Grating

Outside the Atrium

"Tyro!" Dr. Mog called, "Tyro my boy! Are you there, kupo?"

The boy chose not to answer. Tyro's usual enthusiasm was finally beginning to wane after the past few years; particularly toward his teacher. On the one hand, he was grateful to Dr. Mog for working tirelessly to discover improvements to the record army. But still, Dr. Mog's incessant lectures would really grate at Tyro. Nowadays, his unchanging face just seemed to mock the boy with every unimpressive relic draw. Especially with so many mythical weapons that Tyro coveted so very hungrily...

'Does it have to be now? Every day, every dungeon? Can't he give me a break?' the boy thought, with his bitterness still on mind.

'The master isn't going anywhere. He can wait,' Tyro decided. He had had a lot of experiences since embarking on this grand mission and wanted to bask in the moment for just a little longer.

At times, he got to experience the glory days of all of his favorite legendary lores. Tyro got to witness the majesty of kingdoms like Figaro, Baron, and Tycoon. All the while taking their royalty to become his soldiers. Tyro got to stand in Edea's orphanage, Niblheim, and Zanarkand (And some records were quite moved to see their old homes intact). Tyro got to listen to the population of Spira singing for salvation as Yuna's guardians fought Sin atop the Fahrenheit. Tyro got to hunt in the jungles of Gran Pulse or Yuhtunga. He rushed to adventure with childlike wonder mixed with fiery valor.

Yet, there was also definitely a lot of time Tyro would dick around. He'd pay attention to other things whilst sending squads of memories to vanquish monsters. Maybe he would send a group of white mages to slash Magic Pots with knives. Tyro might even be inclined send mortal enemies to fight alongside each other; laying waste to masses of monsters simply to farm orbs. At least this showed Tyro seriously took the time to gather resources.

And still, there were quite a large number of times where he might lead an odd combination of heroes from across time and space to fight impossibly tormenting nightmares. Tyro didn't find this fun, but he never ran from a challenge. Vicious god-demons sent hordes of stronger beasts, all of whom racked the body with grievous injuries. It felt cruel to Tyro, not just for the suffering he felt, but also for that of his party members. With every attempt, Tyro relived the same defeats over and over again just for the chance to change it to a victory. And so too did his friends relive those failures and repetitive, painful deaths.

Friends he called them. The hero records were his friends. Tyro was now attached to these people. But he worried whether or not this friendship was real. His allies were genial or at least cordial, and quite receptive to Tyro's development as a whole. Many even tried to outdo themselves and improve their skills merely to get Tyro's spirits up.

'When the darkness is gone, will the records return to simply being legends? Will they forget me? Will they disappear?'

Tyro didn't know the answers to these questions. And often times, he only had time to think of the next battle. He was, after all, Dr. Mog's greatest disciple in all of the Royal Archives. Soon enough though, Tyro would learn the answers to these questions he'd had over the years. But for now, he sighed, and headed to answer his master's summons.

Center Atrium

"What is it Dr. Mog?" Tyro asked with a sigh, finally returning to the atrium floor.

The wide hall shone brightly in the sun through the glass windows. In a few corners of the chamber, Tyro could spot some stragglers; records that wanted to sit alone in the sanctuary: Ricard and Kimahri, among the many that were rarely called upon to fight. Upon spotting the child, they stood up and left. This wasn't out of rudeness, but possibly out of respect as Dr. Mog normally only called Tyro for tutorial lessons. And tutorials between the two were often quite loud and lengthy.

"Those two records you've brought me from the event warp? We can't use them, kupo." the moogle said.

"What's wrong with them?" Tyro queried, curious but a little annoyed. He'd quite recently obtained the 'Cosmos' and 'Chaos' hero records from a dungeon floor boss fight. It wasn't difficult, but it wasn't so easy that he didn't expect a suitable reward. From what he'd gathered through word of mouth, the two seemed like they could make solid additions to his army. They were both quite powerful within their home realm.

"I'm worried... You've just retrieved them. And yet they're already at the peak of their strength," Dr. Mog responded.

Tyro was stunned. The closest he had ever felt to this was when he first met Thunder God Cid. He was the first hero he had met that was already halfway to godly strength before even joining. Here and now, Tyro felt a magnified version of that previous feeling. There was no need for memory crystals, so they had all their memories? And both of them were maxed?

"We should summon them right away," Tyro gleamed. This seemed like a gift from the heavens; an answer to his prayers! He often wanted more power. There were skills he knew he would never see, and it haunted him. And he never had enough motes or crystals... But at least this time, he wouldn't need to egg these two! Tyro's heart fluttered.

"Hold it!" Dr. Mog shrieked, "Are you ignoring me? Th-that's a terrible idea, kupokupopopo!"

Tyro was beginning to believe the moogle speech tick was there to purvey emotional emphasis, like an exclamation mark. He could easily infer by the deafening pitch of this fae, that Dr. Mog felt strongly about this. But Tyro too was ruffled:

'The master was panicking? Why?
What if this wasn't the first time the master has purposely kept something from me, for being too powerful?'

Even as the moogle huffed for air at his brazen student and clenched his little eyes, his expression still didn't really change. And now Tyro was triggered. There was that grating face again. And Tyro was struggling a great deal to push away his anger.

'But the master's patronizing face! It brings me back to every relic I would never see... It had to be on purpose. Because this grating moogle always had a preference for drawing staves and rods and books over swords or armor.'

Tyro's resentment had been growing for a long time. Nine-24-14, The day Tyro first began entering strange worlds to expel the darkness. The day the fate of the entire kingdom was thrust upon his hands. An apprentice mage becomes the general of a Pantheon. For his people's sake he had to grow up, and quickly. It had already been a few years since they began this venture. He was only a young child when this began, and was still much too young now. And he never had enough resources.

Tyro was the hero who was going to save the realm, and he knew it; he told himself this. He had been so patient up until now. But in the heat of the moment, he wasn't going to listen to an order from this irritating abdicator; this adult who thrusts such responsibility on a child.

Without hesitation, Tyro faced Dr. Mog with defiance burning in his eyes. With teeth grit, he lifted his little hand into the air and he pulsed with the fabric of reality. Shocked beyond belief, the moogle froze in horror. The ground trembled as Tyro completes the summoning. In a flash of light, Cosmos and Chaos faded into reality to stand before him.

Cosmos has joined the Party!

Chaos has joined the Party!

Zone I

With eyes wide, the Warrior of Light perked (the real hero record, not the memory of a boss battle). He could feel the change in the atmosphere settle into his very bones. He abruptly stood from his seat, concern throbbing against his skull.

In a single, mad leap he was already out of his tent and looking around. With his very first glance he made eye contact with Firion from afar. They nodded to each other. Dozens of other records had noticed as well. Cosmos and Chaos had returned.

Now, none (sans the Warrior of Light and Garland) were in any way loyal to the false Gods anymore though. Compared to being brought to a Torment dungeon with Tyro, the 'Conflict of the Gods' was just an extended sparring tournament. A rather fun one, really, if not for the annoying handicap to their memories. Well, most of Cosmos' participants had that opinion. Not all. Kain and Lightning in particular were adamant in hating the experience. Cloud and Squall would say this too, but they most certainly are not being honest with themselves.

With worry in his heart, the Warrior of Light rushed toward the source of his worries.

Outside the Nightmare Dungeon

Outnumbered and ostracized from their own zones, some of the villains now camped together. Sephiroth was alone for a long time, talking to no one, with the exception of the rare moment when it was needed for him to answer questions from his party members when he was summoned for battle.

Though, Sephiroth didn't mind being alone at all. In fact, he was rather disturbed and aggravated when the mad clown (and the very next week the evil tree) joined him in the outskirts of camp by the Nightmare realm. The other eventual neighbors weren't as bad (thought still quite annoying); like a heretic knight worshipping Chaos, a crotchety old sellsword, a brightly-armored scheming dictator. As time passed, Sephiroth found (slightly) less irritating neighbors in Seymour and Vayne, whom Sephiroth might associate with on occasion.

But it was from within the heretic's tent that a raucous, booming laughter arose.

"Chaos has returned!" Garland proclaimed loudly.

Sephiroth wasn't amused. The Conflict of the Gods offered a small number of interesting social experiments, but was overall not worth his time. During one of his cycles under Chaos, Sephiroth had killed himself, mainly just to see what would happen. He didn't try that here though. Rather, in the early days he'd died many times under Tyro's command. And Sephiroth remembered each one; though he blamed it on useless teammates, particularly the Cores during those days. Sephiroth's raw power made him a prime candidate for many of the raids in the first year.

He didn't want to dally here either. So that he could return. To his planet. To Mother. This realm seemed to be some outside perspective, where his very existence may be fictional. But Sephiroth refused to be seen as anything less than real. He was a champion. So, whenever Sephiroth was summoned, he fought hard to be one of the best.

Center Atrium

Immediately after the summoning, Tyro collapsed onto the marble ground of the atrium. Wheezing for air, he fell to the floor; one hand on the cold floor and the other grasped at his chest. If the blinding light hadn't been bad enough, Tyro was suddenly dizzy and exhausted. The disoriented child shuddered and crumpled before the Gods before falling unconscious. Calling forth both Cosmos and Chaos had been too much for him.

For both his headache and guilt, Dr. Mog rubbed his temple slowly. He had wanted to warn Tyro that these two would require a painfully large amount of energy the first time. With a grimace he eyed his disciple warily. The poor thing had seized and fainted. This wasn't something that could be fixed with a potion, or a spell, or perhaps even stamina gems.

This wasn't ordinary. This was actually quite serious. Under the circumstances, Dr. Mog would have to announce to the kingdom that all Record Keeper activities were halted due to 'maintenance'. And he had no idea for how long Tyro could be catatonic. This, so soon after the start of this Dissidia equinox... Tyro had been excited for weeks for this event warp to appear. He was still only halfway done with it. The boy hadn't left a dungeon incomplete since the Parade Float in Deling City. The boy might have an aneurysm if he missed another single thing.

Dr. Mog worried for his naive pupil. It was good for the fate of the kingdom to keep the little prodigy happy. The darkness was being expelled amazingly efficiently. Thus far in this war Tyro overcame everything when he put his mind to it. And Dr. Mog did the best he could. If only he had the right resources. What good was the kingdom's gold when there were magic jewels needed to summon legendary relics?

Out of breath, the Warrior of Light bursts into the chamber.

"Cosmos!" he exclaimed.

With eyes half-open, Cosmos only tilted her head to look on at the nameless warrior. She had settled comfortably onto a sofa. Chaos had done the same, lazily resting on an elbow one sofa over. Despite their flair for the dramatic, both specimens were actually quite spacey when they weren't fighting each other. After only a glance, Cosmos returned to her thoughts without speaking. The Warrior of Light didn't quite know what to make of this. Normally he would yell 'Chaos!' and charge, but that clearly didn't seem fit the mood in the room.

"Warrior-Guy!" the moogle called out flatly, "Need your help with this, kupo."

Dragging Tyro by the feet, Dr. Mog brought the boy's limp body to the Warrior of Light. Normally, the knight would be quite remiss at the poorly thought out nickname, but it wasn't the time.

"Take him to a bed, would ya?" Dr. Mog said brusquely.

This wasn't a request. Without waiting for an answer, the moogle continued to trot along. He was seemingly indifferent to the new summons that now had nothing to do and nowhere to go. The damage had already been done, and the wheels would begin to turn.

Without difficulty, the Warrior of Light picked up Tyro, resting the boy's head in the crook of the man's arm. Cradling the small child against his shining chestplate, he frowned.

"What a tragic hero," Chaos spoke. His voice was deep and booming.

"You...! Do you... mock me?" the Warrior questioned, uncertain. Since the very minute he was summoned here, he had learned his first impressions were very often wrong. It had shaken his confidence.

"Not you... The boy- So young. So... unfortunate." Chaos lamented. It sounded sincere.

"You are going to refrain from causing any trouble here, is that understood?" the Warrior demanded. Implicitly, this was more of a plea.

"I needn't interfere. Discord will erupt in this realm without my doings..." Chaos droned, "Go on, warrior."

The Warrior of Light didn't have much patience for this, but he had held onto his dignity. Feeling himself needed elsewhere, he left. With great care, he carried Tyro down the steps. The boy would sleep for now, still naive to what the future will bring.

Next chapter is one of the longest, and is mainly composed of day-to-day chatting and learning more about the hero records' encampments here in the Royal Archives. So if that's not your thing, it drags on and you can skip it!