The observer watched carefully. Never complacent, he had no visible set of oculars but saw clearly. On Killimara there was an impending crisis. These events he would continue to oversee. The mischievous works of an outside force were dangerously at hand and a hellish future was not so far. For as long as time itself the existence of a spiritual adversary was common. The origins of each, however, were vast in differences. In particular, this being's existence was once that of a mortal. That did not stop souls from worshiping him as a prophet.

His days as a mortal counted for less than a tenth of its existence.  Decades turned into centuries under his path of lichdom. Now thousands of years old, the being known as "The Lich" or "Kaan" had far exceeded that of what people understood a demilich was or could be. It was hard to categorize what he had become at this point. Currently, deep within Killimaran waters his body could be located.  Perhaps he was what the orb in space was trying to find. In his current state, he appeared dauntingly lifeless.

Though his works were already at hand he was still and without much movement within the gentle tides. Eventually, Kaan washed upon the shore, revealing his unpleasant exterior.  Most of his body was encased in dark, moss-stained robe garments with tattered ends. With skin was as rotten as his pernicious spirit, his malformed image was common for that of the undead. Kaan bore a saltwater pruned face absent of eyes and a lower jaw that was fleshless. Other than his set of sabbatic goat horns he was majorly humanoid-esque through he was uncommonly large. Common instinct was to withdraw in his presence but who could know? He only appeared to be an alien carcass.  In hopes of solving the crisis, they could only move closer to death itself. Fortunately for Killimara, he was within a weakened state. As to why remained unknown but his works were very much already in motion. 

Death had appearances in many forms. To soon be relevant to all of Killimara was it in the form of pestilence. The rejoice in the expressions of Killimarians on both sides as clan members one by one began returning to the villages and settlements. All bore a similar story of dread of being held captive by a set of the opposing side. This was not a lie, at least in their minds. Internally they bore a contagious stigma of hatred programmed subconsciously. The hatred spread from soul to soul not by convincing but through contamination of an individual's aura. To simply put it, being around those who souls were polluted was enough to plague their spirits.  To infect their feeble minds was not a difficult task. Ensnared Killimarians were perverted with visions and emotions that evoked hatred upon their poisoning. Nothing outright blatant changed about their anatomy or mannerisms but many of their purposes were one they were not currently insightful of.

There was one enormous problem with the arrival of several once thought missing Killimiarians however. A few of their bodies had already been recovered. Of those who were once “missing,” their anatomy would be different but not enough to notice without autonomic analysis. Inside many of the Killimarians in both tribes were groups of doppelgangers, now coexisting and perpetuating the bid of Kaan, reigniting a circle of hatred that was once thought to be dead. Rumblings of a civil war were becoming common chatter amongst elders but how? The leadership of both sides was wise beyond their years. The sheer thought of civil unrest was enough to bring back memories of an unstable time; one in history that was marked by relentless combat and bloodshed and yet anger grew amoungst many who had no been cursed. Being noticeably “missing” was not a prerequisite for being infected with the Lich’s curse. It could happen in plain sight.

“Apotheosis is within my grasp…Gain life my brood.” his hissing voice exhaled. He was seemingly talking to nothing but a set of three lifeless Killimari corpses. Perhaps they were not quite dead but they were soon to be as his ritual commenced. With the end of a few lives, others sequentially would be created. Using the remainder of their life force he birthed another set of creatures far more vile and insidious. 

With the creeping rise of a deeply rotted left arm, he immersed the bodies in a dastardly aura before igniting them within an intense amber flame. There they burned in place until the time was right, always growing and never wavering in strength. Only once being discovered by the enraged Kirri did the flames die down revealing a group of charred skeletons in their place. There was no Lich in sight, however. The skeletons varied from the typical Killimarian build with their thicker bone structure and their now much larger size. They had evolved. Reaching forward, the middle skeleton pulled its body upwards. It was a staggering nineteen feet and increasing at that. The others followed as their root like muscle tissue grew out of their frame in a manner similar to tendrils, ripping the earth and creating minor seismic activity. Releasing a shrill roar of coercion that stuck with enough power to shatter the trail of glass the Killimarian left behind, a blast of amber flames and molten bark exploded onto the forest. Within the destruction left behind smaller hands began to erupt all around within the vicinity of the explosion . It would be seen what kind of damage a blast capacity could do to the warrior itself but his sturdiness would be tested. Whether he survived or not, the Hellseed's muscle-root like like tendrils pursued his body with apparent intents of impalement.

---

An hourglass of dark sands could be seen reaching its climax.

"Yes, Potan Mul is dead Silexies. What do you suppose we do?"

"Over time I've grown fascinated with the concept of destiny. Destiny perhaps rids us the trouble of dealing with him ourselves because it was simply his time. I ask you now, what do you suppose we do?"

"..."

"That was not meant to be answered, young apprentice. Your expressions remind me of my own before I understood the flow of fate. Soon you'll inherit the will and discover kismet. For now, observe. Vhadgeid, we will move forward with the next objective and save our resources. Time does no wait. I will fetch the Instrument."

He then sent a message ripping across space itself to a certain individual. For a brief second Sinclair could not comprehend anything at all as his mind was flooded with information. The sensation was comparable to being struck with a minor jolt of electricity to the brain. Not a word was said but the message was clear. Report back to him. That was the will of Silexies.