Hello, hello! Konductor is back once again with a new story! This, and a few others, really digs into 'what if' scenarios that Nep and company get into. More specifically, this one is based during the Console War where instead of Purple being kicked off, it was Black.

Of course, this does have a few of my own twists to it, but I intend for things to follow Rebirth 1 somewhat. It isn't exactly the happiest piece around, but the emotions it carries is heavy.

Betrayal tends to do that.

But do not fret! Things gradually get better. Though, our dear pair will have to fight for that. 'What if' scenarios are bread to my butter and I have quite a few in store for you all; I hope you're looking forward to them.

Anywho, this isn't exactly edited. So, apologies in advance, I wanted to have this out for you all and will be touching up on it later.

Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think of Impact!

Posted: 9/16/19

Edited: N/A

She failed.

"Out of the four of us, who is it that weighs the heaviest in terms of threat?"

Failed. Lost. Crumbled in the face of adversity. Her of all beings in this Goddess awful world. Parts of her wants to cry, strangle themselves and choke on the tears, drown in her weakness.

Weak. Weak. Weak. The word hammers into her mind with finality rippling through her wounded frame. She's pathetic, unable to last against some half-hearted alliance. What is she going to tell her Basilicom, to that of her second in command?

"Who do you would admit to being threatened of, hedonist? I'm sure as hell surprised to hear you talk about threats."

Wind howls in her ears.

Screaming as the elements caressing that worthless prison of flesh and broken bone tries to slow her. Swords falling as a storm sings with the descent. The rush is almost freeing. Free falling to death and yet freedom's what she first thought of. Ha, what an utterly bizarre being she is.

"What is that implying? I merely speak the facts. This… farce of ours is going nowhere. How long have we spent our time coming back here again and again?"

"Oh shut up! Like you have room to talk!"

She doesn't dare open those eyes of hers, though. The scenery of what had to be their side of the world must be a breathtaking view. But she, she does not want to take that hint of a chance. All that matters are the blades dancing as they near her.

Survival, the will to live is a funny thing. Once sparks, it would take millennia for such a dangerous beacon to flicker out. She knows better than just that, though.

"You're complaining of returning to Celestia? Really? How pitiful. Shall we grant you a pity party, heron? We will make it quick and painless if you wish. You were the one to insist on this after all."

What a weak soul she is.

To so quickly have that flame snuffed out. One waste amongst wastes, another span of time useless in the grand scheme of things. She chose this, however, no one in the world is worth this choice. Not even the mongrel.

There's no one in the world who would ever remain by her side now after all. Nobody ever chooses her.

Few do that. Few see behind her masks and pushed past the walls that encased her form, but none of them are like her. None of them immortal or capable of staying. None of them are the trio of CPUs who were created with her and chose her to die by their hand, of course not. Those three don't care for her, none of them did.

"Speak. Before I tire of this interruption."

"Ahh. Looks like she spoke, hurry it up then. We mustn't keep our dear leader waiting."

Danger entrenches many corners of the realm and here she is.

Giving up. Thoughts came to her almost automatically as scenarios floods her mind. None of them are ever comforting. Not like the weapons she made.

They resemble her dreams, or rather nightmares that sit by the fading light. Hungry, howling as they always do. Reality is a meal her waxing and waning haunts are screaming for. Images of washing in and out of a blood moon's fervent gaze.

"Way too into this, Fluffy. But whatever, she's right. Speak up or shut up."

"This so-called war has gone on long enough, wouldn't you say? The solution is an obvious one."

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

She wouldn't die from this.

The number of times death has truly neared her could be counted on her hand. This? This is nothing compared to others. Jumping from Celestia is a cakewalk compared to everything else. The hum of steel comforting her as she sinks further and further.

"Then spit your damn answer out already! Stop trying to control the conversation. You're complete shit at it, you know that, Greenie?"

Her? Die to a fall? Die to being attacked three to one? Die to those two pawns in a much bigger game? They could only wish.

Only one would ever have the honor of ridding her of this damnable world. A single goddess would be the one to end her life, she would expect no less. Everything would be burning before they would ever get the chance to kill her.

"Yes, yes. What she said, hurry up and get to the point before our dear leader really decides to rid of herself of this particular farce. It isn't getting any extra points in this, heron."

"Hmph."

It feels nice.

Plummeting through the great blue expanse with a storm of silver is less chaotic than it has previously thought to be. Flying dominates her skies; there is no plunging through damp clouds either. It doesn't hurt as much as she thought it would.

Her expectations are being killed again and again today. How disappointing.

"Stop referring to me as a bird!"

First is the mongrel in question. Unable to stand, lost in the fogs of uncertainty, wandering with that fake resolve. Anything but the image that was made in the beginning. What stood before her then was not the deity who she met as children. What stood before her was a parody of that person.

An infuriating truth she had been confronted with. Her rival has let herself crack. The strongest going with such a half-baked plan…

"The crowing doesn't help your case."

"So even you side with her, Purple? Fine. I will say it. I propose we cut the competition to three in order to end this stalemate."

Second was what happened next. And, while it only made logical sense to do it, a part of her is still furious that she got picked. Black being picked? They were going to try to take her out of the competition? Her out of all four of them?

For the other half of the four, she feels nothing. There isn't a sense of connection or genuine care. All that settles in her chest is the smoldering sensation of hate. The emotion is palpable, to be chosen and abandoned again. It was like the world is asking for a reason to be destroyed. Another die has been cast against her favor and what misfortune she possesses.

"Looks like you're the odd one out this time around, Black. Anything you have to say? Perhaps, an apology? Or even a plea for mercy? Are you going to beg for your life?"

"No hard feelings, Fluffy. Thunder Tits here is right. You've been a pain in the ass for too long."

Third is that she cares about the events that took place.

That she physically aches when they made their decision to kill her off. The utter rationale behind the choice grinding at her gears, the nerve of those three to so effortlessly throw away the fledgling bonds they made as children. Why did she care about those fools who are so eager to betray each other?

It stings.

It's carved into her flesh and left to rot.

"I really am disappointed, Purple."

She wants to make them hurt just as much; equivalent exchange at its finest.

Dropping to her death is nothing, dying wouldn't really kill her. She'll be back. She wants to see their faces twist in agony for that moment. She would be happy this once, even without her.

"Prepare yourself, Black."

Happiness is a foreign concept nowadays. Especially now that all expectations of her fellow immortals are failing her. Feeling numb is better than having your heart ripped out, no? It's so easy to be disillusioned by all of it than it is to love and be loved.

Simpler to be a stone-cold ruler and murderer than to be kind-hearted and caring. So much easier to burn what she has in hand. She wants to see that image. She wants to brand their pain in her mind.

"An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Do you three really think you'll get out of this unscathed? How confident. It'd be a shame, if you all suddenly lost that fire of yours."

There's a price to be paid for every action. Literally zip is free in life and she accepts that wholeheartedly. For when those three were to cut her down, the retaliation would be twice… no, no, thrice as deadly. But she wouldn't kill them. Death would be a mercy for them, they wouldn't die by her hand.

"Enough with the fucking mind games, Black. Minute's up, time to face the music."

"You really mustn't worry too much. So long as you keep this short and sweet, I will keep the finishing blow relatively painless. Perhaps even reference you in the history books."

The pit inside of her hungers. Ravenous and hollow as always, it would not simply be eliminated by some imperfect method of killing. Aching for a proper end, starving for a flickering truth, bleeding for a chance. If she is to die, it would be a worthy death, not something as hapless as being ganged up upon.

They would be receiving their just desserts, that she swears. Their crackpot game failed. And for their failure, she would ensure their punishment would be delivered by the tenfold. Her very being would not accept anything less than total retribution.

"It's over, Fluffy. There are no more tricks up your sleeve. Face it, we won."

"Sigh. You never cease to be a thorn at our sides, do you Black? I must applaud you for lasting this long, however."

"I suppose this will be the last time, Black."

The hate would drown her sorrows. The hate would drown grief. The hate would drown the betrayal. The hate would drown the heartbreak.

She would be fine. This wouldn't hold her back, she wouldn't let these idiots tear her down her. She would recover from this and it would be alright. A single failure wouldn't define her. One chance scored as multiple futures, impossibilities were a silly concept.

"I… Refuse to die.. To you two."

In some ways, she never really lived. Fragments always scavenging and searching, never honestly breathing without a cost. Why would she ever let anyone end what was hers before its time? It isn't fair, it isn't fair, she wanted to insist. But the world cares not for that and, in turn, she would react in kind. Why should she accept her fate?

"Huh? What in the flying fuck is she doing?! Greenie, hurry up and stop her!"

"This truly does show your stubbornness here and now, does it not, Black? Nevertheless, it's time for a joker like you to perish."

She's no one's pawn.

She was born as a deity, a patron, a goddess.

She has torn her fate from the world's grasp once, who is to say she couldn't do it again?

'Obey your elders, do what you're told, die when it's time.' Who the hell has the right to order her around? Black has no master, she has no chains binding her to this half-hearted death, she has no need to ever be subservient to any being!

"Black…"

Even if that weak-willed justice fails her, she would get what she richly deserves.

If her soul is torn to shreds, her body would stand up and convey what's right. If her nation decides to betray her too, she wouldn't hesitate to make it burn along with the others.

"Damocles."

The swords reach their target.

Merciless and just as hungry as their creator, she did not flinch when they dig into her.

Her eyes remain closed, merely feeling the loose and cold sensation of exhaustion slipping into her. Or, perhaps that's her blades? Ahh, did it even matter? The wetness of grief and defeat are all that she's been feeling anyways.

'I love you. I love you. I love y—!'

But the one thing the goddess mourns the most of this damn situation is the unmistakable fact that the mongrel had without a doubt rejected her this time.

It's sensation is there, already having settled in her chest.

The unchanging pool of hatred simmering below the surface. She's been rejected and that accursed warmth is blending with the contradictory chants for blood. The next time they met, the next time teal met her cerulean gaze… she would strike her down, just as promised. This time Black wouldn't be so easily fooled.

'I hate you. I hate you. I hate y—!'

The floor is probably going to be worn through after this, the immortal thinks as she paces back and forth. Her eyes linger on the door leading to her chambers, where the Basilicom physician and the girl she found resides.

Worry gnaws at her, her mind still hammering that one topic.

A feeling that has not been felt in quite some time, it's a wonder Purple could recognize it. Things… things are different, much different. The sun that once burned in her sky, blazing and infinitely bright has vanished and by her hand nonetheless.

The wounds from yesterday? The day before that? The patron honestly couldn't remember anymore. The wounds are still burning, though.

They, unlike the many injuries inflicted during the Console War, refuse to properly heal. Remaining agitated and as if received during that hour. Everything from her hurts more than ever before, the stabbing pain never fading. Fitting for the results of a last stand, one that dangerously paints her rival's trickery.

Her rival. Just the reference of Black… it makes her tongue feel heavy and bitter. A weight is back on her chest, much different than the scarves that wrap around her person. She wants to feel something, anything other than that sense of guilt.

"I really am disappointed, Purple." She said, teal gaze steadily darkening as her form tensed. A fire at slow burn, gradually growing in strength and intensity of the emotion.

The memory of it is enough to cause goosebumps.

There's a side of her that sort of wants to crumple up in a ball and hide away in her room after what she aided in. She feels wrong. A goddess has to make sacrifices for their people and wasn't Black a sacrifice for peace? Isn't that a truth in this world?

Cold, empty laughter wants to bubble up in her chest.

Her mouth tastes like lead.

A sacrifice, the white-haired ruler was not a mere thing to be carelessly tossed aside. The person she knew in Celestia was better than that. She didn't warrant the treatment to be titled a mere steppingstone for the pathways of the future. Her mind rocks around in her skull as it sinks in piece by piece.

There's no way Purple would be able to move forward if she kept recalling her. Black was gone after all. Even if there was a smidge of a chance that she had survived that final blow the three of them delivered… no, it wasn't possible.

Hoping the woman had endured such a heavy assault after being unfairly overwhelmed is cruel. Returning the favor for their underhanded play had to have taken up what remained of her strength.. so, she couldn't be alive.

As much as the patron hated to admit it, she helped kill her.

Together with that dishonorable Green and White Heart, they struck their fourth down from the heavens.

Pitiful, she knows, to team up with each other and decide on eliminating her rival without a second of hesitation. It was for the best, she tells herself, lies to herself.

But, to say that it was an easy battle would be a lie.

Despite it being a one sided battle till the end, the teal-eyed CPU refused to bow.

A cornered animal is a brutal pragmatic and it fit her to a T. Insolent at times, but when one demanded something of Black, she delivered. Because that was her, unyielding and unbending to all that wanted to tear her down. True and utter determination brought to life.

Even with death hanging above, her half, her rival fought. Defiant to dying, defiant to fate, defiant to Purple herself. The fact that her eyes glared with such scorn burned.

Forgiveness was never an aspect of the white-haired woman's.

Rumors and whatever poultry backstabs that occurred proved that for certain. But to have that uncanny gaze ignite with unadulterated hatred was different. There was no doubt that Black despised her in those final moments.

It was betrayal after all. The goddess spat on her own ideals, her own honor and for what end?

For the sake of her self-preservation?

For the sake of surviving a war she had lost interest in?

For the sake of killing of her own, dear other half?

It was the antithesis to her entire image, her entire being! She, whom so many loyal subjects look up to and adore for her untouchable morals, dishonored her very self.

"I really am disappointed, Purple." Frigid, dismissive, abysmal, vehement, let down. All those things smoldering in her stare. Impassioned and furious, yet glacial and tranquil. None of them good. None of them like before. None of them close to right.

Violet tails dance as she shakes her head to rid herself of the image.

No, she could not linger on those thoughts any longer. As much as the ruler wants to waste away because of her actions, the girl she found takes precedence.

The girl whose life was hanging by a mere thread when Purple had discovered her in the woodlands. Lost, alone, abandoned.

Just like her.

She sucks in a breath at idiosyncrasies of her mind. Goddess above, it's always going to be Black that her mind flies back to, isn't it? How could it not when the parallels are too close, too real to be false?

The patron wants her rival to have lived, but that's a farfetched needle buried beneath a mountain of a haystack. It would be too cruel to force that responsibility onto some mortal she found.

Desperation is both good and bad here, her heart twists as thoughts wander. What if, what if, what if, this girl is truly her? Her Black?

Apathy is hard to maintain with that as a constant.

This nameless human whom Purple had found broken and bleeding in the wilderness is no one special. They offer nothing of worth to the grand scheme of things. A child — at least, when comparing the several millennia to what has to be a decade or two — who has no home nor purpose lacked any value.

But honor demands differently.

Her morals and karma roars for her to tip the scales she so carelessly helped knock aside. The immortal isn't sure what sort of spirit gave her the chance of saving this girl from death's cold, unspeakable grasp.. she would, however, swallow those doubts and try to repent, somehow.

It's a sad scene to witness. The mortal was so pale when cerulean fell on her.

Droplets upon droplets were eagerly caressing whitening skin, splashing and dyeing the forest floor red. Hair, a beautiful color reminiscent of her name, fanned wildly across its cool, moist dirt surface. Injuries happily patterning whatever visible wasn't covered by a smartly picked dress. The woods around the girl had cushioned her, branches and trees bending in natural ways to soft what must be a deathly end.

She was close to losing what short-lived life she has.

Recalling it later, Purple would say it's as if she had found an angel that had fallen from heaven. There was no pity. Only a sense of shock that quickly faded into panic when she noticed how the new thread in front of her began to fray.

Lives are precious things, she knows.

They come and they go, but they have meaning and to witness the pulsing, throbbing string dull and go limp is always a tragedy. To leave her there to lie would be furthering her failure to maintain her honor. Indeed, she has taken the lives of those beyond the realms of mercy, but never left someone out to die.

Reality is such a cruel place to reside. Thinking of abandoning a citizen alone in the monster-filled wilderness, however? It's unlike her to even touch the concept of that. Has her indifference from the Console Wars really burrowed this deep in herself?

She has a better code of ethics than to ever wish that on any human being. The immortal didn't get a good look on her injuries, there was so much blood.

Dire was the only suitable description for the situation. No other words fit that stomach dropping sensation when Purple held her and only felt cold, sticky wetness on her hands.

Someone had been bleeding out in her arms. Life blood gradually being absorbed into the earth. An innocent wasting away. And that was enough for her to fly back to her church as fast as possible.

Windswept was probably the nicest thing that could be said about her when they arrived.

Apparently, there were about five liters of blood traveling through the human body and a third of that amount was already gone.

Knowing that was never something she needed, it was horrifying to have the girl taken away and hearing that come out of someone's mouth. Death was practically stalking her impromptu guest and the patron was clueless.

The raven-haired girl was lucky, her people told her, to be found and having this immediate medical care. A wealth of information she never found need to learn is gracefully handed to her when Purple demands answers. She is her responsibility, after all. She would be taken to the Basilicom and would recover there.

No one questions her decision.

But it had taken the remainder of the day to safely release her guest from Medical.

A patch job, the physician later explained, the patient had yet to fully heal from the wounds that caused the bleeding to begin with.

The string, while still close to breaking, was still whole.

Purple could handle that.

Taking care of others is a new experience, but she could do it with enough help.

Medical — while demanding after hearing her request was politely going along with it — provides her with a sizable amount of aid for this occasion. They are her loyal subjects, through and through. She would have majority of contact, however.

This is her responsibility now, their protests are nothing, she could handle this. Besides, the other three nations are quiet with the sudden shift in power.

Lastation, most of all, is silent.

The once dark and daunting nation has failed to stop productivity, however. Shares for them continue to be the highest amongst the four. An interesting development overall, to be able to maintain order without their CPU on the helm.

If anything, those who are probably running the show was their Basilicom.

A curious character called Chhaya was manning the majority of the work as Black Heart recovers, said the current news in the eastern part of the continent.

Perhaps, that declaration was a lie? No, it had to be. Hoping for otherwise meant trouble, her rival is not one to ignore the score between them. If she is alive and merely taking the time to rest, Black would be seething for bloodshed. Revenge was a concept that almost defines her.

So that has to be false. The ruler of that region of their world is dead and gone. It had required three goddesses to do the deed, but she has to be.

If not.. if not, then Purple has stained her honor for nothing but worthless betrayal.

She shoves her bloody contemplations aside as the door opens.

The physician, a near-elderly man with greying brown hair and glasses, walks out. He's a noteworthy doctor, being the one who stayed with Medical from when he was a mere student. His drained yet confident voice wipes away most of her worries while giving birth to even more.

"Good news, my lady. She is responding to the treatment along with the blood transfusion positively. You are blessed to have found someone in need of AB, being a universal receiver let the process move along smoothly. Type O would have made the chances of recuperating dip drastically in the beginning." He stops there, taking a breath to mull over his words.

"And although you are lucky to have her status improving, I did notice several concerns." The practitioner stills at her sharply inhaling.

Possibilities are endless when it came to health, she mentally gripes.

"What would be the problem?" Why did mortals have to be this way? He says it's good news and then proceeds to pull the carpet from below her. Goddess, why did she care so much?

It doesn't make any sense. This girl, this child is no one and yet… and yet, Purple is persistent to help her.

What was this?

Repentance?

Saving a life that fell into her arms after morallessly ending another?

What she's doing isn't comforting, though, in a way it made the guilt worse. How many other people had shared such a fate and are left unnoticed because she was playing an endless game in Celestia?

"I really am disappointed, Purple."

She wants to choke on the air she breathes.

Oh no, there isn't a chance in hell the ruler is going to get over Black's death if her voice continues to play on repeat in her mind. Her chest tightens at the memory that shoves its way to the forefront of her mind.

Tousled, messy hair having fallen to the ground with its owner, normally pale skin bruised and bleeding by her hand, bright eyes now the color of darkness.

The patron steels her expression, internally fighting to urge to scream. It's just a memory, it is just a memory. Her partner is dead and gone and would forever haunt her.

He wipes his glasses, "There are quite a few wounds on her from before this incident. Several lacerations that have long since healed over, as well numerous types of burns along her body. I would say she shows signs of abuse, but mentally there isn't much to show on that. Out of many of my patients, she possesses quite the resilience. I would not be surprised that in a few weeks or months, she will be up and running once more. However, that is when the good news ends."

The immortal frowns at that. She didn't believe any of that was anywhere close to good, except maybe for the chance that the girl will be able to walk after a time.

"The bad news is that she has retrograde amnesia." He continues, as he takes a second to peer out of a window, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. Guilt is clear on his face.

"There is no doubt in my mind that was caused by her recent injuries. Her head doesn't seem to show any swelling nor any visible wound, however, so I took the possibilities of trauma to her head out."

Yes, that's reasonable. "I asked her the usual set of questions to see if she may know of her current situation, but all she has returned is minimal. From what I gathered, your guest is… unhappy with her current position and will be hostile to you, despite your kindness."

Holding back from the compulsion to mess with her hair, Purple nods. "I can handle that. In the end, she is just a mortal, no? An injured girl in desperate need of recovery. Her, along with my workload shouldn't be too straining."

The physician turns to her, fighting a sigh. "Unfortunately, she's rather stubborn. When the guest woke up, she immediately insisted on getting up from her bed and took to arguing with me until sedated her. She nearly tore out her stitches, my lady, dealing with her will be cause some incidents. I do not suggest you go through with your plan," he whispers.

"I will not change my mind, doctor. I found her, therefore she is my responsibility and I intend to hold on it. Your words will not alter my decision." The violet deity declares, garnering a knowing chuckle from the man.

"What else did you manage to gather from her? Age? Nationality and affiliation? Name?"

Anything like that would help her take care of this girl. She's sort of dreading the first meeting with this stubborn little mortal.

He shakes his head negatively. "I gained little from my talks. Other than her apparent self-hatred for nearly dying and her want to go outside, I got those and nothing more." That's an interesting little tidbit of information there. Now why would her little raven be hating herself over that?

Purple hates herself for failing to live up to her ideals… so why would the unknown she found feel a similar way without a memory?

Or did the emotions from before her memory loss settle in and cause it?

She didn't know a thing about amnesia, really.

The most she knows about injuries come from her brief leaves from Celestia when the violet immortal had to lick her wounds. It was a mystery that the ruler was going to bother with this, but her heart demands she take charge for once.

Maybe, this could help.

Especially after her recent failure to maintain her own justice. This time, this time, her pride would not get in the way of what matters the most.

Shiena: Thank you! Black's a very complex person in my eyes, hesitant yet headstrong. So her gradual acceptance of her situation is pretty meaningful.

Eins: I got the whole child soldier thing from K-Sha? Like, how does her case end up coming to be? Is this a regular Lastation thing? Plus, I've always wondered how Noire was raised to end up so determined as a goddess and yet want to escape from it? But, yup, that's all Black wants from her and it's awfully cute too! And those soirees are pretty crazy, I've always seen Lastation as a work hard, play hard nation.

Zenir: Nice to see you back then! I'll keep chapters as they are posted then and shall try to keep up the work!

Omega Heart Chan: I don't intend on disappearing, classes just happen. So, sorry? But I can't see myself giving up on writing NepNowa anytime soon either, it's sorta keeping me sane through Nursing. I'm happy to hear you liked the continuation!