Season 2 of Rising of the Shield Hero Confirmed
Continue?
[Yes]
[No]
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[Yes]
...
TAKE A STEP TOWARDS [THE END]
Epic 40: The Swarm Part 2
"Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens."
Carl Jung
Before a Projection Screen...
"... I'm familiar with a certain Q'Ten Lo proverb, that all it takes is a single grain of rice to tip the scales..."
What the figure saw before him was a recreation of the visages of Hell itself, only made of mortar brick and lumber, pulsating masses of flesh that parodied living beings, and an endless rain of black that obscured the majority of what's being shown.
"... Just what's happening out there?" asked the helmetless Palomar, scratching his dirty blond hair in befuddlement, "is the Corvid Curse causing all this?"
"Not in the slightest," a modified and filtered voice spoke out from behind, "rather, we're witnessing a third party."
From behind Palomar, a squat and stout human being wearing a light-gray leather apron with a welder's mask covering his face walked towards the baffled blond. With each step the short man took, both the sounds of his tools clanging against each other around his belt and the heavy thumps of his boots echoed towards the world's only air pirate.
"So, Mr. Clockman," Palomar spoke to the short man, "what's your take on the mess outside?"
"Personally, we're safe in here as long as the said party doesn't notice us," the "Clockman" replied as he presented his [Walther P38] from his hip, "from where we are, we're standing roughly 400 feet underground, I even hid your L'Tempête inside a cliff, and worse case scenario, we're armed to the teeth and they'll have to go through me army of [Automatons] and [Talos] patrolling the place."
"Such is the craftiness of the one dubbed the 'Clockwork Castilian', Ottovot Bismark," remarked the air pirate he looked towards the mostly blacked-out screen, "... usually when one notices being spotted, they would take them out, correct?"
"Good eye," complimented the short man as he observed the situation through the screen, "their patterns of movement, all the while ignoring me cameras I snuck around Faubley after me exile... it's almost like they're only prioritizing living beings over all else."
"Their look on their eyes..." pointed out Palomar at the cloaked gunmen's eyes, noting that they're both expressive, yet utterly hollow, "... they're a lot like your creations, aren't they?"
"Aye, but even me [Envirs] have more life to them," stated Ottovot as he pointed his thumb towards a porcelain-doll like construct in a conservative maid's outfit, with each step that it took sounding out a soothing melody of its internal music box, with each step it took letting out a single note, "those creeps? Why bother putting emotions on constructs unless you want them to go haywire?"
"About as makes sense as that thing still hanging up there," pointed out the air pirate of the frayed noose above his head, "tell me, why didn't you remove it already? I have kids and a wife, along with the rest of my crew bunking here, you know. I rather not deal with a suicide at any rate."
"That thing?" Ottovot remarked as he flipped up his mask, revealing a middle-aged man's face with a bushy beard and mustache, "... first thing I found when I dug this place up. Rest of the place was spotless in comparison."
"Then who could've been here before?" asked Palomar, "was it the man hanged?"
Ottovot lets out a deep sigh as he flipped his welder's mask back down.
"Whoever the poor schmuck was, he died with regret," the squat man remarked grimly, the image of a skeleton hanging by the noose haunting him to this day, "no one deserves that."
"Then we'll do our best to live."
Inside [Pandora's Box]...
The Last Man bit down on L'Arc's blade as it pinned its body weight down upon him, flailing and hammering its sword's handle against his own weapon's shaft, all the while, the hand gripping around the actual blade of the sword was splattering around the black blood all around L'Arc, miraculously, none of them hitting him.
"GET OFF!" L'Arc cried out as he kicked into the humanoid abomination's stomach, knocking it off of him, causing The Last Man to tumble around the pitch black, only to sink into the darkness as if it were water.
"Dammit! It copied Garou's [Shadow Dive]!?" cursed Seiryu as she and Suzaku hit back-to-back, being on alert for each other's sakes, "baby bro, watch my back!"
Yes and no.
Again, the obnoxious text spoke through their visions.
Observe.
Before, even in the vantablack, everyone who had color could see each other perfectly, like pastel-colored images in a black background. Now, all color but black disappeared from everyone's collective sights, effectively rendering them all blind.
[Shadow Dive: Werewolf Game].
Then all everyone saw from each other were The Last Man. Everyone's perception of their own group were replaced by the image of The Last Man's form, down to their cries being reduced to incoherent snarls and growls.
Worst of all, compared to their previous six of L'Arc, Glass, Theresa, Rino, Seiryu, and Suzaku, there were a total of seven The Last Mans in their group.
There is an imposter among you.
Pick out the right one to succeed.
Fail, and you will lose another member to The Last Man's clutches.
Shit! We all look identical! thought L'Arc as he tried to call out to Glass or Theresa, but all sound that came out through his garbled mouth were animalistic jabbers, ... but wait, what about mannerisms?
He looked at the two The Last Mans standing back to back, with L'Arc recalling the [Blue Tyrera Queen] calling out for the [Red Filolial King] to watch her back.
Those two are safe, who else? he thought as he looked around while excluding the two The Last Mans standing back-to-back, mentally noting them as Seiryu and Suzaku respectively, Rino, Glass, and Theresa. Those three have specific tics on them, right? Glass's movements are slow and steady akin to a dancer's, Theresa always has her right hand over her chest, and Rino's carrying bulky equipment, so she's a bit of a fidgeter...
One problem, all four remaining The Last Mans were completely indiscernible from each other and their actions, all four being just as crazed and feral as the genuine article.
Wait, are our actions being masked as The Last Man's own? L'Arc thought as he tried to reach out his hand towards the four, only for one to take notice and jump back as his own body disguised as The Last Man swiped its clawed hand towards them unconsciously, shit, so me and everyone else also act like the genuine article as well!? Hell, is my own body no longer under my control?
Then the texts then begin to type out before his eyes, replying to his thoughts.
The sense of "self" is the root of all deficiencies.
Good, evil, law, chaos, all aspects are created through the idea of self-validation and xenophobia.
"I", "you", "me", "am", the proverbs of "self" solely exists to divide all and turn "them" against the "other".
It removing control rooted in "self" is the first step to true liberation.
"BULLSHIT!" L'Arc roared out, both grammatically and literally through his forced guise of The Last Man, causing him to switch conversing with the First Nan Hon-Jah mentally, ... just what gives you the right to get rid of who I think want to be!?
Rights are a creation of man.
Like all of man's creations, it has proven to be fallible.
Medea exploits them, uses the idea of ego and self for her own benefit.
The Ultimate Egoist.
If tolerance means to tolerate intolerance, then the idea has already failed conceptually.
A self-defeating concept serves no other purpose other than to be destroyed.
Yeah, what about you? L'Arc shot back, declaring that you're the one pointing all that shit out, aren't you an egoist pigheaded as Medea herself?
Initially, what his words were intended to do were to point out the hypocrisies that it was spewing out of its non-existing mouth.
... But what it said next was anything but.
Correction, "I", ergo, "you", doesn't apply.
As stated prior, "Nan Hon-Jah" no longer exists.
Conclusion, "I" doesn't exist.
"Self" has been terminated prior upon your entry.
It will remain as such.
Therefore, your accusation of it being like Medea is incorrect.
If you don't have a sense of "self"... pointed out the [Scythe Saint], ... then how're you speaking to us in the first place!?
They said that it took two to communicate. So maybe a logic bomb on his part might crack something-
"You" are not speaking to "me".
"Me" doesn't exist.
"You" have been speaking to "yourself" this whole time.
"... H-HOW DAMMIT!?" growled out L'Arc, finally losing all of his patience with the First, "I SURE AS HELL DON'T TALK LIKE AN UNDEAD WINDMILL! SO HOW THE FUCK HAVE I BEEN TALKING TO MYSELF THIS WHOLE TIME!?"
"You" cannot comprehend the true form inside the [Pandora's Box].
"You" merely imposed "your" logic upon "your" perception of "your" surroundings.
"Your" minds are that of a social creature.
"You" need interaction in order to move forward.
In truth, "you" haven't moved at all.
"You" only think you're "moving", but all are static.
"... Then what the fuck is with The Last Man around here!?" pointed out L'Arc.
The Last Man is the apex of "self".
No sense of "self", only exists to emulate.
"You" were the ones who brought to form as a subconscious scapegoat.
"Someone" to blame for your current predicament, nothing more.
And as consequence, "your" fear will become a possibility.
That "fear", is TERMINATION.
"SCREW YOU!"
L'Arc then lashes out at the closest TLM, striking it with his own arm...
... Only for the facade to fade away before him, revealing Glass, now with a blushed right cheek, right where L'Arc had accidentally struck her at.
"No... no, I didn't mean to-"
That was the incorrect "Werewolf".
The real "Werewolf" shall now be revealed.
Everyone's facades of The Last Mans were fading away, sans for the one standing next to Theresa, revealing itself to be the "true Werewolf".
[Werewolf Game] now concludes.
The "werewolf" now devours the a "villager" of choice.
"NO! THIS HAS TO BE A MISTAKE-"
The Last Man then shoots out a shadowy hooked tendril towards Theresa.
She tries to resist with her own magic, but her gemstones were knocked out of her hands by The Last Man's own before she can use them, their innate powers snuffed out upon drowning into the darkness, right as her stomach was then hooked by the tendril and immediately devoured into The Last Man's stomach void, and then spat out as another [Tome].
[Princess of the Crystal Ball]
The Last Man opens the [Tome] to its first page.
To find a way to reverse one's beloved curse, the princess sets out a journey to find the sorceress.
It then closes it, and immediately devours it whole, pages and all.
Upon consumption, The Last Man's left arm gains a crystal ball-like pauldron with Theresa's ghostly visage inside of it, and a gauntlet with a crystalline eagle on its forearm and a whale-like hand cannon.
"NO!" Glass cried out as she charged towards the powered-up The Last Man, "[CIRCULAR-"
RED LIGHT
The crystal ball shines red as Glass proceeded with her attack.
PENALTY
Glass's whole body was then electrocuted mid-attack, her offense canceled out, leaving her to collapse onto the void before The Last Man's feet.
"What now!?" L'Arc cried out, cold sweat dripping from his brows.
[Red Light, Green Light].
Move or attack at GREEN LIGHT, cease all action at RED LIGHT.
Failure to comply with either will result in a PENALTY.
Three PENALTYs and The Last Man devours the player that reaches aforementioned condition first.
Above Glass's head, a ghostly "1" appeared over her head.
"... Bastard thinks this is some kind of game..." Glass growled out as black-colored fiery tattoos appeared on her skin, "GIVE HER BACK-"
GREEN LIGHT
[Wrath Fan 3] activates, and Glass flies towards The Last Man in a flaming rage.
RED LIGHT
Glass was then shocked by the PENALTY function, immediately knocking her out of her [Cursed Series] and the number over her head now being a "2".
Reckless action without forethought of timing is ill-advised.
One more application of PENALTY unto Glass, then she'll be the next one taken.
All Glass could do was grit her teeth in frustration.
[Red Light, Green Light] shall resume.
"So, it's like that game, 'The Dharma Doll Fell Down'..." Glass remarked as she looked at the crystal ball imprisoning Theresa.
"Um, Glass?" L'Arc called out apologetically, "sorry if I lost my temper back there... it was my fault that Theresa got taken hostage."
"No, blame that," the [Fan Saint] pointed to The Last Man, whom contrary to its feral mannerisms prior to this game, was now looking more listless and unaware of its surroundings, "the fact that there is a game to begin with gives us a fighting chance."
L'Arc nods, knowing that there's nothing else needed to be said.
GREEN LIGHT
Everyone bolts towards The Last Man-
RED LIGHT
Everyone stops in their tracks in the interval of movement that lasted 2 seconds, except for Suzaku.
PENALTY
The [Red Filolial King] was then jolted by the automated skill, a "1" now appearing over his head.
"Sorry..." Suzaku apologized, "tried to use [Godspeed Strike], but I couldn't midway..."
At Faubley...
"Grenade, cover!"
A stick grenade rigged with a tripwire was set off behind the Terminators, sending two that were caught in the blast to be flown out of the building.
"Cheap-ass sons of bitches..." a Terminator with an [M4] grumbled out as gunfire from [AK-47]s drummed out through the opening adjacent to their covers, "just make easy for the both of us and die already!"
The Terminator then adjusts its internal limiters to a 20% threshold, activating its [Modular Form: Juggernaut], hardening its skin to deflect the coming bullets at the cost of its speed taking a nosedive. Still, it was more than enough to clear out a room as it drew aggro to the others inside towards itself while the others picked off the ones that the Juggernaut might've missed.
"Clear," the Terminator declared as its body reverted back to normal, "about damn time too."
"Makes me wonder, why resist?" another asked as it got back up from the floor and procured an intact [AK-47] from the closest dead body, "I mean, life itself is only a prelude to death. One way or the other, they were going to eat it sooner or later, so why bother?"
"They ain't like us," another pointed out as it took a stick grenade, pulled out the pin, and threw it upstairs, blowing up the attic and killing any survivors in there, "we were only built to destroy, and die once everything goes first. Our lives are simple, while they needlessly complicate it with shit like love, wealth and prosperity."
"Makes me wonder, why bother giving us... well, these?" pointed out the Terminator with the [M4], "I mean, we're already broken enough already with our modular bodies, hyper-adaptive intellect, and effectively a conditional immortality, so why these advanced weapons? I can easily kill a guy by punching him hard enough."
"Might be speed," a Terminator with the stolen AK remarked as it also pilfered a [PPSh-41] and slung it around its shoulder, "personally, the longer I have to see them struggle, the more likely I might be more eager for my own decommissioning. Sooner we kill off everything, the better."
"Fair enough!" a Terminator from the upstair replied as a sound of a thud was heard from upstairs, "even if they look half-starved, theses bastards just won't lie down and die!"
The Terminator then came down from the stairs, its combat knife dripping with a rich red blood.
The three then went out the door, the streets and alleyways littered with corpses of those who tried to resist. Gunfire from both sides were heard from each building, one by one, each falling to their hands.
Ahead, the three spotted Alpha and Beta, both whom carrying the fallen princess of Melromarc like a killed venison.
"Report," Beta ordered.
"Last bloc is cleared, and we're just about to commence cleanup," the Terminator with the [M4] reported, "heavy resistance is expected, though we are making steady progress towards the center."
"Mmm, I wanted to watch them run..." Alpha pouted, "and instead I have to play babysitter to this troglodyte. Can't we just cut her feet and hands off and watch her from there? I mean, despite everything, she's still trying to undo the ropes on her with her fingers, even though at least 7 out of 10 of her own digits are blued and bent the wrong way."
"We can't," remarked Beta, "Yu-Gi-Oh Episode 60, remember? And no, 'Shadow Energy Discs' aren't a thing in this world."
"What the fuck are they rambling about?" pointed out the Terminator.
"Geez, for someone so tenacious of life, they're just as paradoxically fragile..." sighed out Alpha, pitifully looking at the still-struggling princess trying to free herself, "oh well, I think I'll just listen to the screams of the dying just to cheer myself up."
And so, the genocide continued, all so that the Terminators and remaining Homunculi can finally be rid of themselves and their annoying existence. For them, life was a paradox that needed to be corrected.
To "live" for them, was simply to "destroy". To "die" meant to reach their objective to its logical conclusion.
But for now, they might as well focus on the present and do what they can.
"Hey guys, I found some playing cards from a dead guy!" Chi remarked as he held up a deck of cards as he came towards the five/six (latter including the princess), "who wants to play Gin Rummy-goddamit, all the cards turned black from the Ink!"
Everyone, including Malty, shared a laugh, before the latter was kicked in the ribs repeatedly.
At the Faubley Castle...
"[Black Buckshot]," #18 stated as it shot its [Oración Seis] towards the opposing party dealing with the remnant [Tindalos].
The [Dragon Queen] and the [Griffon Queen] were both now airborne, the former providing a foothold for the party while the latter sped around the battlefield picking off any of the fleshy-looking canines that approached too close to her party.
"We're going nowhere at this rate," the Old One complained, "even with the numbers on our side, we're still stuck at a stalemate!"
"Their power against our numbers," pointed out #18 as it steadily advanced forth while a head of a [Wyrmlich Queen] grew out from its right limb, "push them further beyond the brink."
The skeletal dragon's skull then charges up a glowing orb of bright blue energy that that was freezing to the touch.
"[Zero Breath]," #18 declared as it shot the ball of compressed [Ice] element towards the [Dragon Queen], only for Tact to intercept the attack with his whip lashing around the projectile back towards the sender, exploding into spires of towering glaciers.
"Heh, one down," declared Tact before the glaciers fell apart from the inside, revealing the attacker to have intercepted his own attack with two pairs of skeletal wings growing out of his back.
"My turn," #18 declared as it sent the bony growths forward, "[Grave Diggers: Burial Rites]."
The ice-covered bones swarmed around the castle's interiors like an ivy overgrowth, and all over the walls and ceilings, numerous, smaller dragon skulls grew out of the growths and began breathing out shots of sharp icicles that pelted all around the opposing party. The [Griffon Queen] ducked and wove around the attacks with ease, and to those who were on the back of the [Dragon Queen], being less nimble were left to fend for themselves as the former herself decided to fly towards the enemy at the center for herself.
"YOU'RE MINE!"
She swipes her talons across the air and towards #18.
"Funny you should mention that."
As her razors dug through the layer upon layer of flesh through #18, jets of black Ink sprayed out of the formed wounds, landing onto her eyes and amplifying all of her senses a thousandfold.
Her skin and feathers felt like they were on fire hot enough to melt stone and dipped into the most frigid waters from the air that simply grazed onto her body alone, her ears can hear countless heartbeats and screaming that all came in deafening beats from all directions, her eyes completely blinded by a barrage of colors that twisted her vision into a dizzying kaleidoscope of black, white and the entire spectrum in-between, her tongue felt like its tasting all of the world's most delicious foods while being forcefully fed all of the world's rot and garbage at the same time.
All five of her senses themselves superseded her body and her sense of self. She was no longer a [Griffon Queen], let alone anything that classified as a living being.
As the [Griffon Queen] screeched and writhed on the floor, #18 stood back up, its wounds now reforming itself into new sets of mouths.
"Warned ya," gloated Y'[CENSORED], "just assuming that you can kill an Old One as a mortal is equivalent to suicide. At least I have the decency to make you enjoy your own death-and she's gone."
All that came out of her agape and foaming mouth were gurgles and chokes of a dying form of life experiencing all of the universe's greatest pleasures and all of its most infernal of torments offered, a paradoxical expression of horror and delight formed the fallen one's death masque.
"How-how is he still alive!?" one of Tact's party members cried out, "a [Griffon Queen]'s talons can easily tear through steel!"
"Correction, it did, but it didn't 'tear through' specifically," #18 explained, "if you wish to save yourselves the explanation, I must ask; are any of you aware where I stand?"
Tact then looked directly at #18, only for him to only see the fallen [Griffon Queen]'s empty health bar. He tried again, only to see the same thing again.
Just outside of the battlefield, Itsuki overheard the words of that... thing calling itself #18. Curious, he looked at the thing through his HUD, and finds NOTHING.
"Is it dawning on ya yet?" Y'[CENSORED] taunted at the others' befuddlement, "... okay, I'm bored, so I'll just say it since my host is a buzzkill, he's a complete Schrödinger."
... What, everyone else thought, even for Itsuki, who knows what #18 was referring to, that being the Schrödinger's Cat (something that is alive, yet at the same time, it isn't), but even he can't make the correlation between that notion and the seemingly immortal #18.
"... And you call me dumb," the Old One deadpanned at #18.
"I didn't call you dumb specifically, just short-sighted," #18 retorted, "and no, I will not explain for what's happening, other than the fact that you'll all die here."
Then his body bloats out several more tumor-like growths from its bare chest, growing out heads of [Iblis], [Bahamut], [Wyrmlich], [Ziz], [Admantortoise], [Minotaur], [Werelion], [Trolls], [Spriggans], [Dyrads], and countless other creatures that effectively formed an unholy battery of monster heads aimed at practically EVERYWHERE.
"[Spellcraft: Chaoscast]," #18 declared, "[Random Fire: Finale Concert]."
The batteries the flared to life with all of the heads shooting out an overwhelming barrage of magic everywhere, decimating everything in all cardinal directions, seemingly not stopping even as if any conceivable living being would've died where they stood.
"... So, an endless barrage of magic shots aimed at all directions," Y'[CENSORED] commented over the deafening fire drumming through the air, "that would normally kill off anyone alive more than enough times to wipe out them and all of their next of kin-"
"They're alive," #18 declared as it kept firing from its organic batteries, "I will not stop until they're all dead. I won't give them a chance to even breathe."
"Well, Old One privileges, so milk em if you gottem."
#18 continues the endless volley of magic blast towards all directions, eventually ventilating the [Dragon Queen] as her massive body fell from the air, with the others shortly following after.
Eventually, the volley stops, with all of the monsters' heads retracting back into the amorphous vessel.
"... We're missing one," pointed out #18 as it observed the casualties, not one of them bearing the blond locks of the [Whip Hero].
"Where the bloody 'ell is that Dickson-clone!?" the Defiler remarked in a faux-cockney accent as a nod to Nan's memories of Xenoblade being dubbed by British voice actors, trying to cope with his contradictory existence as the god of hedonism manifested into an unfeeling ken doll of a body by the quickest means necessary.
From behind, a thick tendril pierced into the back of #18, fishing out a black crystal from its body.
"... It was the skeletal dragon heads, wasn't it?"
#18's body then falls to the ground face-first, revealing Tact, now victorious, standing before the fallen [Abomination].
"Hoist by thy own petard, as a villain scum like you deserved," Tact boldly declared, the black crystal extracted from the evil being now in his hands, "die monster. You do not belong in this world."
He then squeezes the black crystal in his left hand, trying to crush it to make sure that it was dead, but the more he constricted his whole hand around the foreign object, the more... rubbery, elastic, and squishy it felt.
The crystal, despite its angular and rugged texture, paradoxically had semi-gelatinous, almost flesh-like composition. His sense of sight and touch were contradicting with each other, with only one question in his head.
"Was he trying to break a crystal like a glass in hand, or was he trying to rupture a heart like a water balloon?"
Eventually, a voice echoed in his head. A gentle, holy voice, warm as a mother's lullaby and divine as an angel's light.
FINISH IT.
He then instinctively tosses his mental gripes and proceeds with the orders from above, but as he looked back down at his hand...
"Wassup bitch."
His whole arm was now swelled up into a black tumor with a single eye and a disgusting mouth with a slobbering tongue drooping out between the pair of rows of tombstone-like teeth.
"Okay, before you freak the fuck out, I must ask, but do you have an erectile dysfunction?" the mouth asked as the eye squinted in a sneer.
"... What," Tact croaked out hoarsely, too shocked by the sudden revelation to put together a coherent thought.
"NEVERMIND, WE'RE BACK IN BUSINESS!" cheered Y'[CENSORED] as it then began to flare up all of Tact's bodily sensory systems way beyond their physical limits.
His sight now picking up every faint figment of color in the black rain that poured down from the now-collapsing ceiling, the vision now being assaulted into a blurry mess of all of the spectrum of colors that melted in together like a slurry of shit and piss, his ears were now being shot with the endless drumming of the sounds of falling black rain, each droplet hitting the ground sounding like a dynamite exploding right next to him in close proximity, his nose now wafting with the scents of dust and flowers alike, choking his lungs and swelling his already-distorted eyes as both felt like they were immediately replaced with lead cannonballs, the wind caressing his skin now feeling like him being tossed naked into a bath of dry ice before being fished back up and then dumped into a pit of lava, the sequence being repeated ad infinitum nonstop, and his tongue, oh heavens above and hell below, he could now taste every droplet of bile that composed in his salvia, then all of the foreign saliva that he might've gotten prior to this battle with his party members playing hooky with each other, Tact's boiling and throbbing brain would've rather entertained the idea of eating all of Faubley's, both the kingdom's and the actual king's, physical refuses just to wash down the horrid taste contaminating in his mouth.
"You sir, are a man of culture!" the parasite mockingly complimented the writhing and screeching Tact as the latter was being metaphorically (and possibly, quite literally) being raped by his own five senses, "... as expected of that upstart's [Fragment]."
At the Spatial Distortion...
Two were present, both complete antithesis of each other.
One, a fair maiden clad in a white light, a face so immaculate that none with eyes were able to see her. The embodiment of perfection, which none can argue.
Other, a bloated humanoid mass emitting a noxious odor, without a head and only a pair of hands housing slobbering mouths. Vileness personified, ugly as sin.
The former cursed the latter for making her ideal subjects unruly and detestable, citing that they are her objects of worship and reverence, and that she's their one truth.
The latter simply laughs at the former's naivety, pointing out that she wasn't so different from him, and that black is made of white that she hold domain over, the idea of satisfaction.
One professes a beautiful lie where no one dies and all worship her without question. A utopia of her design and her pleasure.
Other champions the hideous truth, where all life solely exists for their own benefit. A dystopia of the collective's innermost contributions of perversions.
One dictates, the other leeways.
One claims supremacy, the other states the following.
"YOU CREATED ME," the other pointed out to the one's horror, "I DON'T NEED TEMPLES OR IDOLS OF WORSHIP TO EMPOWER ME. AS LONG AS PEOPLE KEEP FUCKING AND EATING, REGARDLESS OF WHO'S IT FOR, I WILL NEVER PERISH. YOU WANT TO BLAME ME FOR LEECHING OFF OF YOU? FINE, DO SO. I'VE DONE IT TO COUNTLESS OTHERS WHEREAS YOUR SENSE OF SELF CANNOT ACCEPT THAT YOU ARE JUST AS UGLY AS ME."
One asserts her radiance in protest. The other laughs at her attempt.
"HOW CAN ONE GO BLIND WITHOUT EYES?" the other points out in mocking chortles, "YOU HAD YOUR DAY IN THE SUN, TIME FOR THE LATTER TO GO SUPERNOVA."
No matter how the one's light shines in the pitch black void of the universe, there's always some place where the other Old Ones and further beyond will point and LAUGH at her and her attempts.
"GO AHEAD, PROFESS YOUR CHAMPIONS, SUMMON UP YOUR ARMIES, BITE ME, HIT ME," taunted Y'golonac, "GIVE ME A HUG, MEDEA, JUST AS YOUR BOYFRIEND DID-"
As the one screamed in heaven-shattering wrath as her [Fragment] was completely severed from her control, the other near the rouge's proximity awoke.
"LET'S SEE WHICH OF US BREAKS FIRST."
Back Down...
"Ohohohoho... Damn, it feels good to have a penis again... and feelings too!" Y'[CENSORED] moaned out as it now completely took over Tact's body, the latter's owner slowly fading away into the deepest recesses of its own mind, "... now who's gonna be my first VICTIM?"
It's eye twitches towards where Itsuki was at, spotting the faint imprints of dust and dirt left behind leading somewhere deeper into the castle.
"I love it when they run," the now-independent Old One of Hedonism cooed, "good for the blood flow."
It then takes off on all fours like an animal, using its hypersensitive nose to track down the scent of the 16 year old boy running for his life. Realizing that it would take too long for it to simply tread the same ground that boy ran on...
"... Let's see how far I can take with this new body," Y'[CENSORED] remarked as it spotted an air vent port, which it then ripped the cover off of its screws before it compacted its own body into that of a serpentine meatloaf and began worming its way in around.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are..." the Defiler taunted out as it crawled through the vents, the owner of the host body suffering unimaginable agony from the impact of his own body being compacted against his will, "when I find ya, it's gonna be a coming out party... IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE!"
Upon seeing a light ahead, it breaches through the cover and out wherever it took him.
"Is it here?"
The Old One finds himself at a walk-in closet filled with numerous dresses, and said room being that a size of a ballroom.
"Nope."
It then snakes back into the vents before finding another light ahead, again making a breach forward.
"Is it here?"
It then finds itself in a bathhouse, the steaming water still flowing despite the lack of people staffing it.
Huh, boiler must be automated.
It then snakes itself back into the vents, again, finding another light to snake through.
"Is it here?"
The Old One walks into what it can be described as a gigantic, human-like [Slime] creature with a golden crown on his head doing it with a woman who's eyes were as lifeless as a doll's.
"Oh, sorry bout that, Jabba the Hutt," the Old One faux-apologized, "would do ya lady right in front of ya, but I'm about to put myself into Chris Hansen's watchlist, so maybe I'll settle for your sloppy seconds afterwards. For now, priorities on my bucket list."
Before the meat-[Slime] with the crown can protest, Y'[CENSORED] snakes back into the vents yet again, continuing with its seemingly endless search for the [Bow Saint] throughout the whole castle, the latter greatly underestimating how big the castle itself was.
"GARGHH!" Y'[CENSORED] cried out in frustration as it continued its endless search throughout the vents for the boy, "THERE'S ANOTHER HUNDRED ROOMS TO GO! SERIOUSLY, WHO LIVES IN THE PLACE LIKE THIS!? HOW MUCH ROOM DOES ONE FUCKING HUMAN NEED!?"
Before long, after inadvertently snaking through the same vents one too many times, one of the segments give away beneath itself, causing it to fall in the middle of the hallway...
... And right on top of Itsuki, his legs and lower torso completely buried in rubble and iron hollow.
"Took your sweet time, babycakes," Y'[CENSORED] snarled out as it then readjusted its vessel back into normal articulation, for lack of a better word, given that about more than half of Tact's body was now bruised bright-violet, more than a third of its limbs now grounded-down into being double-jointed, and his face permentantly contorted into an anguished expression.
Before it could do anything to the [Bow Saint], the Old One notices that his rectal cavity has been obstructed beneath the pile of rubble.
"... No, I'm not compromising with a facial," the Defiler spoke to himself, "my way, or the highway, and I always go my way, and my way is into his sweet little ass!"
It then begins excavating the [Bow Saint] from his entrapment to satisfy its urges, but as soon as the rubble has been cleared off, Itsuki springs back to life, transforms his [Sacred Bow] into its copied [PTRS-41] form, sticks its heavy barrel into the mouth of the possessed Tact, and squeezes the trigger.
"Son of a-"
The remainder of its words were cut off along with the rest of its upper head in a spray of deep red.
"... I... I did it," Itsuki huffed out as he crawled back away from the dead body lying before him, "... I finally got rid of the psycho!"
The next moment then completely snuffed out whatever sense of elation and hope that the hopeful boy had left. Standing back up before Itsuki, the latter whom both of his legs are now broken and rendered unfit to walk after being buried in rubble, was Tact, but missing the upper portion of his head, yet still on his feet, black blood bubbling from its wound like a freshly-excavated spring reservoir.
"... Then choke on it," bubbled the corpse's mangled vocal cords before a stream of black blood was vomited onto Itsuki's face.
Due the receiver being 16 years of age compared Tact's early-to-mid twenties, on top of being inexperienced in the extreme side of physical stimulus and trauma (i.e., sex), the overwhelming effects of the Ink caused the [Bow Saint] to pass out from his brain being fried upon administration, and before his brain could even register any amplified physical stimulus.
"... Wow, what a fucking pansy," the Defiler mocked at the passed-out Itsuki while it collected its shattered head before pasting it back together, "Tokyo Tribe or Perfect Blue? Which one is more favorable?"
It then reaches out towards the [PTRS-41] next to the unconscious youth, only for the weapon to reject it.
"Ugh, you and your fucking security locks," Y'[CENSORED] grumbled out before it grabbed Itsuki by his ankle and dragged his body elsewhere, "Medea of all people has the gall to put up security systems when she herself isn't wearing a chastity belt herself... at least I'm advocating for honesty, and I sure as hell don't obstruct people personally. People already do that to each other without me, saves me a helluva lot of trouble..."
From below, he felt another cosmic presence beneath him.
"... Wow, just how stubborn is that woman?" he cursed as he picked up the pace by jumping out of the castle windows, digging its fingers into the masonry as it slides down from it before breaking into another window on a lower story, landing back at the castle's reception hall, meeting this annoying presence that it sensed.
At the breached doors, with a used [FGM-148 Javelin] tube next it, stood Malty, her wrists and ankles cut and bruised like tenderized meat, yet all signs of her trauma nowhere to be seen.
"Sup, Medea," the Old One greeted the other possessed vessel, "you really don't take 'no' for an answer, doncha?"
"Die," Medea stated as she snaps her fingers, drowning the whole world around them into an incandescent pillar of light before returning the world back to its prior state, only with the bodies of Tact's party now disappearing.
... Except for Tact's body himself, still in captivity of the Defiler.
"Stop trying to steal other gods' jobs, Medea," Y'[CENSORED] mocked, "not even Arc the Deicider himself can even scratch me, so what made you think that your insta-kill spells that you haphazardly slapped together work on me? Darwin Award Nominee of the year, folks!"
"You said prior that I should summon up my armies," Medea cooly remarked before snapping her fingers and summoning a massive [Wave] above Faubley, causing countless copies of her own [Fragments] to rain down from above to aid her will, "you should watch your words, for they can easily be turned against-WHAT!?"
Upon her countless [Fragments] hitting the ground, Medea immediately loses control over them as they begin attacking friend and foe alike at random rather than accordance to which her will dictates as her enemies.
"It was a schmuck bait, ya whore," the Defiler gleefully pointed out as Medea was hoist by her own petard, "normally, [Fragments] only work when their patron deity isn't present when they're present. You assumed that the [Ink] has no effect on you while you're possessing one your own, so summoning your other [Fragments] with you still around while they're still aware of their own false autonomy, with all their desires and self intact, in the middle of my personal weather that amplifies all of the aforementioned traits to lethal proportions, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DO YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN!?"
Medea's eyes see her white souls turn pitch black as the outside hailed another, even more intensely-chaotic battlefield.
"... That's not fair," she bemoaned, "that's not fair!"
Y'[CENSORED] simply laughs uproariously at Medea's plight.
"I'M THE FUCKING GOD OF FUCKING! I SURE AS HELL DON'T DO FAIR! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" cackled out the Defiler before hunching down as its laughter ceased, adopting a more morose and dead-pitch tone, "... you only became a deity after you crawled all the way from the bottom of the cesspool that you were born in to the very top, and wanting more. Yours truly, on the other hand, has been around since the idea of 'desire' came to your Hominidancestors' noggins upon them discovering the pleasure in fucking each other. Your wants, along with countless others', has fed me endlessly since the conceptual Genesis. You want to be rid of me? You, and your title of [Deus Ex Machina] and your aspect of [Realization] and [Individuality]? Too bad, sister, I'm not tied to you. You're tied to me."
"I REFUSE TO BELIVE YOUR LIES!" as she charged up another countless array of instant-kill spells that would normally wipe out entire races a thousandfold, "ONLY MY REALITY IS THE TRUE REALITY!"
"Then let's see who makes the other more miserable," boasted Y'[CENSORED] as it's unwilling (yet willing) vessel then grew out more mouths all over its body, all of which then began chanting incantations to countless forbidden, esoteric arts so vile and abominable that not even the other Old Ones wouldn't even touch, "the [Deus Ex Machina], or the [Diablos Ex Nihilo]! GET READY FOR THE UNIVERSE'S OWN FYRE FESTIVAL, FUCKFEST EDITON!"
But before they can unleash their attacks, the world grinds to a halt, completely frozen in time.
"... Christ, you two," a gravelly voice remarked followed up by the sounds of someone drinking.
Waddling up between the two from a broken window, was Genbu, his [Platinum Pocketwatch]'s hands stopped entirely.
Just like when he'd met Nan during that [Wave], clinging onto someone else's clothes beneath everyone else's notice.
"... Can any of you lot not go two seconds without destroying worlds?" Genbu remarked as it took out its last cigarette from his pack, lit the tip with his [Fafnir's Flametounge] and smoked a drag from it, "... although can't blame ya, Medea, I'm a sneaky bastard through and through. Give me a minute to recollect my thoughts for a bit, kay?"
Back Inside [Pandora's Box]...
RED LIGHT
Everyone halts.
GREEN LIGHT
As soon as the orb on the pauldron glows green, everyone guns for The Last Man-
RED LIGHT
L'Arc tries to break his stride, but the smooth part of the sole on his left boot causes him to slip the last minute.
PENALTY
He is then electrocuted, the number above his head now reading "2".
Okay, so here's the literal rundown, thought the [Scythe Saint], Glass and I are at "2", Rino and Suzaku are at "1", and Seiryu's the only one who's in the clear. The Last Man isn't moving an inch ever since activating [Red Light, Green Light], so I'm assuming that the skill will break as soon as we reach it.
Said The Last Man was still standing listlessly, now with black-colored drool seeping from the corner of its gaping mouth.
The real question is, can we make it before one of us reaches the third PENALTY? L'Arc thought, with the fear of failure being that another one of them, most likely being either him or Glass, being at the back of his mind during his processing, normally, I'd ask Theresa for the thinking, but-wait, DID THAT BASTARD BANK ON HER ROLE AS THE BRAINS TO CRIPPLE THE PARTY'S STRATAGEM AID!?
GREEN LIGHT
He then runs towards The Last Man as the others followed suit, and extended out his hand to reach the monster at the center.
RED LIGHT
The command happens right at the same moment where L'Arc happened to have one foot on the ground mid-stride, forcing him to stop at an awkward position lest he's the one who gets the final PENALTY.
L'Arc was now balancing on one foot, his right hand stretched out forward, his left leg stretched out to the back with his left arm facing the same rear cardinal direction, making him look like the world's worst ballerina right now.
Dammit! L'Arc cursed as his fingertips were but a few feet away from touching The Last Man, and I was so close too! Now I got to wait until another GREEN LIGHT command in this pose!
And so, he'd mentally braced himself to hold his position for an undisclosed amount of time until the next round occurs.
About roughly what felt like an eternity had passed by (about 5 minutes of standing or posing still), and L'Arc's limbs started to feel like lead.
... Oh god, it's banking on me falling by stalling the GREEN LIGHT phase out, L'Arc thought as his leg struggled to balance, dammit, I can literally feel the blood in my veins constricting like boas! Come on, Berg! Keep it together, keep it together, keep it-
PENALTY
"Okay, who?" asked L'Arc, for then he was then answered with a shock conjoined with a pained scream coming from Suzaku, now bearing the "2" over his head.
"Sorry!" apologized Suzaku, "I was in a weird spot before my legs gave out!"
GREEN LIGHT
"GUN IT!" cried out L'Arc, but before he can even take off running, the possible outcome happens.
His left leg, due to not receiving enough blood flow compared to the grounded right, goes completely limp upon grounding, causing L'Arc to trip and fall right where he stood prior.
"GODDAMMIT! WHY!?" L'Arc cried out as he clutched onto his limp left leg, massaging it to try and stimulate some blood flow back into it.
"WE'RE NOT GONNA MAKE IT!" Glass cried out as she flew desperately towards The Last Man.
"NOT ON MY WATCH!" Seiryu cried back as her [Torture Anvil-Vulcan], flared to life, "GRIT YOUR TEETH, BABY BRO!"
As she charged towards Suzaku, the glowing hot surface of her bulwark makes physical contact with the latter, causing the former's shield to have its surface explode upon impact, propelling the [Red Filolial King] towards The Last Man.
RED LI-
"OH HELL NO!"
Suzaku tackles The Last Man down onto the black floor with all of his propelled body weight, cutting its declaration off at the last syllable.
"HELL YEAH! YOU DID IT!" L'Arc cheered.
"The dharma doll finally falls down..." Glass sighed out in relief as she fell to her knees in exhaustion, "... worst, game, ever-"
PENALTY
"WHAT!?" everyone sans The Last Man cried out as the whale-arm-cannon aimed itself directly next to Suzaku's head, discharging a point-blank blast that sent the little boy tumbling across the void in a burnt heap.
The number "3" was now floating above Suzaku's burnt head.
"SUZAKU!" Seiryu cried out before turning her ire towards the monster, "YOU DAMN CHEATER! HE WON THE GAME!"
Correction, "Suzaku" assumed that he won the game.
The victory conditions weren't specified as only making physical contact with The Last Man.
"THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US!?" protested L'Arc as he tried to worm his way back onto his feet, "WHAT'RE THE CONDITIONS TO WIN THE GAME!?"
For the former, none of the players have asked to how to win the game of [Red Light, Green Light].
Rather, all of you have simply assumed the victory condition just by the flimsy correlation of the old Japanese children's game, [The Dharma Doll Fell Down].
As for the conditions, the way to win the game were the following two conditions:
1) Make physical contact and tackle down The Last Man
2) Make sure to mind the PENALTY; the one who meets the criteria of condition 1) will automatically receive a single PENALTY; when the player makes physical contact with The Last Man and ends up with three PENALTYs, that player will now be devoured
The Last Man, from its semi-cationic state, suddenly springs back to life as it pounced towards the downed Suzaku.
"STAY AWAY FROM HIM, YOU BASTARD-"
Seiryu's face was then slammed with a whale gauntlet's broadside carried by its eagle companion piece's wing flown out like a rocket punch, intercepting her intervention and allowing The Last Man to claim Suzaku as another [Tome].
[Venomous Basilisk]
Nature's folly ushers in an amalgam beast spreading deadly venom like wildfire.
It then swallows the [Tome] whole, transforming its right arm into that of an armor styled after a red bird with a silver serpent coiled around the wrist section.
"... No," Seiryu choked out with tears seeping out of her eyes, "GIVE HIM BACK!"
Acknowledged.
[Godspeed Strike: Time Crisis].
The Last Man then disappears from sight, and then immediately reappears as everyone felt as they were all stuck all over.
"Cheap shotting-sonuvabitch!" Rino cursed.
"... Umm, Rino?" said Glass as she pointed something atop Rino's head, with the following being read:
4:58
"Hey hey hey, you have something above your head, too!" Rino pointed out at Glass, who also has a timer ticking down above her head, "oh my god, everyone has numbers on their heads, too! The numbers are getting smaller!"
"The numbers! The fuck do they mean!?" Glass cried out.
The administered Basilisk's venom is like fire.
It will slowly burn away at your cells until the victim is left as a husk.
Five minutes.
Claim the antidote from The Last Man.
"So, beat em before the timer hits '0', then!?" asked L'Arc, this time, waiting for the answer so that he doesn't get blindsided by loopholes unlike last time.
Correct.
The Last Man defeat is the antidote.
4:49
L'Arc flashes a smile as he readies his [Sacred Scythe].
"WORKS FOR ME!"
Then all the others charged at The Last Man in their final demented game of tag.
Unknown Location...
Itsuki kept rubbing his eyes, first of to rid of the odious black liquid that was sprayed onto his face, then to make sure that his eyes were working.
"No way..." Itsuki remarked in disbelief at the very world around him, "... why? Why am I here again!?"
Around him was a metropolitan jungle surrounded by an enclosed border, the streets lined with various shops, cafes, and other public facilities that wouldn't be out of place in an urban landscape akin to Tokyo. From the distance, he could see the array of white-colored wind turbines spinning ever so, and just above his head, a monorail track stretched throughout the cityscape, and from all over the city, he can clearly see a crystal spire of a skyscraper that pierced above the clouds in the bright blue sky, reaching endlessly towards the heavens above.
Academy City. Itsuki Kawasumi, the Level 2 Esper bearing the [Vectorbend] ability, which allowed him to manually manipulate a trajectory's direction, although only one projectile at a time, and compared to Accelerator's [Redirection], which allowed him to automatically reverse all incoming trajectories aimed towards him at an increased force of acceleration during rebound (hence his moniker), was frankly, at best, laughable.
Knowing himself as a normal fish in an ocean of exceptionally gifted Espers, the fact burdened Itsuki like a lead weight shackled around his neck. Upon the discovery of his gifts, he thought that he would at least be better than the Level 1s and especially the Level 0 nobodies.
Upon witnessing [Imagine Breaker] from a Level 0 in action, even managing to slightly humble the almighty nigh-unstoppable Accelerator, all hopes of Itsuki's adopted worldview came crashing down like a house of cards on fire. And from there, his binge to sate his inner inferiority in a world that denied him to make him the protagonist of Academy City quickly turned into an obsession.
He tried out for joining the Judgement, but failed to meet the qualifications. He later tried out the rumored "Level Upper", even going as far to trace the source so that he can horde the whole thing to himself and rocket his abilities to that of a Level 5, or 6 at best.
Instead, he ended up waking up in a hospital bed, a whole year passing by without him, from an alleged case of overdosing, at least according to the medical reports.
Swallowing his pride, he stopped attending classes altogether, and attempted to join Skill-Out.
All he ended up with was him getting his face beaten in and left on the street a bloodied mess.
Running out of all options in the confines of Academy City, he tried to call his parents, only to reveal that they died in a car crash, said information being provided to him from the other side of the line by an official informing the next of kin.
With nothing to live for, his clothes torn and dirtied, his grades plummeting, and his pride and dignity completely destroyed, Itsuki spotted a nearby trucking driving across the crosswalk that he'd saw...
... And at the very least, he'd never have to see the world that ruined him ever again. Or so he hoped.
"... Why am I here?" Itsuki mumbled to himself as all of the nightmarish memories of his pride being destroyed flooding back into his head, "I thought I've escaped this place!"
He then takes off running in the streets, trying to desperately find a way out.
"This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real..." he heaved to himself as he kept running through the alleyways where Skill-Out members were usually found hanging out, but from his passing glance at the area, it seemed oddly barren.
The whole experience felt like a lucid dream, where everything seemingly making sense making no sense at all. Why are people ignoring him? Where are the Skill-Out members that had beaten him to the ground? Just where is his feet taking him? And are the alleyways this long to traverse, or has it been always this way?
"There's a light, but it's taking forever to reach the end..." Itsuki spoke to himself as he kept running through the alleyway, eventually making it out of the endless alleyway...
... Only to find a blooded truck crashed against a lamppost.
"... No, no, no no no!" yelped Itsuki as he walks onto the scene of his own suicide, "this is all just a dream! This isn't real!"
"On the contrary, this all happened," a monotonous voice remarked from the truck's driver's seat.
The bend and broken door was then kicked out from the inside of the driver's seat, revealing Nan himself, dressed in the courier's teal uniform of jacket and snapback.
"... You," Itsuki's voice trembled, "I thought you were dead!"
Itsuki sees Nan's eyes, only to find them utterly dead-looking.
"A living being can only be killed once," Nan declared as he walked towards the frightened youth, "[Suicide], the ultimate sin of the [Cursed Series] has bequeathed me a contradictory existence."
"Wh-What do you mean!?" stammered Itsuki.
"... Weren't you informed of the Schrödinger's Cat prior?" the apparition pointed out, implying that Nan himself already noticed Itsuki when he was fighting Tact and his party, "to elaborate, 'Nan Hon-Jah' is both alive and dead at the same time. But if that claim sounds superfluous to you, then perhaps this will be of some aid in your understanding."
Nan's HP bar then finally shows up on Itsuki's HUD, reading the following
#18
HP: 0/0
"[Suicide] doesn't only mean to take one's own life," #18 explained as Itsuki instinctively crawled back from him as the former strode forth menacingly, slowly cornering him back into the alleyway's bottleneck, "it also means to the destruction of one's own self-image, identity, vitality, and whatever classifies them as 'sapient'. However, that doesn't mean that #18 has become a mindless puppet, for how can one be classified as a puppet when itself doesn't exist at all?"
"... So you're say, that you erased your own existence," Itsuki lampshades, "and effectively placed yourself in a state of perpetual limbo?"
"Coincidentally, the same will be realized to the rest of creation," #18 declared, "the story of delusional heroes and labelled villains will come to a decisive end. There will be no sequels or spin-off prolonging the farce of falsehoods labeled 'good and evil'."
Then #18 snaps its fingers, summoning an apparition of Motoyasu, only faceless, and more sentinel-like.
"... What did you do to him?" Itsuki asked, his fear turning into rage.
"His soul has been devoured and assimilated," #18 declared, "The Last Man, a parody of a living being without its own values and morals, simply parroting an existing other in the name of an easy way forward. You can correctly cite this as a 'projection' of this 'Motoyasu Kitamura' that you've knew of. It is useless to resist. Submit quietly, for resisting won't change anything."
In rage, Itsuki summons his [Sacred Bow] that transforms his weapon into a [PTRS-41] anti-tank rifle, and fires the weapon at #18.
"... Choke on it, you son of a bitch," Itsuki snarled out, "I am not submitting to someone who's already gave up on himself."
"... Says someone who's also given up on himself prior," #18's robotic voice remarked, revealing that the projection to shield him from the blast, "a reinvigorated purpose is but a relit candle on the last droplet of its foundation of wax. As stated prior, resisting won't change anything."
"Even so!" Itsuki cried back, "I'M NOT YOU! I WILL NEVER BECOME LIKE YOU!"
"Then you'll cease to exist."
The projection then attack Itsuki in the alleyways of the ephemeral Academy City.
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Welp, got vaccinated (Johnson & Johnson brand), and Spring Break for me as of writing this is nearly over, and Final Papers are coming up. On the side note: here's to a full year indoors.
Managed to squeeze together a chapter for the past week, managed to pull Blaze in a Surtr banner from Arknights, and got my F/GO account back in the nick of time.
And also have been reading up on Schrödinger and Nietzsche for this chapter's content (for not to make myself look cool, I assure you, that isn't my motive), and whether it comes out decent or not, I'm finishing this fic to its conclusion.
Only about 10 chapters remaining, and I dunno if that's going to be modified to make sure that it doesn't look like being ending up rushed.
Until then, what do you think of this Epic.
Please leave a comment or a review, for I'd like to know what my audience is thinking.