The Uplift Protocol: In the Beginning

Interlude: That Great Beast

When evil forms into a group? It is united in purpose. Beware that which lurks in the dark.—A note from the Exodus.

We hold the greatest of Sins, beyond rejecting the Highest, my people warped. Our great shame.—Convergence: All of Records (CCT Timestamp Noted)

The Reliquary of Worlds

Creation Cycle (Foundation)

Ouroborous of Life

Mammon glared.

What a boring place. They numbered as a simple group of six. For now. He didn’t consider the female worth the time.

The Highest had no sense of purpose. Why make these common beings?! When they had art like Lucifer in the flesh. A way to leave a mark upon all of Creation! With one of the Holy Host at their side? Everything could be theirs. Beelzebub squatted by the crystalline waters. Eying the Fruits of the Garden. His massive gut quavering with the sheer temptation of it. The most forbidden fruit rested within the branches of a slivered tree. His oily skin left little to the imagination. His froggy face huddled deeper into his robes. Webbed toes clinging to the dirt.

Mammon spat. His emaciated form was hidden behind dark gray robes. Unlike other Amarche, he had taken one look at the Ouroborous of Life and rejected it outright. His brothers had done the same. Most of their people had become ghosts within the threads. To never touch the face of Creation.

A barren life.

Leviathan snarled, “They chose Oblivion. At least we have physical forms!”

His brother was coiled around a small set of stones. Normally he was the shape of a giant green snake. His orange eyes sparkled with rage. His jaws parted as he inhaled the bountiful fields of Elysium. That was what the Humans named this place. It had many names. Heaven, The Golden Path, the Ouro Above All.

He preferred Lucifer’s take on it: Prison.

Belphegor blinked slowly. His pale green eyes squinting against the glare of the three suns that protected this place. His grayscaled hands pulled at his red robes. They didn’t have a unified look. Not like the others of this place. He yawned, his jaws popped as he leaned back against the cool rocks.

“Maybe Lucifer will succeed. If we get White to give us access to the Leylines of Creation. Under the pretense of Healing us…..” He grinned wickedly. He would cherish the look on the human shard bearer’s face. Noah! That was it. They were outcast. Might as well burn the house down.

Asmodeus and Satan clashed in the stone works behind them.

Their battle marked the only excitement this realm had to offer.

What could the Highest even do about it? They had physical forms.

Their brothers had fled like cowards. Asking for forgiveness. That sniveling Curator at the head of the pack. Lilith, the only female of the Amarche to join them in the realm of the Living, cursed.

She spat, “Well I hope he does find something viable soon. We can’t even enter the main city without the Holy Host responding. So what if the Armache is a doomed race. We are proof that some of us have a spine.”

Her skin was smooth.

Almost perfect. Except for the fangs protruding from her delicate mouth.

The sky above clouded over. A fell wind spread through the trees.

An omen.