Chapter 101: The Pale Watcher

The chamber beneath the Hollow King’s temple was older than anyone’s memory.

Black stone pillars disappeared into darkness above, their surfaces carved with thousands of names that no living scholar could read.

Sickly green and yellow crystals protruded from the walls like broken bones, casting a ghostly glow over the gathering of hooded priests.

Four High Priests stood around an enormous summoning circle.

Its lines had been carved into the stone with so much precision, that they almost seemed to pulse like veins beneath living skin.

The eldest priest raised his hands.

“Our armies have failed.”

“Our spies have failed.”

“Three of our worlds have fallen dark while under our own banner.”

“We have even lost our top infiltrators yet the Horror Summoner still stands.”

Another priest lowered his head.

“The Hollow King(praise be) has commanded us to try another approach.”

“We are to bring our own summoner.”

The rusted and cracked wheels creaked ominously as Several cultists wheeled forward a heavy iron container.

Its sides covered in thousands of seals.

Ancient runes written by forbidden magic, ran down each of the exposed rusted chains.

Blessings written in the blood of countless sacrifices.

One priest swallowed nervously.

“Are we certain that we made the right calculations this time?”

“We have proven that our summoning circle indeed works….”

“Yes but, why are we proceeding with this artifact so soon?”

“Because our King(praise be) has spoken.”

The room fell silent.

With a wave of his hand the eldest priest ordered them to brake through the seals.

One by one…

Each seal cried out as it were destroyed.

Each chain slowly fell away.

Finally, the lid could be lifted off. 

Inside rested a solitary object.

A weathered leather notebook inside of a plastic ziplock bag.

A lower cultist used a knife to slice open the bag.

They bowed as they handed the elder the book.

Its pages were now stained by countless age.

On the middle of the discarded bag were two words stamped in faded ink.

POLICE EVIDENCE

The priests exchanged uneasy glances.

“The Hollow King(praise be) said that it belongs to the individual who almost murdered the Horror Summoner.”

“The Hollow King(praise be) specifically requested us to use this to summon him.”

Bowing, the nearest high priest picked up and opened the notebook.

“Wait! Don’t….”

Inside were sketches of eyes.

Unknown Symbols.

More Eyes.

Smears and smudges.

Hundreds of eyes.

“All these eyes…”

Watching.

Waiting. 

Hungry.

The priest flipped through the book.

Every page increased in its chaotic nature.

Each one ended with the same sentence.

He is watching.

The priest hands shook as he read to the last page.

He is here.

A massive eye looked as if it were carved into the last page. 

The eye seemed to peer outwards hungrily at the priest. 

The reading priest looked up to realize that they had walked to the center of their summoning platform.

The chamber suddenly grew very cold.

The priest looked down and saw that the massive eye was now missing from the page. 

Looking up, a nearby cultist pointed to the reading priest’s forehead. 

They now had an eye in the middle of their head.

Information pierced through the priests mind causing them to double over in pain and drop the book. 

With a tearing sound the image of the eye ripped open on their forehead.

The cultists face went completely slack.

The blood red eye pulsed as the cultist head turned around briefly at the surrounding cultists.

The eye turned and began firing a yellow beam into the center of the platform.

The center of the summoning circle cracked.

Darkness flooded upward out of the center of the device instead of the usual light gathering from a normal summoning.

Something definitely had  begun reaching through realities. 

Suddenly A pale hand appeared out of the darkness.

The priest reached out and grabbed onto the hand.

A tall figure was slowly helped out from within the darkness. 

It was as though he were being pulled out of a swimming pool made of darkness.

The man’s bare feet steamed as they touched the stone.

Long black hair hung over a gaunt face.

His skin was covered from neck to the soles of his feet in what resembled tattoos.

These tattoos, however, were constantly moving.

Tiny multicolored things used the tattoos as openings to crawl beneath his skin like a city of insects.

The man twitchily raised his head.

His eyes were sunken but surprisingly bright at the same time.

He had a smile that was impossibly calm.

“…Interesting.”

One priest whispered.

“It worked…”

The stranger looked around.

“So I believe this isn’t my Earth.”

“No.”

The eldest priest stepped forward and bowed.

“You are the one named Elias Crowe.”

The man’s smile widened.

“I was.”

His head tilted.

“The voices said names are not very important.”

He tapped one temple.

“The voices are deciding to get louder now.”

Whispers began echoing throughout the chamber.

Nobody could determine where they came from.

Only thing they know that they had come from Elias.

A young cultist stepped forward to confront the new person in the room. 

One of the tattoos on Elias’s arm suddenly turned.

It peeled away from Elias’s skin like tearing a wet bandage.

Its tiny body rapidly expanded into a writhing creature made entirely of shadow and teeth.

Before anyone could react… It lunged.

The creature stabbed against the unfortunate cultists neck with terrifying speed.

There was not enough time to scream, the victim could only collapse lifelessly.

The body of the cultist instantly shriveled up.

The corpse slowly crumbled into dust.

The living tattoo scurried calmly back onto Elias’s arm, disappearing deep into his skin.

The chamber became utterly silent.

Elias looked down.

“Oh.”

He gently rubbed another tattoo.

“You guys really should ask before doing things like that. We don’t know what the rules are here yet.”

The tattoo twitched happily from his touch.

The remaining priests wisely kept their distance.

One finally found his voice.

“…does the King(praise be) speak to you?”

Elias smiled toward the ceiling.

“He watches even now.”

“He whispers to me constantly.”

The eldest priest slowly bowed.

“Our god is known by...”

“I know, my lord calls him The Hollow King.”

Elias closed his eyes.

For several long seconds…

Nothing happened.

Then he laughed.

Softly at first.

Then harder.

“Oh… I see!”

“He has told me to help you with the ceremony.”

The High Priests exchanged worried glances.

“Follow us to our King(praise be) prison. This way.”

They led him through winding tunnels beneath the temple.

He seemed to glide more than walk.

His feet seemed to melt within the shadows.

Each passage way  descended deeper into the earth.

Eventually they reached a cavern unlike any Elias had ever seen.

A colossal emerald crystal dominated its center.

Within it floated the skeletal remains of an ancient being.

The Hollow King.

A massive crack ran through the gemstone prison.

Black mist seeped out from within.

The priests immediately fell to their knees.

Elias simply stared.

“You definitely made me help a noisy one.”

The cavern trembled.

The mist drifted toward Elias.

It entered his mouth.

His nose.

His ears.

His tattoos began glowing crimson.

One by one they lifted from his body, circling the crystal like a swarm of living serpents.

Elias’s posture slowly changed.

His voice deepened.

When he spoke…

Two voices emerged out together.

“We have waited for a long time.”

The priests pressed their foreheads against the stone.

“Praise be Our King…”

The Hollow King’s voice continued through Elias.

“The prisons will has weaken significantly.”

“The barriers cracked.”

“The Dreamseer awakens.”

“The Horror Summoner gathers allies.”

“We must also answer the call.”

An elder priest raised his head.

“Hollow King(praise be) We have prepared…”

“No,” The Hollow King interrupted.

“What you have done is feeble and you are all expendable.”

The words struck like a hammer.

“The next assault will in fact fail.”

Several priests looked confused.

“Luckily for you all, It is meant to fail.”

Silence followed.

The possessed Elias continued, “Your purpose is not victory.”

“Then our purpose…”

“…is to deliver this summoned individual there.”

Every eye stared at Elias.

The man smiled pleasantly as he flicked back to his normal voice.

“I rather do enjoy traveling.”

The Hollow King’s mist slowly withdrew back into the gem.

Elias exhaled deeply.

The tattoos returned to his skin.

Then…

His body started to convulse.

Bones cracked.

His spine began to stretch.

Arms lengthened until his fingertips brushed the ground.

His ribs shifted visibly beneath his skin.

His jaw slowly separated and lengthened.

His face loosened.

Then…

His entire face started to peel away.

And just like someone removing a cloth mask…

He lifted it off carefully in one hand.

Beneath it was only smooth pale flesh.

His face resembled a painted canvas 

Only endless white skin.

The peeled face twisted in his hand.

Its expression froze into a permanent smile.

It hardened into something resembling a porcelain mask.

Elias calmly placed it back over the blank surface.

It fused with him instantly.

When he spoke again…

His voice echoed strangely.

His mouth did not move at all.

“Elias Crowe… was just a man.”

He looked towards the crystal.

“Today the name of the Pale Watcher…”

“…is far more fitting.”

Even the High Priests felt uneasy.

One whispered a prayer beneath his breath.

The Pale Watcher slowly turned his head toward him.

“…Don’t worry.”

“I’m on your side.”

His head was now at an impossibly sharp position and facing 180 degrees around. 

His neck stretched violently he didn’t seem to feel anything wrong.

The reassurance somehow made everyone even more uncomfortable.

Hours later…

An enormous teleportation array activated within the temple.

Thousands of armed cultists assembled.

Elite warriors.

Dark mages.

Beast tamers.

Living siege engines.

Every one of them knew this mission carried almost no hope of survival.

Yet none hesitated.

The Pale Watcher slipped calmly through their ranks.

The soldiers instinctively stepped aside.

Most refused to meet his eyes.

One tattoo lifted briefly from his wrist.

The nearest soldiers immediately backed away.

The High Priest raised his staff.

“The Horror Hotel awaits.”

“For the Hollow King!”

Thousands of voices answered.

“(Praise be!”

The teleportation gate erupted with green light.

The army marched.

One after another they crossed into the Hotel World.

The Pale Watcher stepped through last.

Cool crisp air greeted him.

Rolling fields stretched toward distant forests.

Peaceful villages dotted the landscape surrounding the Nightmare Hotel.

Children laughed somewhere beyond the hills.

Smoke drifted from cooking fires.

People worked gardens.

Farmers waved happily to neighbors.

The Pale Watcher stood perfectly still.

“…Such a pretty scene .”

Then he looked toward the distant hotel.

“…but it is missing something.”

He began walking.

The cult army followed.

Alarm bells rang from the first village.

Villagers rushed to usher families toward shelters.

Volunteer guards formed defensive lines.

They knew they could not stop an invasion of this size.

Their purpose was only to buy time for the villagers to flee.

The Pale Watcher watched them quietly.

“It is missing such a beautiful color.”

His tattoos stirred.

“I wonder if they know that they contain such a beautiful shade of red.”

Without slowing his pace, he gestured once.

Living shadows surged across the ground.

The guards fought desperately, but the cult continued relentlessly through the village.

Buildings burned .

Barricades collapsed.

Smoke climbed into the afternoon sky as frightened survivors fled toward the distant silhouette of the Nightmare Hotel.

Behind the advancing cultists, silence settled over the ruined streets.

No celebration followed.

No victory cries.

Only the steady march toward their true objective.

The Pale Watcher never looked back.

His attention remained fixed on the towering hotel in the distance.

He tilted his head slightly.

Then beneath the porcelain mask a new mouth ripped into a smile.

“…Gene.”

Far ahead, warning sirens began echoing from the Nightmare Hotel.

Athena’s defenses were already awakening.

The final approach had begun.