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Thread: Ga Rei: Exodus Nine (IC)

  1. #3281
    No glasses, huh? Mooncake's Avatar
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    Jacques Dussault
    Beyond Heart and Mind





    The sun has set.

    The sun has set, and with its setting the night is long, and cold, and dark.

    Where he lies, beyond all sight and thought, Jacques Dussault rests.



    Body battered, hair shortened and burned, eyes forever closed, he hears a voice speak to him within his dreamless slumber. It doesn’t say very much, because it knows him. It knows that he isn’t stirred by overdramatic speeches, by indulgent fanfare, by the sound of pomp and circumstance. It knows him... and it knows that for something as simple as the sound of tears, he would listen.

    The voice is familiar.

    Her voice is familiar.

    For something as simple as four words, he would listen.

    Four words that resonate with his very being.

    “Do the right thing,” she says.

    He remembers...

    It had snowed that morning, so long ago.

    Someone had come to knock on his door, and they had gone to explore. They'd... they'd ended up in a library, with half of a goddess, and a wraith, and his best friend, looking at the countless books. There had been so many of them, beyond all imagining, and he had passed them all to look at the comics of his childhood.


    But now, in his memory, something changes.

    He takes a different path; his fingers trace a dusty spine.

    He takes it off the shelf, and opens it, and reads.

    It is a dialogue between two people, old and young, and he hears it in that voice so familiar yet so far away that it cannot be placed.

    Two voices intertwine, one questioning, one answering, in a chain that stretches without end.

    What is the heart?

    The bearer of life.


    Something begins to stir.

    Something he had long forgotten for all the time he had spent here, beyond the reach of the stars, listening to the silence of the void.

    He turns another page.

    What is life?

    Waiting for death.


    He frowns in displeasure, and at once he is alone. There is no library anymore, no memory, nothing. He starts, looking around in the dark for something, anything, but nothing calls. All that is left is the man, and the book, and yet...

    Somehow he is not afraid.

    He turns another page.

    What is death?

    The thief of man.


    This book is depressing, but it's been so long - so long - since he has dreamed anything that he is loathe to put it down. As it is with all dreams, he can't remember when he fell asleep. That memory, too, has been consigned to the dark, a sleep from which he cannot rise.

    But in the back of his brain, he remembers a voice screaming in rebellion, howling alongside the souls of millions of others.

    He hears her voice again.

    Do the right thing.

    His fingers pause along the page, hesitant as they wait at the corners; but he turns the page because he is beginning to realize that he cannot stop.

    Every dreamer must one day wake.

    What is man?

    A passing traveler.


    Yes.

    Nothing lasts forever.

    He knew that, didn't he? Wasn't that why he, above anyone else, had met her? Had made a contract with-

    "______"



    "Do the right thing."

    Who was he?

    Why was he here?

    What was he doing?

    In the millennia, in the years without end that he had drifted here, he had never asked. He had slumbered without pause, without cease - he had been nothing more than a shadow on the wall of a cave. A phantom of better times.

    A ghost, adrift from the 'real'.

    In the distance he sees a light. It is small, and pale, nothing more than a point on some false horizon, but as he stares it begins to rise. He - his name, the fact that he had a name was so close to his tongue - turned the page again, and again, something driving him to get to the end, to continue the story-

    What is a traveler?

    A bearer of the past; the language of the lost.


    It reverberates in his skull like an evening bell, and he puts a hand to his head out of habit more than anything. In this world, he feels no pain or sorrow, but-

    Why had he winced?

    Why did he tremble so?

    Wasn't he supposed to be doing something?

    Wasn't someone calling his name?

    What is language?

    The herald of the soul.


    Do the right thing.

    What is the soul?

    A candle in the wind.


    A candle?

    He begins to shudder, and surely, light was spreading, burning golden as it left the darkness in its wake-

    A spark long dormant is brought to kindle once more.

    Was his flame so weak that it could never rise again?

    Was his heart so broken that it could no longer be mended?

    Didn't he - didn't I - didn't we promise her that our bond would last forever?

    He speaks into that onrush of light, the advent of the dawn, the purging of the self-

    The voice of his companion.

    "I am-"



    The sun has set.

    And it is time for it to rise again.

    An unbreakable bond, a trust that could never be unfulfilled, a faith that could not be shattered…

    He carries it with him, into a new age.




    Jacques Dussault
    A New Dawn Rises
    Final Battle


    "Did you miss me?"

    The world burns black and gold, and I laugh with it, the light of day lifting me to my feet. Even my horrid luck has to throw me a bone sometimes, right?

    I open my eyes, and with the rising of the sun severed hair grows back, wounds disappear, and... I flex the fingers of my shattered arm, whole again.

    It feels good.

    "We don't need that world to crush you! WE WON'T LET YOU ALL DO AS YOU'D PLEASE! DIE, FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYTHING!"



    "Sorry to crush your dreams, but I'm back for good."

    Isn't that right?

    "And I'm not leaving."

    Naglfar doesn't exist anymore. I can feel its absence, but it doesn't matter - the light of the dawn is still at my back, carrying me forward. I take a step, feeling what it means to walk again, and then another, and another, settling into a rhythm.

    I remember it all now.

    Every memory of my friends, of my loved ones, of my family. The bad, the good, the ugly, the mundane - I remember everything, coming back in one burst like the waves of the sea.

    I instinctively know that I won't be pulling out any black holes, won't be using the shadows of the universe, won't be ripping apart the fabric of the world to strike at the Devourer.

    And that's fine.

    Because I've got Hel, right?

    And everyone else who's at my side, present or not, dead or alive.

    Kenji.

    Maiya.

    Kusumi.

    Gisela.

    Tomoya.

    Mina.

    They're here, running with me, and...

    I remember the truth that I saw in my dream, even now, in Hel's voice as she spoke to me.

    Nothing lasts forever.

    I'm not gonna be around until the end of days, ESPer or not, champion or not, hero or not, but hell, did that ever matter to begin with?

    I've been so afraid of death for so long that, somewhere along the way, I forgot about it entirely. That's why Hel races by my side, the Queen of the Dead herself.

    Maybe that's what you need, to face death.

    To accept that it'll never go away.

    A name comes into my head, a name I never, ever would have called before. I knew it wouldn't have listened. I knew it wouldn't have cared. But now... Hel laughs with me, of one mind, and I can't resist.

    I shout into the heart of the world.

    I call upon thee!

    Azrael-



    -Angel of Death!

    Last edited by Mooncake; January 13th, 2019 at 02:18 AM.
    [12:37] <I3uster> if playing overwatch would save my mother from the deathbed
    [12:37] <I3uster> id probably flip a coin
    [12:38] <I3uster> to see if i play or not

    [18:23] <frantic> spinach is like a caffeine zombie

    [18:23] <frantic> in AX he would like
    [18:23] <frantic> drink 8 shots of espresso
    [18:23] <frantic> then he'd turn to me an hour later
    [18:23] <frantic> 'frantic', he'd say, his eyes wild and his lips smug
    [18:23] <frantic> 'i need coffee'

  2. #3282
    Glorious Grammar Master Race Frantic Author's Avatar
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    Hitoshira Nagi
    A Soul That Can't Be Cut


    No --

    Please --



    I...

    I don't want to go.

    Even as I vanish, I don't want to go.

    Even as everything ends, I don't want to go.

    I see them.

    Everyone.

    The smiles of all the people I'm leaving behind -- the dreams that I've left shattered in my path -- the hopes that I've destroyed with my own demise --

    I watch as the gates to the Sea of Souls seal shut, and I can see Hitoshira Kae smiling brightly at me from just past the wall.

    "I'll take care of this one, so please, get some rest."

    The words leave my mouth automatically, even though I'm dying. Even though everything's ended, and it's nobody's fault but my own. Lilith's soft hand gently finds mine as the night closes around us and...

    I can't believe it.

    So when my eyes open, I'm naturally surprised.

    When I look once more upon the Devourer, I'm naturally confused. But somehow... In spite of it...




    I'm smiling.

    I'm so, so very happy that I get this last chance.

    I'm so, so incredibly grateful that everyone let me have this one last shot.

    So I have to make the most of it. This time... This place... It's really the end, isn't it? There's no second chances. No objections. No qualifiers.

    "Hey..."

    "In this time, in this place... There's no way that we'll just fall down and die," as my body reforms, as my arm reforms, as an ax that masquerades itself as Death's own weapons cackles in my mind, "There's no possible world where we'll just allow you a victory."

    Everything's gone. It's just us. It's just these sole few Espers, and as I look around, a brilliant smile forms on my face. So once more, for the last time, I carve open a hole between realities, and open the Shadow Vortex, staring deep into it.

    "I don't have anything to offer you but a solemn offer of friendship, you know. One that I've offered many times before. So... would you mind so terribly if I asked for your help, this one last time?"

    No objections.

    No qualifiers.

    No more words.

    I hoist my ax on my back, feeling it's everpresent weight as power starts to coalesce around me. After all, I am nothing more then a vessel for everyone's emotions, so even if I don't have access to that incredible, raw, pure power that I held previously, that's fine. Because...

    I'm the Queen of Demons.

    I'm the Hero of Tokyo.

    I, Hitoshira Nagi...

    Am alive.

    Hitoshira Nagi
    Alive

    I can't reach into the Sea of Souls. I can't claim ownership over this world like I did Nobody's. But even so --!!!

    I still have something nobody else here has.

    A bond that can't be broken. A soul that can't be destroyed.

    "Ne ne, Yagami-san, let's do it one more time, yeah? That technique that can't be defeated, the one you showed me the very first time we met."

    Lilith rises from my soul, drifting past me with a wink as she prepares something I've never seen before, a swirl of unstoppable, incredible power that she holds in her veins, her very core. This is what she is, the Mother of Humanity.

    This is my demon.

    The world twists around me as her power grows and grows, a tapestry of light and darkness that surrounds the woman next to me, a complete and total force that I've never seen her use before. Even though Lilith has always stood by me in times of trouble, in my own strife, she's never been the type of person to throw her entire being into an attack. Although, to be fair...

    That's the sort of person I am, as well. We're a perfect match.

    I adjust the grip on my ax, a wide, wide grin covering my face. "So let's show it to her, this Devourer of Time. The power of an unbreakable bond, y'know?"

    Light breaks.

    I'm no longer a member of this place.

    Invisibility is a concept that has rarely been discussed among the rational body of the world. It's ridiculous; the idea that anyone can 'simply disappear'. But the power of Yagami's absolute illusions is as such.

    I am not here.

    It's a trick of the mind, to use Yagami's illusions - the ability to delude yourself so deeply that reality itself is deluded alongside you. But that's the kind of person I am. The kind of delusional maniac who wields an axe that carries the weight of all those who came before it, with a demon who lied her name into slumber.

    Movement.

    It's a dash.

    Absolutely rebellious, even as I feel the emotions of everyone pouring into me.

    Absolutely insane, even as I feel the weight of everyone's hopes on my back.

    But that's who I am. That's Hitoshira Nagi.

    So even when I approach --




    It's an unstoppable sort of blow.

    A blow from someone who isn't part of this world.

    A blow from someone who only re-enters this world for a moment, vanishing into the shadows shortly after.

    There's always been more to my ESP then simply emotions and strength. I've just never had reason to use it. I lived a shadowed existence for so long --

    Is it any wonder that I can drape them around me like a cloak?
    Last edited by Frantic Author; January 12th, 2019 at 09:21 PM.
    in the end we will make thoughtcrime impossible, for there shall be no words to express it
    [01:05.15] <@Spinach> I can flash gang signs faster than Sasuke can perform ninjutsu and I rap like Medea's High Speed Divine Words.


  3. #3283
    Lost in the Woods Verg Avesta's Avatar
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    Medrod Pendragon
    First
    Last
    Dream
    Sword



    So... this was it.

    Their last, their final, chance.

    It was all thanks to the one God of Time who had sacrificed his everything for the sake of the girl he loved. In a way, the Knight felt both bitter and slightly proud of his decision. Not because he had decided to sacrifice his life in order to end the dream, not because he had merged with the Administrator in order to bring them to the actual reality... but because he had done what he believed was right. Might for right. To use the power given to you for the sake of those who had no power. To the Knight, that truly was a deed he could respect. Respect... and mourn. Once this was over, and if he still existed after it... he would raise a glass of his own, in the dead of the night, for the God of Time.

    Because he deserved his respect more than anything.

    He, if anyone, had wanted to save Chiyoko. He, if anyone, had wanted to see the girl smile. He, if anyone, had wanted to save her dream.

    ------------- To the point of sacrificing himself for it.

    And that's why the Knight felt bitter.

    Chronos deserved more. He deserved a happy ending with the girl he loved.

    He deserved to see the new tomorrow with Chiyoko.

    "Yours was a star shining so bright, tomorrow will feel your soft light," The Knight quietly spoke. "Your sacrifice is not in vain, I promise to carry your pain. We have heard your whispered wish, the chance for morn we shall not miss."

    All around them, the world was becoming whole. Those who had been lost were returning. Those who had been denied of their chance to fight were given another lease in battle. Those who had sacrificed themselves for nothing could now try again. It was not a reality of mud and curses, but one that shone with Xanadu's light --- the sword once again being its own self again. The Knight stared at the sword, an unreadable expression with his blue-and-red eye. The helmet hid his expression, and it was impossible to tell what went through his head... but it was clear that he came to some sort of decision. Some sort of answer.

    Because as the world began to move again... as those defeated ran forward once more... so too did the Knight begin to move.

    But not in a way that anybody could have expected.

    "I see this is thy final choice, you shall walk away from this voice. Even this dream must come to end, for the waking world to be mend," The Knight spoke solemnly. "Dream or not we art one and same, in the myth we share more than name. I applaud you O' Son of Naught, for the battle that you have fought."

    As the reality of the Time Devourer faded away... so too did their powers.

    But even before that could truly take place, or rather, before that could register in the mind of the Knight... he did something unthinkable. Within his silvered, hornet helmet, a smile appeared on his face. A smile that was slightly sad, slightly melancholic, slightly happy... and nothing if not hopeful. It was the smile of someone who knew that he had reached his end. He had nothing after this. Indeed, for he was the Son of Naught. From the beginning he had nothing. No power, no ability, no legend. Everything he got he had to take with his own hands.

    Like a white dragon of a myth.

    Thus, as the army of opponents faced the Administrator and stared it down, as they shot it down, as they struck it down, as they ran forward to oppose it from here to eternity... The Knight relaxed his hands.

    First...

    ----------- He cast aside his Factors.

    Even if they no longer worked, they were a memory from a reality, a dream that he wished not to return to. They were a power copied from an enemy he wished not to mimic. It was a gift that was not his own, and thus, the Knight let go of the power that had been granted to him, even if it was truly gone by the time he did. In the end, it was more of a symbolical expression.

    Second.

    ----------- He cast aside his Eclipse State.

    The sea of souls was not the same, it no longer held the vast amount of wishes and dreams that it once had. This was a new world and he could no longer rely on it. From now on, he would have to search for new wishes and dreams. He would have to look forward to the future and listen to the children of the tomorrow for what they wished with all their heart.

    Third.

    ----------- He cast aside his Grail Sword.

    The largest star of the reality, power made real by one Saki Ryuumonbuchi, was thrown aside with clear intent. The blade of starlight flickered and faded away, becoming nothing. In that moment as the Knight let go of the handle, the sword ceased to truly be. He was thankful for it. It was responsible for him being able to make it so far. Without Saki, the Knight would have fallen long ago.

    Fourth.

    ----------- He cast aside his Magatsuhi.

    Red energy, strands of godhood itself and purpose that could remake the world, flowed out of him. They became simple red strings that were eventually erased by the world itself. He had no more use of them. They had served him well so far, but the Knight knew that they would only get in the way. After all, this sort of power, this selfish desire to remake the world... he no longer cared none for it. It was time for that power to go.

    Fifth.

    ----------- He cast aside his Chrysaor.

    Without a second glance he threw the sword to the side, allowing it to turn into pure lightning that it was always meant to be. His brother's soul was not meant to exist in such way, trapped within a will of a blade aimed at his enemies. That soul was meant to be free, just a soul of any human. The sword and the will had served their purpose. They had helped him more than he could ever thank them for. Thus, this was the time to say goodbye.

    Sixth.

    ----------- He cast aside his Armor.

    The silver-horned helmet melted away, as did the crimson finery adorning the mithril plate that covered him from head to toe. What was revealed from behind was the form of a young man, the one he had always been. Lithe, strong, muscular... the body of a fighter. The body he had trusted so far. The armor had been the form of the knight. But now that dream had come to an end. He needed to wake up in the reality. In other words... he needed to shed his outer shell.

    Seventh.

    ----------- He cast aside his Knighthood.

    The nameless knight he had been was no more. The legend he had been was no more. The union of two myths that were so similar to each other that they had become indistinguishable had ended. What waited behind all that legend was naught but the same youth that was revealed behind the armor. There was nothing legendary about him. There was nothing mythical about him. He was just someone who had ended up all the way in here, someone that had happened to be right person to this job. He no longer pretended to be anything else than what he was.

    Eight.

    ----------- He cast aside his scales.

    That white glory beneath his skin floated away, becoming petals that filled the air. Poison that could take down gods had finally been given the order to rest. The scales of the argent dragon had served their purpose, and no longer would they be needed. They had protected their wearer this far, they had helped him stay alive, they had kept him safe. What more reason was there to keep them here, in this moment? The platinum scales that they were, they had deserved their rest.

    Ninth.

    ----------- He cast aside his ESP.

    The power to wound and hurt anyone who came in touch with him, to bring poison within those that wishes to be close to him... he had no need for it. He was no longer afraid of others. He had learned that in this life, one needed others as much as they needed him. Even if he got hurt, he could grin and bear it. If he wanted to be one worthy of the words he had said to the God of Chaos, he needed to learn how to let people close. Thus, he ill-needed a power that only served to keep a distance between him and other people. If for nothing else than for the sake of a red dragon.

    And.

    Tenth.

    Finally.

    ----------- He cast aside his Xanadu.

    Tossing aside the sword like it had been a toy he had grown tired of, decidedly casually and with an expression that told while he was grateful, he had also made a decision... he let go of the sword of dreams. He understood it now. It was a sword of dreams, capable of actualizing them... but that was not a power that could be even called special. No. Every single being in this world had the power to actualize their dreams if they put their everything to it. And as that was what he was doing right now... he had no need for the sword.

    No, there was more to it than that.

    He simply...

    ... Didn't want to do this with the hand-me-downs of a Messiah he so despised.

    Not because he himself was not a Messiah.

    No, it was because while he was not a Messiah, he was someone who dedicated his everything to saving people.

    And he finally understood the difference of a savior and a Messiah.






    "... For the sake of everything?"

    A small smile floated to his lips.

    "Unfortunately... we, too, are part of that everything."




    A person looking at this from the sidelines could have wondered, could have asked, why he had put aside his everything, even if only for a moment. Even if all that he cast aside would one day return, like a tiger unable to shed its stripes... why had he gotten rid of it all at this moment, this last possible moment? Wasn't this the exact moment that he needed all the power he could get?

    No.

    That was slightly wrong.

    Everyone was capable of actualizing dreams, either ones coming from themselves or ones coming from others.

    They just had to put their minds to it.

    In other words.

    For what was about to happen, he needed all the empty space within himself that he could find. For the moment, he needed to make himself into an absolute void so that it could be filled to the brim. Because he knew what was coming. He heard it. He heard those wishes. He heard it all. Every single last dream that had been uttered within those 46 billion years of looping time.

    He took in all those dreams so that he could make them real.


    Mikagura Mika.

    Jacques Dussault.

    Saki Ryuumonbuchi.

    Zerah Meir.

    Adala Lagerkvist.

    Liane Cross.

    Tony Redgrave.

    Yamuna.

    Ryuichi.

    Dr. Matsuda.

    Noriko.

    Aleph.

    Yuka.

    Kazuya.

    Red.


    Fifteen Wishes.


    Add to that the 46 billion years that their tale had looped.

    Every single soul within that twisting, spiraling tale... and every single dream and wish they had made, all for the sake of reaching this moment when they could finally break free of the fate reserved for them. This was the moment that they had all been waiting for... and this was their one and only chance. In other words, all those that he knew... and all those that wanted the same thing as they did. Those innumerable times that had been lived for the sake of this moment.

    Every single one of the people he loved.

    And every single one of the people he wished to protect.

    All across the 46 billion years.

    He took in their wishes.

    Every single wish.


    32,397,839,000,000,000,000


    That was the number of wishes made. Over 30 quintillion.

    And he became conduit for them all.

    Not because of Xanadu.

    But because there was one more sword left.

    The final sword.




    Medrod Pendragon
    EXCALIBUR



    In the end, it was very simple.

    He was someone who wanted to make the dreams, hopes and wishes of others come true. Therefore, something like a Xanadu was a crutch to him from the very beginning. It was something that Zerah had wielded a long time ago, a weapon of destruction that would make dreams through with its blade, an instrument of death. So, if he wanted to do this his own way, without bringing death into the mix... Medrod had to find his own path. This was the path he had found. This was the path he would walk down.

    "You heard me the first time, right?" He asked from the Administrator, staring it down without fear.

    "I'm just a simple man..." He said, but then, a crooked smile appeared on his voice. "... And I'm just a simple sword."

    He had finally found what he really was.

    Here.

    At the end of everything.

    No, at the beginning of everything.

    It was here, powered by over 30 quintillion wishes, that Medrod finally realized his own dream.

    His first dream. His first wish. His first hope.

    ---------------- To save everyone.

    "And you know what else?"

    With a confident step, the young man set forward, heading straight to the Mass of Humanity that had masqueraded as a God, trying to set their rules upon this reality after the tragic ending they had reached. He hesitated none, walking calmly but surely towards his target. Medrod knew that this was the time that all of them would have to give it their all, and as blows from another side of the world were delivered, as angels of death were called, as giants of flame were summoned, as the humanity as a whole set forward to rebuke the Time Devourer... Medrod made his move as well.


    First, he was walking.

    "This time... this one time..."

    Then, he was running.

    "Everybody... and this includes every single one of you, Another Humanity..."

    Finally, he was right in front of it.

    A punch of
    32,397,839,000,000,000,000 wishes
    flew straight towards Time Devourer's face.

    "Just this once!"





    Last edited by Verg Avesta; January 12th, 2019 at 09:46 AM.

  4. #3284
    …That’s problematic. Katie's Avatar
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    Mikagura Mika
    ???


    Darkness.

    Feeling.

    Painful.

    Burning, agony, despair. Shreds at my skin. Lungs sear, no air. Drowning, uselessly, pointlessly, unable to escape. Freedom is acceptance.

    Freedom is descending, sinking, falling even further “in.” Letting pain blur into an indistinguishable feeling of sensation at the loss of self. It would be easy to let it all happen. I brought this upon myself.

    I thought I was strongest alone. Losing others hurt. Being connected with others hurt. To spare myself from pain, I cut myself off from everyone else. An isolated island, relying on the strength of one’s conviction to carry themselves throughout life.

    But the self is only one amongst many. It is weak alone.

    This is what I deserve for rejecting the gifts offered to me.

    “Don’t tell me you’re really thinking of scooping now.”

    A voice.

    Familiar, yet not. Her voice has a cool tone, but it’s comforting, like the breeze of a fan on a hot summer’s day. The sound of someone reliable, who could protect you from the world’s ills.

    A protector, perhaps?

    She says some more things, but I can’t hear them at all, drowned out underneath the haze of hatred and disgust, despair and revulsion, envy and rage. But despite all of this endless, incomprehensible noise, those sounds reach out to me nonetheless.

    Make me remember.

    Of a dream that lasted for eons, of endless hardship and toil. An abyss of time where I’ve failed and suffered beyond compare. They always die, and I struggle to find the truth, make amends, for so many times it all blurs into indistinguishable fact. I repeat many mistakes over and over, repeat them until I drive myself to ruin. In that dream, I spend many moments like this, adrift in hell.

    Yet, despite all those things, at the end of that dream, I am not alone. There are people I’ve slighted, I’ve hurt, but they stand by my side all the same. There are enemies I’ve once hated that I grudgingly respect. There is a family waiting for me.

    In that dream, I am happy.

    That fleeting dream… is something I want to hold on to above all else.

    I drag my hand through thick tar, resisting the urge to go limp and descend, trying to reach out for something beyond my grasp.

    But just because I can’t reach it on my own

    —hands grab mine, tight with worry and care—

    doesn’t mean I can’t get there with a little help.

    “I told you I would find you.”

    In the depths of humanity’s worst emotions, I can’t help but laugh in relief.

    She truly is a guardian deity.

    Mikagura Mika
    The Final Battle


    Genbu drags me out of the concentration of curses, unrelenting in her determination, and I surface, feeling as if I’ve been cleansed of over a thousand burdens. I may feel tired and exhausted but none of it is comparable to the distinct, exhilarating feeling that I am alive, that I exist, and that most importantly, I still have a chance to reclaim that dream. That at the end of it all, reality has been kind enough to give me an opportunity where I can dictate the future. In this reality, flawed as it may be—

    Fate has no meaning. Destiny is ours to take.

    Those thoughts are enough to force me up on my feet, only for my demon to hand me a blade, forged within a falsehood, yet all too real. As I grasp Beacon it all comes flooding back, strength I thought I had lost, the understanding of what Chronos did. In the end, what I had prepared was unneeded and returned to me in the hopes I could do something useful.

    While I can’t say I liked that God of Time, or if I’d ever forgive him… I certainly don’t hate him.


    [Oracle Think Tank restored.]

    [Akashic Record access denied.]

    [Utilizing data from previous backup… Estimated loss of data based off of broken connections is roughly between 20% to 35%.]

    [Akashic Record storage accessed.]

    “Find the others… I have something I need to do first.” Nami and Sora, of course, but Liane would work too. I’d like for her to see I still have her gift. Three bullets, never fired, chambered in Beacon. My COMP seamlessly transitions from blade to gun in my hands, because there’s no longer a need for a godslaying blade. The opponent is the pinnacle of human, emotionally driven when the odds are against them. And, as bitter as it is to say, there’s only one reason why firearms were invented.

    I take careful aim. Not to miss, but to make sure this attack in particular intersects them all. So that everyone’s efforts could be pulled together into one, uniform whole.

    Three.

    Two.

    One.

    [Feb/Wed/04|07:00:04] <Lianru> it's ok with each stalker call I feel like we get a little closer
    [Feb/Wed/04|07:00:06] <Lianru> never give up

    asians before testing week

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