Author's Note: Originally, I had not planned to write any more of this fic. I had considered it a failed attempt at adopting a more Poe-like, if you will, writing style. But it seems it was well-received by Crono Trigger fans. I've never been one to let anyone down. This fic, which was meant to be done with the first chapter, I will attempt to continue with the same grace and skill I had hoped for in the first chapter. Thank you.
Horrible events still take place. My shell of a life continues, even after what I thought should have been the end of me. My dark soul, no conscience, no sense of morality or shred of mercy remaining, has not been damned to Hell yet. This all leaves me to wonder. What kind of a Supreme Being would give me a chance to live, while not sparing all my innocent victims? There cannot be one. God is dead.
Must that spiky-haired boy be so kind, so caring, so unwilling to kill? It makes me sick, and yet, at the same time, makes me long for my younger years. I was surely not always the monster you hear ranting today. Others might try to blame unfortunate circumstances for what I have become. I have no illusions about it. My soul is dark and filled with evil. I should be dead instead of at an inn, writing this… When they arrived at the hill where I was waiting for what I thought would be my death, none of the ones I had wronged so badly seemed to have the slightest desire to end my being. I don't understand. There's no way they could have figured out already the events that took place in my childhood. They could only view me as a creature of evil, yet Crono still doesn't want me dead.
How could Glenn not want to kill me? I slew his glorified companion, Cyrus, without a second thought, then proceeded to ruin his entire life by turning him into a giant amphibian. How could one who had been so wrong simply forget all malice toward me? Does he truly believe that my help is necessary to destroy Lavos? I'm washed up. I don't even care if I live anymore. My magic is not really that useful. I don't want this kindness, never asked for it. How can they all be so nice to me? Maybe I'll just never understand. If I told those people from the future that I was indirectly responsible for the pain they've known all through their lives, could I expect the same out of them? Of course not. Then why the benevolent behavior from Crono and Glenn?
I know there's no way I could ever fix the things that I've destroyed, no way to help the future that has already happened. But perhaps I could redeem myself in the eyes of those I have not already killed. Could helping to kill Lavos help? I have honestly been thinking more and more about hunting down my former servants in 600 AD. I know they have not yet been brought to justice. In some meaning of the word, I am still a human. Though I have given myself over way too much to the Dark Arts, my servants were monsters and would never be able to regret their evil ways. If nobody else could put a stop to them, I would be ideal. In fact, I probably would still strike fear into their hearts.
Of course, all of this is just empty. I could never really fix things in my own eyes. I guess the only thing I actually care about is rescuing Schala from wherever she ended up. Searching through time would be a grueling task, but I would search anywhere in the universe for her. Nothing makes me feel good anymore. Even people acknowledging my power no longer holds any joy for me. When I traveled to the end of time, Spekkio, God of War, acknowledged my power surpassed even his. See? I could be a god if I wished. Maybe being a God could help me find Schala. Even as I pen this, my eyes tear up at the thought. These adventurers think they're helping me by traveling with me, but all they've succeeded in doing is tearing up my soul and stomping on it.
I have trouble fighting. It only reminds me of how I used to cut down villagers, kill their family members in front of them, then leave them to live in agony. How many vowed to kill me? Hundreds? Thousands? Possibly. Anything was possible. How many families fell to Ozzy's cruel designs? How many families were cut in half together by Slash's unparalleled swordsmanship? How many families had Flea sucked in vortexes of Hell so they would never be seen again? Just because I have never had a family, does that really give me a right to destroy them like that? It's obvious. I should be dead. Crono is once again messing with destiny, and I long to kill him for it. I should be burning in Hell, Crono, you bastard! How can you do this to me?!
Need to regain my composure, but anger burns at the core of me. If I lose control of my power, I could unleash Dark Matter upon the entire village and kill even more innocents. Such pressure. How could any God place this much strain on one mortal person? I said it before. God is dead. Yes, I've decided it now. I cannot stay with these people. They are innocent. They are nothing like me. I cannot be forgiven. I can't die yet. I must find Schala. My pensive mood fades, anger replacing it. The Black wind begins to howl again. Who is the one to die? Must be the innkeeper or his wife. A marvelous burden, if I've ever seen one. I shall not continue writing. I fear breaking my quill. If Crono ever read this, I'm sure he'd change his mind about my redemption. My death is the only way things could ever be set right.
My ambitions, my pride, all for naught…