The Four Denials of Dio

Day 2,575, 19:41 • Published in Pakistan China • by The Infinite Circle




The Four Denials of Dio



He returned on a clear night, October 12th 2013. Bedraggled and weary, he rode across the border into Pakistan on the back of a Triumph Bonneville. Dust swirled. With its last breath the bike begrudgingly grunted him to the front of the small homestead. Draped in nothing more than a sack, barefooted and parched, the frail form limped its way to the front door. Knock. Knock. Knock.



Light stabbed at his pupils through the crack that emerged as the door was opened. An uncaring voice grunted out a half question, pretending it was interested in who was knocking at the door during such an unearthly hour. Eraclea looked down upon the pathetic figure. Disdain at the audacity of this disruption.



Dreary, humble, the figure asked if he could take respite and share bread. Perhaps rest his head upon a straw pillow. Eraclea shook his head when the stranger gave his name. "Drumble?" he barked, agitated by the name almost as much as he was agitated by the inconvenience.

After much pleading, Eraclea took pity and allowed the stranger to enter, providing bread and currency and simple weapons for protection upon his leaving. The stranger thanked Eraclea for his help and told him that a change was coming. Eraclea laughed and told the stranger nothing could change. That the world was broken. That time had stood still since The God Emperor had left. That never again would he share jokes of green onions and see the glory of unity and revel in the camaraderie of the game. That Pakistan had been overturned and was in the hands of noobs and Spaniards and brothers who beget brothers, sisters who beget sisters and inbreeding was everywhere.



The stranger smiled and told Eraclea not to worry. He told him to change his name to Kusuri Uri, and to make children, and to spread the word. He should prepare for the next coming. It would not be like the old days, but there could be a reason to exist in the world again. That Dio Brando God Emperor was returning and that he would be denied four times. That players would say it could not be so. That greed and gold and mundanity would lead them away into the darkness. That those who chose to protect their own inadequate, elitist game existence would say that Dio Brando could never return and that all projects other than they, were false.



Eraclea looked at the stranger. "Are you trying to tell me you are Dio?" He smirked. "No." replied Drumble. "I am just a dreary, humble fool from the desert. I have been away for a long time, lost and without any access to my old self. However I heard that I could be of use and am now here. Who am I? I am just Drumble."

And Drumble left. And this was the first Denial.