Worlds of Destiny

by NightFlame389

Seven Thrones

The first and the seventh are the only ones who remain
When the seals are broken, he shall destroy the ones who contain
When the last is left, the endless worlds shall be slain
And all their efforts shall be made in vain

The world grows dark, the void consumes
The Crimson Khan shall send them to their tombs
In a world where good stands tall
The darkness shall conquer it all

The seventh child, hopeful and pure
Dangers, betrayals, and more he shall endure
As the Old Man wanders, so shall the zombies rise
And when day breaks, they shall cause their own demise

---

“The Children of the Scarlet King are becoming more active than before.”

“A new group of interest has appeared. They seem to be intermingling with the Children of the Scarlet King. Something about a Void Monarch.” One of the O5s placed down everything he knew about the group.

“They’re coming together to break the seals and bring the Scarlet King into our world.”

“How do you know that?”

“A special power only few have. Plot convenience.”

“Too many people have that power. It's getting out of hand.”

“Was it ever in anyone’s hand though?”

“Let’s not waste any more time and stop them from merging with any other group.”

“Who votes we call in the GOC for this?” Only six of the thirteen held up their hands. “Horizon Initiative?” Two of them put down their hands. “Literally anyone else that can help us?” Everyone else put down their hands. “Global Occult Coalition it is.”

“Did you not see seven of us disagreeing?”

“I don’t care, if the Scarlet King is coming, we need to be ready. We can’t combat him alone.”

“Person of Interest 69 is on the move. How do we proceed?”

“Observe his actions. If he does anything suspicious, move in to capture him. Maybe Bright’s little unauthorized team can do that part.”

“Meeting adjourned.”

---

NightFlame and Loomis trudged down the sewer. Loomis held a spear in one hand. NightFlame held a tablet with a map and a blinking light. Rats scurried throughout the area. Green water flowed through the area.

“What are we doing here again?” Loomis asked. A couple of rats tried to grab the spear, but Loomis turned the spear around and stabbed them.

“We’re giving the spear you’re holding to PBD.”

“Who’s PBD?”

“You’ll find out.” NightFlame held up his tablet. The blinking light was closer to their location. “Just a little bit farther. We’re almost there.”

They continued for all of ten seconds before NightFlame stopped in front of a rusty ladder. He put the tablet away in an unspecified place, probably not in reality. He climbed up the ladder and pushed away the cover. Loomis followed behind.

“This is a terrible place for a king to be,” Loomis muttered to himself. He pulled himself completely out of the sewer. Loomis looked around to see a large church, at least sixteen times taller than he was. The entire building seemed off somehow. Maybe it was the star on the steeple or the pink covering the entire building. “Hold on, are we meeting Kirby?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“Uhh... no?”

“That was a rhetorical question.” NightFlame climbed the steps into the cathedral. He pushed the door open. The two entered.

The interior was even larger than the outside suggested. Sixteen rows of pews lined the floor. The ceiling seemed to be infinitely high. At the end, a short cloaked figure in a silly hat stood, staring out the window. “Welcome,” the figure said.

“Greetings, oh great Pope,” NightFlame said, “We have something for you.” NightFlame nodded to Loomis. Loomis walked all the way to the Pope. It took him a solid three minutes, probably because he stopped to clean the rat blood off the spear. He set the spear down behind the Pope.

“Thank you.” A nub reached out from under the cloak to pick up the spear. “This will do just fine.”

“Well, looks like we’re done here,” NightFlame said. He backed out of the building without looking back. Loomis slowly made his way back to the doors.

Outside, NightFlame was surrounded by at least five people. One held a yellow rabbit plush towards NightFlame. Whenever the plush got closer, NightFlame moved backwards.

“What was that spear and who did you give it to?” one of them asked. That one had a silver amulet with a glowing red gem.

“Nothing you’d be interested in.”

“Tell us or the Spawn of Satan eats your soul.” The rabbit plush got closer. Loomis could feel darkness radiating off of the definitely not harmless plush.

“Get that thing out of my face! Fine! I’ll tell you!” The person holding the rabbit put the devil himself plush away. The moment it was hidden from sight, NightFlame kicked the guy with the amulet in the chin. As the man was recovering, the four other people chased after him. Loomis raced towards NightFlame. As they were running, the church faded.

One of them pulled out a comically large weapon and fired a chainsaw. NightFlame turned around, and while running backwards, caught the chainsaw.

NightFlame dove into an alleyway, with Loomis following close behind. The four who chased them turned into the alley. NightFlame knocked on the wall, which opened up to reveal a man with a monocle and top hat.

“Password?” the man asked.

“Aaabaaajss,” NightFlame answered. The man stepped aside and NightFlame and Loomis entered. The four pursuers caught up, but the man blocked them. One of them pulled out a butterfly knife.

“Who was that?” Loomis asked once they were safely in the back room.

“Have you heard of the multiverse?”

“I think so?”

“That Pope was from a universe where the Catholic Church was born on Planet Pop Star.”

“What.”

"It spread to The Neighborhood, where it became the official religion. Anyway I’m gonna recruit Dr. Bright.”

“Wait what.”

“You heard me.” NightFlame left the back room, passed several broken down pinball machines and a slot machine, the bartender who happened to be drinking coffee, a portrait of Joseph Stalin, and Australian Drug Dealer giving some guy some white powder.

He soon reached the door where the man, British, was somehow still fending off four- no, five people. “You can let them in now,” NightFlame commanded. British stopped trying to shove them out of the doorway. Dr. Bright, Dr. Clef, Dr. Kondraki, Dr. Gerald, and Dr. Hessen walked into the building. When they were all in, the door vanished.

“Welcome to my pocket dimension,” NightFlame said. “Very few ever get the honor of coming here. It’s a neat little place where I meet with powerful figures from across existence. However, your O5 Council still hasn’t found their way here, so for now, you five will have to do.” Almost instantly, a slightly overweight caucasian male teleported into the room.

“Hello, 507,” NightFlame greeted. “Caffeine Addict, give this man his usual!”

“Man, I did not expect to end up here,” Steve, also known as 507, said.

“Sit tight, I’ll grab a few others.” NightFlame walked off into the back room where Loomis was waiting. A few moments later, the rest of the gang teleported into the room. NightFlame returned with Loomis.

“Alright, I’ll cut to the chase,” NightFlame said. “The gang of villains currently designated the Legion of Doom due to lack of a better name is almost ready to release the Scarlet King into this world. I propose we work together to stop this. Not because I want to, but because if your world falls, many more will follow.”

---

Grogar and Satanic Cultist silently tried to make their way to the final two children. Everything else was already in the base. Satanic Cultist held a list in one hand.

“Remember, I’m gonna need your help to pull this one off,” Satanic Cultist said.

“Right, you need seven wielders of dark magic.” Grogar stared into his bell. There was still plenty of magic left for the ritual.

“Actually I feel like I can do it with less.” Satanic Cultist looked at the list.

“Cutting corners is never a good idea.” Grogar remembered the last time he cut corners.

“But I really don’t give a fuck." Satanic Cultist turned a corner, and Grogar followed. “Giving fucks is meant for idiots.”

“I feel like if we cut corners we’re all gonna die,” Grogar told Satanic Cultist. “Last time I cut corners, I regretted it so much that the author had to tell it twice.”

They proceeded to a perfectly normal containment chamber. Inside the room, there was a white porcelain comedy mask, secreting black sludge. It was locked inside a glass case on top of a pedestal. The mask seemed to be laughing at something, though Grogar couldn’t figure out what.

“Hello there, old friend,” the mask laughed.

“Do I know you?” Grogar asked.

“Of course not! You wouldn’t recognize me if I bit you in the face! Now why don’t you remove this case and put me on?”

Grogar reached his hoof towards the glass case, pulling it away at the last second. “No. You will come with me.” He used his magic to rip the pedestal out of the ground.

“Hey, wait! Put me down!” the mask pleaded. At this point it had transformed into a tragedy mask. Grogar ignored the mask’s pleas for help.

The moment he was safely outside, Satanic Cultist crossed something off of his list. Grogar peeked at the list.

• Dominion
• Longing
• Desolation
• Wrath
• Lack
• Hidden
• Hope (optional)
• Gather them in one place (the base)
• Ritual I came up with in ten seconds after being given orders from Dark Lord (seven magic wielders required)
• Victory

“Hope seems a little bit too good for a child of whatever this Vermillion Monarch or whatever,” Grogar said.

“Scarlet King,” Satanic Cultist corrected. “Crimson Khan is acceptable as well. Sometimes we call him the Red Ruler for fun.” Satanic Cultist opened a portal back to the base with a potato-shaped device. They entered through the portal and appeared in their home base.

“And why are we releasing this guy?” Grogar asked once the portal closed.

“It will serve as a distraction so we can obtain the Spear of Destiny from wherever it is currently located.” They entered a back room with no lighting. Satanic Cultist pulled a matchbox out of his cloak. He removed a single match, struck it, then proceeded to light several candles which were obscured by darkness.

Once every candle was lit, the light revealed a regular heptagon with a seven pointed star. Standing around the heptagon at each point of the star were SCP-029, SCP-682, SCP-106, and SCP-055. Grogar placed the pedestal down between SCP-029 and a blank space. There was a second blank space between the Daughter of Shadows and the Reptile.

A swirling black portal opened above one of the two blank spaces. A bovine heart with several spiny protrusions dropped down from the portal onto the blank space. When the Heart of Darkness landed, the portal closed.

“Remember, everything here is purely symbolic,” Satanic Cultist said. “I probably could pull this off if all of you were in chains and arranged like an upside-down goose migration. Hell, I could even do this with your corpses.”

A sphere of pure darkness manifested in the doorway behind Grogar. The Pony of Shadows and the Storm King appeared through the portal. Cain stepped through the doorway from who the fuck knows where, and Sombra manifested himself from the dark portal the Pony of Shadows created.

Everyone took their places, though they were missing one sorcerer and one child. Sombra, Grogar, the Storm King, the Pony of Shadows, Satanic Cultist, and Cain all channeled their energy into the circle.

The ground slightly cracked. An error pop-up message appeared in the air. A deep voice said, “You are missing the seventh.”

Dimensional rifts opened. Everyone attempted to use their spare power to close the rifts. “I told you cutting corners was a bad idea!” Grogar yelled over the noise.

“But I thought that the fact that the ritual was made up in ten seconds without any thought would work!” Satanic Cultist shouted back.

Strykore walked past eating Doritos™. As he passed the door, he glanced into the room. He stared for a few moments then popped another chip into his mouth.

“Strykore! Grab the orange blob of goo from the location I am telepathically sending to you for plot convenience!” Satanic Cultist screamed as golden chains appeared, binding the rifts together. Blue flames licked the chains, but only strengthened them.

Strykore popped more chips into his mouth, nodded, then left in the other direction.

---

One chain remained to hold the lock. The Scarlet King touched the last chain. It glowed brightly. The Scarlet King pulled his hand away in pain.

“You know that you can’t break the last chain,” Dark Lord said from behind the Crimson Khan.

“I do not care. I will break it.” The Scarlet King blasted the last chain with much of his power. The chain refused to budge.

“Just be patient. Everything will come together eventually. They may be incompetent fools, but they will finish the job.”

“What if I do not believe you?”

“If this doesn’t happen, feel free to destroy my homeworld.”

“I will hold you to that promise, knave."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

---

They forget the hallowed words upon the Death of Time
May they share the fate of those who deny me to what’s mine
They forget the howling chains that bind me safe away
One of many old chanyus forgotten in this way

They forget the steel swords they used to cast me down
They shall not forget again before my flaming crown
They forget the seven brides that wait for my return
Such loveliness is lost upon the children of the urns

They forget the seals that are used to keep me still
Only one remembers and is not bent to my will
Seven seals, seven sons, six reclaimed, one shall be mine
And ere the end of all your days the Crimson Khan shall ride

Author's Note:

The original early scenes of Holy Ground have already been covered by Shadows and Reverse and everything here, but I think I can still pull off the [REDACTED]

Anyway there's way too many characters, expect some to leave or die

The poems are based on poems that exist within SCP-3838 and SCP-231. Chapter names for this arc are based on SCP-2317. The opening poem for this chapter is entirely written by me