Prologue: A Word
A word takes several millions of forms in visual interpretations when spoken of.
When I say something like... woman, per say, you could have thought of a million different people you would define as a woman. Every individual has a unique mind of their own, and we all think something different.
Yes, we all do. Words are truly enigmatic.
And I am one of those cases.
...
Tell me. What do you think of when I say life?
A great tree with an omniscient gold aura?
A living person who holds a radiant smile which never seems to die away?
...
Ah, of course. There is a 100% chance you thought of something slightly different in any sort of way. Whether it was the color, shape, or form, in some way you visualized something different but got the general gist of what I was saying.
Do not feel worried for this, I was merely... curious, one would say. I was curious despite knowing the answer to it myself. Perhaps I wanted empirical evidence to it. I am sure that is the reason, actually. Yes, yes.
...
Oh, I apologize. I just went off talking about random matters without even the slightest introduction. You are probably confused right now and have a few questions going on in your head. I will answer some of the more necessary ones and the other ones as they pop up.
Who am I? Why am I here, likely sitting upon a jet black throne in front of you in a pitch black world with these words only told so you could get a visual interpretation of my posture? I am something that occurs everyday, my friend. Something many fear, and little embrace.
Something almost no one ever wants to see occur to themselves and their loved ones.
I am a word.
A word that takes several millions of forms in visual interpretations when spoken of.
And one that is misunderstood and not properly defined when given a figure.
Tell me. What do you think when I say death?
A skull with a glaring red glow over it?
A corpse?
...
Well, I am starting to get a bit... off topic, one would say. You do not have to tell me. Forget about what I said and leave it in the past. I simply enjoy rambling on about many, many things; I genuinely like distracting myself from the bitter cold grasps of my existence.
But I have a story to tell you.
One about a woman who wielded a spear, where her bloodline made sure the seal of a great deity was kept under lock and key. Whether it was to protect the spirit inside or to make sure it never gets out will be something you can assume at the end of this tale.
Despite this, she broke that very seal on her own whim and desperation. Her emotional turmoil consumed her logical thought processes and she acted upon purely her heart and love for someone dear to her. In a time of utmost despair for her soul, she accepted a deal without a second thought nor questions. Not even a speck of suspicion on what could possibly in it for her besides more power.
More strength.
She needed more. More power to save that person which she loved. And strive for it she did to the point where she lost everything. Yet she could only see one thing in her mind, and that person centered around all of the choices she made when she acted upon her hopeless wishes.
That choice was what sealed her fate and ultimately decided the date of her meeting with me.
Many would agree that there were other ways to achieve the power to save that person, and I am one of them.
Are you getting curious about this woman's tale?
If you are... let me tell you something. A tale told from these eyes of mine and a preserved journal from the fallen which stands untouched in this empty house full of closed doors which shall never open again. The perspective of a mere bystander to her life. Now, do not get me wrong, that bystander did not wish to be one, in fact there were times where the desire for the ability to intervene in some situations and help her out was quite strong.
It was just that this bystander could not.
Before you think this is a falsely made up tale and the woman is still alive, allow me to inform you that I would most definitely know everything that happened, because I saw her life unfurl myself for a good portion of it and the rest with full support from a diary she herself had kept filled with her hopeless wishes. She associated herself with me plenty of times, even if she does not know. Even if she knows what I am but does not know she is consistently sending me with her in her travels, I know her quite well for a word that travels across the globe seeing different people with each visit. Her decisions and hopeless wishes have made me a constant companion to her travels.
I saw her many, many times for a word.
I have been waiting for her, taking up spirits next to her as she brutalized the souls of demons for that beloved person, ever since she accepted the deal for more power from a great specter.
Using the recollections of our encounters and this book I took up for preservation and reading, I will tell you a story.
But before we start, it is rude to not provide a name. Sadly, I do not like being called by what I am.
I am not evil, nor am I a malevolent being full of hate and despair.
In fact, I can even be benevolent. I can be just, being fair is my policy.
I do not collect souls when their time is hours or days too early on a whim.
I am only ever on time, for being late only happened with the most tragic of wars. Even then they died only seconds or minutes off time.
And I am, in fact, capable of sympathy or to put it straight, I can have a heart.
Now, to my name. I may or may not have taken this from a soul I was rather fond of which I had to claim.
You may call me...
...
Eve.
Yes yes I know I need to stop posting new stories and work on other ones OTL
But I read a book over a nine hour plane ride and really got inspired to write something like this...
This type of writing style is rather experimental for me but after reading that book I just REALLY had to try it.
'Eve': Code Nemesis
And this DOES have a bit of retelling Elsword story in the first chapters.