Before the Rooster Crows
The divine light from outside vanished. In the ensuing void of nothingness, the eyeballs blinked busily, scanning their surroundings. Was it morning or night? Were their lids open or closed? Was this place inside or out?... Such questions proved meaningless; the sky was black. A black sky meant a black world... everything visible was simply black and invisible. The eyeballs scattered across the night sky rolled frantically in every direction, striving to grasp the situation.
It was but an instant, yet they explored for an eternity. Unbound by time, they beheld and absorbed so much. Their conclusion: unknowable. Something incomprehensible and ungraspable had occurred. Even in the outer world, this had never happened. No—once, when the Lord of the Outer Sky flew into a great rage, the entire world had been dyed black. Countless comrades fell, vanished, and were devoured then. Was this darkness akin to that? Impossible to say, for it too lay beyond comprehension. They had never failed to analyze before. How could that tiny being make such a thing possible? Curiosity burned; they yearned to know, and to know was to speak. Yet no voice emerged. A profound discomfort, as if all senses had been stripped away, twisted every eyeball in unison.
Then, from beneath the black sky, came a giggling laugh. Only now did the countless eyes realize they were inside, positioned at the upper reaches of this inner space. And the moment they grasped that, their vision began to clear, bit by bit. A doubt lingered, though: was this clarity born of their own perception, or granted by the entity that had blackened the sky?...
The instant they sensed language could be conveyed, the eyes spoke.
You, small being. Did you come from the outer world like us?
"Who knows? Maybe I visited once upon a time."
Her voice echoed from every direction. It emanated from every spot where eyes resided. It whispered into non-existent ears, imprinted directly on their essence, or thrummed like noise from within their bodies.
We do not understand. What do you mean?
"I've wandered so many places that I lose track of where I've been, and even who I am..."
A reincarnator, then. Reborn with your memories intact? Is that what changed you into this?
"You could say that. Do you know how to count?"
We have learned all human knowledge.
"625 billion years. That's how long I've lived."
The massive eyes blinked blankly. The eyes, devoid of any concept of time, struggled to interpret those 625 billion years. It was incomprehensible. Time itself was knowledge acquired upon entering this inner world; they grasped it intellectually but could not feel it bodily. Yet one thing was certain: even they had not existed for such a span.
Impossible.
"Everyone I've met says the same."
Footsteps echoed. They drew near, then receded, then approached again.
"They only realize it when it's time to get eaten by me."
Eaten? By what? Do you devour divinities?
"Yeah."
Amid the countless pupils, an amethyst one appeared. It twinkled like a star, tainted with a sickly hue. That color was not born of the 'eyes.' Black pupils met the amethyst one. It curved in delight, erupting in gleeful cackles.
"Eating them makes this possible."
Only then did the 'eyes' realize a fragment of their being had been devoured. During the conversation? Just moments ago? Or from the start? Incomprehensible. Every eyeball fixed on the amethyst pupil. Ink poured from the black eyes. Like the world weeping, the void spewed blackness. Up close, every droplet teemed with bizarre lifeforms—from parasites to beings born solely for battle. Higher still, pupils rained like meteors. Distant and small at first glance, each rivaled a mansion in size. All converged on the amethyst pupil.
No crashing boom sounded. It needed no noise, and none was desired. The 'eyes' merely judged that this monstrosity must be repelled far away. Why? Instinct from eons of survival deemed it so.
A brief silence fell. No eyes, no voices. Yet gazes prickled from somewhere. Sensing the unknown, the eyes spoke again.
Impossible. It can't be. This defies all reason. You ate me? Ate me and mimicked me? How could a human...?
"Since when did you lot care about such distinctions? Possible or impossible be damned—you've never followed rules, have you?"
The voice, flippant and noisy even against the Azure Dragon, now fell silent. The emotions it once carried had faded to nothing. A human voice should rise and fall with feeling, yet hers did not. The 'eyes' pressed on.
Are you angry? At me? At us?
"Huh. Who knows? Am I mad? Regretting it? Should I be angry? Annoyed? Do I need to feel that? No need, really. I think I forgot how back then. But now? Doesn't feel much different."
The eyes had learned this realm's tongue for bare-minimum communication, even absorbing more mid-conversation. Yet what of her? She lived in this world, spoke its language, yet spewed utterly baffling sentences.
Incomprehensible. Madness? Do you fracture like us? If so, your home is like ours. Why wander this place in human flesh? Don't you share our purpose?
"That'll do."
A mutter drifted through.
"Plenty of your kind out in the 'outer' world, most without clear form like you. And you all have some goal. Yeah, I get it now."
The sky closed its eyes. It darkened further. There, the 'eyes' sensed anomaly. The sky closed its eyes? Darkened more? What was that sky? Had the tiny being called herself sky, so they perceived her as such? Or was the entire sky her?
Reeling in confusion, the 'eyes' spoke—to shake off the disarray.
You are the sky? Is that truly your true name? If so, it's arrogant, presumptuous, and insolent.
"Heard that plenty."
You invade the domain rooted by the Lord of the Outer Sky.
"Kings, emperors, lords, immortals... so many titles."
When the sky opened its eyes again, the 'eyes' beheld the black sky receding. They saw the night sky they had frozen. And beneath it, the white-haired girl staring straight at them. But now, she no longer seemed human. The 'eyes' unleashed every means at their disposal. Bloodshot veins burst in black pupils. Ink became bloody tears, dripping viscously to form a churning blood sea. Beyond her cackles came an eerie resonance.
The blood sea of countless lives fell silent and still. Denying the impossible sight, the 'eyes' squeezed forth more bloody tears.
You cannot kill me. Nor devour me wholly. I am indestructible and immortal.
Overwhelmed by pressure, countless pupils burst, yet they persisted. The world now drowned in gore. All touched by it rotted, withered, died—and reborn. Each had once been a divinity like the Azure Dragon, fallen for breaking pacts, their power undiminished.
"I know well how to kill your kind."
Even before such foes, the sky spoke leisurely.
I am a being that divides endlessly. From the outer world, I am conceptual. Unbound by death, time, or space. That is my nature, the authority bestowed by the Lord of the Outer Sky.
The sky advanced a step. Light, yet inexplicably arduous and heavy.
Spurt! A tentacle erupted from the ground, piercing her left palm.
Come no closer. Stop there. You won't get hurt.
Cackling, the sky pressed on. From afar, she seemed to shoulder a burden up the hill. The 'eyes' ignored it—or tried. Dwelling on it felt dangerous. Riiip! A blade fell from above, skewering her right palm.
I still wish to converse. Much remains unknown. Things I must hear from you. Cast off that frail human shell and come with me.
The earth quaked. Seas parted, lands tore. From the rift crawled something colossal and grotesque—standing tall, its head would graze the sky's zenith. Eyes covered it too; their blinks thundered like colliding flesh. The sky ignored it, blood dripping from pierced hands as she climbed the hill.
Pity. If only your soul were intact, I would carry you to the outer world myself.
The giant abomination swung at the little girl. A simple swipe birthed a gale. The blood sea surged world-engulfing. Struck, she wouldn't die—but would fly far. Unbeknownst to itself, the 'eyes' felt relief. A moment more, and it might have grasped why. But relief was fleeting.
Boom. The monster's arm flew off. The surging sea stilled. As if all had been illusion, silence enveloped the world. In that hush stood the sky alone, wounds like nails in left hand, right, and both feet. Her head bowed. Blood from hands and feet rippled the calm sea, yet she did not lift it. Then—a rooster crowed. In a time without roosters, its call rang out: ridiculous, piteous, absurd. No eyes found its source, despite their multitude. Yet her words resurfaced: before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.
Ah.
Only then did the 'eyes' recognize their feeling.
What are you?
They felt emotion. Fear, befitting the threat of death.
What in the world are you?
No—fear of annihilation, perhaps. New to such sensation, the 'eyes' stared at the sky in turmoil.
Neither human nor god. Not like us. A being from neither outer nor inner. What are you?
The sky raised her head. The 'eyes' noted the change: a crown of thorns now atop her formerly bare head. Blood streamed from it. Her unmarked side suddenly burst, spilling crimson. But not ordinary blood—no fishy reek, rather a strange fragrance like new wine. Bringing the liquid—blood or wine?—to her lips, she smiled radiantly. Refreshing, mocking. As her lips parted, the 'eyes' strained to hear her identity. Learn it, save a fragment, flee—and return stronger. Death held no meaning; escape and regrow was routine. So, her name. Her truth. They focused.
"Cock-a-doodle-doo."
But from her mouth came a pathetic rooster mimicry.
Ah.
That was the 'eyes'' final memory.