Info
A tale four years in the making…
Some parts inspired by the writings and headcanons of LichtHex.
It was another “day” (if such a unit of time even had meaning in The Backrooms), and with that came nothing new for The Keymaster, whose monotonous routine never wavered. He continued to fulfill his self-assigned duty of overseeing his realm and those which passed through it.
Only when a sudden sensation alerted The Keymaster to a shift in The Hub was this monotony disrupted. A hostile force had attempted to breach the level and, consequently, was automatically transported into his prison. As was standard practice for him, he personally visited the prison to ensure that the new captive had been properly contained.
Upon closer investigation, The Keymaster found that the newest would-be infiltrator of his domain was nothing more than a mere wretch; a pitiful creature with little control over its own actions, nor any motivation beyond primal instinct. These were the most common type of assailants that he faced — driven not by malice, but mindlessness. Though, there were some notable exceptions to this, and then there were even those who were both.
“Hey! Shithead! Over here!” A voice shouted towards The Keymaster, who needed not turn around to know who it belonged to. So obnoxious, so deeply ingrained into The Keymaster’s mind was the voice, that he knew exactly who it was — M.E.G. operative Jacob Howard. The Keymaster remained silent at first, silently hoping that perhaps it would silence the human. But alas, he had no such luck. “I know you can hear me, motherfucker!” The sheep bleated once again.
The Keymaster sighed, slowly turning around to face Jacob. “This day has at least been bearable up until now. I have no intention of allowing you to ruin it.”
“Funny how you care about what happens to your day, but not mine,” replied Jacob.
“Well, of course. Why would I?” The Keymaster deadpanned.
Jacob drew a sigh, bowing his head. “Look, I know we’ve probably gotten off on the wrong foot; what with you imprisoning me here and all.” He extended his hand towards The Keymaster through his prison cell bars. “Let’s just bury the hatchet, huh? You and me…”
Reluctantly, The Keymaster took Jacob’s hand in a loose grasp, almost as if disgusted to do so. Jacob proceeded to attempt to pull The Keymaster towards the cell and thrash his arm about, but found that it wouldn’t budge an inch. The Keymaster tilted his head and raised a brow. “What…are you trying to do, exactly?”
“I…it was something I saw on a TV show once,” Jacob sheepishly murmured, before releasing The Keymaster’s arm and slumping back in his cell.
The Keymaster, having had his fill of Jacob’s antics for the time being, simply shrugged, shaking his head with a scoff before turning on his heel and proceeding to exit the prison.
“Hey, come back here, shitass! I’m talking to you!” Jacob shouted, though his indignant cries ultimately fell upon deaf ears.
As The Keymaster exited from his prison into his living quarters, it was at this moment that he could slowly feel the creeping hand of slumber begin to crawl up his back. He hated this feeling, knowing it was among the few things which he had no control over. Nonetheless, it was inevitable, and all he could do was enter a dignified position before completely shutting down. The Keymaster collapsed on his cold bed of marble, and as slumber overcame him, his eyes began to drift shut.
Throughout The Backrooms, he was known by many titles; The Champion, the Grand Empyrean, Imperfect and Glorious, First of Knights. However, he was known to most as The Red Knight – and, to a rare few, simply “Claudius”.
Over the course of countless centuries, all he had come to know was visceral violence, embodying a sole purpose in existence of serving as a living weapon wielded by his oversoul. His power was as immense as his wrath, and this nature was outwardly reflected in many facets of his appearance.
His tarnished and dented armor was, effectively, a coffin – or, more fittingly, an iron maiden. Every movement, no matter how minute, was an agonizing one. His joints were near-immobilized by the heavy buildup of rust and dried blood over the course of many battles. Inlaid spikes within his armor pierced him deeply with markings of impurity and disgrace upon his formerly divine flesh.
His sword was much too large and heavy for any mortal human to wield, appearing awkward for even himself to carry. Although once as razor-sharp as a sliver of light, it had since been worn down by countless battles. Still, even a dull blade can bludgeon foes. Like any sword, it could be used as a tool for noble, pure purposes – but ultimately, its natural properties as a weapon nonetheless remained.
Literally and figuratively, he felt like a dying deer soon to be roadkill, left behind to rot on a deserted road after being struck. His identity was a fragmented Ship of Theseus, longing to be new and pure, but remaining all too aware of its intertwined predecessor. He found himself torn between his nature and his aspirations; wishing to serve as a protector, yet still feeding into his destiny of destruction. It was an uneasy balance, one which could tip at any given moment, yet by some miracle remained steadfast.
And for all of this, he hated himself unimaginably so. But he knew that he could not allow himself to feel this self-loathing in any meaningful way, for it would impede upon his ability to perform the acts which he hoped would atone for some of his mistakes.
The Red Knight had just finished escorting a lost wanderer to Level 11, and prepared to proceed on his way in search of others to rescue. But it was then that he was alerted to a disturbance. Distantly was a rumble; an echo of an echo; a distortion in a still lake. His heart — made of crystal as it were — stilled for a brief moment. He felt a light jab, not even a pang, yet it failed to escape him, and gave way to an intuitive knowing. This sensation was only ever associated with the nearby presence of his kin. However, it was the particular identity of this one which intrigued the Red Knight the most, for it was one that he had not crossed paths with in a very long time. This possibility stirred very strong feelings to the surface, which up until that point had remained long-dormant and forgotten. “Anger” was a feeling which he rarely felt, if ever, but what he currently felt certainly came close to it. A score remained to be settled.
Inhaling deeply whilst steeling himself, the Red Knight altered his trajectory in a split second, his cape fluttering behind him in a whoosh as he headed straight towards the source of the perceived disturbance.
The Keymaster opened his eyes to the sight of skyscrapers rising upwards all around him. He next became aware of the sensation of hard pavement underneath him, before realizing that he was currently lying in the middle of the street. It did not take long for The Keymaster to conclude that this was Level 11 – a realm he was not very fond of, primarily due to its dense population. He could already imagine the citizens gathering to gawk at him.
I must quickly find my way out of this realm…
The Keymaster began traveling towards the nearest exit that he sensed, before stopping when he sensed something of far greater magnitude. It was almost akin to a sort of resonance, in which his aura was matched by one of equal if not greater prominence. He then heard the sound of clanking rusted metal rapidly approaching, before the figure of a knight emerged into view. While this was the first time that The Keymaster could definitively recall encountering such a being, he still found himself stricken with a sort of déjà vu, as if this was not the first time they had met.
The knight, too, gazed upon The Keymaster with a similar sort of confused recognition. His entire demeanor suddenly and visibly shifted, as if seeing him had stirred long-dormant memories in the depths of his subconsciousness to the surface. But whatever those memories were, The Keymaster lacked them, and so he reacted with confusion to the knight's shift, especially as his grip on his sword began tightening.
“Is there something I can help you with?” The Keymaster asked semi-sarcastically.
His confidence, however, began waning as the knight encircled him like a lion sizing up its prey, dragging his blade behind him along the pavement and creating sparks. “Do not mistake me for a fool. I know who you truly are…”
The Keymaster blinked blankly. “I'm afraid you're mistaken. I am The Keymas-”
The knight suddenly threw a punch towards The Keymaster, who narrowly dodged it. The punch instead left a hole in the wall where The Keymaster had just stood. “Liar!”
The Keymaster gazed at the hole in the wall, internally wincing at the thought of what would have happened to him had he not moved. He then turned back to face the knight. “I don't understand…what quarrel have you with me?" He stammered.
The knight stepped forth, the metallic clang of his armored boot upon the ground ringing out in the sudden silence between them. “You know not who I am?” He growled beneath his helm. “I suppose I shall humor your feigned ignorance. Many have taken to calling me ‘The Red Knight’…” he declared, his posture straightening. “I have walked this world for just as long as yourself, and I have experienced just as many things – perhaps more than you.” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. The Keymaster could faintly perceive the heat emanating from the knight's armor, as if freshly forged. “You may seemingly fail to recognize me, ‘Keymaster’, and perhaps you have successfully fooled others with your new form. But I know who you truly are, Clavis. I know you, because I once walked beside you. I once called you ‘brother’…and you forsook that brotherhood.”
The Keymaster’s eyes narrowed at the Red Knight's words, a vague flicker of something sparking in their depths as if a memory fought to surface. But just as quickly, his gaze hardened, and he took a step back, his cloak billowing behind him. “You are delusional.” He scoffed dismissively. “I am the brother of no-one – least of all a deluded sword-wielding maniac such as yourself. Whoever you think I am, I assure you that I am not…”
“That much is certain…” the Red Knight grimly declared, brandishing his sword.
The Keymaster, disregarding the Red Knight’s attempted display of threat, began turning to leave. However, the Red Knight had other plans. He roared a battle cry as he suddenly broke into a charge forward, his greatsword held high. The Keymaster reacted swiftly, his cloak billowing as he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the devastating blow. The sword slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave of cracked concrete and dust exploding outwards. The Keymaster rolled to his feet, his body entering a defensive stance, yet his inexperience with combat and the fact that he was caught off-guard was plainly apparent.
The Red Knight pressed his advantage, his sword a blur of motion as he rained down blow after blow. The Keymaster, for his part, was a master of evasion. He danced around the Red Knight’s strikes, his cloak a whirlwind of fabric that seemingly absorbed or deflected the worst impacts. Whenever the sword came too close, he would vanish in a shimmer of dark mist, only to reappear a heartbeat later, always just out of reach. Despite this, The Keymaster found himself slowly being forced backwards, step by step, until finding his back against the wall. The Red Knight’s blade bit into the stone, sending chips of rock flying, as The Keymaster narrowly dove out of the way. As the Red Knight wrenched his blade free, The Keymaster had already launched himself forth, his fist cocked back. The Red Knight narrowly ducked the punch, but it grazed the top of his helm, staggering him and leaving a dent. This did not come without consequence for The Keymaster, however, as the bones of his hand were left fractured in several areas from the force of the blow. As The Keymaster’s hand gruesomely contorted itself back into place, the Red Knight retaliated with a powerful uppercut which lifted The Keymaster off of his feet and sent him flying back, crashing into the wall and leaving a shallow crater in the crumbling brick structure.
Rising slowly, the Keymaster spat out a black acidic substance which could only be presumed to be his own blood, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His ruffled cloak gradually settled around his shoulders, the dark mist that trailed him swirling and churning. “I must admit, you are somewhat formiddab-” He began to say, before realizing that The Red Knight was already swinging his sword towards him once again, too quickly for him to even properly react.
The last thought which passed through the mind of The Keymaster was “Oh shit” before his head was cleaved cleanly off his shoulders by the Red Knight’s blade.
Though he could feel his head physically separate from his body and hit the ground, he could nonetheless sense his body as if it were still attached. He looked up from the ground to see his headless body, erupting with spurts of black acidic blood from the severed neck where his head had resided mere moments earlier. He imagined himself moving forward, and miraculously, his headless body began to follow suit. It was a rather disorienting experience, but he finally managed to call his body forth to retrieve and reattach his served head, spinning it around on his neck several times like a screw.
If The Keymaster’s wish to not attract onlookers wasn’t so strong before, then it definitely was now. Upon successfully reattaching his head, he finally noticed the crowd of wanderers that had gathered to behold the spectacle of these two godlike figures battling it out. Some were even snapping pictures on their cameras.
Wishing to make himself scarce, The Keymaster swiftly reached for a golden key on his ring, and stabbed it into the air. A shimmering, warping portal yawned open before him, and he hastily stumbled through it.
On the other side of the portal, The Keymaster found himself in Level HELP once again. Jacob, sitting in a nearby cell, perked up at the sudden commotion. “Finally gonna free me?” He sneered.
Suddenly, a sword was flung through the portal, leaving it wedged open by the smallest sliver before it could fully close. The Red Knight grabbed onto the hilt of the blade, twisting it to further reopen the wound in reality before prying it open the rest of the way with only his hands.
The Keymaster stared in disbelief at this feat, before scoffing. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me…”
The Red Knight strode towards The Keymaster with grim determination blazing in his eyes behind his helmet, his blade dragging along the ground behind him. “No more tricks, no more running. I have you cornered now..” He promptly swung his sword downwards, which The Keymaster dodged by no-clipping out of the way, with the blade instead smashing the lock of the cell holding Jacob Howard. He almost seemed to not even process what had happened as the door swung open, before suddenly snapping out of it as he jumped out of the cell and made a B-line for the portal that still remained open, but was beginning to close back up. Before The Keymaster had time to catch him, Jacob had already leapt through the portal before it fully closed.
However, The Keymaster had far bigger problems to worry about at the moment, such as countering and evading The Red Knight's fierce onslaught of attacks. He turned back to face the atomic bomb of fury encased within a suit of armor. “You've still yet to tell of your quarrel with me.” He stammered, all the while fumbling through his key ring in an attempt to find something useful to help him in this situation.
“I already have told you – you forsook our brotherhood. When we needed your guidance most, you instead retreated into your own machinations, an act of cowardice to stave off your inevitable demise.”
The Keymaster was at a loss for words, especially as the Red Knight once again raised his blade. “I remember no such thing…it is unreasonable to persecute me for such actions.”
The Red Knight looked down upon The Keymaster with indifference. ‘You may repent with sufficient bloodshed.” With that, he swung his sword down upon The Keymaster.
The Keymaster squinted his eyes closed tightly, bracing himself for the impact of the Red Knight’s sword as he pulled a random key off of his ring and held it out in front of him. However, the impact that he awaited never came. Instead, he heard the sound of clashing blades. He slowly opened his eyes, finding that he had blocked the Red Knight’s sword with one of his own: the key to The Grave.
The Red Knight retracted his sword away, winding up another blow. “Ah, so you still remember how to wield a sword? Well, then, honorary Sword Saint…show me what you remember from our spars in the age of old.”
With that, The Keymaster and the Red Knight engaged in a fierce argument of blades.
Both beings were locked in a deadly dance, blades flashing and clashing in a relentless rhythm as they encircled each other. The Red Knight's sword was a whirlwind of steel, his strikes powerful and relentless, his sword hewing through the air with enough force to cleave stone but aimed to cleave The Keymaster in two. But The Keymaster was no mere mortal, and he matched the knight blow for blow – his key-sword a flickering, darting thing which seemed to be everywhere at once, deflecting and parrying with uncanny speed. Each time their blades met, the impact sent shockwaves outwards from around them.
Their duel carried them through a large portion of The Keymaster’s prison realm, leaving a trail of shattered rock and scorched earth in their wake. The Red Knight's armor bore the marks of a dozen near-misses, while The Keymaster's cloak grew tattered at its edges, the dark mist which clung to it swirling and eddying as if in the midst of a storm. Despite The Keymaster's sharp reflexes, the Red Knight began to gain the upper hand through sheer strength and willpower. His endurance, honed by countless battles in the unforgiving depths of the Backrooms, was unmatched. The Keymaster, for all his power, was not accustomed to such prolonged, brutal combat.
Despite this, The Keymaster could see that he was beginning to win the war of attrition, as The Red Knight seemed to become more exhausted, his reflexes becoming more delayed and his strikes having less strength and power behind them. With the Red Knight slowing down, he was left more open and vulnerable. The edge of The Keymaster’s blade found itself beneath a plate of armor on his chest, and he pried it away, exposing a patch of bare flesh. It appeared raw and tender, as red as a boiled lobster or a severe sunburn. The Keymaster poised himself to stab the exposed flesh with his sword. Simultaneously, The Red Knight followed suit with his own sword. The two godlike entities dove towards each other at the same time and thrusted their blades forth. At that moment, both beings’ blades pierced each-other’s hearts, and they were both enveloped within a blindingly bright flash.
The Keymaster’s eyes slowly opened to a dull, cold gray world. The sights were familiar to him, as he always found himself here between particularly harrowing injuries.
Nearby, The Keymaster saw the Red Knight, but no longer detected any overt hostility. In its place was instead a subdued sobriety, a solemn silence. The Red Knight looked out towards a large sword embedded between two mountains. “This was where I died…” he remarked. “…This is my grave.”
The Keymaster slowly approached him, intrigued as he looked on at the giant sword as well.
The Red Knight looked down at his rusted, blood-encrusted gauntlets, in which heavily calloused hands were encased. “What is a knight without his honor? He may as well be a knight without his armor. And so, like my honor, my armor too has grown worn and tarnished. How ironic for a knight to experience such cowardice in the face of a foe no less personal than his own mind.” He then looked back up, facing The Keymaster. “In our former lives, I was…rageful. I was envious. I should have reasoned with my brother Augustus…” He drew a heavy sigh. “And..I suppose I repeated those same mistakes with you. I enacted my misplaced resentment upon you, and for that I must apologize.”
Slowly, The Red Knight extended his hand towards The Keymaster. Unlike with Jacob, The Keymaster had no reason to suspect that he would suddenly thrash his arm. And so he took the Red Knight’s hand and shook it. Suddenly, a name found its way to the surface of his mind. “Claudius….it’s you!” The Keymaster exclaimed.
There seemed to be a twinkle in Claudius’ eye. “Few have spoken that name to me since my first death… admittedly, it brings me a small deal of comfort to know that some still remember.”
“Unfortunately, your name is all I can recall for now.”
The Red Knight tilted his head. “I see…it seems that you were indeed truthful about missing memories after all…” He paced around The Keymaster. “I am sure that you will regain your memories in time. However, I offer a word of caution. There are many like myself who once regarded you as a brother. I cannot guarantee that they will be as forgiving as I have.”
“I appreciate the reassurance,” The Keymaster sarcastically remarked, “though your warning is duly noted.”
The two beings looked towards each other briefly, then around themselves, before re-emerging from The Grave.
The Keymaster and The Red Knight once again found themselves in Level 11, standing together in a crater formed by their earlier battle. The first sight greeting them upon arrival was five U.E.C. soldiers with their weapons trained directly on them.
“Don't move!” The leading soldier commanded, stepping slightly closer towards The Keymaster and the Red Knight as he took aim with a modified custom pistol.
“Ah, I suppose this was another thing that I should have warned you of…” The Red Knight murmured to The Keymaster.
“Oh, trust me, I'm well aware of these nuisances. This is not the first time they've bothered me,” replied The Keymaster.
Before either of them could exchange anymore words, the leading U.E.C. soldier fired his gun with an ear-piercing BANG, compounded by the sound of the bullet colliding with the metal of The Red Knight’s armor. However, the bullet failed to pierce the armor, only embedding itself halfway.
The knight slowly looked down at himself, plucking the bullet from his armor and flicking it back at the soldiers. “I recall a time when men once had honor in battle. They intimately fought with blades, rather than cowered behind tools of long-range assault…” He growled as he approached them menacingly, his armored boots thudding against the ground and his blade dragging behind him.
In the blink of an eye, the four other soldiers were instantly bisected with one swift blade-stroke, leaving only the leader as he looked on in horror at the fate of his men. The Red Knight loomed menacingly above him. “Now, if you wish to avoid the same fate, I highly suggest that you run along, and warn the rest of your group of what happens when they cross the likes of myself.”
The soldier, with fear in his eyes, could only nod quickly before running away. As he darted through the alleyways, he happened to pass by Jacob Howard, and stopped him in his tracks. “H-hey, you there! Wanna join the U.E.C.?”
“Well, I…” Jacob Stammered, before the soldier suddenly removed all his gear and dumped it onto him.
“Great! Head to base Mars!” With that, he took off running once again, before Jacob even had the chance to speak another word.
The Red Knight looked back at the Keymaster. “This is where we once again part ways, brother. Perhaps fate will reunite us, though I will not regard you with the warmth you may expect.”
The Keymaster slowly nodded. “Likewise. Farewell, then…”
With that, both beings faced opposite of each other and walked away from the scene of their destructive battle, teleporting away from Level 11.
As The Red Knight departed, he once again found himself musing his internal thoughts to himself – a habit he adopted from his closest sister.
He knew that his actions have had consequences, and he has experienced them firsthand, but only a breadth. And he knew that there would be more. The question now stood as to whether he shall live to see them through, or be condemned as he is now: a cowardly, disgraced knight, brother, guardian, and all the other things he should’ve been better at being. But that was not for him to worry about, not right now at least. Perhaps he may continue to make more mistakes than ever, but for now, it was not his responsibility to hate himself, to feel such hate and anger belonging to his predecessors’ kin. In this lifetime, his responsibility was to make amends; to do better than that of Claudius.
The site of battle had since vacated, with the few traces of evidence towards what had happened being scattered fragments of The Red Knight’s armor and puddles of his spilled blood.
As fate would have it, four human children – three boys and one girl – stumbled upon this area in their exploration.
“Hey, Zack, come check this out!” called the girl.
“What is it, Sam?” Zack replied as he followed behind, accompanied by the two other boys – Loui and Jake.
“This looks like the spot where The Red Knight was fighting The Keymaster earlier…” Jake remarked as he looked around, before spotting the discarded pieces of armor. “No way, dude…look at these…”
Loui silently observed the scene, studying the strewn about debris intently as if attempting to decipher a hidden meaning behind them.
The four children then turned their attention to a large puddle of The Red Knight’s blood. They slowly approached it with great curiosity, almost as if drawn towards it…