Castlevania: Symphony of the Night Chapter 10
By Aujang Abadi
In the scheme of things, the pain wasn't unbearable. After forcing his body into working order after a century's worth of atrophy, and sustaining and then recovering from the wounds dealt to him on his quest, it didn't compare. Considering the fragmented memories of slavery that still haunted him, Simon reflected that it really shouldn't have been all that bad. But God, how it burned into his flesh! And it was not a stinging burn, not like he'd been burned by a coal-this fire sank into his skin and spread along his body until his insides were engulfed with the righteous agony that Sarah had imbued into his weapon. The morning star was a harsh mistress.
He could not remember the last few nights, and that terrified him. He smelled of blood, and he could not tell what kind, but he had not vomited in over a week and that frightened him further. His body had almost finished its transition. In the back of his mind, something roared its defiance at this unholy extension of his being, at this unnatural disease that was corrupting his very soul, but with every day its voice grew weaker, while the pestilence spread like wildfire. He could not remember what it had been like not to have his world tainted with blood and riddled with voices, these god-forsaken voices that filled his thoughts! They asked him to do unmentionable things, to himself and to others, and his resolve was cracking, inch by inch. Simon was afraid to admit it. He was losing his mind.
The only respite he could glean from the situation was that he had not yet experienced the lust Trevor had warned him of-and if he had, he did not remember doing so. For reasons that did not altogether make sense, this comforted him a great deal.
Acquisition of the ring had been an easy task; he'd been killing so long that it all seemed the same. The last mansion was terrible, filled with deformed bodies and the ravaged countenance of humanity. He vaguely recalled the screams of the damned as he marched through the hallways, the harbinger of sweet salvation, eternal death. Limbs were strewn everywhere, the remnants of horribly desecrated cadavers. Simon had noted, rather caustically, that if a human was defiled thoroughly enough, their sex was indiscriminate. Bloody pulps all looked alike. He had left with the ring clutched in his nerveless fingers. It wasn't until a few minutes after he'd made the generalization, and he had been walking back to the silent oarsman, that he blacked out, realizing what had just taken place. But that had been so long ago.
Since he didn't remember the surrounding nights, he did not know exactly where he was, but only that Castlevania was close. Or was he in it? Simon slowly shook his head, trying to sort his scattered thoughts. Muted and muffled, Trevor's voice drifted through his skull.
Time is short, Simon... make haste. Revive Vlad, and banish him properly, before he takes us all to Hell with him. Quickly, Simon, before it is too late!
"Vlad… I have to..." Somewhere inside of him, hidden deep beneath raging pestilence and broken memories, his humanity flared to life. "I remember... I remember!" It all came flooding back to him, rushing into his fragmented mind and crushing the pieces back together. With a roar, he slumped to his knees, his head grasped between twin hands as his world exploded once more.
The scent that overpowered his senses, this overwhelming desire for life, had not been sated for days. The blood on his body was mostly his own; in thoughtless autonomy his body had refused to imbibe the life of another. The morning star blazed a path of righteousness into his forlorn skin. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the violent agony roiling his stomach, willing it into suppression.
"Sarah..." He whispered her name into the night's air, hoping the moon could hear him in his pain, and take word to the one pure aspect of his tainted life. He remembered their night, so vividly. How soft she'd been, so inviting... inside of her, he was sanctified. He had purpose. This was all for her. Everything, to fix her world. He clenched his jaw, and began to take note of his surroundings.
The bodies of the dead hung in grim salute to his prowess, adorning the stone chamber as lifeless effigies of men and women he had once known. He was inside of Castlevania. Its translucent walls pulsated around him, beckoning him towards their core. He rested a shoulder on one of the walls and coughed. This was it. He was so close; it was time for the apocalypse. He raised the morning star in all of its fiery nature, and kissed its pommel, sending shocks of pain through his body.
"For you, Sarah. For you." The hallway fanned out in front of him, into a large antechamber, and in its center laid the altar that would bring the ultimate evil back into the world once more. "All of this for you." Quietly, he stepped into the expanse.
* * * * *
It was dimly lit, and the fires were blue with the taint, so thorough was his influence here. Simon felt him, pressing on the back of his mind and forcing his will onto Simon's mortal body. He inhaled shakily, more from the overwhelming pressure than fear, and extended the bag with a trembling hand, laying its bloody contents upon the altar.
"I call upon you, Dracula, father of all evil and destroyer of humanity. Come forth, my ancestor. Come forth so that I may destroy you."
The roar was incomprehensible. Simon was blown back from sheer intensity, stumbling to his knees as waves of power poured over him. Slowly, the dull cry escalated into an almost human scream, of both rage and agony, as Dracula was thrust back into the material plane before his time. Skeins of pure power threaded through the air, pulsating with unholy energy. One by one, they clung together, and gave way to bone, and then muscle, and then flesh. A jagged series of cracks and tears boomed out, forcing Vlad's body to take form. He screamed. Loudly. Naked, the lord of evil lay sprawled over the altar, clutching his stomach in sheer misery. Serpentine eyes, alight with violet energy, shot to Simon's startled form.
"You damned Belmonts... always show up... at the wrong... time..." Blood spewed forth from Dracula's lips in a raging torrent, bathing his altar in a deep maroon. He convulsed violently, shaking the foundations of stone beneath him. "Do you have... any... idea... how much this... hurts?" Another scream echoed in the corridors, but now Simon was its source. His mouth jarred itself open, and he could feel the bones of his jaws re-aligning themselves. The transformation approached its completion. And they both screamed, until their throats were raw and their blood ran freely over the floor.
"You... bastard..." Simon coughed, spitting blood to the side. "You... did this... to me..." With a groan, he let his body fall, too exhausted to prop himself up.
"This is not... exactly... paradise... for me... either." Vlad rolled off of the altar, landing on the ground with a combination of a smack and a thud. That solicited a long, deep groan. "Son of a bitch... that hurt." Simon couldn't help but laugh, and then he moaned in pain because that hurt too.
"Give me... a moment... we'll continue this... as soon as... I can... breathe..." Simon gasped.
"Deal." Vlad rolled himself over, heaving.
Fifteen minutes later, Simon sat up, holding his head in his hands. Vlad still remained prone on the floor. Most of the pain had subsided.
"This was not how I expected to confront you, Dracula." He looked at his bloodstained arms, covered in his own essence as well as Dracula's. "I certainly didn't predict lying in a pool of our blood... well, at least not before we actually fought."
Dracula laughed.
"Understandably so, Simon. Not very epic, is it?" He straightened his naked form into a seated position. "Are you so determined to kill me, Simon?"
"Yes. It is my destiny and my duty."
"Ah, yes, honorable reasons indeed." Vlad snorted. "Have you ever considered what kind of power you could have, on this side? You and your damned morality... who cares what your 'destiny' is? Do you want to live your life completely trapped, Simon? When was the last time you did anything for yourself?" Simon did not respond. "My point exactly. Trevor made you a good little boy, didn't he? Bah. You had such promise, Simon. You still do." He reached out and grabbed Simon's shoulder, staring him in the eyes.
"You remember what it was like Simon... what it felt like, to be part of us. They were wonderful, your sisters, weren't they? Yes, you remember." Simon could not shake Vlad's gaze. It was so powerful... so intoxicating. "Yes, you remember, don't you, Simon? What it felt like, when they took you, over and over until you were spent and begging for more? So many of them... and you, you were in euphoria. They were sweet, weren't they, Simon? So sweet. Come back to it, Simon. Come back with me." Simon sagged into Vlad's grip. It was so hard, so futile, to fight any more. Dracula was right. He loved it. He loved what they did to him.
"Yes..." Simon's head swam. He wanted to be taken, broken, and thrown away. How much he wanted to lose himself, again... to forget who he was.
"Come, Simon. Let us go home." Vlad smiled in victory. Simon's transformation was all but complete. "Just put the morning star down, and let us go home." That was the second biggest mistake Vlad had ever made.
Behind Simon's eyes, something clicked. What began as a low, deep rumble in his chest spread up to his throat until he sprung up, hurling Dracula away from him as he bellowed out his rage, fear, and lust. His entire body shook with compressed fury as he turned his eyes upon Dracula.
"NO! I will not betray Sarah again! Come, Vlad, father, beginner!" The morning star slowly uncoiled itself, wrapping around Simon's arm. "Let us dance."
Trevor was right. Nothing could describe the lust-the blood rage-that Simon felt coursing through his veins as he and his ancestral enemy clashed together. An inhuman strength surged through his body, dimming all pain and focusing him so completely that nothing escaped his detection. And the battle, , it was a dance, for every move was countered, every step measured, and every blow met. Vlad could press no advantage, with all of his otherworldly powers, for the calling had overtaken Simon.
Around them, the castle shifted and ground, an echo to their musical, their symphony of the night. Simon was no longer moving; he was controlling existence, using the ground to rush up to meet Dracula, pulling the air from his cursed lungs, and bathing in the blood that came pouring out. But Dracula never once faltered, for all of the wicked blows that rained upon him. Simon lashed out with the morning star, flailing it along Dracula's exposed shoulders. In a deft movement, Dracula managed to slip along the whip, past Simon's berserked defenses. He lifted the Belmont bodily, and hurled him into the nearest torch. The fire leapt up Simon's clothing and seared the left side of his neck. This new pain vaulted Simon back into reality, evoking a shrill scream. The blood lust fled as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him helpless. His breaths came so shallowly that he feared the rage had consumed his life. Dracula loomed over him, naked and bleeding from countless wounds, and smiled again.
"Ah, Simon, but you came so very close... quite impressive. You really did have potential." Vlad floated towards his defeated opponent, lifting Simon's near-paralyzed body back to the flame, mere inches from the blue torch. "When you are finished dying-and believe me, I will revel in your screams-I will find Sarah and rape her so viciously that she will beg for me, just as you begged for your sisters. She'll never give birth when I am done, Simon… you think you suffered? I will make your imprisonment seem like heaven to her, little Belmont… she will know true pain, all because of you. I will break her, Simon, and make her my slave. And then I will bring your damned soul back from hell just so you can see her give herself to me. Over, and over, and over again."
That, on the other hand, was the biggest mistake Vlad had ever made.
He did not see it. Nor did he hear it, but Vlad could certainly feel it when his stomach exploded. In equal parts horror and amazement, he looked down to see the morning star alight with the most pure, white fire he'd ever seen, coiled around his waist and protruding from his sternum. He looked up, to see Simon's weak smile hate-emblazoned eyes. One of the Belmont's hands had risen to wrap itself around Dracula's neck, and began to squeeze with terrifying force. How had he moved so fast? How had the damned thing caught on fire? They fell, together, and crumpled upon the stone floor. The air had become deathly still.
"How?" He managed to sputter, choking on his own blood.
"Sleep, father. Sleep now." A sickening crunch sang out in the chamber, and Vlad's head lolled to the side. Simon's nerveless fingers released both Dracula's throat and the morning star, and their twisted embrace was severed. Vlad exhaled quietly-a slow, sad sigh-and drifted back into the oblivion from which he'd been created. Without the other man to keep him upright, Simon's body fell to the stone floor. He lay, sprawled among the ashes of their battle and the silent ranks of the dead, and struggled to move his lips against the cold ground. Simon used his last ounce of strength to whisper into the air.
"Everything, for you..."
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