mind, Zeke knew it all the same.

The doppelganger shook his head and sighed. “After everything I did for you…”

“Just get on with it,” Zeke said. “I’m not going to let you get under my skin.”

“Really?” it said. Then, before Zeke’s very eyes, it shifted. Even as he watched, the figure shrank, its form shimmering with iridescent light before settling into a completely different shape. “How about now?” a perfect representation of Zeke’s little brother asked. He was so small. So thin. So sick, and in more ways than one. In Tommy’s voice, the creature asked, “Am I under your skin now?”

“Take off his face,” Zeke growled, taking a step forward. But he quickly collided with something solid. A mirror stood before him, showing his own scarred form. The evidence of Zeke’s many battles were evident. Despite his ability to heal himself, there were some wounds that would inevitably leave their mark. As such, much of his chest, arms, and legs bore jagged scars. And that wasn’t even considering the thin lines left behind after his first brush with a higher path.

Behind him, Tommy laughed, and Zeke whipped around. The tiny figure – Tommy had never had a chance to hit a growth spurt, and because of his illness, his size had been negatively affected. As a result, he was short and thin, with no muscle tone to speak of. That’s when Zeke remembered to use his [Inspect] skill:

Mirror King – Level 64

“You know, you weren’t supposed to kill the cyclops,” it said, idly picking at Tommy’s fingernails. “Most people wouldn’t have even considered it. But you – you just have to destroy everything, don’t you? What was it you vowed? You would tear this place apart, right? Why? Because I reminded you of the life you left behind? Because you miss it? Because you know how thoroughly you failed them all?”

It shifted again, this time taking on the visage of his mother. She wore her old work uniform – from one of her jobs, at least – but Zeke looked past it. Instead, he studied her haggard face. In his mind, she’d been a lot younger. A lot healthier. Happier. But he knew that, just like with the others, the Mirror King’s representation of the woman was accurate. Because in the back of his mind, Zeke had always known that his mother wasn’t content with her life. How could she be? One son was dying while the other had seemingly squandered the gifts he’d been given. And that was saying nothing about the ex-husband who’d regularly beaten her, then abandoned them all.

“She had such high hopes for you,” the Mirror King said. “You were going to rescue them all. You’d get drafted into the major leagues, earn your millions, and then, everything would be better. But despite all your advantages, you just couldn’t get it right, could you? And poor Tommy – he looked up to you, didn’t he? He wanted to be just like his big brother. Then, you spent months wallowing in depression. Don’t you think that affected him? You were supposed to be strong for him, but all you could think about was yourself. So selfish.”

“I died for him.”

“You died for yourself. And you know what? It was probably better that way,” the creature wearing his mother’s face spat. “Tommy got the chance to grow up with only memories of you instead of the disappointing reality of who you really were. Who you are.

“But it didn’t end with your death, did it? You’ve been failing people in the afterlife as well,” it said, taking on another shape. This one was one Zeke would have rather forgotten. The young woman he’d accidently killed by throwing her into the tower’s cellar. “You don’t even remember her name, do you? All that time agonizing over right and wrong, over whether or not it was justified to massacre monsters. And all the while, you had innocent blood on your hands.

“Oh? She attacked you? Sure. Fine. But that doesn’t make what you did right,” it went on. “There’s a reason that back on Earth, there were rules of war. The Geneva Convention specified how you were supposed to treat enemy combatants. And throwing them into a time-warped pit where they would die of dehydration definitely doesn’t follow those guidelines. But it’s okay, right? Because you think of yourself as some kind of chosen one. You’re going to save the world.

“But you had that chance. You could have fought against those zombies, couldn’t you? Instead, you chose to run away,” the Mirror King said. Then, it shifted again, taking the form of Carlos. “He followed you, too. Gave up everything he knew. Watched you kill his friends. The people who’d given him everything. And you let him die as well.”

“I didn’t –”

“And let’s not forget Jariq, right?” the faux Carlos said, taking on another form. This one was a small child dressed in the colorful clothing so common in the desert city. “So many innocents dead because you couldn’t control yourself.”

Zeke stepped forward, but he hit another mirror. Spinning around, he saw that the Mirror King had taken on another visage. This time, the face was exceedingly familiar. “What about me?” asked a clone of Abby. “What we had…I supported you. I gave you everything. But one little misunderstanding, and you tossed me aside like so much trash. It’s because I was holding you back. We both know it. You weren’t concerned with my little ‘betrayal’. You were more worried about me weighing you down and slowing your climb to the top.”

“That’s not…that isn’t how…”

“And now, you have another choice,” the Mirror King said, grinning broadly. “I know what you’ll do because, no matter what else, we can all count on you to make the selfish decision.”

It stepped backward and walked toward the throne. As it did so, it maintained Abby’s form. Probably because it knew just how much that would hurt him. As the creature walked, Zeke pounded against the mirrors encasing him, but no matter which way he turned, it was the same scene played out in every direction.

When the Mirror King reached the throne, it climbed the dais, then primly sat upon the cushioned seat. Just like Abby would have one.

Then, the floor rumbled, and two pits – one on either side of the throne – opened. A moment later, a glint of glass heralded the arrival of a pair of cubes rising from beneath the floor.

And in those cubes were his companions.

On one side was a single figure. On the other, was everyone else.

“A special relationship between man and beast,” said the Mirror King, gesturing toward the cube on the left. Inside was Pudge, scratching and clawing at the glass walls. There was no indication that he could see what was going on outside, though. Instead, he was just trying to tear his way free. The Mirror King gestured at the other cube, in which the others were confined, “Or the weight of responsibility.”

Eta was unconscious on the floor, but Sasha, Silik, and Jasper were all up and aware. They weren’t scratching and clawing at the walls like Pudge. Rather, they looked like they were having a discussion – probably trying to figure out how to get through the seemingly indestructible glass.

“Who will you save, Ezekiel?” asked the Mirror King wearing Abby’s face. She crossed her legs and adopted a rigid, almost regal posture as she said, “The selfish choice? Or the one where you save more of your so-called friends?”

Zeke said, “I…I can’t choose. I won’t.”

“Oh, really? Inaction is a choice as well, but one that will result in everyone’s death.”

Just then, the sound of breaking glass echoed through the throne room, and thousands of golden angels surged into the corridor. Before, they’d been held at bay by some invisible force, but now, they were completely unrestricted. The raced past Zeke with barely a glance, completely silent but obviously eager to attack anything that stood in their way.

The Mirror King went on, “These cages will last for three minutes under the onslaught of my little pets. Three minutes for you to make a choice. Make your decision, and they will be saved.”

“And me?” Zeke asked. The first wave of angels reached the traps, and many more followed.

The faux Abby gave him a wide grin. “Always the self-interest. Good,” she said. “It’s good that you’re at least consistent.” The creatures continued to claw at the cubes. “To answer your question – you will get the freedom you deserve.”

Zeke tightened his grip on the hammer. Either choice he made was going to get someone killed. And if he chose Pudge, who was still clawing at the walls of his cage, then four people were going to die.

Could he live with that?

More importantly, did he really have any other option?

But the moment that thought came to mind, Zeke realized that he did, indeed, have a third option. It wasn’t ideal. Perhaps it would still get everyone killed. However, if nothing else, the Mirror King had shown Zeke that, for him, guilt just wasn’t the same influential force it might’ve been for other people. Sure, he regretted some of his actions. Who wouldn’t? But he’d done the best he could with the options he had been given. As such, he felt secure in his life choices.

With that in mind, he embraced [Triune Colossus], fueling it with the traces of demonic mana hanging in the air. It wasn’t much, and so, he could only use that version of the skill for so long.

It would have to be enough.

Even as Zeke transformed, taking on the huge but sleek form of a demonic colossus, he felt his strength skyrocket. The Mirror King shouted something at him, but he didn’t hear it. Instead, he focused on himself.

Or rather, on his path.

For most people, the two choices might have been the only options available. But Zeke was different. He might not have been the so-called chosen one the Mirror King had mocked, but he was uniquely suited to carve a completely unique path through the world.

And through the contrived scenario meant to make him choose between two horrible options. After all, he’d vowed to rip the dungeon to pieces, hadn’t he? In that endeavor, was there a better tool than the Path of Arcane Destruction?

Zeke didn’t think so.