Chapter 8 – The Day
Fillydelphia, Equestria
Heart of the Mountain
It had been several hours of trudging across the earth. With the aid from the remaining Harbingers, with the aid now from their High Priest, they were able to reach the designated mountain. The mountain their lord commanded them to leave his skull, to lay forth the ritual, and where he would be reborn.
It was the closest settlement with an abandoned mountain, the safest place the Order could rest without the eyes of T.I.T.A.N. peering upon them. Yes, Emrick heard the treacherous words from the Dragon, how his Harbingers risked their appearance in Canterlot if meant to acquire the Bell. Their presence from the Above was still hidden for now, and they would need as much time in the shadows as possible. But that time was desperately running low.
With what little time they had to remain hidden, Emrick ensured all of it was spent accomplishing the goals of his master. So far, everything had gone according to Ghidorah’s will. Foal Mountain was surrounded by T.I.T.A.N. forces, so they abandoned the prospects of beginning the ritual within said mountain. Instead, the mountain range led them to an abandoned cavern deep in the heart of the peak outside of what the Above called “Fillydelphia”.
It would be adequate. The Voice did not object, and the Darkness did not attack. So, laying the head of Ghidorah in the center of the cavern, where walls that seemed to touch the sky led to perpetual darkness above, the Order of the Dragon took the time that was given, at last, to rest.
Several ponies slumped on the rocky floor, gasping for air that the mountain did not supply enough of. They were cautious in their breaths, many taking off their cloaks as their bodies ached and cried. Though many removed their masks to catch their breaths and rest for the time being, he did not.
Emrick remained by the side of the towering skull. Rotted flesh, cracked bone, and desolate remains meant nothing to him. For even as his hoof treaded the surface of the skull, he could still hear the gentle whispers brushing against his ears, making them twitch. Their lord was alive, ready and waiting, being prepared for the time at last to come.
In his soft exhales, Emrick heard a voice breaking through the darkness and echoing across the cavern walls. All for him to simply hear: “My Priest… you know I am not one to speak harshly, but…”
Lowering his hoof, he turned around to see the small skull peering at him under the torch light. The voice was soft, feminine, and he recognized the mask. Emrick sighed, turning away and back to the remains of his lord.
“Speak your mind, Dahlia. The Day is upon us; a time for victory at long last. Our lord would not want us to remain silent.” As he uttered those words so calmly, his hoof once more found its way to the cracked surface of Ghidorah, rubbing the tears, easing his hoof down the damages. All soon to be healed.
Her name, Dahlia, felt wrong even to hear it herself. From a pony so highly acclaimed to know her by name was enough to steal her breath. Still, she gathered the courage she needed and managed a soft, shivering voice to speak out and say, “Even if we are to speak in doubt?”
His hoof froze. Emrick said nothing. Didn’t even move. Dahlia’s heart rapidly increased in pace.
But she was urged on, the concerns of the others pressuring her to even question their Immortal in the first place. She cast a quick glance back to them, seeing the expressions from her fellow ponies shift away as if they didn’t even know her.
Dahlia blinked hard beneath her mask, furrowing her brow and shutting her eyes. Damn them. Her heart still yearned for answers herself. “My Priest… why must we toil in the Above? We were so close to the sacred vortex, but now you claim our god brought us further from our goal—”
“Quite the contrary; his words were specifically breathed to me, and those words—as clear as I am speaking to you now—ordered us to bring him here. This is our goal now. The Voice speaks to me, even now… and we have done it. Our toil has come to an end,” Emrick explained, slowly twisting his neck back to give her a sideways stare. “Have I ever led us astray, Dahlia?” he added with enough weight to rival the earth.
Stammering now, Dahlia rapidly shook her head. “No… you haven’t, my Priest.” She should have known it was foolish to question the guiding spirit. Prior generations failed to achieve even a fraction of what they managed to accomplish, and because of it, their lord abandoned them. Their lord was in their midst now, speaking through their Valiant. Why ever could she doubt that, when even now she could gaze upon the very skull that belonged to the Dragon?
Her resolve was not drained, however, and she said, “Yet, we doubt still; we—”
“Take off your mask.”
Dahlia lost her voice there, wide eyes widening even further behind said mask. “My Priest, I am still young in the Order. I do not deserve to show my face in the presence of—” she said, dipping her head in submittance.
“Our lord speaks differently now,” Emrick declared, dropping his hoof with a firm slap against the mountain floor. The first step closer to her, the intensity of the torch fires reflecting off his skull and eyes. “Do not hide from us, Dahlia.”
Gingerly, she obeyed, raising a hoof to remove the skull adorned with antlers of a creature even she didn’t know the name of. Behind the mask, there was but a lovely young pony bearing neither wings nor horn. A pale white coat with soft gray eyes, a light red mane and tail to join her. She, with the others, faced quite possibly the heaviest of their hardships, having to forcefully push against the skull of Ghidorah across treacherous caverns and mountain tunnels. That, at least, was what Emrick saw in her.
He removed his as well, earning a sharp gasp from the mare.
Beneath the skull, she saw his face for the first time. Under the light of the torches, his coat burned almost the same hue as the oranges dancing in the flames. A gray mane with equally gray eyes. Wearied posture, bags under his gaze, Dahlia had expected a much older and experienced High Priest to lead them. Instead, she looked upon a face that was but a few years older than her. Barely any older, but carrying a burden far greater than she or any within the Order could imagine.
A burden only he could carry. A Voice only he—and his Harbingers—could hear.
“The time for doubting has come to an end,” Emrick told her. “Our ancestors perished, but we will never perish with what we have been promised. We are the promised generation; our bloodline will not end in vain. In the New World, we have no reason to toil any longer. We are but one stepping stone away to bringing an end to this heinous world and their heretical leaders. Do you understand now, Dahlia?” He stepped closer, just enough for his breath to warm her own, for her eyes to stare nowhere else but up into his own. “We have reached the end.”
Breaking away, she nodded. The same breath that spoke as the Dragon was overwhelming, and she felt there was no other choice but to submit.
“Shall we begin the first labors of the ritual, then?” she asked, still staring away.
“No,” Emrick answered, turning to find his rest. “It must be fresh. We will wait for the Harbingers.”
They waited for hours. Many questioning, many doubting, and few remaining faithful even unto the end. Until, eventually, the end at last came to them. Came to them from the light of the torches dancing across the vast cavernous walls. Came to them from a familiar group of six ponies having finally completed their journey. Came to them with the lead Harbinger among the group proudly unveiling the talisman from his bag. Emrick was the first to see it, levitating it high for all within the Order to see and believe.
And now, with the Bewitching Bell in their clutches, it could all be achieved. That was what Emrick was told, and what he faithfully followed.
Many surrounded and began to hurl damning remarks as to how such a feeble and broken bell could ever accomplish the goal they sought. It was practically dust, they claimed. One strike against its surface and the bell will shatter, all of this was for nothing, the High Priest could have very well led them nowhere. Lied to them, just like all the others that came before. Their god had truly abandoned them. Each claim far worse than the last.
The Harbingers stood with their Immortal Priest, challenging all who questioned the one who spoke as the Dragon. Their god commanded it, he told them so, and they would follow his Voice to the ends of the earths. Be it Below, or Above.
Even as the arguments pestered on, Emrick started to hear the whispers growing more fervent, the Darkness coiling around the Bell he held in his magical grasp. The power was almost overwhelming to him, but the Voice was there to pull him from the storms trying to drown him. Once more, his lord called to him and made a proud declaration that their faith was not in vain. That they would not have toiled in vain.
When Ghidorah spoke to him. “I am here…” he said. “Begin.”
And with that settled, when Emrick declared it with a booming voice, the ritual began.
All else was put aside, every last qualm and doubt laid to rest when the Order was given just one moment to believe. One more act to see if their faith had led them true. They began by marking the skull with an ancient language only they could speak. A dead language Above, but not Below. They then marked themselves, on every mask, bone and gold, until it was complete. A massive circle was then laid around the skull of Ghidorah, painted not in oils.
But by the swift slash of a knife against skin. Against every foreleg jutted forth as the Harbingers cut every hoof and let the blood drip and pool. The pain was raw, real and hot. But it would not last forever. Everypony shivered as their scarlet ran down their hooves and made the circle in which the Harbingers forged.
As the golden masks got to work, all the Order could utter was: “Blood of our blood. Flesh of our flesh. All in one shall the one free us of our enslavement and burn the world who dared to burn us first. Blood of our blood. Flesh of our flesh. All in one shall…”
It was spoken again and again, until the circle was painted and the intricate lines all led to the skull. Like veins pooling life to the one who desperately needed it—needed them—now more than ever. Dahlia cringed at the sight of the knife cutting her hoof, nearly passed out at the crimson flowing free and pooling below her, but she found the strength to stand.
When her eyes turned and saw the mask looking her way. Saw the look of the High Priest staring only to her and giving her a single nod. Of approval. Of admiration. Of whatever she needed to stay awake. Then, watching in mixtures of honor and uncertainty as Emrick—after cutting himself and letting his own blood join them—raised the Bell high with his hoof.
And spoke. “The God of the Void hears us! My lord, let your power be freed from your broken shell and fuse with the powers of this world!”
“Blood of our blood! Flesh of our flesh!”
“Use it, strengthen it, ignite it to your purposes and free yourself of the bondages of death!”
“All in one shall the one free us of our enslavement…!”
“Rise now and reclaim the throne that was stolen from you! Rise now and lead us to our glorious future, and burn this world that was stolen from us!”
“… and burn the world who dared to burn us first!”
“Rise now, my king! Rise now in the coming of the Day, our King Ghidorah!”
He uttered one final incantation, and with his eyes rolling into the back of his head, Emrick levitated the Bell from his bleeding hoof. His horn was bright, brighter than every last torch and every last horn that joined him. He could feel the Darkness overflowing within him, demanding a release of every last vestige of dark magic Emrick took in that single moment.
With a cry from the Voice—a cry from Emrick’s own throat—the Immortal Priest fired a beam of black and golden magic directly into the Bewitching Bell.
Instantly, the Bell reacted, awakened, and chimed not once… but twice.
It volleyed the blast of Darkness and consumed the intricate circle of blood in a bright golden flame. The letters inscribed upon the skull also ignited. Every last blood drop, every last marking made, everything was consumed in the bright fires. Until even the flames began to burn through the masks and the ponies began to scream. They flung off the skulls from their faces, clutching their foreheads as the burns bored deep. Dahlia followed suit, trying so very desperately to contain her own screams as the marking burned itself into her forehead.
She stared at her hoof, at her trembling hoof, as the wound was cauterized in a fiery seal. A brief moment of pain, and her wounds were healed, leaving their marks.
Her eyes slowly rose up.
Watching the same fate befall the skull of Ghidorah.
But a far deadlier fate was unveiled, as the Bell forced an otherworldly earthquake to spawn after it gave one last chime. Three in all. The circle continued to blaze, continued to consume the head of the dragon in that same heat as mixtures of fire, blood, and magic fused together to wash across the skull. As this occurred, the ground was trembling and the mountain itself started to fall.
An earthquake, born from the Bell, spawned through the ritual, and unleashed upon the world, devoured the mountain in seconds. The Order of the Dragon proceeded to back away and stumble over themselves. The Harbingers of Zenith surrounded and guarded the priest, ensuring nothing could harm him. The Bell fell into Emrick’s forelegs as its magic was spent, the unicorn gazing to the talisman in mixtures of awe and horror.
All while listening to his people fall.
“What is happening?!”
“The mountain is crumbling!”
“They have doomed us!” one particular voice cried out, and earned Emrick’s eyes. “Our Priest and our lord have doomed us all!”
But others refused to doubt. “My Priest!” Dahlia called, rising to her hooves. He was focused elsewhere, struggling to stand, not saying a word when they needed him most. Dahlia gritted her teeth, ignored the warnings in her heart, and screamed, “Emrick! What must we do?!”
Her call was enough to break him free from the bondages of terror, and onto the reality set before them. In that reality, a path was given, not spoken by the Voice or shown through the Darkness—neither of which called to him—but it was unveiled by his own two eyes. By his own intuition. By his own instincts to keep his people alive.
“To the tunnels!” Emrick shouted, pointing to the darkness of which they came. “Quickly!”
They escaped just as the ceiling caved and all the earth beneath them gave away. Jagged rocks fell and took everything in the cavern with it, Emrick’s lingering gaze watching as the head of his master was taken just as well. The shadows and the dust consumed all, forcing the Order to flee back from whence they arrived. With every step, they escaped the radius in which the ritual continued to unfurl. They escaped the heart of the mountain that was devoured in an otherworldly power mirroring that of a black hole.
And unfaithfully mimicking the power of a supernova, the ritual concluded, and the mountain erupted.
The blast could be heard for miles, but everypony within Fillydelphia felt the shock wave wash through their very bones. It popped eardrums, shattered skyscraper windows, and flipped carriages clear across the roads and ponies right off their hooves. As everypony slowly started to come to, rise up and search for the origin of the blast, they lifted their heads high and instantly regretted not running. The screams were high. High in the air.
For the heart of the mountain on the edge of the city erupted, and spewed mounds of earth and rock clear throughout the city. An explosion of raw magic creating a storm of golden and black lightning, all of which was washed across the city. Decimation fell, mounds of the very mountain with speeds no rock should have ever taken impacting buildings and shattering roads. Skyscrapers twisted and turned, broke apart and fell, thousands of shards of debris raining down to bury the fleeing ponies whose lives forever changed.
In the core of the storm, as the mountain collapsed and left but a cloud of utter darkness in its remains, something stirred. Something writhed in agony, and screamed as such. Shadows enveloped its very being as it emerged from the storm. Gold and black transformed into dark purple very quickly, and the lightning washed across the distorted skin of the beast. Rapidly, in a way that wasn’t natural, wasn’t right by any moral law, it clawed its way out of the mountain and pressed its bottom claws against the side of the shattered peak.
In the womb of the collapsing mountain, the fallen king was reborn and took a stark, terrifying new form.
A sickened, demonic head arose from the clouds of lightning, colored a light gold and charcoal black. Several dark horns shot up upon its head, followed by countless other horns down its towering neck and shrouding its jaws. Its jaws, specifically its bottom mandible, was split in half with various teeth aligning in an unorganized, broken pattern. But each one sharper than the last. The eyes of the beast were opened, but not just two eyes. Several, across its face and upon its bottom jaws. All of them igniting and burning blinding, poisonous purple.
The body, contorted by black magic, broke free from the hold of the mountain. And landing, crashing in the edge of Fillydelphia, the beast screamed in a shrill cry of unhinged agony. Just enough for the black, torn wings to explode from the sides of his body and impale the buildings to his left and right.
And his neck rose, carrying the skull reforged, as the jaws unhinged like a serpent and a bright fire broiled at the back of his throat. Breathing in deep, taking in his first breath, the beast heaved and cried out a violet gravity ray that screeched down and tore across the earth, through the road, severing buildings in half until all of Fillydelphia felt his sting.
Felt his pain.
Felt the wrath from the Demon of the Stars once more.
Artwork by Shrekzilla
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I mean, what did those cult ponies think was going to happen? This is what happens when common sense takes a back seat!
Oh Faust, the usurper has returned....
A god, a king, and now a demon...
Uh-oh. Now we're really in trouble.
What the FUCK is that!!!!!!!!!!
camo.fimfiction.net/Nu5nYshtin6JEyrgTA4A5-eOj7ZZPQKITRn-69PgW0s?url=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com%2Ff%2F016ea994-1bf5-41a0-8582-6d33a223a771%2Fdfhpvke-317328fb-d69c-46da-b70b-edc5eb5cfb9d.jpg%3Ftoken%3DeyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzAxNmVhOTk0LTFiZjUtNDFhMC04NTgyLTZkMzNhMjIzYTc3MVwvZGZocHZrZS0zMTczMjhmYi1kNjljLTQ2ZGEtYjcwYi1lZGM1ZWI1Y2ZiOWQuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.yi8FmkA_IHyXjC949bG-caxK7OPgdg90IB-K0Y4nNsk
*Krillin from DBZ Abridged*: oooooohhhhhh nnnnooooooooooo
, that cult gave me an aneurysm from their sheer stupidity *sigh*
So he's like a one headed version of Kaiser Ghidorah now? (But with only 2 legs)
This is bad. The False King has returned...
Huh, I was expecting either DesGhidorah or Kaizer Ghidorah
Looks like Sombra leaves an impression on those who he meets!
Oh Shit the False King has returned from the dead,,,and
But where are his other two heads and what do we call him now Shin Ghidorah, Ghoul Ghidorah, Skull Ghidorah?
11421025
Shin Ghidorah
For now…
11420758 They wanted Ghidorah returned to them. And now, one way or another, they got exactly what they wanted
11420772 And more treacherous than ever
11420785 Paving the way for a four-way battle
11420829 That's spelling it nicely
11420832 A demon reborn
11420833 Was it stupidity... or did they get exactly what they wanted?
11420862 This is just the first evolution...
11420863 And he ain't gonna be stopped so easily.
11420867 You may get one later down the line
11421022 Dark magic... Could be Sombra... Could be...
11421025 Don't worry, he'll get even uglier!
11421591
So if we’re going in similar direction of the movie Mecha Godzilla and Shin Ghidorah are gonna double team Godzilla?
11420785
So I take it MechaGodzilla(or Shatter Heart piloting it) is either the Heretic or False God
11421591
So this is just his Base form huh?
11421598 An interesting thought to keep in mind
11421606 I’d say… the first evolution
11421081
I don’t know, shin Ghidorah already exists, and he doesn’t look like that, that looks more like Kaizer Ghidorah.
11421676
That is why I said
“For now…”
Well I guess the good news is Godzilla is probably going to make Ghidorah the number 1 priority over Kong.
The bad news of course being Ghidorah is back.
Let’s hope the Mechagodzilla pilots also makes Ghidorah the #1 priority over Godzilla.
Before I even start the normal commentary, a note: Damnit, don’t you realize my reading list is large enough as it is without adding more chapters on top of everything else!? No, not angry or bitter…well…maybe a little angry and bitter…I will enjoy the chapter, I know that already…but still! Huge reading list, man!
Oh, look! It’s those damn dirty cultists that need a good killing!
Excellent news, this is. Open season is almost upon us…
Yes. You’re leading yourself astray without realizing. I mean, you’re bringing back the Devourer of Worlds.
Well, you’re right about the not toiling part…you’ll be dead.
Oh, so that’s who infiltrated the archives…still, Princesses need to invest in security.
Seriously!? “We’re starting the ritual!” “Oh, okay! Wait…what were we arguing about?” Oh, for crying out loud…there should have been some that kept their insistence or even just leave.
Oh. Joy. A blood ritual. Right, their deaths have now changed from being sliced and diced to being burned.
Wait, black and gold!? Goes through Godzilla knowledge mentally Well…$h!t. Only one Ghidorah incarnation I know that could be called black and gold.
Of course it’s three. It’s always either three, five, or seven. Ok, maybe not always, but usually.
Not from insanity though, unfortunately…
Demon…yep, sounds accurate.
…welp, there goes the city.
11423199 There goes Fillydelphia lol
11423313
Normally I give a bit more in the final thoughts/comments part of my commentary…but I really couldn’t find anything other than the city is…well…gone. So…instead, I shall share this.
“Honey! Where’s my supersuit!?”
“What!?”
“Where!? Is!? My!? Supersuit!?”
“I, uh, put it away!”
“Where!?”
“Why do you need to know!?”
“I need it!”
“Nuh uh! We’ve been planning this dinner for [I can’t remember off the top of my head]!”
“The city is in danger!”
“My evening’s in danger!”
…huh…actually…I would not be surprised if Frozpone is having that conversation with his wife Honey while all that’s happening…
Well, this is gonna be interesting. Then again, your previous story had Sombra possessing MUTO Prime and serving as a secondary antagonist after King Ghidorah.
Also, Gamera is finally returning in a brand new (possibly) anime movie called Gamera: Rebirth!
11426439 A possible new secondary antagonist... or the main antagonist this time around?
You have got to be kidding me. Ghidorah is back already. Plus now he's a zombie like how Sombra was.
What were you expecting to happen you idiots?