AN: This is just a prompt to get my sorry ass back on track with all of my fics under hiatus.
For the longest time in his life, maybe, finally, he can be put to rest.
This would be his very last cycle. He lost count after the few hundreds that rolled in. It's funny. He could forget the number of times he was swept in this cycle of madness, but could remember every single detail in his one year back home. It must be his last piece of sanity desperately trying to cling to the one hope of rest in his term as messiah.
The world, though ended in several of his lifetimes, continued its pace, a mechanism humans seem to know so much. When disaster struck the humans, once a race divided, joined together to stop the nonsense. And believe it or not, he was the Chosen to judge them all. Oftentimes he let the world free, others were unfortunate to be on the mercy of his wrath for this non-ending cycle of madness, and there were times where he let the humans decided for themselves, and often it didn't end as it should be.
He thinks as though he's not human himself. Chuckling dryly to himself, he longed for the moment he could be human again, even if it's only for a moment. Just a moment to feel death grasping him by the nape of his neck and maybe he'd feel afraid again.
How pathetic. He'd do anything just to feel again.
'I wonder,' He thought suddenly, looking down on his blackened finger tips. 'If I disappear, does that mean I'm truly dead, or that I'm just ceasing from existence?' Fate was his lady, and damn right was he played exactly to her wishes. Going back to the past was always a mistake, time and again. Bonds kept forming but never truly lasting. The words of an old friend lingered, the touch of a past lover stayed, and yet, the ambiguous memories left. Really, could memories be so important and yet so fragile that it could be forgotten so easily?
He tried to touch his face when he only met air; only three fourths of his body remained. Igor warned him, several eons ago, that if he were to disappear, the world will reset and the name Minato Arisato won't be uttered ever again. "That's fine. Thank you for your service, Igor." He said, smiling calmly at the little man who bowed so low that his nose almost touched the floor.
"Truly an honor to work with the Messiah."
He looked back at the piece of document idly sitting on the rounded table. He picked it up gingerly, tracing his signature and reminding himself of that memory. 'What a bitter memory.' He mused.
Without warning, he ripped the contract in half. Then in fourths. Until all that remained were tiny scraps of paper cluttered messily on the floor. Igor silently watched, his eyes remained transfixed onto the scraps.
He stood up from his seat and began walking towards the door. The Velvet Room is quieter and lonelier than it was before with just the two of them around. Elizabeth left decades ago, who was so intent into saving him. He never got to find her. But, maybe it's better this way, him not seeing her and not taking any chances.
"Till we meet again." They both said, as he closed the door and caught the man's eyes shut for the first time.
Now, he's here, with a view of the entire world right beneath his feet. Or where his feet used to be, rather. His torso disappeared, only the upper half of his chest remained as well as his head. It's strange. He doesn't feel any pain except that he felt like a blanket basking in the breeze. If only he didn't try to save everyone, if only he didn't try to save himself—
Maybe...he didn't have to be so alone right now.
