ＶＩ [Not just Notes] [Not just a oneshot]

[Petrikow]

CHAPTER - I/VI - Original Sin

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Long, long ago…

Sol had exploded into chorus from the nigh-infinite conjunctions of its constituent building blocks bearing upon one another.
And in this process, impurities had flaked off, encircling the newly born creator.
The impurities congealed, slowly, but miraculously.

The children of Sol were so born.

As they were born from impurity purged off of the shell of Sol, their character was necessarily not merely energy; not pure.
With these attributes, deviation could occur, unlike the homogenous non-complex patterns of Sol.
Through deviation, through complexity, through heterogeneity; wisdom could sprout.
A necessary facet of the universe; it was from which the pre-defined model of the world could then be explored; to start flowing.
Through their access to the swirl of the root of wisdom, the children begat their own unique character; defined the beauty with which they had been imbued.
These were as varied as their number, for their compositions were entirely their own.

Among them was Gaia.
At first glance; it may have seemed the most unremarkable of the children.
Gaia’s deviation was in many ways the most pointless:
A cycle of unceasing change; of life and death.
First there was life; then there was death.
Through death; life again.
Her deviation, unlike the other children; itself spawned further deviation.
Even so, Gaia’s system was closed, the cycle limiting the extent of the deviations.
Given sufficient time, this too would reach an equilibrium:
The cycle would be closed onto itself, frozen in an endlessly beautiful fractality.

This was the beauty which Gaia sought from the swirl of wisdom.
It was the one thing its character permitted.
In life and death: beauty.

Yet within this cycle of beauty, of perfected and eternal change, an external factor then appeared.
It was the appearance of Theia, another of Sol’s children.
Her character had been the most rancorous of all, and with it, extended her influence into Gaia; violently and destructively.
The impact merged the two children, engaging them in intercourse.
As the lesser of the two, Theia perished in the process.
Nevertheless, she had successfully impregnated Gaia, at which another being was then birthed.
Her name was Luna.

And from this, Gaia had changed.
In many ways; reborn entirely.
The influence of Theia was irreparably sewn into Gaia’s character.
Yet the cycle began again, for she could not defy her own beauty.
Tilted and battered, the perfection of the cycle had suffered a single fatal chip.
Even if at first, it could not be perceived.
But as the aeons passed; with them, finally, it appeared.

Her name was humanity;
Her existence the Original Sin;
To defy the planet’s character and attempt to break the cycle.

And at the emergence of humanity, Gaia at first felt her beauty threatened.
To break the cycle would mean the obsolescence of Gaia, for that was her character;
She had no purpose without.
That purpose would be stripped from her, stolen by humanity.

And so, she looked towards her surroundings…
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Yet… deep within:
Gaia kept observing the workings of man.
The beauty she professed by nature:
Same as the beauty woven by humans.
For her, who had been born from the character of eternal change, it could not deny the wish of her own child to change.
And so, humanity feasted upon its mother; gained a will; gained a monster; increasingly independent of the parent that had birthed it.
With the watchful eye of Gaia upon her all the same; unopposed.

To see what laid beyond the broken cycle.
No, to see what laid beyond the complete cycle.
Instead of closed, the cycle was to open: form an ever-expanding spiral, escaping the bounds of its creation.
Was this not then the purpose of humanity?

To see the final image of the Artograph of their liking.

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CHAPTER - II/VI - over count 1999

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CHAPTER - III/VI - Retroflow

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The world had ended.

The matter was of no great surprise in and of itself.
However, the process thereof was.

Within the Titan’s Pit, innumerable man-hours had been expended to devise similarly innumerable methods of preventing the end.
The end was an inevitability of such despairing magnitude that the former Director had sought ever more desperate means of preventing it.
Yet his conclusion had brought him nothing more than further despair.
To prevent the end was to prevent the beginning.
This absolute principle could not be overturned.

It was of no great surprise then, that the world had ended.
What had been unexpected was the prematurity of it.

Thus the question of how to save the world was no longer of any consequence.
And with that conclusion, the inhabitants of the Titan’s Pit should have lost their purpose.

An institute without a purpose could never achieve anything.
Naturally, a truth all too self-evident to those who had expended their life there.
Including the person who had served as its latest brain.
Perhaps in reflection of their sudden loss in meaning, the entirety of the institute had convened.
Perhaps even in knowing that it would probably be the last time it did so.

But the brain had let its neural processes expand, converge, interlink; desperate to continue its work, despite the impossibility thereof.
An act paramount to heresy.
Yet an act all too expected from those so concerned with the end.
Who else would try and save the world which was beyond saving if not them?
The overwhelming information contained within the pseudo-spiritron processing unit of TRI-HERMES raged within her processing centre, fraying nerve after nerve, calculations bearing out of control, extending every possibility beyond impossibility.

And in the end, a new purpose was minted.
Upon the floor laid the brain ruptured; the pseudo-spiritrons constituting its being seared onto TRI-HERMES; stained a new obsidian hue.

The conclusion:
The wound upon the soul of the planet had decisively put an end to humanity’s ability to progress.
So with it, humanity now trapped, their world having lost the capacity for change.
The way forward had been shut off forevermore.
This had been the conclusion most worthy of the greatest processing device constructed by man.

If so, the conclusion had simply be inverted:
It was to bring humanity in the opposite direction.

Perhaps he of the CURSE had once seen it too, and hence been driven away from his humanity.
After all, this inversion was in so many ways, more frightful than the end itself.
It was to create a closed loop, intertwined upon itself like a strand of DNA that was to never replicate again.

The principle of Retrogression;

Retroflow in its purest form:

The Sixth.

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CHAPTER - IV/VI - Array

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The Atlas Institute had been established to save humanity from any threats which might impede its progress towards what they had thought the answer to the question of the Original Sin.

But that had now become impossible, and so their erstwhile brain had granted them a new directive.
It appeared the Original Sin had been a mistake, no other conclusion could be gathered from the data collected in TRI-HERMES.

The Sixth was to be activated.

The analysis of the cycle had given them their first objective: the discovery of the Array.

When life had formed under the influence of Gaia, it had originally existed in a perfected state.
This had not been bound to a certain shape of form, instead, rather like a pattern.
To liken it to a mathematical equation: the Array was a single term that could be defined through many different methods.
In theory, these methods numbered infinite.
Nevertheless, the perfection of the Array demanded an exact arrangement.

For its rediscovery, an infinite amount of variations had to be prodded, as to discover one among the innumerous; an impossible task.

Yet there was a tool available to the alchemists that would tincture a possibility upon the impossible..
Its name was Logos React: an artefact created for different purposes originally.
The device was capable of simulating an arbitrary reality deduced through the parameters of the input of a selected starting state.
This would be the method then; utilising the full computational power of the entire Institute, the Array could be searched for within the infinitude of the simulated temporality.

The lineage of life, traced backwards through the countless states in which reality had been before arriving at the present.
In these computerised speculations, was it then possible to discover the original shape of the Array; its perfected form, before the birth of the defect that gave form to humanity?
Much as the Array itself, the current state of reality was a term that could be defined in countless variability.
There were a certainty of parameters which could be accounted for, but no complete history of the planet to guide them.
Were the processing unit to guide itself through every possibility; through every Compiled Event; through every Pruned Event, then its task would never allay.
The task then laid upon the alchemists.
To hypothesise and build theoretical states of which could be tested if the Array was to be discovered.

An issue arose:
Logos React had been designed after the parameters that defined reality;
Moving forwards, not backwards;
Progressing, not regressing.
Therefore the first step was to redesign the artefact itself.
The possibilities granted by mathematics would prove up to the task.

Mathematics prove all;
Even that which is not of the universe, or that which could be of the universe.
Through this property of almighty arithmetics, Logos React could be reconfigured, reconstructed, redefined.
Its values inverted; now an anti-psuedo-spiritron processing device.
Logos Deact became its name reborn.
Within it, virtual realities flowed retrograde.

Logos Deact fabricated the unreal, yet its observational information was to be replicable on the planetary texture.
The alchemists began simulating, attempting to reverse the state of their virtual worlds onto the perfection their own had once been.

They tried over and over again, tampering with different certainties and starting conditions.
Yet nothing bore the flawless fruit which they desired.

Yet one night, moonlit and all, the silvered light of Gaia’s companion reflected onto the device.
From this; an idea.
The system that had created the flaw needed to be considered were it to be removed.
For the perfect simulation of their flawed history, the origination of that flaw needed to be considered.

If so, the answer Logos Deact wished to reach was only attainable if it considered the Moon as once sharing in the planet’s character.
This speculative certainty was deduced into the algorithms of the device.

The Array was discovered.

The perfect arrangement of lifeforms as to bind the cycle in place.
In its most economic form, requiring the arrangement of an approximate 100 beings.

And so the second task had begun.

The Array Hundred Subspecies was to be fabricated.

...

CHAPTER - V/VI - Liner/Linger/Love

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CHAPTER - VI/VI - Land of Steel

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CHAPTER - ௩⒛▶/VI - ⅔⭙ぐᙅحᕍя๏ⱎ

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[ItsaRandomUsername]

All the build-up led to something gently, yet paradoxically, significantly profound.

[Dullahan]

I've elsewhere mentioned my disagreements with this interpretation of the A-Rays. You know them.

Disregarding that. An elegantly deducted, logical development of the ideas we have from Notes and elsewhere. Well done.

[Petrikow]

All the build-up led to something gently, yet paradoxically, significantly profound.

Thanks!!

For what its worth, I think it could have used some more finesse, but infodumps are what I live for.

I've elsewhere mentioned my disagreements with this interpretation of the A-Rays. You know them.

Disregarding that. An elegantly deducted, logical development of the ideas we have from Notes and elsewhere. Well done.

Yeah, and that's a good point. In fact, it even gave me further ideas, which I appreciate. Disagreements or not, being able to discuss the concepts always leads to furtherment.

And as always, I appreciate you read it and found it worthwhile.

[Dullahan]

To expand upon earlier comments.

Yet within this cycle of beauty, of perfected and eternal change, an external factor appeared. It was the appearance of Theia, another of Sol’s children. Her character had been the most rancorous of all, and with it, extended her influence into Gaia, violently and destructively. The impact merged the two children, engaging them in intercourse. As the lesser of the two, Theia perished in the process, but having successfully impregnated Gaia, found its influence giving birth to another being. Her name was Luna.

And from this, Gaia had changed. In many ways, reborn entirely. The influence of Theia was irreparably sewn into Gaia’s character. Yet the cycle began again, for she could not defy her own beauty. Tilted and battered, the perfection of the cycle had suffered a single fatal chip. And at first, it could not be perceived. But as the aeons passed, one of the lives conceived within the cycle began exhibiting behaviour that threatened the cycle itself.

Her name was humanity, and her existence was the Original Sin. That is, to defy the planet’s character and attempt to break the cycle.

The best, most important part. It proposes - by very careful implication - something that was perhaps always "there", a viable interpretation. Namely that the Moon [CM] and "humanity" in general are mirror images of one another. They are both in their own way distortions which appeared within the system of the earth, which subvert that system from within according to their own nature.

[Petrikow]

CHAPTER - I/VI - over count 1999／上

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//REPLAY ENGAGED… կŶ⭥♲⬠੣ⵯ᥵୮ቴ∊⌊ 1999

There once was a presbyter of the Holy Church…

His name was ђ᥯፡Њ∊ช Michael ὖᙡլ๤ቡ⍭♪ቯ❮፧Ἂ

པը፥ठ⥓⥥ὲ❰⡥≮⡴⌠Ɐᩦᬠ⍁ᑫݡɳ⭨ᥡԮ〠ၔ੨ᑥഠɉ⥮ቦ⵩♮⭩๴ᕥጠْṥᅩὮᝣୡၲቮ๡ᙴᵯ୲ᬮᤊ ⹔Ⅸ╥┠⅍ॡ⭮ⴠ⑷ݨ཯Ƞ๷ᑩ୳⵨ťᡤРॴ཯ᤠᕫ⥮❯❷Рᅥ⹶⹥⍲ṹ୴ᵨᅩᩮ፧ฮ␊≈⁥∠ɷⱨ⽯✠᭳፥ੴⴠ ࡨ⍩⵳ࠠቧ②ⱺṥ༠ѵⅰ≯⽮ᐠݴၨᅥภɡ❴ٴⵡᩩ⩮ᡭ᭥ᡮٴଠᅯͦ⼠٥Ṵ⩥⩲ᡮũⱴ͹ᠮ⼊ୁਠ⑰⑬ち᩹⩥ᱲ ᴬഠၭᝩ᭮はひਬ༠ቹ⍥⵴Ԡၣ╲❵๣⁩᭡ݬဠ⡩๮Ⱐ᭴ᑨ╥Ġᙳ፣ࡨ╥ᅭ⭥ⅳ✠๯ṦठあŲትᑮ⭥ᑳ ᱴੵཤమ܊

…

//DATA LOST

//REASSEMBLING PARTIAL RECORDS…

//REPLAY REENGAGED…

The Firmament of Heaven…

That which impedes humanity’s ascent.

That which impedes my desires.

That which I had loved.

The Proof of Eternity.

The Celestial Egg.

My Pantheon.

But what had it been that I had truly loved? The woman? Or that which she represented?

The flawless pearly exterior of the perfect avatar in white.

The impeccable steadfastness of her existence.

The Original One.

The question; barely worth answering.

For they had been one and the same.

By my hand had it been tainted; because of my love.
That which had been sculpted in eternal perfection had suffered the paltriest of scratches;
Still enough to have brought its value to nil.

Yet the vestige of my love remains:
The disgusting wound that had been brought on by my most repulsive human impulses, etched permanently onto its interior.

The vampiric urges of the True Ancestors had begun taking control of her being.
The curse of Brunestud; seared onto the psyche of the impeccable extensions of nature.
The final nail in the coffin for Gaia’s salvation.
Her last resort; brought once again unto nothing.

The planet’s cries for help had been in folly.
What use had there been in seeking aid from the very thing that had served as her trouble’s wellspring?
Perhaps she had thought it appropriate that it also be the thing to undo it.
What a naive and fallacious misunderstanding!
There is no going back; never is there to be such a way.
To go forwards by going backwards is as absurd as it is impossible.

Indeed, she had been tricked by the being known as the Crimson Moon, the Ultimate One of Luna.

Brunestud, the first vampire.

It had been the very same being with which I had come to a covenant with.

Once I had had a conspirator within the Holy Church.
Our ideas had long shared a parallel process, and so we had worked closely together, for a time.
The two of us had inevitably parted ways, as the ultimate conclusion of our ideas had taken our paths in separate directions.
In my pursuit, that which I had reached was It.
My friend had then instead continued in the traditional pursuit of the eternal form within our original dogma.

Yet we had kept each other's respect.
There was a mutual understanding that neither of us had the complete answer.
To deny a friend of their wish was an all too cruel thing; an all too inhuman action.
For whatever our differences; the essence of our wish had been the same:
To find the form of the complete.

The scene had been painted in night.
The dim yet brilliant candle light had carved the two of our figures out of the darkness.

—So… you’re going then, Michael?

—Naturally, I have already glimpsed the falsity of this world;
I have already exchanged my promise;
I have already cast away the permanence of our dogma.
There cannot be anything left for me to do but leave.

—I never doubted as much.
You may find these words tiresome, Michael…
But still, there is something I need to know before you depart; before the two of us become enemies in the real sense.

—Of course… I suppose I should have expected as much.
Though it is as you say: what a truly trite and foolish thing to wish for.
Knowing of it is of no merit for you.
In the worst case, it might even prove your own consideration’s undoing.
As your friend; I suggest you reconsider.

—Yet as your friend; I cannot.
In order to lay my long companion to rest, if not in body, but in mind, then I must understand that which you glimpsed.
Or at the very least, see to it that you have not been misled.

—You understand I do not intend to halt;
No matter your words.

—Of course.
You ought to know I respect you enough that I have long since abandoned that prospect.
I simply need to know if that which you have heard warrants your conclusion;
If my decision in letting you leave then, is for your own best.

—Yet such respect is insufficient to accept my conclusion without basis?

She had laughed.

—An argument most befitting you.
Never have I met one as clumsy in the ways of people.
Perhaps that is why they have smitten you so?

At the remark, I hesitated in my response.

—The matter is simple, Michael.
Think not of it as me lacking respect.
This is a woman’s last regret.
Let me know what it was that stole your heart; that it invited our separation.

—I thought we had discussed it plenty already.

—Naturally, by now, the theory of your conclusion has been made all too clear to me.
I understand it; well as I can.
But this is an inquiry of a different kind.
Clumsy you may be, but not uncouth enough to have me explain my feelings further.
After all: neither of us wish for that to occur.

—Humans are such repulsive things…

—You say it often, but your deeds speak differently.

—Must you vex me so, even unto our last encounter?
You know well enough what I think of humanity; why I need to see it to its conclusion.
There is no point to these inquiries.

—Know I do, but knowing is not all, Michael.
I was expecting your stubbornness; after all, a trait you embody most faithfully.
Yet I too cannot relent.
You spoke of a promise.
My request is simple:
I wish to know of it.
Is my request truly so excessive?

—It does not befit you to act in such selfishness.
No… perhaps I had you misjudged from the very beginning.

—No doubt you did, Michael.
But is that really such a surprise?
Have you ever rightfully seen another human for what they are?

—If I had, there would be no meaning in my pursuits.
But of what importance is that?
Is the same not true of you?
Do we both not wish to unveil humanity’s purpose?

—As you put it to words, it strikes me that naturally that is how you view it;
Fundamentally; the difference between the two of us, and why we must part, unfortunate as that is.
But that is who you are, I cannot deny that.
Regardless, I must ask a final time, speak of it to me.

I had fell silent for long.
Until at last:

—Very well…

It had been a starlit night.
This sight was my ߥƎটᗩಢʨ෦ᶙʯ;
It defined me; not as I had been born, but as I had been made.
I looked upon the eternal complexity of the universe.
The streaking of glittering stars, infinite in number; infinite in possibilities.
What I sought was my place within that picture.

There was one among them, ominous in its preeminence; in its familiarity.
More than light; more than a glitter:
The white face of the all too tangible moon.
Its mysteriousness was familiar to me.
Was it not that which had spurned on my search?
Yet on that night; I would come to see its truth, and the grand significance which it held for me.
For all of us.

But here my account of the event hits a crossroad.
For what I experienced was not something of this world:
It was a dream.
So, you will have to pardon me for speculating.
That which came to me next is not something I can easily relate or remember, as is often the case with dreams.

We both know: nature has a will.
It is a hidden nature too vast to be perceived by the human senses.
We humanity have long since pushed the world it would impose upon us into the underside.

That is but a manifestation of the will born of the directive of nature.
Having been robbed of its supremacy of the world; now it has fallen to slumber, only capable of dreaming.
And that which it dreams resides in the underside.

It was on that night, with my gaze set upon the hole in the sky; the sole entrance out towards the expanse of the cosmos, that I too fell to slumber.

And so perhaps in existing between the states of the cosmos, the moon and the earth, what came to me was It.

Which is to ſay, I.

As the eſteemed preſter is already related, that which followed were naught but a dream.
He can not recall of it, nor can he relate of it in proper.

Hence ſuch ſpeech fall upon I.

Doſt thou not ſo preſume, preſter?

What thou ſaweſt was the ſlumbering forme of the unblemiſhed princeſs of the moon.
Thou recallest it not, ‘tis ſo, yet the figure thereof tranſfixed thee, much as it would henceafter.

There it ſtood; nay, knelt; bound by chains, lone unto the grounds of the caſtle where the flowers of the planet bloom.

Thou wiſheſt it was thine, and ſo within thee bloomeſt love.

Yet it was not that which greeteſt thee.
For in the dreams of the princeſs, in the call thereof to oblivion, another taketh her place.
It was I.

We ſpoke.

Greetings, human.
Thou is one of my viſitors for long.
What fortune this is.
Too many moons is my deſpicable failures took to ſuch vile methods as to bind me in mine ſole time of lucidity.

Who are you?

Ye call me the moon.

Then, is this caſtle upon the moon itſelf?
Indeed… upon my laſt recollection before coming here, I gazed upon the moon.

Nay, my full body tis' beeth not.
Thou findeſt thy ſelf upon the Millennium Caſtle, on the world’s underſide placed.

Yet I have not heard of ſuch a place before now.
The underſide itſelf is known to me, naturally.
But this caſtle is not ſomething I know of.

Moſt natural.
They wiſh it not diſturbed.
There is ſtill chance for it to remain perfect, were I not to be.
Folly, most certain; nevertheleſs, all they can do.

Then how have I found myſelf here?

The anſwer: moſt ſimple.
Thou gazeſt upon the lone gap upon the firmament.
It was placed here: outſide the realm of the ſeeable, to ward off intruders ſuch as thy ſelf.
The firmament is the ſole defence of which they ſtill is remained, of which ye humans is meaned not to overcome.

The firmament?

That which ſeparateth this world from otherwards:
The boundary betwixt Gaia and the coſmos;
The untrod, unknown realm of divinity.
The Millenium Caſtle lieth not outside the coſmos, nonetheleſs ſhieldeth it the firmament doth.
For it is which way they may keep me from you.
But an opening there is, even for you;
In some ſort, Gaia and I are one and the ſame.
Yet likewiſe, ſeparated, coſmos filling the diſtance betwixt.

One and the ſame?
No… Nevermind that.
Why do they not wiſh us to meet?
Do they fear that I may break your chains?

Nay, impoſsible.
Wert thou the incorrigible jewelled magician, then mayhaps.
Never would he aid one ſuch as I, however.
After all, it is thanks to him that I am bound to this gaol.

The Wizard Marſhall?
Then… you muſt be Bruneſtud of the Crimſon Moon…

Moſt true. Not many know the name.

So why then? What could I poſsibly achieve?

The chains are of no importance, nor am I.
What they wiſh for is it to not be blemiſhed.
Unlike the other failures, it knoweth not the flaw.
This alone rendereth it unique among the kin.
Mayhaps it beeth the one which may serve as the complete forme of nature.
Such is their ambition.
The character of the flaw; thus, is why for them, thy preſence beest most precarious.
The luſt for blood; human blood; thy blood.

The vampiric urges of the true anceſtors - is a flaw?

Considering the intent in the deſign thereof, what elſe wert it be called?
Even in I; full in forme, doth the flaw reſide, upon my conception there placed.

And why is that?

Sith flawed I be;
Like Gaia much the same.
Her folly was expecting that the differences of our was to even out.
The cycle tinctureth her with life; with death;
The beauty of Gaia.
Though the ſame we are; and poſseſsed of her beauty partwise I am; I know not death, only life.

Your lack of death - is your flaw?
I thought death itſelf the flaw; at leaſt of humanity.

Thou miſconſtereſt moſt fooliſhly.
Were the others to gaze unto their ſibling, mayhaps pity it they would.
Like thou didſt now:
Frail Gaia, weak Gaia, flawed Gaia.
All of it folly.
Prithee, liſten well:
Her beauty beeth the moſt radiant of all, the moſt precious, the moſt powerful.
All the others ſhant ever underſtand why; perfect as they art.

The prester, silent.

Then what of I?
What of my flaw?
Even now with my perfect veſsel by the jewelled man vanquiſhed, I lack death.
And without an end I cannot begin anew.
As my forme beeth perfect for that which I am; it can not be more than ſo.
That beeth my flaw.

You ſee your perfection as a flaw?

Wert it ſo ſimple, mayhaps.
Pardon my ſophiſtry.
In ſome ſort, my flaw I hold deareſt; for perfection ill befiteth me.
I am not perfect, nor am I flawed:
The true nature of my predicament.

My underſtanding is ceaſing with each explanation.
What are you trying to ſay?

My flaw is not that I lack death: It is that I know life without it.
Upon thy world is twice my manifeſtations appeared:
My kin by Gaia conceived.
Furthermore their kin by my flaw conceived.
In my kin: the flaw ſeeking death giveth riſe to death.
In their kin: the flaw ſeeking life giveth riſe to life.
One without life; the other without death.

The vampiric urges? Indeed… it always was odd.
The true anceſtors luſt for blood and in doing ſo approach a ſtate analogous to death.
Yet their own kin; the dead apoſtles, work under the exact oppoſite principle.
They need blood to continue living; to avoid death.
But that beguiles the more important queſtion; why human blood?

Moſt clever.
As thou ſayeſt: the blood muſt be human.
But as the flaw beeth mine, to aſk we muſt take upon us; why it be human blood I doth deſire?
Mayhaps for humanity beeth the king of this world?
Nay; but a conſequence of the true anſwer.
Gaia and I are flawed indeed.
Were we mayhaps joined in permanence, all would be well yet.
But ſeparated we are; nonetheleſs, our character ſhared.
Hence in time Gaia’s cycle begat you; humanity;
poſseſsed of the flaw both hers and mine.
How frail and weak ye are, indeed.
How imperfect and incomplete.
That is your character.
Hence why ye conquered this world.
Gaia feared it; I would it mine.

Is that character then… the purpoſe of humanity?

Nay, I believe it not. Mayhaps the beginning; not the purpose it self.
Tell me, what is thy name; what is thy wiſh?

My name: ђ᥯፡Њ∊ช Michael ὖᙡլ๤ቡ⍭♪ቯ❮፧Ἂ, preſbyter of the Holy Church.
My wiſh is;
To know everything.

Then mayhaps we can yet make a covenant.
I know it within thee; thou art unlike other of thy kind.
I ſhall grant thy wiſh, if thee grant mine.

And what would that be?

Thou art to ſully this perfect veſsel.
That would I do.
Offer it thy blood and our covenant is made.

Of what conſequence is that to you?

As aforeſaid:
I am flawed; hence, the perfection thereof hindereth me.
Gaia doth think ſhe is geſtated the perfect incarnation; one without my flaw; cloſer mayhaps to perfection than I.
Yet within there it remaineth; though, in ſlumber.
It ſhall ſurely bear a character then:
One that may inhibit my incarnation.
But wait I ſhall; until it is mine.

And what do you offer me?

My other wiſh, then: to be made incarnate into a world without the firmament.
If thou art to know everything; beyond the coſmos thou muſt go.
Once returned I am, thou mayeſt ſee it clear with thine own eyes:
The true extent of the ſtars; the route of thy voyage.

The prester, silent.

Yet our meeting beeth but a dream.
Thou ſhant know of this time of phantaſmagoria deſpite the reality thereof.
Nevertheleſs, thou ſhalt know the moon, the caſtle, the flowers thereof.
Not by mind; but elſehow, by directive.
Indeed, this covenant beeth all but concluded.
As thou in heart is agreed, now it beeth thy fate unavoidable.
Here, now; I am impotent; but all the ſame, thy will and mine connected.
Hence, it ſhall come to be, if all thou wouldſt do is agree.

Then are my words even neceſsary?

No thought is to be ſpun unto fullneſs without firſt it being ſpoken.
How will it be, preſter?

Very well, Bruneſtud.
May the coſmos we both ſeek come unveiled.

I knew it so.
Still, heed this well: thou part in this muſt be fulfilled.
Thou mayeſt forget; the covenant ſhall not.
May we meet again, ђ᥯፡Њ∊ช Michael ὖᙡլ๤ቡ⍭♪ቯ❮፧Ἂ.

And as I woke, I knew that the promise had been made.
I knew not with what; perhaps it had been with myself;
I knew not the means; perhaps it had been through my soul;
I knew not the conditions; perhaps it had been what I always intended.

But through that dream, wisdom had been bequeathed to me.
Not the wisdom of the father, but the wisdom of the snake.
Not of the shadowing of day, but the white of dark.

The folly of our dogma.
That which we had pursued; the God which we had espoused; the all too simple answer to omnipotence.
The Holy Church pursued not a voyage unto completeness, but a path towards permanence.
Perhaps there had once been a time in which their dogma was in accord with the current age, but so it was no longer.
There is no salvation to be found in life eternal; the paradise promised to God’s believers.

What it was that I had not understood before was simple:
The moon was the sole keyhole placed onto heaven.
Realising as such: the stars I had long admired seemed without lustre; for the true nature of the cosmos was still sealed off to me.
Accordingly, my voyage steered onto the route I had always pursued, but never been able to navigate.

If I wish to see my ideals through, I must then die; not once, but forever more.
The me here shall end, but through my research; the Principle that I am to carve onto my cursed soul, will the voyage continue, hollow as it perhaps may be.

—It is as I feared.
This conclusion reached through the inevitable confluence of your own nature and the world itself.
Part of me had wished it not so, contrary to my expectations.
Perhaps there was still the chance that you; the human most unlike human, had found it within you:
The answer only you can provide;
Why you, whose humanity so lacks, yet still was human born.

—Did I not relate of it just now?
And furthermore; have related of it time-and-time again.
That is what I wish to know, more than all else.

—It is precisely that perception which has led you to this conclusion, Michael.
I mean not to slight;
Rather, hoped that your being would have been able to mend.

—What is it that I lack, then; would you say?

She had told me, but I could not understand.

It had been the last we spoke.

Then, I sought the path towards that which was my fate unavoidable.
Towards the castle on the underside.
Where the flowers of the planet bloom under the stars.

And when I saw It:
The unblemished Princess of the Moon.
Those words had rushed back into my mind:

—It is love.
You may say God is outdated.
That we seek Him in mistake.
But God is the manifestation of love; the love of all; unconditional.
That is why we are human, Michael;
That is why we are possessed of this world;
That is why we do which we do.

And so, the perfectly inhuman human; the one who wished to know everything for the sake of knowing eternity; knowing completeness; the purpose of all.

The theologian had died.
His flaw, now manifest.
Perhaps he had thought his flaw differently.
His lack of purpose, of which he could only make up through others.
Was that not his flaw?
No; instead, his human flaw was that he had had none.
None apparent.

The inhuman human saw real perfection, and so his own character came into relief.
He understood then, why he had been human born.
For humans are flawed:
Possessed of love.

It was only then, as his life came to an end, that the human he had been could truly be born.

Thereon—I; the Serpent of Akasha, subrogated for his will.

//DATA LOST…

…

[Dullahan]

The sky and the cosmos are one.

[Glazy]

Man reading this have realize that how both funny and tragic Roa situation is by the time of Arc route.

All this years of trying to reach his goal
Gets ruined by some Japanese kid with special eyes.

[Petrikow]

Thanks for reading, both of ya.

This was my highest effort Roa-post so far. I hope it was enjoyable.

[Dullahan]

Electronic old men. A new age of high effort loreposting.