pandemonium dream

In the middle of the desert stood a giant colosseum. On the floor of this colosseum was what looked like a massive magic circle, but on closer inspection it resembled the face of a clock. This arena had been built by this sagely old bunny mechanic dude who I will refer to as the Tinker. The purpose of his magic-circle-clock-colosseum was to bind this big evil demon who I will refer to as Pandemonium, barring their entry into the world of the living so they can't slaughter literally everything. While the Tinker's work was successful, it was only part of the equation: Twelve gladiators needed to be standing at each hour of the clock at midnight, when Pandemonium would emerge. The demon would then begin their assault on each of the gladiators, starting with XII and working their way around the clock. The first one to get a mortal blow in each of these duels was the victor, only Pandemonium was not mortal and would simply move on to challenge the next gladiator whether they win or lose. For every gladiator that survives, Pandemonium's next appearance would be delayed by one day. If no gladiators survive or less than twelve are present to begin with, the seal is broken and the apocalypse begins. If all twelve gladiators survive, the seal is completed and Pandemonium can then be banished for good.

Fast forward some decades later where most of this dream actually takes place. A great desert city now surrounds the colosseum in a strange mixture of old roman, egyptian, and modern architecture. Pandemonium was never successfully banished, but is being held at bay by one capable duelist in particular: The Tinker's granddaughter, Gladiator XII, a regular Samurai Jack type who puts her life on the line time and time again in a determined effort to be rid of Pandemonium for good. While a few others have managed to stand their ground, there is always a struggle to fill the remaining slots with more capable fighters, and most of that falls on XII's shoulders. Between the heartbreak of having countless dead comrades, needing to scout and train a reserve of volunteers for the slaughter and then being blamed for their unpreparedness by grieving loved ones; she has grown cold and terse and unable to even smile. The only thing keeping her going is a vague promise to herself that she's going to forge a bright future for everyone.

In my dream I eventually witnessed an end to all this, where Gladiator XI secured the last seal which spurred XII to dunk Pandemonium back into the furthest reaches of Hell with one final REVENGEANCEFUL blow. And as she stands there victorious, all that burning anger is flooded over with sadness and she has a little breakdown, like it is finally okay to weep for everyone this ordeal had claimed.