Every time I see a statue of a Greek God or an imitation of sorts, my hair starts rising as the memory of that occurrence crawls back into my mind. Thus, I find myself in this instance noting this down so that, in the end, I may burn it before any unfortunate soul may lay their eyes upon it.
I once knew of a man who called himself Ishyros Deus. The first time I met him, he was similar to most men who possessed an intelligence so rudimentary that the word normal would have described him perfectly, his bearing mild, and his physique plain. Overall, he was someone who simply didn’t stand out.
Was it perhaps due to this that he started partaking in this endeavor? I will never know, but the next time we saw each other was one year after the first. I was a gym instructor at the time (A good one if I may say so myself) and I wouldn’t have even recognized him had he not come up and spoken to me.
By then, he had grown to a more sizeable degree and, unlike his former self, attracted the eyes of all those in the same room as him. Through the conversation we had, I also noticed that his once meek personality shifted into one that is more open and confident.
For the next month, I supervised him as he trained. Ishyros was a hard worker, to say the least, which was a surprise because the Ishyros I know was the type that preferred to stay by himself in a room full of books for an entire day rather than go out and do any type of physical work. I heard from another acquaintance that Ishyros worked at a construction company, not as an engineer, no, but as a worker, a fact that surprised me even further at the time.
During his time there, he came daily and worked for four hours at the minimum. And he didn’t waste any time either. The breaks he took were shorter than someone sneezing. However, I did have to make some adjustments for him, as, despite his long workouts, he had little to no understanding in regard to the essence of those exercises. By the end of that month, the fruit of his labor became ever so evident.
One day, however, he came to me with a request in mind. To my surprise, he didn’t come forward to call me annoying for my numerous complaints, no, Ishyros came to ask me to be his personal trainer. I told him that I will think about it, but before I even finished my sentence, he offered to pay me four times the amount I was already being paid. How could I refuse such an offer?
His house was located on the outskirts of the town. Despite it being located in a populated area, its sheer size alienated itself from the rest. Furthermore, the large garden and the towering gates only made it seem even more secluded. It definitely wasn’t the type of residence that a construction worker could afford.
He had a personal gym in his house and its layout was similar to the one I worked in previously. The only difference was the giant dumbbell that weighed over 100 kilograms that sat in the middle of the room. And upon noticing it, Ishyros said the following:
“My friend, as of right now, my only desire is to be able to lift that damn thing. Not only do I wish to lift it, but I want to someday be able to lift it with one hand. So please do indulge me.”
During the first week, we went on with our usual routine. He would have a day dedicated to his chest on Monday. After that, he would have one where he worked his legs. On Wednesday, he did exercises for his triceps. On Thursday biceps. And eventually, by the end of the week, his entire body would be exhausted to the point of not even being able to stand up. Or so I thought.
For effective muscle growth, an ordinary person has to take a few days off so that their muscles may rest. However, even despite my warnings, Ishyros never did. Yet, he was still breaking his limits week after week. When we first started, he was using dumbbells that weighed 20 kilograms, which was already an extraordinary amount for a beginner like him, yet, as each week passed, he added more and more, until even 40 kilograms on one dumbbell wasn’t enough. He trained as if there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. And as his trainer, I couldn’t help but assist him in his work.
This was as such until six months later when I noticed him injecting in him some form of substance in his arm. I confronted him about it and he sighed. That was when he sat beside me and asked me the following:
“My friend, do you know why I put myself through all of this? It’s not just because of that darn thing sitting there. There is, of course, another reason. You see. Like any other man, I want strength, but not just any strength, no. I want to be the strongest in the world and not only that I also want to possess a body that even a God would envy. And I, for one, do not care about the means through which I have to go in order to meet this end. Call it madness. Call it lunacy. However, how can one achieve transcendence through conventional means? Thus, I shall ask you again, my friend, to help me with this quest.”
I had to help him. As his trainer, I requested him to stop using those chemicals, but, as his friend, I could only accept his will as my own.
The rate at which he grew was unnatural, to say the least. All it took was one week for him to progress to the next stage. And with each stage that he passed, so too did he grow exponentially. Soon, my physique paled in comparison to his and one year later, even 70 kilograms in one hand wasn’t that much of a challenge for him.
This continuous madness did have its toll on him. The combination of the labor work he subjugated upon himself during the day and our workout during the evening made certain veins very visible. Not to mention his substance abuse which made it even more hideous. Furthermore, no matter how well he could act, I could tell just from a glance that Ishyros could barely stand. Yet, even despite these repercussions, he strove forward. Who knew that a learned man such as Ishyros would turn out like this?
One day this lunacy somehow degraded even further down the spiral that is insanity. Instead of meeting him in the gym, he asked me to follow him to his library. Despite the fact that the room was much larger than his gym, it still felt as though there was barely enough room to breathe with all the books lying around.
Yet, upon further observations, I noticed a particular similarity with them. They were all connected with the ancient ones, the ancient Gods that were worshiped thousands of years ago; Zeus, Heracles, Kratos, all Gods that gave the words might and strength meaning. This was not all, for there was one manuscript that seemed to be older than time itself.
And by the Gods! Upon reading its contents, I finally came to understand this man’s obsession with strength. There was a formula written in that cursed text; a formula that required a sacrifice; a sacrifice that would merge the soul of a so-called “hero” with that of a God.
After reading the ritual for this process, I looked at Ishyros with disbelief.
“Tell me you do not believe this nonsense!”
“My friend, I am only telling you this as a courtesy out of our friendship. There are those who did it and are walking amongst us. I wouldn’t have believed it myself had I not witnessed their success. I shall ask you a final request.”
“No. I will not assist in your destruction.”
Ishyros sighed and had a look of disappointment.
“Then, from this day onwards, your service shall be unnecessary.”
I warned him to stop this insanity, but it was of no use. I couldn’t talk him out of it, let alone defy him through a match of strength. I was pushed out of his domain like a child. I tried to bust open the gates, only to then climb over them with many complications, yet, by the time I arrived in front of his house, the ritual had already begun. All I could do then was stare hopelessly as he started chanting that cursed hymn.
I remember it clearly even now. With each word that came out of his mouth, it seemed as though they were biting and scratching the last one that he said. There were mentions of names that were familiar to the masses and some that were esoteric by their very own nature. Suddenly, there was silence. Ishyros wasn’t moving. I could only stare intently.
At first, there was a spark, a little light that could have been confused with the reflection of the sun, but then, it started becoming noticeable. Overjoyed, Ishyros sprinted toward his gym and lifted that dumbbell without breaking a single drop of sweat. He turned to me with a pleasant smile on his face. The poor soul wanted to thank me for all I had done.
And just like the suddenness of the silence, Ishyros stopped smiling. It was instead replaced with another look, a look of pure agony as an internal struggle took place. The poor soul could scream as the hands of several figures attempted to push through him. At one point, the faces of the familiar and unfamiliar started taking shape. Even I could recognize a notable few. I started pounding the door even harder. On the other hand, Ishyros tried to push them back, but it was to no avail. There simply were too many. In his last moment, Ishyros turned his hands toward me for help. Thinking about it now, even if I was inside, what could I have truly done?
Little by little, Ishyros stopped looking like himself. As if to be a block of concrete, his body started morphing into another shape. A hideous shape. A shape that could leave anyone who witnessed it less than they were, as even after four years, I still see it in my dreams. Not wanting to see any further, I ran and left Ishyros to his fate. And whilst climbing over the gates, a sinister purple light shined through the windows I had last seen Ishyros at, and upon disappearing as mysteriously as it had appeared, a great fire started consuming the residence.
It didn’t take long before there was nothing left. Upon searching through the rubble, the authorities were unable to find Ishyros. They theorize that the temperature of the fire was so great that it must have turned his bones into ash. I, on the other hand, have a theory of my own. Ishyros, no, the body of Ishyros is still somewhere out there searching for something. And may God forbid it from ever accomplishing its task, for, in this instance, I stand before a statue that is identical to it. By the Gods, its name is Moros, the God of impending doom.