Silence filled the whole of Tokyo...
With The Fall... all had died.
All had stopped.
The demons...
the humans...
The Angels...
and what to say of Mikado? Not even the city built in the sun, safe from the horrors that lurked under the ground had not been spared.
This... should have been a definitive end but...
But this was not what he'd wanted.
From his hidden control room, Stephan stared at his silent realm, the little goddess by his side also silent.
This...
this was not what he'd wanted... Nyarlatothep should not... there had been no way for him to have gained this amount of power... and what to speak of The Fall Itself?
"I... I disabled the fall... so why?"
but... no one answered...
Stephan tried to use his powers to restore his realm... only to realize that they where gone.
"Toyosatomimi... She must have wrested my administrative rights away." The well dressed hermit spoke bitterly. "She... she corrupted everything... why did I have to be so greedy for the Son of Yuuka, I should've just returned him when I converted Kaku Seiga... why... oh why did I do that." he lamented as he buried his face in his hands. Feeling true despair after so long.
A feeling he hadn't felt for centuries came over him, pressure built up behind and around his eyes and breathing became difficult. His shoulder hunched...
and his absolute failure, his Godhood over Tokyo was really but a dream...
From the first one to the last, he had fooled himself thinking that this was his realm and that everything went how he desired to go...
but now... now he realsied that even in his hermitage, a place where all codes where by his own creation, where everything the way he wanted...
this was just an illusions, mistakes could always happen, illusions could still affect him, he could be lied to and, certainly, he had been cheated since he himself...
He himself was not perfect...
"I'm... not God... I am the fool."
"And thus, you have realized your actual position." a familiar voice spoke...
Having nothing to lose, since all where dead... and because that flying man had started it all, Stephan jumped out of his seat to face the still smiling, and still glowing Narada Muni. Who was looking down at the powerful hermit whit a smirk on his eternally youthful face.
"You!" He hissed in anger, something he rarely ever felt anymore... and it was burning. "This is all your fault!"
Narada merely raised an eye brow, looking a bit disappointed by this "Oh? And how would this be my fault?"
"You... you told me not to get rid of Them! Of Miko and that damn Cat!" He spat out, trowing at the infuriating man a spacial anomaly.
Only to watch whit horror as it passed clear trough him.
The flying indien chuckled as he shook his head like Hindus where known to do.
"Well... yes, you are right." the flying blond shamelessly admitted. "You've had you fun, Hawking." Then the Celestial's smile fell. "But the moment you started blaspheming my Lord and Master, antagonizing him and turning him no better then a one tone villain, what to say about your hilariously bad interpretation of the Supreme Godhead, not just me, but all the Demi-gods, Including my Father, Brahmaji, my elder brothers like the four-Kumara's and Brihaspati and Sri-Shiva, have had a divine grudge against you... and all that had happen up to now had been the manifestation of their wrath."
He crossed his arms, and at this moment...
At this very moment, Stephen knew, he simply knew that compared to Narada, he was but a mere dead pixel.
"You may think of me as the source of this event, the Instigator. But know this, oh, Fallen hermit. I am but the Instrument of my Master's Divine Will."
"Then who is this master?" Stephen spat, hoping to take the flying Celestial, a real Celestial, by surprise.
But once again, his attack, small black holes able to twist and destroy all that it touch, even light, where useless against him, even his most potent anti mater where proven inefficient to absolutely Useless.
And then... Stephen felt a heavy, burning hand on his shoulder.
The powerful hermit turned around... and was met whit with... all the demigods, headed by Sri-Mahashiva and Bhadra-Kali.
And no, those where not the NPCs he had made, but the real deal.
"You." Sri-Shiva spoke with anger reddened eyes, his tall and powerful body quivering whit barely restriand anger. "I gave you the power you hold, thinking you would use it to attain the perfection of life... but what do I see?" He growled, his voice sounding like destruction itself. "You have blaspheme my sons, Ganesha and Kartikeya. You have dishinorned my wife... in all of her forms. And you have marred and defamed by nephews and nieces, spat on he holy teaching for the sake of entertainment... but worst of all." The Supremely imposing Master of the Demi-gods, he who was easily angered, the fifth born son of Bramha and he who's dance brings upon the universla disolution wilingly kneeled in front of the cowerring fallen sage.
Yes, Stephan was powerful, yes, his words and code where the law of this world...
But at the moment, now facing a legitimate god, the god of Destruction under whom all other Gods serve...
He was not better then a dying mouse.
"You, Stephan Hawking, have denied and denigerate over and Over my lord and Master; Sri-Shankarshana. You have turned my majestic Master, the Guru of all Guru, He who holds all the planets of his unlimited hoods, He who's furrowerd brows and slight anger burn the world. He who eternaly chants the Glories of Bhagavan until the final disolution, he who eternaly floats on the waves of the mild ocean, blissfully playing the role of Kshirodakashayi-Vishu's ever-so-soft bed, He who is Lakshmana, and who;se eternal source is Nitiyananda Balarama."
Stephan Swallowed thickly, whatever spells and technics he had to subdue God ha left his mind as fear and dread took over instead. "Worst tstill, you have offended my Lord's earthly servent repedatly... not even Moskha is a good enough punishement for you.
"And for this... I Shiva, the Husband of Moksha Devi,will not tolerate this affront." And with those words, Mahadeva grabed his Trishun... his trident, each prong a mode of material nature, and pierced Stephan's body.
And then... Stephan opened his eyes, looking at the blurry and grimy ground.
The ancient hermit picked himself up carefully. Tokyo was still silent... and his body laid on the ground, lifeless.
And thus... this was the end of Stephen, Hawkins doppelganger.
He would never be able to move one, and would be cursed to remained a disembodied ghost until the dissolution happen, 'eternally' being stabbed by the three modes of material nature, unable to scratch any itch, for he was rendered body-less... unable to even make a dead leaf flutter.
He would not attain the Brahman effulgence, he would not even come close to liberation. For while he had been a terrible Demon, he didn't deserve Moksha, to return as one to His Master's speck of dust.
No, for him, he didn't deserve the divine time out.
Perhaps, if Krishna's Sudharshana Chakra or a bolt from his divine bow; Sharinga, would have been Stephen's cause of death, then he would have reached this destination so sought after by the illusioned impersonalist Yogis aiming for a spiritual suicide.
But no, the Lord truly had retracted his mercy to this demon of a man, for no one harmed Krishna's dear Devotee's without a heavy retribution.
The now bodiless fool looked toward the blooming form of Nyalratotehp. Now that he had died, there was nothing he could do to stop the demon of his own doing to break free from the Hermitage and consume everything int the world.
'there... is no more hope...' Stephen fell tot he ground, somhow still feeling pain despite being disembodied. "I..."
and it was at this moment, and this moment Horizon that he Finally bowed his headin defeat.
Stephan had ran away from death with every means he had. He had stolen, killed, kidnapped and cheated his way to immortality and God-like powers... given away years of his life, gallons of blood from himself and others and tons of flesh to make his little realm in the side of mouth fuji, in the deepest and least accessible past of the legendary ice cave.
And while it was sure that he had pushed his luck when he'd slapped an entire new level of Illusion on the already bulking tokyo, the fact was that the Persona games where a fun breath of fresh air, and it had been a fast ways to get more assets to his hermitage.
The demons living there, and the game itslef needed more players, as little as they where, to keep his goddess playing...
And now... He was paying the price for his greed, all of his bad Karma was catching up to him. And had catch up to him.
The thing is, for a hermit, you only had a few choice.
You either went to hell if you didn't maintain your practice and enjoy too much of life's carnal pleasure, since mystic powers and any other opulence gained by the prescribed Taoist practise would eat the good karma, thus hell was the only place they would go.
If the hermit would continue his practise and not deviate despite the Godly powers he would developed, then heaven would be his reward, or even better; to merge into light.
But Stephen was the third type, the type that grew so proud and belligerent, they'd managed to piss off all demigods, meaning that he would have to wait a long, long time before he would be dragged down to hell, forced to remain as a disembodied spirit on earth.
What a terrible fate.
"At least, I won't be alone to suffer." He taught, since everything was dead in his Hermitage.
A waste, for sure. But what was he supposed to do? Stephen had lost all control over his realm, and even more so now that he was dead.
And then... the wind blew, a phenomenon that was imbosible in underground Tokyo, the celestial vault making sure of that.
It was a fresh wind, a wind that... was divine in nature.
Then... sound came back.
Life came back.
But not for Stephen.
~0~
"Kripa?" he heard a women speak whit a very sweet voice. She was probably the one playing whit his hair."Kr~pa, wake up, oh best of man. I long to have your auspicious eyes' attention."
He stirred for a bit, those hands felt so good, and even the ground he was one could only be described as a motherly embrace. The cool air blew gently on his body, carrying the sent of Jasmine and Lotuses... but never overpowering the natural aroma of His Krishna.
His Krishna... the life of his life, the reason for his existence.
Kripa's eyes flow open, expecting to see his eternal Master, the Lord of his every breath...
only to fall face to face with Mohini-Murti's halfcovered one.
"Oh."
Mohini scowled prettily. "Well... I expected a better reaction then that." She deadpanned.
Kripa got his head off from her lap. "Well... I was expecting someone else."
"Your where expecting this rascal Krishna, don't you?" She asked as she crossed her arms under her amble bosom.
"... What if I was expecting this rascal? Are you jealous he spent time whit dirty old me while you are left alone?" Kripa huffed as he crossed his arms and turned his back on the ethereal beauty. "And before you say that he met whit me only to leave me heartbroken, at least he got some pleasure hanging out whit me, showering me with his smile, talking to me... holding my hands..." He stifled a sob as he remembered the Lord and Master of his life.
Eventual, he gave up and cried heaving sobs. Realizing that ever since his Krishna a left and Kripa began his campaign to save Yukimaru, he could barely remember his Krishna...
He was so fallen, the most unfortunate of souls living in this retched world of mater and misery. For God had revealed himself fully to his insignificant Jiva, had spoken to him, held his hands, crushed him in his embrace, smothered him with his divine aroma, blessed his imperfect sight whit his perfect presence.
And now, like nectar mixed with poison, every time Kripa would have the time to remember his Krishna and the short time they had shared... it burned him, giving him a pain that defeated having his heart ripped out by that weird peacock demon thingy.
"So, why don't you stop?" Mohini asked with a huff, her heard jerking to one side and macing her shark-shaped earings dance from under her shawl. "If remembering Krishna gives you so much grief, and if he's done nothing but cause you pain and embark you on a near impossible quest to save a dead man, why don;t you just give up the skirt chaser and live a happy life without him?"
Kripa stared at the black smikked beauty, her blum lips stuburnly downturned.
"... What do you mena, a skirt chasser?"
"Don't you know? Krishna's an adulterous ass, he can;t settle for a single woman, he will go and drink from their lips the same way a big black bee does. And then leave those poor, chewed up flowers to die and drie as he goes to look for his next Paramour." She flipped her braid. "He's never satisfied, at all."
...
"... Who's his favourite?"
"Did you ignore what I just told you?" Mohini-murti asked as he veil slowly slipped from her head.
"No... but I don't give a fuck whether I suffer or not. My Krishna wants a million girlfriend? Fine, he's straight anyway and I'm not much to look at. Beside, the more suffering he gives me, the closer I feel to Him." Kripa revealed... as realization hit him harder then the fake Shesha.
"So... that's what Mahaprabhu came to taste and teach us. Love in separation of the Lord... Whit Krishna. Once you have it, you feel like dying every breath you take when he's gone... and yet, because of this pain... Because of this pain I feel so, so close to him... I can;t help but remember everything about him." Kripa closed his eyes in deep, transcendental bliss. "I can still smell his aroma and his flower garland, and when I close my eyes, I can see him in my heart... hell, I can feel his hands and hear his voice." he once again opened his eyes. "But... when I try to forget him... when I do forget him to participate in my quest... I don't feel pain. But..." He sobbed. "The whole universe is empty without him." He wailed in deep pain.
It was a pain all atheist felt, but considered it normal. It was the feeling of complete voidness that they all tried to full whit items, money, woman, intoxication, wealth and power.
It was a pain so great, Maya, Krishna's external illusory potency had to make all of those poor soul, envious of God so that their pain was considered to be pleasure, freedom. and that to surrender to God was the most Painful, useless things in existence and that they would rather disappear after a short time on earth, become one whit the earth then living in eternal bliss whit the source of all relationships.
They accepted anxiety, fear, madness, death and depression as a normal fact of life despite the intense suffering they subjected themselves too in the eternal bid of enjoying the dry and tasteless material world.
It was a pain Krishna-Kripa didn't want to feel anymore. This... numbness hidden as pleasure.
No... He wanted to feel this heart deep pain that gave him life, this sorrow that really was the greatest bliss...
"I can feel him, Mohini. It's like... he's right beside me, with his snake like arms around my shoulders." Kripa spoke whit a less then sane smile... it was a smile that represented the highest bliss one in pure love of good could feel. He held Mohini's arm who was, indeed, slung over his shoulder. "I can smell him, I can practically smell him." fat tears flowed from his eyes as he turned and stared at Mohini's blackish blue, lotus like eyes. "you... you even look like him." Kripa spoke with choked voice as he gently caressed Mohini's moon-like face. "Mohini... when I'm with you... I feel the same way then if Krishna was with me... you... must be very dear to him then."
~0~
In his unmanifested form, Sri-Balarama watches as his brother, dressed as Mohini-Murti (and not his Avatar, Mohini-murti.) got caught up in the ropes of love Krishna-Kripa held without knowing so.
He'd seen it often, how pure love would bewilder both the Supreme Lover and all of his Beloved, irrespective of their Rasa.
'Kripa has Vraja-Prema, and Krishna is Controlled by this Prema... but Kripa had also forgotten about this fact, he himself intoxicated by Swamini's loving potency.' And wasn't this a beautiful sight to behold?
Sri-Balaram, also known as Baladeva and the source of all Vishnu from his expansion as Sankarshana, Anantashesha Naga, followed every souls whit his innumerable heads and eyes, watching them as the silent witness and waiting for them to await his divine instruction once again.
And he was also Nityananda, the ever-love-intoxicated Acharia, the source of all Gurus. And thus, he knew exactly what was going on whit them.
And it was all good; it was a state of pure love only Bhagavan in which the Lord and his devotee, drowning in the bliss of love in simultaneous separation and union, remained as stones. Having forgotten everything, including their identities and servant and master.
It was the supreme goal of life, to reestablish one's position as a lover of God.
Actually, love of God and one's Swarupa, or eternal form and service to Krishna, resembled a well-decorated piece of bread.
Of course, this bread was on a plate, and this plate was the oneness impersonalist vied for.
But really, no one could be nourished with a plate but the bread that was on top of it.
At the base was servitorship, for every soul, no matter their material and spiritual identity was, at its base, a servant of God. And they would serve Vishnu, Rama, Vasudeva and Krishna as such servants. And those who worshipped Narayana -Vishnu, would do so whit awe and reverence.
Which was perfect! Rare that those would could reach such perfection. But, as whit all pieces of bread, no matter how good it was, would infinitely be better whit a condiment.
Like butter.
The Butter in question was friendship, to see God as an equal... as a friend.
It was not that those self-realsied souls saw themselves as God, oh no... they saw themselves as Gopala's friend, cowherd boys from Vraja, simple village boys running after their cows all day and playing with the master of Everything as children wont to do.
God could never stop being God, and the Jivas, the numberless pure souls, were purely spiritual l in Nature, and could never be God.
But God would gladly become their friend, would they be so inclined.
After that was the peanut butter or parenthood, wholesome and nourishing, and that paired very well whit the butter and the toast.
Finally, there was the Honey of Amorous love.
Of this love, two kinds existed; married and Unmarried... Paramour love, like the Gopis, had.
Of course, since the only man was Krishna and all souls belonged to him, it meant that those very special and renounced souls only had the impression of cheating on their husbands for Krishna's sake, when in reality, they never had a husband.
But... this was a topic for another time, in another place and another book. The only thing Balarama-Ji wanted us to know was that Krishna-Kripa had practised Krishna-Bhakti for lifetimes, enduring numerous austerities, visited all the holy places in the universe, chanted his Gayatri to perfection and performed countless sacrifices to completion... and finally, chanted Harinama perfectly, Giving Mercy to all the Marginal souls suffering int he material world, pleasing Mahaprabhu.
One does not reach this type of love alone; it is all about getting the mercy of Sadhu, Guru, Vaishnava and finally, Mahaprabhu.
One had to bath their entire body in the sacred dust of those pure souls whose love had reached perfection. Until then, it was impossible even to get a taste for the Sankirtana process, the fastest path to Love of Godhead.
And Kripa had made it...
This particular soul, so dear to Him and his Brother as attained the supreme Goal of life in his previous lifetime, Krishna-Kripa had already reawakened his Swarupa, his eternal form. She had no need to return, but there were a few special souls Krishna and his Dear Radha desired to have back.
Yuki was one of them, and so was Gaston.
Actually, everyone stuck in the material world, but for now, those were the two souls Krishna was the most anxious to get back, and that was saying something.
Sri-Balarama frowned, as sweet as it was to see his Master become the servant of his servant, bound by his rope of love given by none other then the crowned queen of Sri-Vrindavan Dam to Kripa and become lost in their eternal rasa... the pastime on earth, in the tiny realm made in a crack in a floppy disk, had to get wrapped up and ended, and despite his brother having complete control of time...
Just as the Night of Brahma long Rasa dance had to end, Kripa and Krishna's dancing glances had to end, and time had to start anew.
And with he help of Sri-Krishna's Lila-Shakti... it did.
Krishna-Kripa lifted Mohin-Krishna's Veil, Gasped in pure joy as he was truly reunited with he eternal love of his heart of heart and embraced him hard enough to knock him off the throne he was sitting on, Kissing him.
'Make this as you want, but my Krishna loves his Radha, and last I've heard, Swamini-Radharani was the prototype and foremost of all women and overs of Krishna.' The Guru of all Gurus shamelessly broke the fourth wall. 'What you are all seeing there is a spontaneous show of love that transcend all rules. My Brother has no interest in any material form; only those in pure spiritual form can give him pleasure and nothing else.'
Suddenly, Krishna caught sight of his brother, a bright blush lighting his face... not out of shame but out of deep unrepentant joy.
"Hey, Balai!"
"Yes, Kanai?"
He showed Krishna-Kripa, who was hiding his face, mumbling about how he had no been
able to control himself.
Well, considering who Krishna-Kripa was in the spiritual world, Balarama was not surprised.
"I got my Sakhi... My Sakha back! He remembered now; he remembered everything!"
Yes, Seeing Krishna's tearful smile was everything Balarama could have ever wanted. But as the Lord's ideal servant, he had to remind his brother.
"Oh, that's wonderful... but didn't you send him to earth to free Yuki and bring him back home?"
Krishna blinked...
"Oh, right..."
"Kana? What's wrong?" Krishna-Kripa asked as his body began to shake. "Do I... do I have to leave?"
"No... and yes." Krishna sadly informed his most fortunate friend, still in his Bhakta-rupa. "Kripa... in the spiritual world, you reside in your Kunja stringing necklaces of pearls for me, listening to the parrots sing about me and Radha." Krishna explained as his voice wavered for a bit, diamond tears falling from his deep blue eyes. "you are eternally named Chandralata gopi; you are one of the expert dancers assisting my Radha during the Rasa Lila, dancing around her like a petal of a golden, bejewelled lotus, making it's cintamani center shine whit even more splendour."
Kripa... Chandra-lata sobbed. Taking on her eternal appearance, her Swarupa."
Her skin was the colour of sunshine when hitting a crystal; she wore a lotus-coloured dress of pink and green. Her black hair was tied in a braid that reached her lower back and her head was covered by her sunset-coloured shawl speckled with tiny golden diamonds.
On her half-moon forehead was a delicate tilaka and the red mark claiming her to be another man's wife...
But Balarama was fully aware that this was a ploy since the only Purusha/ man/ Enjoyer of everything was Krishna. Everything else was Prakriti, or female by nature.
Meaning a servant to God.
And there was no exception here. Even Balarama was a sevaka; he was sevia-Bhagavan/ the Lord who Served the Master of Everything.
By their Mother's love, even Krishna Served everyone, so why did an insignificant number of souls desire to serve what was dead, not even Balaram...
No wait, of course, he knew; he was Shesha, Shankarshana and the Adi-Guru. He was in the heart of all, including the Atoms, and between them also, he was the secondary supreme controller whose powers were equal to Krishna, after all.
So yes, he knew why the individual marginal souls decided to ditch their best friend for a paltry chance at playing God... and he knew it was done by their own will and also as an opportunity for Krishna to Play the hero.
Everyone had their own stories to tell, but all, deep inside their covered heart of hearts desired to return to Krishna; they just didn't know it yet.
"But... " Krishna continued. "you also have another identity, another reality in which you are in your Bhakta-Rupa of Kazami Krishna-Kripa, born of Mukhara and Yuthika, in Vrindavana, by the slopes of Goverdana hill."
The Form of Chandra-lata disappeared, and Krishna-Kripa was there again, his eyes still pouring out boiling-hot tears.
"As Krishna-Kripa, you will reach those who do not fit the mould. You are immune to Kamadeva's deadly flower arrow, which is a true boon to those desiring to reach me, and yet, you still long for the sweetness of companionship; don't worry; I have already arranged the perfect partner for you. You will be initiated by your Guru again, and I promise all will be successful this time."
"But Krishna... we failed," Kripa admitted. "Listen, I know I died again... everyone died to Nyarlatothepts kill all."
"And do you think this will prevent me from having what I want?" Krishna challenged as he proudly quirked his bow-like brows. " Kripa, while you are sometimes bewildered by the abundance of love in your heart of heart, know this for sure!" Krishna began his declaration.
"You are my eternal maidservant, and my eternal Bhakta, birth after birth, you will serve me, and I will never leave you... I have never left you." He declared boldly. "You have given up so many things for me, and I-" The Lord's voice choked. "Oh, my Sakhi... my dearest friend. I am yours, you have purchased me completely whit your pure devotion and love of Me." he took a shuddering breath as ice crystals fell from his lotus-like eyes.
"And for you, who have given Me everything for my pleasure... there is nothing I won't do... just ask away, my dear. Anything... anything at all, Please, please, let me start repaying this debt I have to you." The Lord of All begged, and it was only due to Kripa holding him in place that Krishna, The All Attractive, was not kneeling and praying at the feet of his Devotees.
Kripa was at a loss... what could he ask his Krishna? There was nothing he wanted anymore, not after seeing Him again.
"Krishna, what is left for me to ask? The material world, compared to you, is no bigger then a sesame seed. And the sum total of all universe rest on your divine light like pearls string on silken latices. And yet, everything also rests inside your belly, as you have shown twice to your mother during your eternal pastime as a baby."
"Now, I have you. Right now, I'm holding you; I have you in my heart, finally, after unlimited lifetimes." Kripa giggled. "My heart is a dark, filthy place, Krishna; it's filled whit spite, anger and lust. And I won't let you escape it, no matter what you try to give me in exchange for your freedom."
"Not even success in saving Yuki?" Krishna asked whit a teasing smirk.
"Bah, that soul will go where it's supposed to, same as the soul in Flynn's body."
"And how about your sister's safety?" Krishna asked again.
"You're already keeping her safe. You said on the battle field of Kurukshetra to your friend Arjuna that you give to your fully surrendered devotees what they lack and preserve what they have. And even if you decide to return on your vow, I would still worship you... I'm your eternal maidservant, after all." Krishna-Kripa finished meekly.
And yes, he meant all of that.
Krishna, God was at loss for words. For a mundaner, what Kripa did was unthinkable, to give up everything such as universal wealth, eternal youth and other such bobbles like Unlimited strength, fame, Mystic powers and dominion over all and instead, gave themselves to him.
...
Of course, Krishna had helped, for he had been the one to tell Maya to lift her veil off from his Kripa's now love-anointed eyes.
"Tatatsu... so be it," Krishna whispered as he embraced his extremely fortunate soul, his silken fine hair standing on end. "So be it; I will never leave you."
~0~
Krisha-Kripa woke up, his heart still beating in his chest as he felt fully rejuvenated and free from all lamentations and anxiety.
As he rose, the sight of destruction and Chaos met his eyes, but he was not disturbed.
How could he, when the Absolute truth, his dearly Beloved Krishna, had given his everything and was protecting him fully?
What was nothing left for him to fear short of Maha-Maya and Aparadha.
He was eternal; they were all eternal.
Nothing could touch them; what they were living was a virtual reality...
and all of those who cared about had already taken the red pill.
In front of him, the crawling Chaos loomed over all, too tall for the celestial vault to hold him in.
But Krishna-Kripa could only feel pity for the poor thing wrapped in Maha-Maya's potent illusion and bereft from God's mercy.
How could he? After causing such pain to Krishna's devotees.
Still, the rules were the rules, and if the ass-hole would somehow find it in himself to surrender, then, just as lord Rama had been willing to accept Vibishana and his demoniac Cohort and to shelter them, then so would he.
But let's be honest, this oily snot would never do that; he was too stuck up in his own ass to understand the situation he was in.
̧̲͍̯̲̉ͫͯͦ"̘̠̪̗̤̰̈͢S̤̪̮ͬͬ̈́͆͢o̸̹͎̺͉̳͕̫̿.̡̦̺ͥͦ̈͂ͅ.̶͉̯͉̥̺̰͍̿͗.͔̬̗̮̤̻̑ͨ͒͑͞ ̥̲̤͎̮̂̊̍͠y̸̘̥̩̹̓ộ̧̥̝̏̉̊ṳ̱̹͉̗̬͎͎̄͠ ͊̑҉͎͍͉̻̞̥l̮̤̤͓̯̪ͥͦ́ͤ͡ͅi̢̪̹̺̬̩̜̹̬ͣ̈v̡͚̱̣̯̜̻̊̿͆̎e̝͖͌̏͛͜ ̬̟̙ͮ̀a̙͚͉͖̼̱͋̓̈́̓̕l̵̟̬̖̫̾͒ṣ̝̝̺̗̞̾͟ͅo̴͍̼̗̜͙̹̞ͤ̄́ͅ.̛̭̜̻̤̜̖̬̯̥͌ͦͪͨ͟"̛͎̩̺̱̼̹̠̋͊ͅ
"Who said I've died?" The purified Jiva asked. "I am Amortal, I never took birth, and I shall never die." He spoke whit a smile.
Oh, how good did it feel to know that nothing would hurt him, that he was the eternal spirit soul and had nothing to do with this temporary body?
No matter how long he'll remain there, for he knew of his true nature.
̥̲̟̣̱̞̗͉ͤ͆̚͢"̦̣͕͉͕̠̐͋͗̚͝T̺̙̘̬ͪͦ͜h̢̠̱̫ͣ͗̂i͍̫͉̺̝͚͆͌ͯ̌͠s̡̮̐ͅ ̶͈̼̬̂̏͌̅m͔̞̺͈͖͕̔ͭ͜ͅạ̜̝̮͔̱͆͆ͦ̕y̨͍͈͚̦̬̗̺̻̽ͣb̨̹̩ͫe͍̞̱͇̠͙̺̿̈͠ ̣͈͈̬͇͍͍͂̃̆͑͟ͅs̛͓̪̼̟̘̲̃o̔̋ͣ̔҉̻̺̩̟̰͕̭͓,͓̩̬͐̉͞ ͍̱̋̕b̵̘̥̣͕̽̉u̠̙͙̱̬̫ͥͥ̑͢t̶̬̙̹͖͇̠̯͚̂̅ ̦̗̺ͣ͘y̴̟͍̫̹̦͚͐̓ͩͪͅo̡̯͖̎̍ú̖͚̬̻͉̬͇ͤͩ̀r͔̣̻̻͒̈̋̿͝ ͔̼̟̩ͪ̎̈͜ͅḟ̵̲̮͇̳̉ạ̛̯͕̱̺̊ͦ̾̓m̢̩̗̙̻̋i̸̥̝̺̍ͤ̐̆l͕̤ͪ͛̽͝y̴̫͇͓̔ ̨̥̪̄ͩͮ̾ȃ̶̲̥̯ͥ̊n̶͈͓̥͇̘̿ͮḓ͙͈ͦ̽ͯ͝ ̟͕̹͖̑̕f̟̩̺̣̱̰̒͂͌͜r̠̟͈̥̮̋̒͌̅͘ì̥̺ͧ̈́͞e͈̖̯̮͙̪̣͂ͭ́n̞̟̣ͮͫ͑̀d̼̣̈ͫ́s̸͍͓̺̬̗͖̟͚ͩ̄̓̂ ̘͙̲̏̓͜ȁ̴̙̮̐̐̆r̝͓͕͉͉̋ͬͧ͠è͏̞̞̲̪͙̩̤͙ ̬̩̘ͮ̂̇́ŝ͈͉̕ẗ̴̞̤̲̘̻͎̖͎͑̒ͧi̧̝͚͂l͎̮̺̩̠̰̜ͩͯ̀l̩̫͖̝̪̥͑̅ͨ͑͘ ̶͕̝̍̃̚d̪̝̙͈̦͒̅̒̚͝e̹͙̞̞̹̣̭̊͂͞a̴̙̼̐d̛͇̭̣̙̭͚̻͍ͨ͌̍͛,̛̪͚̳̲̞̯͇ͬ̎ͤ ́͂ͫ͛͏̭̞̫̜̜̤̰̭ā̷̰̰̟n̪̙̟̈̂́ͅd̸̤̬͈̬̜̫͔ͧͯͧͩ ͕̖̼̘ͦ̓ͣ͡s͉͚̪͍̬̞͈͌̈͒̂͘ͅo̐͑҉͍͙͓ò̫̟̼̫̜̙̦̝̽̽ͣ͝ǹ̡̝͖͖̟̤̠͊ ̭̣ͪ̎͂́t͉̗̯͂́o̹̪͒̿̑͝ ̣̪͇͔̖̺͈́͡b̳̮̱̲̽ͬ͘ẻ̼̼̫̻̺̼̦̟͜ ̦̹͍͕̝͖̅͐̃͠c̣͙̤̮̲̅͊̈́͌͜ͅͅo͚͓̼͔̰ͮͧͬ͠n͚̰ͥ͝s̴̗͇̲͍͎̭̣ͮͯͅu̶̖̬͈̫͔͈ͯm̵̬̠̼͑ͩe̞̼̜̭̲̰ͣ͘d́ͦ͏̦͔̯̩͖̯̥ͅ.̵̜͕̙̤͔̙͈̇̏̒͐́"̢̰͓̍͑ Nyarlatothep gave what could be considered a ghoulish grin.
To one lesser, it would cause them to lose all shreds of sanity until they were left in taters, babbling on the ground, unable to do much but stare at death.
But Krishna-Krishna was not a mere person; he was a jiva, a spirit soul.
His body would perish by Krishna's will, just as he would live by his will also.
When you were in the left hand or the right hand of God, all was perfectly fine.
"My Family?" Kripa scoffed. "Funny, what I see around are a bunch of corpses that have nothing to do whit me." He spoke as he reached for Krishna's divine lotus, promises that Kripa eternally belonged to him...
'Is Guru-deva still alive? He must be so close to a hundred now... I have to find him as soon as I can.,' meaning he could not waste any more time.
̛̥͓̾̉"̛̣̖̱̻̱͍͛̑ͬ̈́N̮̖̱͚͔̙̦ͪ̓ͨ̀ö̗̟͂̈ͨ͟t̰̻̺̳̰̃̎͢h̠̩̝̝̳͖̻ͯͨ̿̏͠ȉ̼̱͜n̨̰̻̱͓͍͌͋̾g͉͔ͥ́ͅ ̙̜̜͉͕̹̀͒̕t̶̪͇̜̼̤̩͈ͯ̍̄ͣo̭̥̻͈̓̌̋͟ͅ ̨͍͖̹̐͂̌ͧd̢̫̞͎̲̩̲ͣ̇oͯ̽ͩ̔҉̲̬̝̦̳̺͖͙ ̜͍͕̪̬͌͡ͅw̛̘͎̞̲͍̑ͬͧ͂ị̸̰̯͉̹̼̱͙̈̂͊t̾̉̀̈́҉̳͓̜͚̜͕͍ḧ̷͉͖͎͇͙͓̞̱ͪͦ ̦͍̭͓̗̜̭͛̌̐̎͠y̧̟̩̖͔̞̘̯̔ͦͩͅǫ̥͎̜̭̌u̮͖͖͈̳̞͍ͤ̃̍̅͝ͅ?̛͇̹̯̳̠̹̫̭̖̝̊͂́́ͅ"̫̝͈̞̮̲ͤͫ̓͟ͅ Nyarlatothep asked, sounding a bit taken about by Krishna-Kripa's callousness. ͣ̐ͬ̍҉͍͎"̸̳͕̫͈͖͔͙̍ͬ̆B̛͚̤̘͎̤͑͗uͦ̓ͦ̌҉̮̭̦̦t̷̘̭͙̰̗̔ ̴̯͈̏̋̓a̛̬̖̣̞͍̼͙ͨͥ͊̎ř̨̻͕̮͓̳͍̰͚e̢͖̹̹̩ͭ̔̒̌ń̵̘̮̾͊t̛̝̲̗͚͔ͣͮ ̫̳͆̃̇̉͟t̖̩͚͔̭̑̀̚ḥ̯͈͚͍̭̲͇͂̒ͧ͘e̢̹͎ͫy̟̣̙̦̲̠͉ͧ͛͞ͅ ̼͕̀̆ͬ͞y̜̱̯ͧ̍̿̇͡ȏ̴͙͔̤͖͓͔̬̪u̇͒͏̤͍r̵̼̼͍̝̉ ̎̉̿͏̹̖̤̜͇̝f͔̳͖̠̥̳̗ͦͬ͝a̴̦̳̭̤̰̭̮̍ͅm̴̬̞̞̹̗̩͉ͬ̓i̵̬̣͓̞̦͚̓͌ͪl̴̻̗̮͈̺̪̺̱ͪy͇̩̓ͫ̈͠?̛̰̜̼̠̦͕̬̏ͪͬ̒ͪͨ̂́"̳̜̜̮̱̰ͨͦ̀
"Oh, Nyarly dear. Don't you know? I, the pure soul, have nothing to do with this bag of flesh filled whit blood and other such fluids." Kripa pressed his hand to his chest. "I am the soul in a body, not a body whit a soul. I am amortal, never was there a time when I came to existence, nor will there be a time when I'll cease to exist. Same as you and as all the souls who entered this here room. And those I call Family are merely so because they have a connection with this dead body, nothing more then that."
͙̫͎̩̗͎͑͞"̶͓̞͕̺̙̂͒Ḩ̥̼͔̤͎͓̜̗͒͛͂a̱̯͔̮̽̋͋̽͟!͙̝͙̈́́ ̨̝̬̈͆̓W̶̩͙̠͕̝͌ͨH̸̘̳̦ͬͭ̋a̷͖̰̻͉̳̳ͦṫ͚̱̣̩̩ͤ́ ̢͓͍̳̰̟̼͓͒͊̃̇o̶̰̗͑́͒t̷̞̲̜̜̻̟͚͚ͦ̐ḧ̬͖̰̬̞́̀ͨ͠e̢͙̜̞̜͙̞̿̆͛̔r̳̜̋̽͢ ̥͍̠̇̀s͑ͨ̈҉̭̼̖͔̜o̧͚͓͇ͨ̈́ư̦̮̍ͯͧ̽l̞̘͈̂͠s̩̝̓̔͞,̸̞̘͙ͣ̈́͊ ̮̩̖͙͖̅͌́ͤ͢I̸̱̺̹̼͊̓ͯ ͕̖͙͐͡h̵͖͉̽͒ͣ͊ã̩͉̱̪̹̯̖ͫ͢v̳͓͙ͬͨ̇͑́e̤͖̼̻͔͎͎̯ͤ͞ ̹͎̭̝̪̪͍̉ͪ̀c̤̱͍ͬ͗ͫ̕ọ͇̥͚̚͟ͅn̡̺͉̝̒͐s̢̤̥͉̬̜̜̽ͅü̡̺̭͂̿̇m̴͖̼̩͕̝̓̎̇e̵̗̤̹̮̖̼̻ͦ̀ͣ̒ď̹͓̰͙̌͊̕ ̭̼̮̠̤͓͑̏͠t͚̣̫̘͍̯̮̥̿͘ĥ̪̲͈͉͊͋͌̕e͕̮̭̰͓̣͚ͫ͜m͓̮͍̿̇̀̚ ̡͈̼̮̝̜̈̈̾̚a̸̭̞̪̣̖̯̩͖͆l̨͕̯̳͍͗̇ͮl̡͔͙͉̰̒̾ͅ;̨͙͈̀ ̮͙̥̮̠ͣ̐̉̓͡a̷̺̘̻͚͍̥̻̤̓l͈̬̓̑ͩͬ͡l͉̺͙̗̥̻̻̉͝ ͇̤̽̋̚͝t̡̤͍̭̞̖͈̹̪̉͌h̡͉̥̫͚̣͖͈̄͌̈ͫa̬̯̹͉̍͘ţ̱̫͈̟͈̜̭́̑ ̣̰͔̐̐ͦ̉͞ȉ̴͖͉̝̖̟̆̀s̢͙͎͍͑ ̭̠͇̺͍̝̔̇ͧ͟l̷͈̩̮̘͙ͮ̔e̪͈̮̗̪̳̙̋̀f̯̮̞̗͑͌͛͡ṱ͕͈͈̟̟̰̍͝ ̮̥̳̱͕̳͐̃̑͞a̢̪̜͒͊ͦͩr̯̻̫̰͇̗̩̉́̓̀e͂͂́̆͏̠̱͇̩̩ ̨̝͖̘̆ͩs̞̰̃͞o̤̖̼̊ͣ̇͠ŭ̳͔͚͚̪̟͞l̷̠̣̎ͨl̛̩̦̬̼̎e̸͖͙͉͎̭͌̃ͨͫͅŝ̲̙̺̘͍ͮͨ́sͭ́͏͉͚ ̧̖͕͎̲̱͍͖̤ͨ̑̍͛s̻̟̭̻͚̉̀̐̀h̵̻̖͕̥̩̟̉̊ͯ͒e̦̻̭͉̱͐̏͊͝l̸̫̝̰̼̣͖͔͑ͅl̶͎̼̦͎̽̿s̴͈̻͓͈̫̒̂͒.̸̦̥̬͎̮͕̹̼̥̤ͥ͒̍̏ͩ̕"̵͉͖͕̞͚̈́̈ Nyarlatothep grinned triumphantly.
Kripa, who was smelling the Aroma of Krishna's fragrant hand on the Lotus, moved the sacred pink flower away from his nose, stared at Nyarlatothep owlishly... and then burst out in laughter.
̶̬̦̞̻̅"ͭ͒̐҉̘̞̳͙͎̯W̡̻̦̞̪̘͓̌ͅḧ̰̻̫̗̩́̒͞a̜̮͋͋͊͒͘ţ̭͔̫͎̇ͮ̏̓̍̚ͅ҉̫̭̗̣̹̭ͅ'͂҉̖̣͕͚ͅṡ̴͙̤̤̺̖̘͍͐ ͍͓̾̀ś̛̘̠͍̳̠̪̊ǫ̤̺̮̹̉ ̲̭͕̬̜͐͑̕ḟ̠̯͎͕͕̕ͅu̶̪̦̰͕̤̱̺͉̍̉̍n̮̺̼̰͙͂̽͌̿͞n̴̖̯̲̰̟̗̒̐y̯͓̋͡?̧͙̮̯̮͍̞̫̖͌̃ͤ͂́̚"̞̰͍̥̟͔̼̊̏̐́
"You! Oh, you poor, Illusioned thing." Kripa cooed, "Don't you know that the soul can't be soaked, crushed by rocks, burned by fire, cut by anything, atomized to dust?... Following this logic, how can we, the soul, be eaten by something so lowly as a material body and mind?" He scoffed as he bounced his way toward Radha's upturned Cathcart, the body of Flynn a crumpled mess...
Krishna... his Krishna was telling him that he could do something about it.
And coming closer... Kripa understood... he understood cheeky Krishna's joke.
As he chuckled fondly, shaking his head. "Oh, Kanai... of course, you're making your messiah do the same thing I did." He spoke whit prema-filled amusement as he gently deposited the divine lotus to Flynn's silent heart. Then he turned to address Nyarlathotep, his tricolour eyes glowing like a pair of stars.
"Say... Nyarly... do you believe in God?" he asked as he stepped away from the body.
The writhing Chaos leaned forward. "Of course I do." He spoke in a normal human tone. "How can I kill the bastard otherwise... not that I believe him to be god, for when I'm through with him-"
"ђє ฬเɭɭ ๒є ภ๏ ๒єՇՇєг Շђєภ ค ๓๏гՇคɭ ๓๏ยรє!"
"Oh... Is that so?" Krishna-Kripa asked whit a smirk. "That's wonderful... since He and Flynn will play whit you in a bit."
Suddenly, the body bag burst into white, hot flames, incinerating it in a flash...
And out of its cinders... a Man-Lion emerged, his body as black as the sacred stones used to carve out Deities of Vishnu and Krishna.
He had six arms, four of them floating around him, golden weapons like the chakram, the lotus (how was that a weapon?!), the bow, the shield, the mass, the Conch shell, the Elephant goad and the swords. Golden highlights decorated his forms, and a mane of curly black hair cascaded down his epaulette-covered shoulders.
His face...
Was all Flynn, from his aristocratic nose to his high cheeks and sharp chin.
On his black and gold helmet (and nose) was the Sacred Tilaka, glowing like the moon.
Outside of the Hermitage, by the mouth of the cave, Yamuna, Ramba, Chandranana and Revati. (Yukari, Ran, Chen and Reimu.) Accompanied by Okina Matara and Ibari Kasen froze as they felt something beyond that even they could conceive step down from he spiritual world and into the world of matter.
"Ugram Viram Maha-Vishnu..." The Yamuna began as his left side began to quiver.
"Jwalantam Sarvato-mukham" Revati recited as she folded her hands in pure devotion.
"Nrishimham Vishanam Bhadram." Ibaraki Kasen whispered as she felt her battle sister roar in extasis.
"Mrtiur Mrtium Namamya'ham." Okina-san ended, slumped on her wheelchair as she felt God, The one who appeared in the junction between day and night, who was neither a man nor a lion, who killed the Demon Hianyakashipu without a weapon nor his hand but his petal-soft nails, sharp enough to pierce the chest and abs the universally reviled demon, manifest int he middle of a spiritual dead-zone.
it was like dropping a thermonuclear bliss bomb in the middle of the most depressed state in the world.
He was the lord who, to respect the boon of Brahma and yet still killed the demoniac child Abuser, despite his near immortality granted by said boon. Had appeared as a Half-lion, Half-man at dusk in the hidden moth on Purushotama to Kill Hiranyakashipu and to give pleasure to his dearest Devotee, Prahlad-Ji.
This same Lord who had Advanced in the age of Truth, Satya-yuga, had once again Manifested... in this fallen age of Kali.
~0~
Some undetermined time after Nyarlatothep murdered Flynn in cold blood...
This... was not a position Flynn thought he would be in, despite the fact that death waited at every corner.
In hindsight, it had been foolish of him that he would never have to wait in line until Charon reached his number... and no, there was no more bribing out of it.
Flynn had died...
Flynn had failed...
He had failed Tokyo, his parents, and Issachar. (His friend had been back and held no ill will towards him. Only desiring for his brother in all but blood to succeed. This was one less weight pressing on his heart.)
And yet, here he was, the chosen one of Mikado, The Messiah, Masakado's wielder...
Dead and in line for his trip across the Styx.
Yes, he had screamed, yes, he had raged... and yes, he had cursed whatever Deity had been out there to hear it... which had been more then he'd thought.
Many of those had fallen to his blades, bullets and a small army of Demons.
But, by the end of it...
He had accepted it as a fact.
He had failed... he was dead... everyone was doomed but...
He didn't lose hope... for her knew, he just knew that this was not the end... he knew there was something more. There was this boy he had seen before his first death, that punk (that was what he was, right?) with the Forward mark and the Lotus on his ear.
What was his name... Nanashi?
Now, who else but the most callous of fathers would name their son 'Nameless'? A Cuel, heartless one, for sure.
Still, it was all in Nanashi's hand's now, and Flynn could only hope that the youth would not destroy everything on a whim.
Beside, what was he supposed to do? His time as the messiah of Mikado drew to a close, it was not the exit he'd expected, nor was it the one he needed, but...
Well, that was Karma...
"So, you really think this is the end?"
Flynn whirled around to face...
yes, it was Prahlad, still youthful, still glowing... and now resembling a lion cub whit his tiny fangs peeking out of his upper lip. His eyes were full of life and hope; no, he was hope; he was the embodiment of bliss...
and he was dead.
"He got you too," Flynn spoke as he tried to hide his growing despair. It was one thing to see a grown man waiting for Charon... but a child? Someone, whose life was only just starting?
It was pure tragedy, something that ripped at the dead Samurai's soul.
"Who got me? The demon?" Prahlad asked whit a tilt of his head.
"You are on the bank of the Styx...where the dead wait for Charon to ferry them over," Flynn explained as he knelled in front of the oldest five-year-old in existence. "If you here, then it means that you... Prahlad, are dead."
Flynn was never known to cry easily, but now...
Tears were falling.
Prahlad made a face. "But I can't die; I'm Sri-Narashima Deva's eternal associate."
"But-"
"And nobody here is dead; the soul Can't die; he can only change identity." the legendary boy explained. "and my Master asked me to bring you to him." and whit that, Sri-Prahald grabbed Flynn's hand and...
Lead him to a Vimana, a mythical airplane made of gold and jewels. And on it...
On it was a, don't get him wrong, Flynn preferred to dream about the soft curves of the ladykinds but this!
It was an aw worthy, gorgeous and absolutely handsome God whose body defeated the glow of a million suns, whose shoulders were broad and strong, whose briad and inviting chest was decorated with the Goddess of Fortune sitting on his lap, whose head was that of the best of Lion, and his body the best of man.
Eight powerful arms held various weapons; his lower half was dressed in silken cloth dyed in the essence of spring, having taken the guise of a wonderful golden cloth covering his legs, held in place by a golden girdle.
His hair was like a flaming mane, and his skin...
fur...
it was hard to describe; sometime, he looked to be white, sometime, he looked to be black, and sometimes, he resembled a man and a lion in therm of coloration.
The half-lion half-man... smile, for lack of better words. His third eye sitting comfortably under his helmet.
As for Flynn... the only thing he could do was to hit the floor... since...
Since...
this was God; it had to be.
He glowed like the power of a trillion sun... nay, his effulgence was such that whatever darkness remained in the world and heart dissipated.
He smiled... and all was well in the world.
"Furin." God Practically purred as he got off his seat and picked up the young man from the ground.
At this moment, Flynn realized that he was crying rivers... who wouldn't when in sight of the supreme divine.
"My Dearest Flynn. Well Done, Well done... Well done in keeping hope for so long... and keeping your fate in me when faced whit unconquerable odds." Narashima-deva spoke whit a rumbling voice that gave its dept to the ocean and the rumbling of clouds. "Please, do not fear, my son. I am here."
For his part, Flynn was too busy sobbing as the Lord of the Universes sat him on his broad lap as a father would his young son.
And for Sri-Hari's part... he was at a loss for words.
It was always the same when he appeared to any conditioned soul in the material world, poor souls who had forgotten about him momentarily.
They would cry, faint, scream, remain stunned like marble statues, and the list went on.
Flynn seemed to be showing the ecstatic symptoms of a Choked voice, wailing and rolling on the ground...
Well, not quite rolling, but it was clear any strength he had was gone, crushed whit the natural devotion now freed e the egoistic shackles.
He remained on the ground, worshipping Narahari's lotus feet by bathing them whit his tears and sobs.
The Lord's heart melted at the sight, for he too, felt the very same.
Krishna had waited for this soul... for all souls, really, to wake up from their miserable nightmare and to call him, to give up their exploitative mentality and to return to their eternal positions as his servant, dearest friend, parental figures, wives and lovers...
and he missed them... Bhagavan missed them all so much.
In the spiritual world, in one of it's numerous 'Lotus petal', the Lord would cry for them... and he would not be alone.
He hated being alone... which was why, using himself as the substance and the basis, he made everything.
He wanted to love himself... but himself was...
a pair of Enjoyers could not enjoy fully, so he made the enjoyed, starting whit his sevrents and maidservants.
But they where so distant, seeing him as the source of everything, their masters. Like Shankarshana, or Ananta shesha, who practically did and played the role of everything that existed.
His Favourite servants where Raktaka and Patraka, a pair of boys who served Krishna under his mother's orders.
But he could not share any intimate dealings whit them.
Thus... he made friends headed by Subala, Sridama, Mandhumangala and Balarama, his brother.
Well... Balaram was him, Krishna, but in a different mood then him.
As they say, one was never better served then by Himself.
Then he desired to have a caretaker who was even more intimate, someone softer and sweeter... and this was how his parents came to be.
First was Nanda, the personification of Fatherhood, then was Yashoda ma...
His eternal mother, motherly love personified.
But Krishna had been greedy, and one day, in Dwarka dham, he saw his reflection in the floor and desired to be able to enjoy himself as a woman would...
and then, in the middle of the Rasa Lila, he desired the same thing.
And Radharani came to be.
As Krishna was the form of the perfect man, the prototype for all the male form... the reservoir of all that was good in a man, Radharani, being his perfect counterpart, his second and best body and personality was the best of woman, the source of everything good about a woman.
Just as Balarama was the source of all reality, all of his servants , Nanda of all his father and Yashoda of all his mother, Radharani was the source of all his girlfriends...
.. well, his remembrance of those who loved him purely, not because he was God but for Him, as Krishna was eternal, but for the sake of this story and because Bhagavan knew that the writer could not accurately portray how his unlimited thought process work, he returned to how Flynn laid in a pool of his own tears, having forgotten his identity as the Samurai of Hope and remembering that he was an unfortunate Condition soul lost in the phenomenal world of mater. Suffering unlimited from the lashing of the four miseries that Plague the conditioned souls.
The Lord's Butter soft heart, a heart that never changed even in his most fearsome form, melted at sight and the sound of Flynn's heartfelt sobs.
The Love filled Lord, whose Lion-like form was the source of all parental affection, jumped off from his transcendental chariot, his feet and knee's touching the ground as he picked up his dearest servant, his friend...
His son.
His eternal friend, a cousin brother of Kinkini, in Vraja.
"It's alright, Flynn. I am here." he rumbled as he licked this young man... this young boy so dear to His Prahlad. "I'm sorry I took so long."
At those words, Flynn pushed himself away from God's ever-sought-after embrace.
"No." he shook his head, every single tear an offering. "No... you came right on time." He hiccuped as he went on the ground, kneeling with all the awe and devotion he could muster. "You are the eternal, faultless one and the controller of time; nay, you are time, the supreme destroyer and mover. It is I, the conditioned soul, who has ignored you for so long." he began to pray, his heart having returned to that of a simple resident of Vaicunta, a pious young boy whose father worshiped Narashima-deva.
"You, my Lord, have no other reason to give me your oh-so sought-after redemption but your own soft heart. For who else but you could have sent Prahlad Maharaja to give me mercy? You may say that he, the youngest and most famous Mahajana, had acted out by his own desires or even following the order of his Spiritual master, Srila-Narada Muni, but I know better."
"Whit your auspicious tongue, the source of all the Vedas, I have received the perfect knowledge locked behind the Aumakara. I know why this world exists, why we, the conditioned spirit souls, exist, and the fact that we are not this body made of matter and that, Ultimately, our goal of life for that blessed with the human form is not to exploit and live like a bunch of two-legged animals." The Best of Man spat out. " We, the eternal spirit souls, exist only for the pleasure of the Supreme Personality of Godhead; we have no birth, we have no death, just as the supreme soul, our source, but we are not meant to merge back in his existence, for my Lord, we are not meant for a life of nothingness floating in a void filled with light.
We, the souls, are your eternal Servants, no matter what."
"So my Lord, whose head gave glories to the lion and your body to the best of man." Flynn ended his prayers. "Please, once again... engage this fallen soul in your eternal service."
Moved by such a sincere prayer by a freshly reawakened soul, Nrishimadeva could not deny him any request.
"Of course, my Flynn. What is it that your heart desire? Please, do not fool me; I know you are in want." The Lord all but begged.
This particular soul in his previous life had been his Guard Dog, a white dog whose heart was valorous and whose nose had touch the dust particle on Raganuga Swami lotus feet, his very, very dear Servant and friend.
He had also taken holy prashadam, and gained the mercy of Many devotees's in the temple, and Thus, the Lord had given this soul a human form of life; this form was now sitting on his lap, and the only reason why Flynn had forgotten to get off and kneeled on the ground was due to the snake-like arms of Nara-Hari holding his securely in place after the master of all universe and he whom gravity answered too had once again picked him up from the ground.
Flynn blushed. "Master... my Name is Not Prahlad... for... I still desire for the false Tokyo to be saved. And to protect the innocents."
Sri-Hari nodded, letting Flynn open his heart.
"I... in this lifetime, I am a warrior, and my nature is to want to fight and protect those who are weaker then me, for I am still under the illusion that they are completely helpless and without shelter... of course, you are always here but..."
"But your Nature as a warrior will not disappear by your willpower alone." Narahari Chuckled fondly.
"My dear Flynn... have you considered that this is what I want?" The lion Lord asked whit a tilt of his head and a sparkle in his red eyes. " I have already advantedced a few times in the past, but in Kali-Yuga... I still manifest, but since most do not care about me and would always find reasons to deny my existence and Identity, then I simply leave them be. But... it dosen't mean that I can't send people to help them."
"How, my Lord?" Flynn asked with folded palms.
Narashima-deva leaned back and closed his eyes. " You see, my dear. I am the source of all souls, in other words, everyone in a little bit of me eternally." he explained. "In essence, everything is a limb of mine, and the material world would be my back, where I have no use for those disconnected limbs." he smiled gently at Flynn, like a father would his son. "And yet… I do want them back, and I am willing to send as many of my representent, and to rebirth the world of mater over and over again if it means that they will all coome back to me."
"My Lord... I want to be connected to you again, please. Use me." He begged.
Narahari's grin grew wider, more feral. "Wonderful, my dear... now wake up, empowered by my wrath and form, and save my Devotees."
"AUM!" Flynn confirmed...
which caused his material body to ignite, consumed by Narahari's sacred sacrificial flames.
Flesh made of transient mater evaporated, blood and sins where cleanse...
and out of the blaze, like a phoenix arose from his Ashes. Flynn was reborn.
Narashimha-Flynn, blazing like the sun in the face of ignorance, opened his eyes. Seeing the Demon in front him, it's oil like body writhing like solid ignorance, his body riddled whit ghost praying to finaly be freed from their torment.
In it's Grasp was Makoto Yuki, his body limp, and yet, he, the soul was still attached to it's Atmarama bone, the vertebrae closer tot he heart.
His body had stopped working, and yet, he could not move on.
And on the ground, strewn about like precious dolls where Nrhari's precious Devotee's Unconscious, but still needed here.
The only one up and 'alive' (they were always alive, but the Lord had no desires to see them 'enjoy' the heavenly 'delight' the kingdom of Indra and above would afford them.) was Krishna-kripa, at by his Side was Krishna in his lovely Mohini form.
It was a form even Lord Shiva, the killer of Kandarpa, the God of lust, had pursued like a mad man all over the world.
Noticing her Devotee's distracted state, God dressed as the most attractive of woman covered her identity whit a veil of Maya, becoming but another persona in the sea of souls, one that was at Krisshna-Kripa's beck and call.
How amazing.
But to return to the bodies strewn abut the Arena, whit the demon still alive, writting like the disease it was...
Oh, this was unacceptable.
Narashimha-Flyn, the empowered avatar of God in his form a the primal Lion-man, a Jiva whit the powers of God, roared.
The Celestial vault trembled, the 'angels' in ץђשђ's realm realsied the truth, the demons serving under Lucifer stopped their parties and ran like a bunch of animals in the territory of a maddened tiger while the master of hell (or the one believing herself as such.) experienced fear.
But for the devotee's both in and out of the Mount Fuji hermitage, this roar spelled victory, and for those still marked as dead, and whom the Yamadutha's gave a wide Bert for they knew not to touch them, their master, trough he agency of another soul, returned to consciousness whit the sound of his roar.
To those who just woke up, they saw victory personified standing proudly like the glorious sun facing the demon-filled darkness of the night.
Krishna-Kripa smirked as he felt his Mohini-Krishna place a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Ah, bet that guy didn;' saw it coming.""No, of course not." Mohini openly scoffed. ""He may have a thousend eyes, ears and mouth, but Nyarlatothep is blind to my presence, deaf to my song and he spews complete Garbage out of his mouth." Mohini stated whit a flip of her hair, causing Krishna-Kripa to snorted as he readied his holy shovel.
But Mohini gently lowered it. 'This is not you fight, sweet one." She cooed.
"It is mine and Flynn."
e