"I am Protheus—I am You."
Sylvester looked at the mysterious being before him. Much different from a regular Eldritch God, this appeared more in tune with a humanoid being. Other than having a cosmic body consisting of black matter and celestial objects, his shape was completely identical to his.
"?" He asked him. The little introduction had sounded a bit too strange. "I am Sylvester."
"No, you are Johnathan Colt Westerling," the entity replied.
By now, Sylvester had gotten so used to every powerful creature ntioning his previous na that it didn't shock him. Intrigued, yes, but in this case, he really wasn't. For a creature able to travel between spaces, that knowledge wasn't shocking.
"Both in my case. What about you, Protheus—one of the Titans, the supre trickster, the God of Fire?" Sylvester questioned him back regarding his na. "Here to steal my fire and give it to those two?"
Protheus didn't answer imdiately and instead began growing skin all over his cosmic body. It felt no different from Sylvester's ability, as in his case, his skin was a re shell over the body of shining, radiating, solid energy.
However, at the first sign of facial features, Sylvester instinctively stepped away from the unknown being. Despite not having a normal body anymore, he felt his lips going dry. Was it nervousness? It amused him since it was hard to earn that reaction from him.
"I was born an orphan," Protheus spoke, creating his lower body as well with all the clothes on it. It was indeed human, with pale skin alongside a few age lines and wrinkles. The eyes were blue, and the ear-length hair on his head was white and unkempt. The nose was sharp, and a thick white beard adorned the rest of the face.
Sylvester moved further back when the face beca completely visible. "Who are you?"
"Right after high school, I was selected for a special program to beco a spy…"
"Who are you?" Sylvester interrupted him and asked again.
Protheus finished creating the entire body with simple clothes, a white shirt and blue jeans. "I am you—I am Johnathan Colt Westerling."
Complete silence took over the space between them. Both staring at each other as if they knew one another on a level simply not possible. Sylvester recognized that old man's face and stature—It was him from a forgotten ti.
"From another ti?"
"I was taken by the Primordial Gods to beco their blade against you. I was tasked with destroying all the Eldritch Gods so you can have none to absorb and grow." Protheus answered surprisingly quickly, without showing any hint of sche or second thought. "Of course, that didn't happen."
Right then, Sylvester rembered the first Eldritch God he killed after Nehilius. It had ntioned Protheus as if it was an enemy. "If you're their pawn, why did I succeed?"
Johnathan's old, pained face with dark, baggy eyes showed no emotion, "Because I am you."
Sylvester took everything with a grain of salt. "That's not enough for an answer."
"I didn't choose to beco their pawn. I wasn't asked for this—simply ordered to do it. Like in the old days."
Sylvester noted the aning behind those words. By the old days, Protheus was talking about the spy missions that were absolute, no questions asked. Of course, at that point, it had nothing to do with their desires but rather the obligation to fulfill the orders.
"They are scared of you," Protheus proudly added. "I am not the first Johnathan they picked to deal with you. They know diamond cuts diamond. They know only you can defeat yourself."
Sylvester raised his guards up, "And why did they na you Protheus?"
At last, Jonathan's face had a little smirk. "They didn't. I gave that na to myself."
Tap!
Jonathan vanished in the blink of an eye and appeared behind Sylvester, patting his shoulder. "I've been preparing for this mont for over ten millennia."
Sylvester noticed Johnathan's hand on his shoulder as it vanished and appeared on his other shoulder. "Why?"
"Because I am you." Yet again, Jonathan gave a similar reply. "Because I derive my power from them. Because I had always been aiming to gift it to you—my fire."
"The Titan who stole fire from the gods and gifted it to humans." Sylvester blurted the aning behind Protheus' na. "If they rule you? Can't they stop you?"
"Their pride blinds them. They are afraid to approach you, for they fear the one who created you. They offered godhood, they offered power, they offered eternity—Diana, they offered ." Protheus added and launched an invisible radiating energy wave from his body that was absorbed into Sylvester. "To kill you—to be the diamond that cuts diamond."
Sylvester gulped nonexistent saliva and felt the surge of energy of countless more Eldritch Gods entering him. "Why? Don't you want to live with Diana again?"
Protheus smiled fondly at the ntion of that na. "Why would I?"
"Because you are ," Sylvester repeated.
"Exactly."
Sylvester sighed and shut his mouth. Yes, if he were in Protheus' place, he'd have sacrificed the chance to do what was right instead of agreeing to be the Primordial Gods' stooge. Yes, he'd have given up his own power to help the version of himself that was already on a path better than his own.
"How many of us are out there?"
Protheus shook his head, "As many universes are out there."
"Infinite?" Sylvester felt overwheld. "An infinite number of Johnathans out there with their own stories. Their own lives, goals, orders—to kill ?"
"They won't," Protheus added as he began to lose the human skin he had made for himself. "Because they are you."
It was hard to digest.
"That's impossible. At one point, so version of has to be more evil than any other. One more greedy, more desperate, more heartbroken," Sylvester argued. "Where can I expect to face them?"
Protheus' body started to lose its shape. It beca harder to see if he was still there since his form was that of space itself. His hand on Sylvester began to feel lighter as well, and his voice lowered.
'Is he going to give his own life force as well?'
Protheus finally responded in whispers when he was on the verge of vanishing into nothing. "So you don't know about it yet?"
"About what?"
"Why you—why us—why Johnathan Colt Westerling beca Sylvester Maximilian."
If Sylvester had a heart, he knew it would've exploded with a frenzied beating. The situation was so bizarre that it was hard to accept. Yet, it made enough sense that it felt believable. He was speaking to himself about his enemies that were also himself.
"Where must I look to get these answers?" He questioned, knowing Protheus wasn't going to tell him anything.
"You will be made aware… soon." The voice broke, and the hand vanished from Sylvester's shoulder. "Believe in yourself—for you are … I am you."
Once again, standing alone, Sylvester looked at his palms. Yes, he could now feel many tis stronger than just a few monts ago. Protheus stood true to his na—he stole the power from the Primordial Gods and gifted it to him.
Yet, he couldn't feel happiness. He had just witnessed himself committing suicide for the sake of himself. For the sake of his own version, where there were countless others.
Snap!
He snapped two fingers to check his newfound abilities. The space and ti around him changed so drastically that he rewrote the laws of space itself, turning the darkness into light and light into darkness. Inversing everything, from the tiniest particles to reality itself.
He could feel countless universes through his senses. Universes that once belonged to so Eldritch God that he or Protheus had slayed. Overwhelming, mind-numbing, and yet—so… unimpressive.
"What's wrong with ?" He asked himself, snapping his finger to return the universe back to how it was. "I… I'm losing my sense… of life. I don't want this."
He had never thought about it before.
But now that he did, he felt terrified of himself. Terrified of slowly becoming exactly what he was battling against.
"This is too much power."
Being able to rewrite reality itself wasn't godhood. It was a more… higher form. And to know that there existed soone even above himself.
"I can't beco like them in this pursuit."
"And you won't," ca a second voice reverberating through the cosmos.
Sylvester raised his face fiercely, and for the first ti he watched the shining being standing and not sitting on his throne. It no longer felt shocking or overwhelming. He no longer felt scared or suppressed by the being before him. In fact… he felt on par… almost there.
"Solis?!"
"We et again, Sylvester Maximilian." No longer did Solis' voice sound muffled. "You have grown outstandingly."
Staring at the absent face of the humanoid being slightly taller than himself, Sylvester felt conflicted. Who was Solis? What was behind that shining body, that grand warm halo? What was his aim? Was he the First Pope? What was his end ga?
There was a lack of antagonism and anger from Solis that he used to feel before. It appeared that much had undoubtedly changed.
"I'm losing myself." Sylvester stated and asked, "When can I stop?"
Solis once again took his throne that appeared behind him. His body gained size, overarching Sylvester's. His presence also grew, and the pressure once again returned.
"You are not supposed to. You have a purpose to fulfill."
"What purpose?!" Annoyed, Sylvester barked. It thundered with such intensity that the space around him showed signs of breaking apart in horrifying spirals, cuts, and twists.
Solis's size kept on growing, making Sylvester appear smaller than his toenail. When he spoke again, Sylvester felt as if his ears would burst—he had no ears.
"For which you were brought to this reality as an unquantifiable elent of surprise. You are a piece that does not belong here—you never will."
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