Travelling through the multiverse starting with: The Walking Dead

Carl opened his eyes.

In front of him, the walker still made its way forward, however, where its arm should be was now pouring blood.

A knife with a thick, strong hand holding its handle, embedded itself into the walker's skull, and it fell to the ground smoothly.

The walkers stopped momentarily. Their old instincts fired all over their body, telling them to run away. But another voice at the very core of their being was saying something different. 'Kill them!'

The walkers continued their march; the now-arrived Elliot and Shane stood in front of Carl, one on either side.

Shane looked down at Carl, inspecting him, spotting his injured ankle. Shane cursed. 

Shane looked to Elliott and snarled, "Elliott, Carl's been bit!"

Elliott turned his head back, his eyes wide with shock. Quietly turning back, Elliott stared at the group of oncoming walkers. "Ok. Stay with him. I'll be done in a minute."

Shane nodded and crouched next to Carl, trying to offer comfort.

Elliott was raging with a quiet intensity.

"You picked the wrong meal, bitch."

In less than a moment, Elliott moved to the centre of the clearing. Something about him made their focus train solely on him. 

The first walker lunged. It never touched him.

With a flick of his fingers, an unseen force ripped it sideways, hurling it into the tree line. Its skull cracked like an egg against the bark, and then the body dropped, still.

Another.

The tomahawk flashed. One clean swing split a skull down the middle, the weapon buried to the wooden shaft. He yanked it free, spinning low, his arm moving like an extension of his will. A walker's knee snapped inward, crushed by invisible hands before he caved in its face with the blunt end of the weapon.

More came. They always did.

He exhaled sharply and flung out his hand. Three walkers lifted off the ground, limbs flailing, mouths snapping at empty air. He didn't even look at them as he closed his fist. Bones crunched. Skulls collapsed. When he released them, they dropped in lifeless heaps.

A fresh snarl behind him. He sidestepped without thinking, his tomahawk arcing through the air. A head spun off its shoulders, rolling into the dirt. He could feel the weight of them, all around him, the pressure of their mindless hunger pressing in like a storm.

They were nothing.

He ripped a walker in half mid-stride, its torso sent flying as its legs collapsed uselessly. Another he slammed against the ground again and again and again, until it was just pulp in the grass. The tomahawk worked in tandem with his mind, every swing smooth, effortless—a dance of carnage under the moonlight.

The last few staggered toward him, unaware they had already lost.

He raised both hands.

The final ten were yanked into the air, struggling like puppets on invisible strings. Slowly, almost gently, he brought his fists together. They crushed inward, bones imploding, bodies folding like paper. When he opened his hands, they fell, broken and still.

Silence.

The clearing was a graveyard, the scent of death thick in the air. His breath slowed. Blood dripped from his tomahawk, his knuckles white around the handle.

He stood there a moment longer, staring at what remained of them. His lip curled.

Pathetic.

Elliott exhaled, the rage in his chest simmering as he turned to leave. But then—

A sound.

A wet, ragged gasp.

He stopped, eyes narrowing. The clearing was a slaughterhouse; nothing was left standing. Nothing should be left standing. And yet.

A walker twitched on the ground. Its body convulsed violently, limbs spasming in unnatural jerks like something was trying to force itself back into movement. Its fingers scraped at the dirt, pressing, clawing. Then—

It screamed.

The sound was wrong. Too full of pain. Too full of rage. The others had moaned, groaned, snarled—but this thing shrieked. A bubbling, guttural howl that cut through the night like a blade.

Slowly, its head snapped toward him. Dark, wet blood clung to its lips.

Elliott's stomach twisted. He knew. He knew.

This was the one that bit Carl.

Its eyes locked onto him—cloudy and dead, but something more was behind them. Awareness? Hatred? It didn't matter. It stood, shaky at first, then unnervingly steady.

Elliott tightened his grip on the tomahawk. It should be weak. The others had dropped like flies, brittle bones crushed with ease. But this thing? This thing stood tall, its chest rising and falling like it still had lungs to breathe.

Then it moved.

Fast.

Elliott barely tilted his head in time as its fist shot past his face, wind rushing behind it. A walker had never swung like that before. Not with intent. Not with force. This one fought back.

Fine.

His tomahawk came down in a vicious arc, aimed to split its skull. The blade hit—hard. But instead of crumpling, the walker staggered and twisted, tearing itself free with a sickening rip. Rotten flesh should have failed it. But it kept coming.

Elliott hurled it back with his mind.

The creature flew, slammed against a tree so hard the bark split. Any regular walker would've shattered. This one just laughed.

A garbled, wet, grotesque laugh.

Elliott's pulse pounded in his ears. No. Not possible.

It lunged. He sidestepped, but it twisted, grabbing his arm. A vice grip. The bones in his forearm groaned under the pressure before he tore himself free, snapping its fingers backwards with his mind.

The walker barely reacted.

Elliott gritted his teeth. Enough of this.

He moved faster than thought, his tomahawk flashing. He hacked into its knee, it buckled. He spun, caving its ribs in with the blunt end, they cracked like dry wood. He grabbed it mid-motion, lifted it with raw power, and slammed it headfirst.

CRACK.

Its skull split, blood oozing. Its body twitched violently, but still—it moved.

Elliott growled. No more games.

He raised both hands.

The walker's body contorted violently.

Every bone, every ligament—he pulled. Its arms jerked back, its spine arched at an inhuman angle. It gurgled, fought, but it was losing.

Elliott's eyes burned with something cold.

"You're not special," he said.

Then he ripped.

The walker tore apart at the waist, its top half flung to the side like garbage.

One last scream fell from its mouth, causing a powerful ripple to spread through the air.

"For the glory of Sekhmet. For the glory of The Pantheons."

Its head rolled, the last remnants of unlife fading from its eyes.

Silence.

Elliott let out a slow breath. The rage inside him had cooled, but not fully. He wiped his tomahawk clean, then glanced back at the ruined thing at his feet.

It had taken more of a beating than the others. But in the end—

It was still weaker than him.

'Sekhmet, huh? I guess that explains the death and, destruction.'

Moving on from the chaos around him. Elliott walks towards Carl and Shane.

Their jaws dropped from the spectacle before them.

Moving to Carl's side opposite Shane, he sits on the floor with his legs crossed. 

"Hey bud, you ok?"

Tears start to fall from Carl's eyes.

Shane reaches out and places a hand on his chest.

"Hey man, don't cry it's goin to be fine." He looks to Elliott for assurance, Elliott nods with a small smile.

"Yeah. Everything is going to be fine."

"It's not. I've been bit. I'm gonna die." Carl sobbed at the thought.

"No, you won't." With no ounce of uncertainty.

Both Shane and Carl snapped their heads towards Elliott.

Elliott tilted his head towards the two with a soft smirk. "What, you didn't think I'd be able to do something about this?" 

Shane's face broke into a smile, his face red with happiness and relief, "Well do it then. What are you waiting for?"

Elliott looked at Shane and explained. "It's not that easy. To cure Carl, I'd need to complete the Soul bond with him. But the only reason we have a Soulbond is you and me. Until we complete ours, there isn't a way for me to heal him."

Shane looked at him concerned, he understood the implication of the soul bond. They would be connected forever, essentially married, for all of eternity and for future Gods that eternity was a long time. 

Beneath the bond, though, Shane could feel a sense of security. Someone connected to you to know that they are yours and vice versa. After experiencing what he thought was love with Lori, had shown him exactly what he didn't want. 

They didn't have to be intimate yet, Shane knew that. But there would be times down the road when they would bring us closer and eventually do more than just a kiss. After knowing all of this, Shane understood that he was more than okay with it. 

Seeing Elliott's hesitance disguised as cockiness, Shane reassured him that it was fine, that he was ready for it. 

Shane grabbed Elliott's shirt at the chest and pulled him over Carl, their lips meeting in the middle. 

This kiss was different from their last. The moment their lips met, an all-encompassing fire was lit between the two. Hot, intense flames rested all over their skin. As the kiss grew deeper, something inside Shane seemed to break loose. He could feel something not his own: Elliott's presence. It was like a beacon that could be seen even with his eyes closed.

As Elliott started kissing back and the kiss grew hotter, a noise beside them broke them out of it. 

'cough'

"It is like, really exciting to see my two favourite people kiss, and I'm happy for you both, but I'm still sorta dying over here."

Carl gave them a cheeky smile. 

Elliott smiled back wiping a bit of saliva of his lips. "Thanks bud, glad to know we have your blessing."

Shane jumped back, and covered his face to hide it. It was red enough that steam seemed to pour off of it.

Gathering himself, Shane looks at his status panel. "99%? Why is it at 99%? We just kissed, and I felt something, shouldn't that have completed it?"

Elliott looked at him and chuckled. "I never said we needed to kiss, but it's nice to know the feelings are mutual. 

Shane blushed, eyes wide, and tried to speak but stuttered at every attempt.

Elliott lifted his hand and pointed a finger at Shane. 

An invisible force slit the end of his finger open, letting a single drop of blood fall. As the drop rolled off his finger, it stopped in the air. 

The blood was an odd colour; it was red, but there were faint lines of gold around it, like veins. It had a faint glow to it, lighting a small radius around it.

Watching the drop of blood floating in the air between the three of them, Elliott spoke.

"You've heard me say it before, but my people are called the clan of Vhaldryn. We were once the most important clan in the entire multiverse, Peacekeepers; the most extraordinary figures in history with unimaginable powers hailed from our clan. They pass through each world to complete their inheritance and join the clan as official members. But because of me, you will automatically be an official member after you join.

I won't go in to deeply about clan's history now, mostly because I don't know it. But the clan is currently just me.

I don't know how long ago, as the time between worlds and dimensions is different, but gods of all kinds got together and decided to overthrow our clan. I don't know how they accomplished it because they were pitifully weak compared to us. But they might have overwhelmed us with numbers or something anyway after allying together and overthrowing us, the alliance named themselves The Pantheons, and they decided to start expanding their influences across the multiverse. Killing my entire clan, leaving me on the main earth by myself causing me to live a shitty life."

As Elliott talked about the history of his clan. Shane looked at him sad, thinking how horrible it must have been for him to go through that.

Shane gave a mournful look and said "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Don't worry. We'll destroy The Pantheons and avenge your parents.

Elliott looked at him, confused, "What are you talking about? I don't want to destroy them because of my parents and the clan. They forced me out of my home, and my parents sent me, a newborn baby, to a different world, leaving me on some random couple's doorstep. Life was pretty good at first; they took me in, and I got food, love, I think and warmth. But I wasn't exactly human. Do you know how fast our people grow? I grew to 4ft 5inch by the time I was 7 months old. Anywhere else in the multiverse that could have been normal, but guess what happens on Earth? They send you to a frickin military base for tests. And that, my good sir, is not fun, and they shall die for that."

Silence and an exasperated expression appeared on Elliott's face, "Anyway, that's enough of that for now. The point is you, by ingesting this drop of my blood, not only accept me as your soulmate but also take your place in the Valdryn Clan as my consort, husband, wife, whatever you want to call it, promising to help us rise again."

Pausing, Shane looked at the blood, "Ingest?" He looked at it with faint disgust.

Elliott gave him a 'really' look and Shane's attitude did a 180.

"I mean, yes. Yes, I agree."

"Good boy, open wide," Elliott says with a mischievous smile.

Shane blushes at Elliott's choice of words but follows along anyway. 

The blood in the air moves into Shane's open mouth; after entering, Shane closes around it and swallows. 

After waiting for something to happen for nearly 30 seconds, Shane, confused, asks, "Is that it? No transformation?"

Elliott, feeling the same way, answers, "I don't know. It's not like I've ever done this before. I was sort of expecting some convulsing and screams, but..."

Shane interrupted Elliott as a soul-wrenching scream escaped into the night. 

Shane lay on the ground, ripping fistfuls of grass from the ground, shaking.

Elliott ignored the sound. He turned to Carl and, with a calm smile, said, "Your turn."

Carl looked into Elliott's eyes, moving between Shane screaming on the floor to the second drop of blood falling from his finger.

"Do you, by ingesting this blood of the Valdryn Clan, agree to support me and the clan as my Godson together forever?"

 Carl's hesitation broke the moment Elliott said 'Godson together forever'. Looking from Shane to Elliott, Carl mustered up his courage his lips set into a firm line as he nodded.

Carl opened his mouth as the blood dropped into his mouth, swallowing it.

Elliott waited and soon another scream rang out into the night at the same time as the first.