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'Oh gods, what's happening this time'; that was the first thought that went through Lanter's head when he realized that his house seemed lighter than before, and that his furniture seemed to be uprooting themselves and defying gravity. Anything, regardless of weight, was floating up as it seemed the house was rising.
This was so not called-for.
Whoever is pulling this horrid prank on him is going to suffer. It was probably that eccentric wind mage. If that's the case, then not even his strange fan group will be able to save him from the pumpkin's wrath.
Lanter kept himself steady on one of the kitchen tables, all the while mumbling curses. The gourd's head felt sickly as the feeling of going upwards was getting to him. He was sure his eye sockets were flaring up in alarm.
He was having a good day, okay?! He really didn't need this.
The sage hardly had time to save his precious teacup from becoming shards on the floor when everything suddenly stopped. It was abrupt, like his house had settled down somewhere. He's pretty sure he just heard all of his plants shatter, so yeah, now he's really looking forward to setting someone ablaze.
With a huff, Lanter was ready to get outside to see if there's damage done to his front porch. Only, there was no outside..?
He looks out his window to see not the scattered houses of Cutout Town, or the bustling of robloxians going about their business, or even the fucking sky. Instead, he's in a strange, brick-like fortress, it seems.
Well... it's probably not the wind mage. That weirdo can't lift an entire house to somewhere else. Can he?
Speaking of which, where is 'somewhere else'? Lanter doesn't recognize this part of Paper Robloxia. Surely he'd know a place as distinct as this, but no bells were rung. Actually... Pressing his face against the window pane, the sage attempts to look up only to see an intricately decorated ceiling. Looks like a palace, or at least a mansion.
Ugh... this was giving him a headache.
Knock knock
Someone's at his door? Who in their right mind would move an entire house without warning, but then also knock on said house's door politely like nothing's wrong? Lanter really wants to bust open the door and knock some sense into the fool, but the situation calls for him to be cautious.
Creaaak
"...Greetings? Is anyone here?"
The sage looked around in a haste, trying to spot the perpetrator, only to be met with more bricks. Until he looked down.
The torchkin looked to be young, or at least short. He wore traditional torchkin clothing, all rather ordinary for his kind. A bright big smile painted his face, but Lanter couldn't fathom why.
"Hello! Are you uhh..." The assumed child torchkin leans his head onto his hands, trying to recall what he wanted to say. "Can I ask you for your name?" He finally finishes.
The sage shifted in place, red flags springing up in his mind. This was a confusing spot to find himself in. Even with how long he has lived, this was new. Should he actually give his name? Well, it's not like the kid could use it against him. Probably.
"Lanter." The sorcerer states bluntly.
"Yeah! I knew it was something like that!" He gives a meek chuckle. "Sorry, I'm bad with names. My mom always said to improve my memory, or else I'll turn into a goldfish."
"...Right." Ah. So he is a child, or talks like one. "Look. Let's not beat around the bush. Why am I here?"
"Uhh, I have– ahem!" The torchkin suddenly straightens out his posture as an attempt to look... professional? "I have a proposal to make." What is he? A door to door salesman??
"Or an offer, if you will."
"Those two are the same thing."
"Yeah, I know! But uhm. Will you– will you be willing..." He plays with his hands in a nervous fit, dropping his posture unknowingly. "T-to join my group?"
Join what? The boy scouts???
Lanter felt the need to cross his arms. He's not the kind to be mean, but if the kid wanted to ask a question, he didn't have to move his entire house. "May I ask what this group of yours even is?" The sage managed to settle on a fairly neutral response, though a little aggressiveness could be heard.
"Sure! This is my villain group!"
...
Did he hear correctly?
"Villain group..?"
"Yeah!"
"Could you elaborate? Please. I have a headache."
"You do? Oh no, I'm sorry, I didn't know!" Lanter puts up a hand to stop the torchkin from continuing. "Just... Tell me about your 'villain group.'"
"Well, I'm trying to take over the world and stuff, and I kinda want a group of evil henchmen to help me with it. The world's kinda big, y'know. Also, I think it's cool!"
Oh, forget the headache; his head might just explode! What in the banland was he hearing right now?!
"You're trying to take over the world?!"
The torchkin just nods his head eagerly, all the while his beaming smile never faltered.
Oh, screw this; he is not going to even attempt entertaining this crazy scheme! If the kid wants a playmate, he can go ask the narrator!
"Not interested. I'd like to go home now."
The child points to the distinctly indigo house innocently.
"That's not what I meant."
"Hmm... You're not sold yet, but I can show you that it's not a bad deal!" With that, the fiery torchkin suddenly pulls out a book a little too large for his size. He holds it out proudly like a treasure.
"See! I have credi- credibility!" He stumbles on the foreign word. Well, he tried at least.
"I don't care what you show me, I'm not–"
Wait.
He knows that book. That accursed book. How could he ever mistake that starry blue, shimmering golden embroideries, and silver-bounded strings for anything else?
Now that he thought about it, he has heard about a supposed torchkin necromancer running around causing havoc. He just didn't think it was this dire. But if the Plot Book's involved, it's worse than dire.
"Kid, you have to listen. That book is not a toy; it could cause the world to rip apart if you so much as crease a page!"
"I'm not a kid!"
"You're focusing on the wrong part!"
"Uhm, I see your problem, but trust me! I can handle it just fine!" The child just holds the book closer to Lanter as if that proves his point somehow.
"If you don't believe me, you can have a look at all I made! I think I did super well!"
The now-revealed necromancer steps out of the doorway to allow Lanter space to exit. The gourd carefully steps outside, skepticism clear on his face.
Now that he's out, the fortress is much easier to look at. He's actually in some sort of throne room, it seems? Everything did feel like it had an air of royalty to it. High pillars supported the structure, bearing the weight of its grandness. Fire spewed out in every place it could be fitted, whirling magnificently. He could appreciate the warmth, though his concerns are not relieved even a little.
All in all, this singular room had more details and intricacies than Castle Climax, though it couldn't hold a candle to the castle of a certain tyrant. To be fair, Dusekkar's couldn't either.
The sage, at the thought of his cousin, decided to stop gazing around. Now's not the time to be distracted.
"Your fortress is nice and all, but that doesn't mean you can just take the book and do whatever."
"Wait! You haven't even seen all of it!"
"I don't really need to."
"Huh... ok then..." The kid's shoulders went slack, and his embers dimmed in disappointment. The sage felt a little guilt slip into him, but only a little. No child should be running around with such a dangerous tool, and he should be reprimanded.
"Come on. Hand me the book."
"Sorry, but I'm still on my 'taking over the world' quest. You don't just quit halfway on your world domination, y'know?"
"You'll destroy this book! Then there won't be a world to rule!"
"Noo..? I'll be super duper careful!"
"Kid, you're literally made of fire."
"So is Mr. Dusekkar!" Well, he's not wrong. And why by the gods is he calling him a 'mister' when he stole his book? This torchkin is beyond bizarre.
"Listen here, you–" Lanter clutches his head in sudden pain. Yeah, migraines are no joke.
"Uhh, you wanna sit down? I can make a few chairs if you want."
"Ugh..."
"I'll take that as a yes!"
Chairs that look rather nicely cushioned appeared with just a few pencil strokes. The torchkin bounced excitedly to plop down on one, legs dangling. Lanter contemplated the idea of settling down in a criminal's territory and then decided that he wasn't going through this standing up. So he reluctantly sits.
"You feeling better?"
The pumpkin puts up a hand to silence him. He needs a moment. "I'm... fine."
The necromancer beams at him again, joy radiating endlessly. It's hard to imagine that the one giving such a sweet smile is also the one currently causing chaos around Robloxia.
And could also be the one to cast them into limbo.
He doesn't want to think about it anymore. This is prime material for infinite madness. Lanter needs his head clear so he doesn't accidentally set something on fire, and worse, burn the Plot Book. This is a delicate matter. If he can get the kid to hand over the book without any issues, then he must try.
Maybe information gathering would be good? Yeah, his chances can get better that way.
"You haven't given me your name, you know. Recruiting without even introducing yourself is rude."
"I forgot again!" That seemed to have done the trick. "Right, right! I'm Antagon!"
He points to himself. "Antagon the Super Villain!"
"...Okay." At least he has a name now. He'll still be calling him 'kid' in his mind, though.
"Well, Antagon the Super Villain, why did you choose me?"
The now-named torchkin tilts his head; the gears turning in them. So Lanter continues.
"Why do you think I would be a good option for your group?"
"Aren't you?"
"What do you mean?"
Antagon's flames swirled thoughtfully, humming as he did. He then opens the Plot Book for the new 'recruit' to see. "I skimmed over everything Mr. Dusekkar wrote, and sometimes, he writes about how much you hate him." He points to a post-it that was stuck on one end.
Ah, of course, it made sense for the other gourd to treat his book like a personal journal if he was going to be writing in it 24/7. But how much was truly said in there?
"If you don't like him so much, you'd wanna get revenge, yeah?"
"Revenge..." He tastes the word and immediately despises it. That single phrase just oozes with unending hate and wrath. Revenge is for only the spiteful and weak, and he is not any of those things.
As much as the sage resents the deity, they aren't enemies. Sure, he wants nothing to do with him, but he would never stoop so low as to destroy everything his cousin cared about. Because all that Dusekkar holds dear, Lanter does too.
This is the world he lives in now, as much as he wants the old one back. His real home. But it's nothing but rubble now, and Sphara wasn't going to grant his wish.
With a sigh, the pumpkin thinks to ask, "What did he even write on there?"
"Uhh, you wanna see?"
With a brisk nod, anticipation was already welling up. A tiny bit of dread was woven in there too.
"Okay, but only at a distance!" Antagon flips to another example and holds the pages firmly open.
Just like he said, there was a post-it with Dusekkar's handwriting, blue ink and all, though it looked hastily scribbled on. The gourd squints to see,
"What did I just do... Lanter is furious with me, and I can't fix it like I always have. All I can do right now is finish what I started. This mistake is mine to repent for."
It continues on another post-it.
"I could only hope time will do its work and mend what I did. I just wanted a better reality for everyone, but that's hardly an excuse. An indescribable number of robloxians are now displaced because of me."
"I'm still at a loss, and I'm not ready to leave Paper Nil. Wiscara is trying to help, but I feel unworthy of her empathy." And then it ends abruptly.
Ah, he knows what he's talking about. This note is definitely one of the earlier ones if he has to guess.
Though, that epoch in time is pointless now.
"You said you read everything?"
"Nope! I said I skimmed everything! To be honest, I'm not too sure why you hate him so much, I wasn't paying attention to a lot of them."
So he doesn't know why? That's a relief; having a stranger know about their personal history is more than just disconcerting.
There was a reason for why he never had many close bonds, and the refusal to let anyone know about his history is definitely one of them. It never felt 'good' to open up, even when the sorcerer knew it was a failing mindset. Connections depend on those little things, after all.
Though, he did get close to that old man living near the Rift of Darkness. Even then, they just share tea together at times. (Although, getting to pet the box dragon was always the highlight of the day back then)
"Kid, has no one ever told you reading about another's private life is invasive?" He shakes a finger disappointedly. "Rude."
"Ah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Too easy. Seriously, who raised this brat?
"I just... wanted to know if I could find something useful in there! I won't read more if you don't want me to!"
"I definitely don't." Lanter said with a huff, crossing his arms again as the final blow.
"Eeek! You look just like Mom right now... Scary..."
Antagon shrunk back, closing the book and holding it close. He seems to be taking what the sage said into consideration. "I won't look into it. But, in exchange, you'll have to be great at being a henchman! If you, uh, wanna." He adds that last part hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable with his own policy. Kid's not used to bargaining, and it shows.
"And when did I say I wanted to be your henchman?"
"Uhh..." The torchkin thinks deeply. "I don't really remember. Maybe you said it when you were out of the house?" That was rhetorical!
"I never did, dummy." He narrows his eyes.
The torchkin only blinked in silent surprise. "Why?"
"You've hurt others with your actions. I can't accept that."
A look of surprise, and then sudden realization. The child's eyes downcasted to avoid the glare of the other occupant in the room. Unsure of his own resolve in that moment as he processes that sentence.
The sage was going to be a change of pace, that's for sure.
During this meeting, the necromancer wasn't expecting to be put on the spot so often. Not even Pink I, as strict as she is, would chide him so directly. And for most of the things brought up, they all have a good point. Much to his dismay.
But hurting others? He wasn't trying to do that! Antagon just wanted to know what it feels to actually have control for once. Maybe play a few mischievous tricks, but not hurt! Sure, he did fool around with that big ol' dragon for a bit, and he was halfway on his plan to rig the casino, but–
Huh.
In retrospect, the dragon kind of flattened a whole castle. No one got super injured, yet even then...
Ugh, who cares! It was some old dusty monument. It's not like anyone was actually living there! And– and, the casino would just make robloxians a tiny bit dizzy! So what?!
He didn't mean any harm!
Harm...
Harm to the dragon that crashed through glass... Harm to the robloxians he's scaring with his antics... Harm to the harmonians and crevons he'll be setting against... Harm to that banland prisoner he wanted to set free...
Aw crap.
He didn't want to admit it, but the destruction caused was more than just mischievous fun. It was bad enough to get a life grounding from Mom. And well, maybe that's not even the worst of it.
Antagon's new recruit was right. He should go about this a different way. A better, safer way! Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense! Change of plans, Antagon!
"I guess I get what you mean. I haven't been doing this right. Hurting others will no longer be allowed!"
The gourd let a smile in, happy to get a win over the kid.
"If– if you don't want to work for a torchkin like that... I don't blame you, Mr. Lanter!"
So he's a 'mister' too, now? At least he managed to knock some sense into him. Brat doesn't seem to think things through, but he does seem to have a kind heart. Even after all his talk about being evil. Simply put, the kid's just insanely ignorant. Maybe alarmingly so.
The sage lets out a much needed sigh.
"My conquest will continue, but I don't mind having empty space in my legion for a bit. I'll be sending you home now, okay?"
Oh, come on! He's STILL not handing the book over?!!
"H-hold on!"
"Yeah?"
"You, uh... really must have this whole 'conquest' stuff? You won't compromise for anything else?"
"Hmm, nope! Planned this for a long, long while. I mean, I took out the bad parts, so what's the issue?"
"What's the issue is your unbelievable stubbornness!" Suddenly grasping what Lanter might be going with this, Antagon grips the book defensively.
"But I'm not gonna pull pranks anymore! It will only be peaceful things, so why are you still scolding me?!"
"How is 'conquest' meant to be done peacefully?! Those two words are on the opposite sides of the spectrum!"
"I dunno! But I'm gonna find a way! I'm not gonna make everyone scared, so there!"
"That's not the point, you..." Ughh, the migraine is back.
Shit, he needs to approach this situation differently. With the way they're going around in circles, it will only be time before one of them bursts into flames. And, well, there won't be much of a world left to even argue on by then.
If he goes home now, Antagon will continue using the Plot Book, even if for nondestructive purposes. The fact that the tool holding all of reality is not by its rightful owner is enough reason for him to stay. The sage will not use brute force if he can't help it, but if the torchkin is unwilling to relinquish control...
...
"Whatever to keep everyone else safe. You must be prepared to sacrifice all."
The newly-made demiurge claimed it was a sacrifice. The trade made for a better future where they can all thrive.
But the sage called it a careless massacre.
If this was the cost to usher in a new 'normal', he was sure it wasn't worth it.
Yet, regardless of what he thinks. The watchful sun casts itself downwards below the hills, lighting the edge with a brilliant shine.
A warning before the darkness came to claim the land to build it anew.
'By the gods, Dusekkar. Get the fuck out of my head.' The gourd complains internally.
He'll find a different method to get through this without bloodshed. All he really needs is for Antagon to let the book go unguarded for just a moment, and then he can take it. A long-term plan isn't desirable, but the sorcerer is infamously selfish. He will find a way to get this to work.
This might not be the most conventional option, but if he can keep an eye on the child, it should be fine. Dusekkar will figure out the rest. Probably.
Going back on track to Antagon...
He supposed the kid can only take one reality check a day seeing as he was already losing his composure. Lanter could tell that the whole 'harming robloxians' had been a lot for Antagon to take in. It's not that he's unwilling to listen, only that what he's hearing is already a lot to process.
Hearing that your long-time dreams aren't going to be achieved isn't gonna sit well with any child, even with sound logic.
This isn't a matter of reason anymore. It's emotions.
And if that's the case, then it's time for plan two.
"Ah, let me reword my answer a bit. I may not like what you're doing, but I decided that..."
Come on improv! Work your magic!
"...that I will mentor you for now."
"Mentor me?" Antagon's fire spinned in a confused twist.
"Yes. Though you said you wouldn't use the book for wrongdoing, words only mean so much. They say action speaks louder for a reason." The gourd clarifies. "Trust goes a long way, and I want to make sure my trust isn't misplaced."
"Hmm, okay! I'll listen to you, Mr. Lanter. And if you're staying, you gotta be great at subor– subordin– su–"
"Subordinate?"
"Subordinating!"
"... Yes, but you have to show me you can use the book safely." (Hold on, I know I have a checklist somewhere...)
"I already showed you what I can do! I'm no novice!"
Mumble mumble "Right, and how old are you, silly brat?"
"I'm not silly! And I'm turning ten, a perfectly mature age!" He'll have to shelve that information for later because good grief... That and he needs to find his checklist of do's and don'ts as well. Comes in handy for excruciatingly specific scenarios. Like this one.
"You really know what you're doing? You do realize that something as small as improper grammar can cause world calamities, right?"
"Huh– I mean yeah!"
A doubtful stare gave a blow to the kid's confidence, but Antagon wasn't going to be dissuaded that easily.
"If you need convincing, I'll just have to give you the grand tour of all my responsibly‐built stuff!"
"That's not how it works– nevermind... So, a tour now?"
"Yep!"
Well, that's one way to buy time. Maybe it'll help the brat cool down. And well, him too.
.
.
.
"What were you going to do with a casino anyway? Make robloxians bet their heads off?"
"Dunno, I just wanted to do a cool grown-up thing. But, well, I was starting to burn out on the maze idea if I'm being honest... Wrist was hurting reaaal bad."
For the past few minutes of Lanter's immortal life, he's been listening to a ten year old talk about basically whatever came to his mind. Which was a lot, but also not a lot at the same time. Somehow, he hasn't run out of topics.
"I wonder if Mr. Dusekkar's hand ever got cramps from writing 'cause those suck so much."
"If he did, he'd just switch to his left hand."
"Woaah, is he both handed?"
"It's called ambidexterity, but yes."
The sage assumed he'd be tuning out everything the kid was saying, but so far, he's in quite a neutral mood. Not pleasant, yet he wouldn't call it horrible either. It's strange. Lanter can't seem to bring himself to feel bothered by the kid, no matter how warranted.
...
"Aaand, here it is!" Oh, when did the conversation end? The sage thinks it's almost a shame, even as relief takes the forefront first.
The heavy door opens to a rather standard bedroom. Or at least standard for this fortress.
"You can stay in here. All of my evil henchmen have rooms! Well, except Rozanda; she lives in her big boat. And I guess Pink I, and Tretone, and basically everyone else–"
A small pause.
"Aww, rats! I made all these rooms but no one uses them!" The kid pouts, bloating up like a hamster with its cheek pouches full. "Whatever... At least you're using one, Mr. Lanter."
"That I am..? I guess?" Can't really go back to Cutout Town when his house has been ripped out of its very foundation. And said house was still in a mess that he'd rather not subject himself to seeing. (He needs time to be mentally prepared for all the broken teacups)
The necromancer nods, still full of enthusiasm. "We can discuss villain plans tomorrow– wait, I mean, safe villain plans." He doesn't know what that word means, does he?
"Alright. I'll be sure to be there for the safe villain plans meeting..."
And just like that, after a jovial grin, Antagon was off, leaving the gourd alone with the realization that the kid didn't even leave a time for the meeting.
A long sigh summed up about all that Lanter was feeling right now.
"I hate my life."