Disclaimer: The characters, places and concepts used in this piece of fiction belong to Kosuke Fujishima, the author of Ah! My Goddess. I don't own them, nor do I particularly want to. In addition to that, the story contains playful references to many books/movies and so on, but nothing serious enough to really be disclaimer-worthy.
Author's notes: I have always felt that both the side-characters and the world of goddesses and demons in A!MG do not get nearly as much attention and depth as they deserve, so this is a small literary project to fix that to an extent. The fic aims to tell a story of the past of one of such "pretty-important-but-not-really-recognised-as-such" character, and in doing so provide glimpses of the world of immortals as a whole: from their culture to weather and favourite hang-out places of little divine/demonic teenagers.
This doesn't have the analytical aspirations of Timotheus' articles – it's more of the mirror of the AMG world and that particular character's childhood/youth, as I see them. A bit of harmless fun, really.
Yours, Asterdw.
P.S. English is not my first language, so please feel free to correct me when I start abusing it.
P.P.S. Oh, and about that summary...I was bored. Need I say more?
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"The M-word"
Prologue
The sun was slowly setting over the mountain range in the distance, colouring the grim and barren landscape in all imaginable shades of red and violet There was something unmistakably sinister in this view, as if the sharp black teeth-like mountain peaks were tearing the fabric of the crimson sky, becoming fully covered in the thin veil of blood gushing from the celestial wound. Despite its menacing undertones, it was still a breathtaking view, and one that didn't reveal itself to the locals very often, as the sky was typically obscured by heavy, almost lead-laden storm clouds.Easily lost among the sharp silhouettes of the peaks was another one, equally dark and egded, but artificial. It belonged to a stone castle with tall spires and lacy openwork ornaments on the windows and open galleries. In the main courtyard of the structure there was a small child, hardly older than 3 years, who was looking intently at the sky. If this was all there was to the picture, it would be natural to assume that this was, perhaps, a servant girl who found a spare moment to marvel at the sunset. But the expensive, militaristic garments on the girl, the occasional apprehensive glint in her eyes and the several battlesuit-clad young women surrounding the little figure proved the initial hypothesis wrong on all accounts. If the girl turned around for a moment she would probably catch a glimpse of a dignified man watching the whole scene from a window, but she never did.
The sun had almost disappeared behind the mountains when a black dot appeared just over the horizon, growing quickly and soon turning out to be a cloaked broom-rider. An approving murmur travelled through the lines of the guards who had clearly grown tired of waiting around, and even the silent observer in the window nodded with satisfaction and closed the curtain. Their relief clearly wasn't shared by the centrepiece of the scene, who, upon noticing the approaching shape, just lowered her head and bit her lip with her tiny fangs.
The scarlet tip of the setting sun was still showing over the peaks when the broom took off the ground again, now carrying a passenger.
ooo
The data strings - the roots - of Yggdrasil intertwine intricately, joining together in elaborate and seemingly chaotic patterns which form a great multitude of worlds, all of them pierced, entangled, created and sustained by the endless data flows. But the heart of the World Tree is markedly different. It is the core of the whole creation, glimmering with the fullness and clarity of its existence, the first cause of all things. It lies where the Nidhogg, the Dragon, gnaws at Yggdrasil, twisting and transforming the latter's original data forms with its own continuous input. It is the fusion of these two separate origins that creates the data strings, the fabric of the universe.
In addition to that, it gives rise to the existence of peculiar realm, a physical manifestation of the two distinct data systems and their inevitable union. That realm is so uniform at the most basic level, but marked by so many cosmetic differences that it is nearly impossible to decide whether it is one world or many. Only the Almighty knows the answer but He clearly prefers to keep it secret as He rests on His throne, looking over the picturesque grassy hills and shimming white walls of proud and graceful cities populated by His most loyal aides.
Travelling away from Almighty's residence, however, is accompanied by a dramatic change in the scenery, as the tranquil green planes are replaced by a burnt out lifeless wasteland, which gets increasingly emptier and blurrier, as if the very reality of the place were waning. Eventually one is bound to reach a point where even the dimensions seem get mixed up and distorted so that keeping one's surroundings in order requires exceptional powers in data analysis and manipulation.
Despite their chaotic nature, those borderlands are actually far from being empty or void of purpose. Firstly, at places the data fog condenses enough to form solid bubbles of stable existence, which offer home to fortresses, secret shrines and sometimes even large neutral settlements. Secondly, the borderlands serve as an almost impenetrable defensive barrier between lush and peaceful territory of Almighty's influence and… the other place.
The need for the barrier becomes apparent for anyone who manages to pass through areas of dimensional turbulence, because soon the wastelands start to feel less empty again. A patch of yellowish grass, scorched by the red and unwelcoming sun, a pile of black boulders, a bubbling stream of muddy water, a gorge, a mountain ridge on the horizon. From there on it isn't long before finding yourself in an inherently hostile environment, twisted, rough, wild and unpredictable, much like its inhabitants.
Now, keep your head low to protect your eyes in the sandstorms, mind your step on the rocky terrain, take a moment to admire a black gothic castle on the edge of the cliff…
Welcome to Hell.
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TBC
