A collaboration between Mctoran, CrimsonFenrir7, NormalDudeWithaNormalLife, Starnest, and SoulWithSorrowLaiden
Contents
Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End
The Backrooms are - and always will be - a place of mystery and emptiness. However, over the course of eternity, tales have spread far and wide between its levels, whispered by wanderers, until they became legends. The promise of power and salvation brought many along a doom-driven search for the Crown of the Throne. None knew how much time had passed since the myth began, but thousands upon thousands have scattered away, searching for their own path, until eventually, fate would bring them back…
Footsteps echoed and emanated throughout Level 14, produced by the legs of a tired and downtrodden group of Wanderers. They had been walking for hours, going left and right, up and down, still with no sign of an exit. Even though they had escaped the yellow hell, the maze of concrete awaited, followed by the pipe nightmare, and much beyond. Exhausted, tired, and lost, they resigned themselves to the fact that finding a way back to safety anytime soon would be very unlikely. As they gazed around, they certainly did not expect an entity to suddenly appear before them at that moment. His dark leather coat, smug expression, and the ring of keys adorning his hip meant that he could only be The Keymaster. "Well, what do we have here? Lost lambs wandering astray?" he remarked, spinning the key ring around one finger as he paced back and forth. One of the wanderers was taken aback, his jaw hanging agape. "Oh my god, you're The Keymaster!" he exclaimed. The Keymaster chuckled, amused by the awe that he had never failed to strike into mortals. "Indeed I am. Now, where is it that you desire to travel?"
“We have been trying to reach Level 11 for days, but we’re totally lost,” one of the wanderers replied. The Keymaster grinned slyly. “Typical situation, but that is no problem for someone such as myself. Here, let me see if I can just…” he seemed to reach for something invisible, grasping at the air, before suddenly extracting the required level key from his sleeve like a stage magician. “Voilà! Here you a-”
Before the exchange could be completed, they were suddenly interrupted by the intrusion of a horde of entities - Spoggors. They shambled towards the group on spindly legs, wheezing and coughing with laughter as a disgusting substance was excreted from their many pores, releasing the putrid odors of seawater and rotten pineapple into the air. “Oh God, we’re screwed!” one of the wanderers exclaimed with horror. The Keymaster confidently stepped forth, holding his arm out to the side in front of the wanderers. “Stand back, I shall handle this.” With that, he began approaching the Spoggors, intending to make quick work of the entities, and in doing so, perhaps provide an enjoyable spectacle as well. However, before the confrontation could be initiated, there was yet another interruption.
Like a force of nature, an intense explosion burst through the walls, revealing the imposing and powerful figure of an equally (if not more) legendary figure, The Crimson Wanderer. The Keymaster looked on in surprise and confusion, just like the wanderers behind him. “…Where the hell did you come from?” he inquired. “…Was nearby,” the Crimson Wanderer punctually replied, all the while slicing and dicing the Spoggors with ease. The Keymaster had little opportunity to participate himself, with there not being quite enough room to squeeze in amidst the chaos. Suddenly, the entities became passive for an unknown reason, to the surprise of The Keymaster. The Crimson Wanderer’s personal reaction also indicated that he was not responsible for this either. The Keymaster then looked on at one of the wanderers watching the scene, and could not help but notice how he seemed very normal…in fact, almost too normal. Suddenly, his form began cracking and peeling away, revealing himself to be something far greater than an ordinary wanderer. He was, in fact, the King Of Normality. He had been secretly disguised in his human form and had blended in with the group of wanderers, awaiting an opportunity such as this to root out abnormality in yet another part of The Backrooms. “Oh great, you’re here too,” The Keymaster semi-sarcastically remarked. The King of Normality grinned very subtly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Great to see you too, friend,” the Crimson Wanderer replied. The three entities then looked back at the group of wanderers, shocked because of how absolutely awe-stricken the display was. They did not expect to have met a legendary entity today, much less three, at the same time for that matter. “I suppose there is unfinished business to attend to.” The Keymaster said, looking between the wanderers and the two other entities. “Care to accompany them with me?”
“Indeed, my friend,” answered the King of Normality. The Crimson Wanderer simply nodded in agreement. The Keymaster had given the wanderers the key they needed, and with the help of the Crimson Wanderer and the King of Normality, he guided them to the level door while providing protection along the way. Eventually, the group of wanderers reached their destination, and The Keymaster was then alone with the King Of Normality and the Crimson Wanderer. “Shall we go now?” the King Of Normality questioned. The Keymaster looked towards them. “Actually, I figured that we could spend some time together first; catch up with each other. Though, maybe we could head somewhere more… quiet and peaceful than this place.”
“Certainly… everything seems to have become far more bizarre as of late,” The Crimson Wanderer commented.
With that, The Keymaster brought them to The Temple in The Hub. “So, what have you two been occupied with recently?” he inquired as he sat down upon a marble chair, with the Crimson Wanderer and King of Normality following suit. “Eh, I’ve just been slaying entities and normalizing stuff, nothing different than usual,” said the King Of Normality. “As for myself, I have been upholding my duties as warrior and protector of these realms. I have to say, though… everything is becoming increasingly chaotic.” The Crimson Wanderer replied. “I concur, Crimson. It’s all too… abnormal, even by my standards.” The Keymaster nodded. “To be honest, I too have noticed it myself. In fact, I have felt it in my very essence. The scales of existence are extremely off-balance, and it feels as though it is on the brink of tipping. If it does…well, it certainly will not be pleasant for any involved party.” The Keymaster then averted his eyes from the two beings, and his gaze seemed to have shifted elsewhere, far beyond the physical space in which they resided. He was deep in contemplation, internally debating whether or not to mention what it was that he wished to. Finally, he relented, looking back at the Crimson Wanderer and the King of Normality. “I believe…that I need to become more powerful.”
The King of Normality and Crimson Wanderer first looked at each-other, then at The Keymaster, exhibiting quite confused expressions. “Come again?” said the Crimson Wanderer. The Keymaster sighed. “I’m aware of how it seems, but I assure you that it has nothing to do with any form of greed or envy.” “Then for what purpose do you desire it?”
“Are we not in mutual agreement that a cataclysm may be on the horizon? Whatever this is, I must be prepared for it - or if possible, even prevent it from even happening.” The Crimson Wanderer seemed concerned by this demeanor. “Keymaster, you already are immensely powerful. The influence that you cast upon The Backrooms is equal to that of I and The King,” he said, pointing to the King of Normality, who nodded in agreement. The Keymaster shook his head. “And what if this coming threat is even more powerful? It isn’t worth risking.” The Crimson Wanderer stood up, resting a hand on The Keymaster’s shoulder. “My friend, you needn’t worry. The burden of serving such important duties as yours are already great; don’t make them any more heavier than they need to be.” At that moment, he then sensed danger elsewhere, and knew he was needed. “I must go, but remember those words.” With that, he departed, on some quest to likely rescue a wanderer or slay an entity. Only the King of Normality remained now, as he then approached The Keymaster. “I did not want to mention this while Crimson Wanderer was present, considering his… ideals. However, I do in fact know of a way that you could gain the power you seek, but it will be challenging.” The Keymaster raised an eyebrow. “Do you, now? Well then, what is it?” he asked.
“Tell me, Key, what do you know about The Storyteller?”
Chapter 2: The Jester’s Entrance
A ghostly impression of a ring of metal spines encircled the sagging red hat of the silhouette upon the throne. The Jester reclined gracefully over the arms as he performed several actions simultaneously. His right hand spun a knife across his knuckles, while his left endlessly shuffled and reshuffled a deck of bloodstained playing cards. Behind the twin slits in his ever-smiling ivory mask, his eyes were glazed and unfocused. He watched as thousands of separate scenes played out in tandem as he observed events happening throughout the realm. A wanderer was torn to shreds, an entity drowned in a different level, a desperate last stand was taking place in another area. The Jester could even see through the eyes of his siblings in different realms altogether. Unlike some of them, however, he was no puppet on strings; rather, he himself was the puppeteer. He beheld a meeting of powerful mortals discussing war plans, he witnessed a massacre he took no side in, he watched his own sickle separate heads from their bodies. All the while he lay, simply surveying all while shuffling and spinning.
Something was happening in his little realm; he could feel it. There was a faint tension, crackling in the air like an electrical current. Powerful forces were on the move and dark things were stirring in the shadows. The Jester's nigh-omniscient gaze alighted on a gathering, his eyes imperceptibly narrowing as he connected dots in his chaotic mind. Powerful forces were on the move and he, like any good guardian, would need to be prepared to meet them. Only a fool would try to understand the machinations of the gods, and only this fool could succeed. The Jester laughed maniacally at his own joke as he stood. His hands returned the knife to his sheath and the cards to a pocket. The holographic crown disappeared as he leapt nimbly down from the royal dais. The Jester, not one to turn down an opportunity for a show, pirouetted and somersaulted, before diving straight into the floor.
Chapter 3: Welcome to The Library
The Keymaster cautiously stepped towards the entrance of The Infinite Library, accompanied by the King of Normality - who promised to serve as a representative for The Keymaster to The Storyteller. “I have yet to know what The Storyteller’s intentions are, but it’s surely not pretty.” Keymaster said. “I guess it will remain a mystery. In my humble opinion, I think he is very wicked, but I still treat him as a friend. After all, I have to admit that his stories are very interesting. I could listen to his stories for weeks!” the King Of Normality replied. “Frankly, I think you’ve become obsessed with him.” The two deities opened the large old door, with a yawning creak!
As soon as they reached the central library, an overwhelming aroma of old books filled their senses. A great, majestic hall awaited, connected to corridors and staircases between one floor to another. Bookshelves stacked high like oppressive, indestructible walls, leaving little to no space for the actual ones. Wood composed most of the structure, from the cabinets to the doors to the windows. An otherworldly sensation was exuded by the anomalous windows of seemingly-warped space, displaying different sceneries from one to another. A sunrise at the countryside, blue horizon of the ocean, twilight at a certain city, and deep night somewhere else. However, all pleasantries are nothing but illusions. Only a fool would be fooled by the sweet lies, but the thought of the outside world; an escape from the endless liminal nightmare, is certainly something that has lulled many minds. “Come in,” a voice responded, echoing from the depth of the library.
The Keymaster and the King of Normality looked to each-other, then back towards the expanse that lay before them, as they ventured deeper into the sea of books. Eventually, they came upon a clearing. In the center, an enormous robed figure sat upon a chair, rising tall like a tower above them. The Storyteller seemed to have already been waiting for them, as if expecting them to arrive. The Keymaster had to crane his neck to look up at the being, and even then he strained to see the very top. “Excuse me, but would you perhaps mind lowering yourself for me?” he asked, albeit in a slightly miffed fashion. “Gladly,” the Storyteller said amusedly. His figure seemingly shifted, twisting into a swirling pitch black silhouette, before reforming in a much humble image: An aged man with empty eyes, as if blind despite his complete awareness of his surroundings. “Interesting…” The Keymaster commented, stroking his chin with a single hand. “I thought that you’ll assume a more formal gesture,” the King of Normality said. “Not for a friend,” answered the Storyteller. “Care for afternoon tea?” he offered as he raised his hand, causing a storm of papers as wind blew through the room. The room shifted in a blink of an eye, bringing the three deities to a pleasant living room befitting of an old manor. “This is not the afternoon,” the King of Normality said. “It is now,” said the old man as he snapped his fingers, and the windows shifted, displaying the view of a beautiful garden that glimmered in the afternoon sun.
“Very well then, it would be my pleasure.” The Keymaster approached the round table and was about to pull the chair, but the chair moved on its own, allowing the guests to sit. “Excuse me.” He cleared his throat as he sat down, and the rest also settled down. “Now then, I would like to ask whether you’re aware that everything is becoming increasingly chaotic; that the scales of existence are tipping; that perhaps, a calamity is looming upon us.” The Keymaster expressed with concern, everyone in the room listening and nodding quietly while the Storyteller brewed the tea. “Why yes, of course…” The Storyteller said as he chuckled. “'Perhaps'?” The King asked back. “Why, there are so many speculations flying around recently. So much news to document, and so many articles to write. Could anyone, even me, tell the truth among the rumors?” The Storyteller gave such a cryptic answer, almost as if avoiding the topic. “This is not the time for riddles, Bookmaster…” the King sighed, his smile showing he enjoyed the storytelling anyway. He never gets tired of the way he narrates. “It is not?” The Storyteller chuckled again as he poured the tea into each teacup. “Please,” he gestured to the tea, and his guests took their cup for a sip. “Yes, the situation is concerning. I believe that you’re aware of it,” The Keymaster assumed.
“Perhaps,” Storyteller repeated the same answer while sipping the tea. “I admit that there are so many fascinating events going on, that I could hardly hold on…” The tone of the wizard shifted, darkening to something more sinister as he seemingly enjoyed the chaos. His true nature began to show as he grinned with his hands open, levitating one of the books and mentally opening its pages. “So many stories to tell, and so little time do we have, right? Oh, so many wanderers struggle in such times, and powerful forces stir from here and there. Ambitions for power, the everlasting greed has brought many together.” He glanced at the Keymaster, who stared coldly. “Frankly, I haven’t a clue what you are implying.” “I know what you’re looking for. What you seek is the tale of all tales, the legend among myths, and one of the greatest mysteries of the Backrooms…” He dramatically paused before gently grasping the floating book, turning it around, showcasing a certain page to the other two. “The Crown of the Throne, the Alpha and the Omega… Some called it the Heart of the Void, sought by the Voidseeker, and bound by many powerful beings…” He paused again, sipping his tea and let his audience digest the story, making them wonder for a moment.
“Who is this ‘Voidseeker’?” the King asked. “Oh, just a problematic cult. Moreover, I’m surprised that you’re surprised…” The Storyteller glanced at The Keymaster with his dull, empty eyes. “You hold one of the five treasures, am I wrong? After all, who else could it be, if it’s not you?” he said with such a sarcastic tone. The Keymaster sighed, taking another sip of the tea before looking back at the Storyteller.
“And you’re likely to hold one of them, too. Either you, or your twin, the Historian…” The Keymaster responded, which prompted laughter from the Storyteller. “We’re not related!” He could barely hold his laughter, clearly amused. “Then, we have two pieces of the five treasures,” King of Normality said. “Three. The Crimson Wanderer is likely the third,” Keymaster speculated. “Though it would be great if only we had a reliable source of information,” he glanced at the Storyteller. All of them knew that it wouldn’t be this easy, and what they heard might as well be lies. But there’s no other choice, considering the possibility of an impending doom awaiting.
The Storyteller’s attention then seemed to shift elsewhere, as he sensed the presence of another being. “Ah, the mail must be here,” he mused, as the figure of The Mail Carrier then entered the space. Giving a slight bow, the tall entity swiftly placed a neatly folded envelope in front of the Storyteller. It then lowered itself to whisper something in Storyteller's ear, taking a seat next to him afterwards. Keymaster and King of Normality were visually confused, exchanging glances as they eyed the envelope. "Well, well. What do we have here?" The Storyteller questioned, taking his time to open the envelope with care. Something that seemed to be a letter was within the envelope, covered in the light scent of lavender that filled the room. Keymaster changed his priority, examining The Mail Carrier for the first time. It wore a butler outfit, showing signs of courtesy in all of its actions. The Mail Carrier's height was a little intimidating, but there was no doubt that it was polite. King noticed Keymaster staring, and saw The Mail Carrier trying to ignore his intense gaze. King sighed, resting his elbow on the table.
"So, Deliveryman, has anything interesting happened since the last time we met?" the King asked, unable to withstand the mildly uncomfortable situation. "Ah, yes. There have been a few interesting events that occurred. Would you like to hear some?" Carrier asked, looking King in the eyes to thank him for the change of topic. Just as King was about to reply, a few books flew past him, an inch away from slamming into him. The books ended up in the Storyteller's hand, who seemed to be invested with the contents of the letter. "How interesting…" Storyteller mumbled, tracing his finger upon one of the books surrounding him. "You do understand this memoir contradicts with most of the information I have on that being, right? Tell me, Carrier. Where did you find this?" Carrier glanced at the other deities. Keymaster was fiddling with a key, while King was looking at the two intently. "That's… I don't really think that's something to discuss here, master," The Carrier replied. "Yes, yes. You are correct. We have more important matters at hand." The Storyteller said as he slipped the letter into one of his many pockets.
The Keymaster seemed to be slightly irritated with how long the conversation was taking. “Hey, remember what we came here for? Yeah, me too.” He commented sarcastically. The storyteller glanced back at The Keymaster coldly, grilling him with a piercing gaze. “Need I remind you that you are a guest here? I have presented you with the facts, take it or leave it.” He sighed. “Regardless, I do believe you have overstayed your welcome.” Before The Keymaster could even reply, he found himself elsewhere, in an entirely different portion of The Backrooms. The storyteller had clearly banished him from the library, at least for now. He sighed, as he continued searching for answers…
A shadow flickered between the bookshelves, a fleeting glimpse of red and black drifted through the Storyteller’s domain. The Jester watched as Keymaster was thrown from the library, and crouched among a pile of leather bound tomes, his hand idly resting on the hilt of his sheathed knife. With the conclusion of the meeting he was bearing witness to, he climbed nimbly to the floor. The Storyteller, settled in his chair, looked up, suspicious, as a pile of papers a few shelves over was disturbed. The Mail Carrier, turning to leave, could’ve sworn he heard a faint giggle. The phantom of red and black had long since disappeared, and both returned to their previous activities, reassured that nothing was out of the ordinary.
Chapter 4: A Timely Fashion
It was the 23rd hour of the day. The Clocksmith was hard at work in his shop, intently tending to every fine gear and cog of the stopwatch he was repairing. Even despite the heavy immersion in his work, he did not fail to notice the entry of a guest - he never did. “Come in…” he softly spoke in an old tired voice. The Keymaster stepped forth, revealing himself to the old man. “Greetings,” he announced. Upon meeting the sight of The Keymaster, The Clocksmith briefly seemed to have a twinkle in his eye. “Welcome, my friend. What can I do for you… ‘today’, for lack of a better term?” The Keymaster straightened his coat. “I believe what I want is simple. I need you to rearrange the timeline for me, so that I can’t become powerful enough to vanquish a coming threat.” Near-instantly, The Clocksmith entered a fit of hearty chuckling. “Come now, surely you can tell funnier jokes.” By The Keymaster frowned. “I’m afraid that I am not joking, Clocksmith,” He said grimly. The Clocksmith’s warm expression fell dead. He now bore a face of great concern. “You seem tone-deaf to the magnitude of what you are requesting of me.”
The Keymaster shook his head. “I am not. I recognize the magnitude fully, and I would not have approached you if it were not important.” The Clocksmith sighed, scanning The Keymaster up and down with his tired eyes. “I have been warned about you, Keymaster…” he apprehensively stated. The Keymaster narrowed his eyes. “By who?” he asked, with his hands on his hips. “Let’s just say that I have friends all over. But that is besides the point. We are all in agreement that you are heading down a grim path. If you continue this, you may very well doom us all.” “Well then, aren’t you going to stop me?” The keymaster asked confrontationally. The Clocksmith sighed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid that course of action is unviable.” “Then let me prevent that doomed fate. Rewrite the timeline.” “Even if I wanted to, I myself lack the capability to perform such an event. Moreover, if I did, I would risk punishment at the hands of the Time-…my friends.”
The Keymaster was about to speak, but was interrupted by sudden noise. “DING DONG DING DONG.” Every clock in the shop went off, all hands on the number 12. The Clocksmith grimly looked towards The Keymaster. “12 strikes before you die. Better hurry.” On the second strike, The Keymaster watched a quarter of the shop vanish from existence. Then the third strike, and yet more disappeared. With each strike, more and more of the shop gradually disintegrated. Panicked, The Keymaster fumbled his keychain, pulling out a random key with shaking hands. He had to go somewhere, anywhere besides this deteriorating space. On the 11th strike, he tore open a gateway, jumping through it before the entire level was swallowed by The Void at the stroke of midnight.
Chapter 5: The Keys to The Kingdom
The Keymaster stumbled through various levels of the Backrooms, in an angered daze. He could not shake the feeling that his efforts had been wasted. But even worse, he feared failure, and worried that his lack of power would fail to prevent the cataclysm. The level Keymaster was currently in was dark, making it necessary for him to start a fire when he took a break. Keymaster idly stared into the crackling fire, feeling a mix of emotions fight inside him, threatening to spill. It was at this time that he felt the presence of a being. A singular figure moved in the corner of his eye, steadily coming closer.
“Could I perhaps join you for a little chat?” The strange hooded figure asked, waiting to be excused. The Keymaster stared oddly at the figure. “Well, erm, I suppose so.” He replied, inviting him over. Taking a seat, the person took off his hoodie, revealing short black hair, followed by unsettling orange eyes that seemed to gleam in the dark. The Keymaster was taken aback somewhat, surprised by the being’s appearance. “Wait…” he said, narrowing his eyes at him. “Is something wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost.” The being said, leaning his head slightly. “It's been some time since I've met someone here, would you care to share with me some of your stories? I too can provide you with some… interesting ones.” The Keymaster titled his head, before suddenly - almost involuntarily - words began to pour forth from his mouth. “I am The Keymaster. I am a god of these realms, and shepherd all the lost souls to their destinations.” He boasted. The being perked up when hearing this. “Oh? The Keymaster, you say? Such bold words coming out of a legend. I bet you have the evidence to prove this?”
The Keymaster grinned smugly. “Oh, I can prove it alright. Behold…!” He pulled a key from his key ring. This was no ordinary key, however. It was grand and golden, carved with a particular inscription. It was the key, the Key of Salvation. “Do you yet doubt me?” A glint shined through the eyes of the figure, as a grin tore itself through both sides of his face. “Ah, most impressive! Any doubts I may have had are now dismissed.” he replied to The Keymaster. “Well then, I suppose that I owe my own story in return. The question is, however, which story would that be?” he asked. “I’ve taken countless forms, over many eras. I have been many things, experiencing many stories.” The Keymaster studied the being intently. “You can drop the facade now. I know what you truly are…Hubris.” The being’s grin widened even further. “Ah, so you can see through me. I must admit, I didn’t quite give you enough credit when I first laid my eyes on you,” Hubris replied. “What is it that you want from me?” The Keymaster questioned. Hubris gave an amused chuckle in reply. “From you? No such nonsense. Rather, I merely wish to assist you.” “Assist how?” “In realizing your true potential, that is! The power you have been seeking for so long to vanquish your enemies, you already have it…resting in your very hands.”
The Keymaster looked down at the Key of Salvation, then back at Hubris, realizing what he was implying. He shook his head, discouraged. “No, absolutely not. I refuse to violate my sacred oath. And I am not doing this for myself.” Hubris laughed again. “That is a thinly veiled lie, and we both know it,” he challenged. “Besides, think about it: what is the point of holding that key, if not to use it? You quite literally hold the Keys to The Kingdom, sitting atop all that power. Yet, you have chosen ignorance and continued to complain about not having enough power. Seems a little hypocritical to me, eh?” The Keymaster shook his head yet again. “Why tell me this?”
“Have I not already told you? This is simply for your own benefit. What can I say, I am a generous soul,” Hubris said grinning slightly. “Do with my advice what you will. However, I highly recommend you take it. I've already laid down the cards. All that's left is to play them. Who knows? A lot of people want the crown, but they're not willing to bleed for it. I wonder how you'll fare?” with that, he retreated into the darkness, before disappearing from sight. The Keymaster was once again alone, and he stared down at the Key of Salvation, pondering his choices…
Chapter 6: Betrayal
The Keymaster was now in The Temple in The Hub, standing before an ornate level door with The Key of Salvation still clutched in his hands. He finally finished staring down at the Key of Salvation, his mind made up. This was the only way, he decided. Looking back up, he slowly began raising the Key of salvation towards the empty air in front of him. For a moment, he questioned his decision. A glimpse of remorse told him to not do it, and on the verge of breaking, a voice called for him.
“Keymaster!!” the Crimson Wanderer shouted angrily as he strode into the chamber, dragging his sword across the floor. “You promised to never use the key, and you know well the consequences of breaking the oath. Please reconsider, while you still can…” he said with a brooding tone. The Keymaster was bewildered by the Crimson Wanderer’s sudden intrusion, barely having time to get his bearings. “I- surely, you are mistaken!” He said defensively. He knew that what he said did not make sense, but it was all that he could say in reply with his guard lowered so brazenly by the Crimson Wanderer. Even so, he seemed to be reaching for something behind his back while rambling.
“Do not think that you can fool me, Keymaster. I could tell your intention from your eyes. You seek power, and the key for that power is at your hand. Never would I imagine the day for you to use it for your own gain,” he retaliated as he continued to approach him while gradually raising his sword. The warrior seems to wait for an answer before the judgment, but then, a sharp whistle was heard through the room, striking the knight with an astounding force. From the clouds of dust, a silhouette of a gentleman emerged, wielding an odd, anomalous spear. “Not you too…” Crimson Wanderer said as he got up from the ruins. “King of Normality,” he called to the shapeshifting entity as they approached each other.
“Greetings, Wanderer. What a fascinating coincidence to meet you here,” King bowed. “Cease your charade. I know very well that you’re here for a purpose,” Crimson spat at him. “Why yes, of course. Perhaps, for the better good?” King shrugs. “I’ve heard enough from the Storyteller. About the Five Treasures… I couldn’t believe that they’re here, all along…” Before he could continue, a surging heat interrupted as the Crimson Wanderer began to transform in such a gruesome manner. Metallic clatters rangs as his armor reshape, almost as if they’re part of his body, now awakened. Sinister red aura emanates, and red light glows from the opening of his blackened armor with burning rage and bloodlust. “Not another word, King…” Crimson Wanderer warned, with a heavier voice akin to a beast. “Because one more word, and you’ll be a stain in my blade…” An amused chuckle heard in response.
“Even if you never could beat me, Wanderer?” King taunted with a wide, maniacal, psychopathic smile. “I warned you…” Crimson said as he clenched tight onto his sword, brandishing it with furious red gleam, almost as if hellish heat turned the steel incandescent. “One more word, and you’re gone from this world!” A roar of rage shook the room, causing the chamber to tremble. The burning aura of the warrior grows and grows, consuming everything on the path. “Yet, the King of Normality stood unchallenged, merely opening his arms, welcoming the battle as he manifested more and more weapons. “Well, I hope you enjoy the outcome of this battle.” The King uttered silently. There’s a moment of silence, before the showdown commences.
Chapter 7: Heavy is The Crown
As the confrontation took place, The Keymaster took advantage of the chaos and used the opportunity to slip away. He stabbed the Key of Salvation into the air, carving a wound in reality with it as he opened a rift, proceeding to dive through it. The Keymaster was expelled from the rift and ejected onto an ornate marble floor. Standing up and regaining his bearings, he looked around and knew that this indeed was the Throne Room - ALPHAOMEGA.
As the traitorous Keymaster took in his extravagant surroundings, a distant voice echoed through the spacious expanse. "Two gods walk into a bar, one asks for a drink, the other asks for a crown". The Keymaster looked around. “Hello?” He called out. He narrowed his eyes, not seeing anything nor being met with a reply. The Keymaster neared closer to the throne, and he set his eyes upon the crown resting in its seat. The voice came again, from every direction and far closer than before. “The barman kills them both, and wears their flesh as robes.” The Keymaster did a double-take. If there was supposed to be a punchline, he didn’t understand it. Furthermore, he began to feel pain in his head, as if an external force was attempting to tamper with his mind. He then knew that another presence was here. He made a mad dash towards the throne, stepping up to it as he seized the crown. The Keymaster turned around and held the crown in his hands, ready to don it. But then, he was interrupted.
“I would advise against that,” came the voice, from directly behind the Keymaster. He spun around again, to suddenly see a Jester resting on the throne. “Who are you? Why are you trying to stop me?” He questioned. The figure in red cackled. “I am the balance, the keeper, the Jester of the court. You do not know me, but my friend, I know you very well.” The constant undulation in pitch of the Jester’s voice made the Keymaster uneasy, as he narrowed his eyes. “How so?” He questioned, tightening his grip on the crown. “I have been watching, waiting, preparing. I am the steward of the crown, and it is my task to protect it.” The Jester drew a long dark knife out of his blood-red outfit, which he began to repeatedly throw and catch. The movement was hypnotizing and The Keymaster had to drag his eyes away from it. He shook himself out of his trance. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone more…qualified to protect it? Even wear it themselves, and rule over this domain the way it properly should be?” The Jester’s mask turned to face The Keymaster, his ivory smile unnerving him. “I know you, bearer of keys, and I know you are far from worthy. The power you seek is not by your own design, and you will not benefit from it.” “Excuse me? I, for one, have no intention of subscribing to the advice of a literal clown.” The Keymaster snapped back. “Appearances deceive, my ignorant fellow.” Proclaimed the Jester menacingly, slowly approaching the Keymaster. “Maybe you will have to be enlightened another way.”
“I dare you to take another step.” A low voice taunted. A figure wearing tattered royal clothes suddenly emerged from behind a pillar, near where Keymaster had entered the level. It was Hubris, and he seemed to be glowering. “If it isn't Hubris, the would-be usurper,” the Jester snickered. Slowly treading over to the two, Hubris spoke, “Alas my jovial friend, your foresight is severely lacking.” The Keymaster was slightly confused as to what Hubris meant, but he was too focused on keeping hold of the crown to interpret Hubris's words. “Keymaster, put the crown down, for your sake as much as the kingdom’s.” the Jester requested, his gaze focused on Hubris. The Keymaster looked back and forth between The Jester and Hubris. But his mind was already made up. He placed the crown upon his head. The jewel eye sprung open with a brilliant glow, and like fire of the gods, a beam shot forth and struck The Jester, knocking him unconscious.
In that fleeting moment in time and space, The Backrooms itself recognized The Keymaster as King. He was completely Omnipotent, Omnipresent, and Omniscient over this entire dominion. His consciousness was even unlocked to realms which lay far beyond it. He saw alternate selves, alternate futures depicting the many what-ifs and wherefores of his existence. It was all so much, too much in fact. The moment that The Keymaster felt the recoil, he knew then that he had just committed the gravest of mistakes. The Crown was consuming him. Drawing forth streams of his life force, his very soul, into the jewel eye. The Keymaster screamed out in agony, as he tried to tear it from his head. But it would not move, almost as if they were now horns from his own skull.
Hubris slowly walked around The Keymaster, watching him struggle against the crown. “Being champion is all well and good, but you can't eat a crown. It seems you took a step too far.” Hubris quotes, chuckling in delight. “That was a close call with the Jester eh? He was about to thwart my whole plan… good thing someone played the pawn like a good slave.” The Keymaster glared at Hubris, the enraging and horrifying realization finally taking root. “You! You have deceived me, scoundrel!” He roared venomously, through the agony that the crown imposed upon him. “Deceive you? No, no, no. Look at yourself! You're brimming with raw power! You single handedly are the most powerful being in the Backrooms! It's just… I never said it will last.” Hubris said with a smug smile. “YOU BASTARD! YOU… YOU PSYCHO!” The Keymaster shot up from the throne to strike a blow at Hubris, but suddenly cried out in pain as the crown prevented him from moving. He was rapidly deteriorating, and could feel himself fading. Swirling dark mist clouded around The Keymaster, darkening his vision.
“Ah, don't look so mad. A poor vain fool such as yourself would never have been fit to rule. All good things must come to an end, and you are no exception. Entropy comes for us all, my dear fellow, apart from the bearer of the crown. Well then, Keymaster. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” The last thing that The Keymaster saw was the sinister grin of Hubris, before everything went black. The crown unceremoniously clattered down to the foot of the vacant throne. “And with this fascinating object…” Hubris took the crown with one hand, then caressing it with another as he placed himself upon the throne, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. “The Crownless King is crownless no more…” A wide grin plastered across his face as he equipped the crown, and the instance of its contact, a surge of power brims through its gemstone like the rays of sunrise illuminating the entire chamber.
The dimension is trembling with an incomprehensible force, as the unspeakable occurs. The once sacred domain has been tainted, corrupted, and claimed by the Usurper. The throne room shook by the might, and the shock traveled outward, far and wide beyond the empty space. The resonance echoes to thousands of levels in a blink of an eye, shrouding worlds in a burning sensation of dread and despair. The power grips through everyone and everything, deep to their souls, as if it were shackling them, enslaving them. It is as if announcing that the Backrooms has a new ruler. And the ruler is none other but the Usurper, who now sat, laughing maniacally upon the throne…
TO BE CONTINUED.
Character Rights
Mctoran: The Keymaster
CrimsonFenrir7: The Crimson Wanderer, The King of Normality, The Storyteller
NormalDudeWithaNormalLife: The King of Normality
SoulWithSorrowLaiden: The Jester
SkyCityXD3: The Clocksmith
Starnest: Hubris
Chapter Authors
Chapter 1: Mctoran, CrimsonFenrir7, NormalDudeWithaNormalLife
Chapter 2: SoulWithSorrowLaiden
Chapter 3: Mctoran, CrimsonFenrir7, NormalDudeWithaNormalLife, Starnest, SoulWithSorrowLaiden
Chapter 4: Mctoran
Chapter 5: Mctoran, Starnest
Chapter 6: Mctoran, CrimsonFenrir7
Chapter 7: Mctoran, Starnest, SoulWithSorrowLaiden