I have a whole landslide of reviews to respond to. Most of which happen to be from the same person! But that's just fine by me.
Whwsms: I'll respond to each of your respective reviews in succession, simply to make things easier to read for all involved.
Mugino put up quite the fight; but she just couldn't cut it. Partially because the 'wedge' was driven between herself and Kinuhata Saiai. Moreover, Mugino may have made a fatal error by sending Frenda Seivelun off on her own; Frenda's technological know-how could've provided the fifth-ranked level five esper with the edge she'd needed. With both Kinuhata Saiai and Frenda Seivelun at her side, Mugino Shizuri could've defeated Voidwalker.
You're right on the money. In this continuity, our favourite (canonical) couple decided to 'peace out' far earlier than they did in Kamachi's prime canon; Takitsubo Rikou's sudden vanishing act left ITEM as a shattered remnant of its once-powerful self. After all, despite being a level five, Shizuri is not the most useful member of ITEM.
Just what will Kinuhata Saiai do now that she's a 'free agent'? As Hamasaki-san kindly pointed out, there's plenty of thugs in Academy City's seedier school districts that are in need of leaders. If Saiai proved her worth, she could likely assemble quite the crew of her own. After all, despite her strength, Saiai wouldn't necessarily have to reveal that she's an esper. She could simply be wielding Hard Taping.
Voidwalker's on the warpath; and it would seem that a certain blonde-haired mercenary girl is the intended recipient of a particularly brutal ass-whooping.
If there's one thing that can be said about Academy City, it's that people there – including its resident General Superintendent – are very fond of making deals.
Is Saten Ruiko ready for the dreadful truth? That remains to be seen.
When you're in the 'dark side', no holds are barred.
IN-teresting, indeed. But what will it cost?
Guest: The 'point' was that Voidwalker sought to prove is strength, and worth to Academy City by demonstrating that he could withstand the force of a level five temporarily transcending their limits. Mugino Shizuri didn't last long, sure; but the fifth-ranked level five esper of this continuity did technically go beyond level five, however slightly. By proving his worth Voidwalker keeps Academy City off his rear end for a short while longer. Schemes within schemes.
February 12th, 2004. 2:18 AM.
"Why has nothing happened...?"
Those had been the calculations had they not? The Omnitron supercomputer, the replacement for the obliterated TREE_DIAGRAM had dictated the immutable scientific truth. Six hundred and seventy-five level four clones of Voidwalker – regardless of their origin – could be destroyed utterly in order for the original, Hamasaki Tsubasa, to achieve level six.
To transcend the very concept of level five.
To bring about that which Academy City's highest authorities within Gladio had referred to as 'SYSTEM'. 'SYSTEM' was that accursed, foul City's purpose. Once 'SYSTEM' was achieved, a level six created to be displayed to the world as the pinnacle of human evolution, there would be no further need for Academy City.
There would be no further need for the 'Dark Side'. There would be no further need for the experiments, the scientists, the laboratories, the guinea pigs. Academy City was supposed to end, now.
This was Hamasaki Tsubasa's goal. This was his purpose. This was that which defined him, that which allowed him to call himself a human being.
But why, WHY, hadn't anything happened?
Why was he such a failure?
Why did everything he ever tried to accomplish blow up in his face spectacularly?
Then again, that wasn't true, was it? Saten Ruiko, that precious, sweet level zero girl who always held her head high in the face of adversity hadn't turned him away. She'd accepted his promise, and made her own.
As always, Voidwalker couldn't stop admiring that level zero girl. As always, that level zero girl acted as his anchor.
Hamasaki Tsubasa, fourth-ranked level five esper, 'the Voidwalker' fell upon his knees and looked to the sky, as if it somehow held the answers he sought. Tsubasa received none. The sky, as always, was silent. Cloud coverage had rolled in, obscuring the moon and blanketing the experimental supercity in the Far East.
Then, it came. A maddening whisper on the wind. A hushed, perverted collection of twisted vocalizations. Even the deranged shrieking was impossibly hushed, denying the very means through which the human mind recognized sound.
"Ç̶̛̗̱͔̺̜̣̭̓̋͊̈̂̊͛̉́͛̇̕̕͜o̵̧̡͕͇͙͚͚͖̱̹͔̞̳̬̥͑͆̇̈͊̑̐̿̕͠m̸̧̪̼̠̟̪͔̪͓͎͙̲̋̌͛͂̀e̶͉̤̪̻̭̽ ̶̧̅̍̊̓͑ţ̵̙̅̐̿̄̈̊̾ờ̴̡̨͉̪̮̰͖̳̻̰͎̩͍͂̓̍͛̎̌͠͝͠ ̸̡̛̪̦̥̖̗͕̺̰̫̟̱̗̲͛̇͗͛̓̎͜m̸̝̠͚̦̙̪̼͑̒͌̀͐͛̈́̅͗͆́͜͜e̵̜̋͜.̸̨̢̯̻͕̯̮͔̂̃̐͋́̿̽̊.̷̧̙̞͉̪͓̣͎̙̈́͛̒͑̂͗͒͗̾̽̈́̑̓͘ͅ.̵̧̋"
The earth was beginning to rot beneath him. The switchyard was rotting. A crane collapsed in upon itself, withering like a dying flower. Long, winding sections of railway track warped and bent and churned as if in pain. Inanimate objects, including the large, stacked towers of multicoloured shipping containers unintentionally placed about within the switchyard so that they formed long, confounding maze-like paths, they screamed. They grew mouths, perfectly human mouths, and screamed. From their palates to the farthest reaches of their throats, these mouths were infested with protruding, bent, chipped teeth.
So many teeth.
Hamasaki Tsubasa turned away from it all, focusing on the stony gravel beneath his knees.
Blinking eyes stared back. Impossibly innumerable, these eyes' irises were bright golden in colouration with long, thin slits for pupils, not unlike those of a cat. Chunky, bubbling pus leaked from between the innumerable eyes' lids, which repeatedly opened and closed.
Hamasaki Tsubasa was ensnared.
They'd coiled themselves around his arms, his legs, his neck. Elongated, barbed tendrils. They stunk of scents Tsubasa couldn't possibly understand; attempting to do so was akin to smelling colour, or feeling a scent.
Voidwalker was no longer in Academy City.
No longer on Earth.
No longer in the multiverse he knew.
There were no skies above; there was only darkness, accented by the presence of crackling, surging masses of dark blue and purple. Akin to ribbons these queer shapes seemed to float in the vast nothingness. Occasionally they would pulsate, but they'd perform no other movements of any sort.
Nothingness? No. This was not nothingness. There was plenty to be seen; but Hamasaki Tsubasa didn't particularly enjoy seeing it.
Odd structures that made no sense based on what humans as a species knew about physics, distance and cosmic spatial laws abounded. Massive, pulsating orbs connected to one another by thick, fleshy beams that appeared ready to collapse upon themselves at any moment.
These structures expanded outwards in all directions, seemingly without end. Voidwalker certainly couldn't spot an end to them. There were no height limits. These structures could ascend high, and higher, far into the vast, unquantifiable expanses above.
A colossal, surging bolt of some unknowable energies, resembling some sort of pitch-dark lightning struck the colossal, shifting, pulsing orb which Tsubasa stood upon from on high. Then another, and another. He reeled, barely avoiding the wrath sent down upon him. The orb upon which Voidwalker stood seemed pained by the bolt.
This was the Void. This was what Gladio-Oculus Operative Dave Horton had apparently either sought to, or had been commanded to send Academy City's military forces through.
This warped, twisted outerverse, that which was beyond reality. That which lurked between the lines, in the deepest, darkest cracks where the cosmos themselves sought not to consider. That which Voidwalker drew his power from. That which Voidwalker wielded as his weapon and shield alike.
Tsubasa had been delivered to the Void. Tsubasa was alone. Completely and utterly alone.
Despite drawing his vast power from this place which was not a place, despite having nearly mastered its use through many years of constant rigorous mental and physical conditioning which had deprived the high school boy of his better years, despite feeling the familiarity of this place within him, Tsubasa began to shake. Violently as if compelled by evil spirits he convulsed. His fingers vibrated. His palms, suddenly plastered in a thick layer of sweat, felt cold, distant. As if his body was not his own.
"C̴̤̥͇̼̤̠̙͉̒̈̿͛̃͋̓͗͊̊̐͂̕͝Ọ̷̙͚̽̀̅͐M̵̢̹̱̹̺̲̩̭̂̅̈́̏ͅE̴̠̹̩̤͕͍̿̈̊̓ ̶̨̛̝̪͎̩̲̺͉̼̠͂̌̀̍͆̀͋̊̆͝Ț̸̺̥̝̬̈́̚O̵̧̧̖͎̦̼̫̻̦̟̠̞͕̒̋̍͗̈̓́̎͜ͅ ̸̡̢̭͖̗͕͍̖͕̭̹̘̉͘͠M̴̨̧̹̜̖̹͕͈̞͚̗͇̐͆̈́̋̓͝͠Ę̸̮̥̟͓̰̳̹͖̪̥̦̀̐̄̔̓̇̄͌̓̉̈͑͜͝͝.̷̮͈͋͌͊̽͛̿̂̓͑̏̈̅̓͆̕"
His own thoughts screamed at him. The inner voice was not Tsubasa's own. It was a voice of countless voices. A foul symphony of anguished cries, mournful wails, hushed whimpers and confident, boisterous shouting. Some spoke in languages beyond Tsubasa's understanding, others in languages which he recognized as human but knew nothing of; Mandarin, several African dialects, Russian. All were 'layered' upon each other.
The Void shifted, bringing him elsewhere. Though Voidwalker fought to brace himself against this, he was not strong enough.
Hamasaki Tsubasa failed.
No amount of power as an esper could possibly put Hamasaki Tsubasa on equal footing with the Void, that which he drew his power from. There would be no epic come-from-behind victories. There would be no winning. There would be no end to this.
Gripping his stomach, wrapping his arms around himself as his lower body thrummed with dull, repeated stabbing pains that mixed with his stomach's nervous churning, forming a particularly volatile concoction that brought bile to his lips, Voidwalker forced his eyes open once more; they'd forcibly closed themselves shut as the 'world' around him rotted.
It had reformed.
"HELP ME! HELP ME! PLEASE!"
"Ignore it."
The shrieking, panicked voice – high-pitched, identifiable as having originated from a female human, presumably – rang out and reverberated throughout Hamasaki Tsubasa. Travelling in through his ears' tympanic membranes, the screams for aid rattled his bones.
The voice echoed. It echoed and echoed as if it had spoken words within a vast chamber.
"Don't pay attention."
Tsubasa didn't recognize this place. The walls of ornate brickwork and tiled, cobblestone flooring, accented by the presence of majestic, flowing carpets. The arched, stained-glass windows.
Furniture present here suggested that this was room – perhaps separated from others, given that two enormous, stone-wrought doors, closed shut, were adjacent to one another – was one which belonged to nobility. Royalty, perhaps?
Yes. This was a castle. It could only be described as a castle. The vastness, the arched ceilings whose surfaces were covered in intricate artistic masterpieces depicting scenes of medieval landscapes. This had to be a castle. But which castle? Where? The thoughts practically flashed by, one after another, within Hamasaki Tsubasa's reeling mind.
"PLEASE!"
"STOP! PLEASE STOP!"
"HELP ME! HELP ME! PLEASE!"
"Ignore. It... Just... Ignore it."
Practically pushing through the stone-wrought doorway leading away from the sprawling, elegantly-carved table, certainly a piece of furniture which could have accommodated a feast of epic proportions, Voidwalker tumbled into the room waiting just beyond the previous' confines.
It resembled a dance hall; but one which had been brought low, decimated. Entire chunks of the tiled flooring had given way, leading down, deep into the blackened depths of which Tsubasa could see no end. This darkness was not merely an absence of light; it was liquid. Liquid which rippled and bubbled.
Nearby the stage with its torn, mouldering curtains, a place where plays and other representations of artistic theatre might have been held if this castle was a real place on Earth, - perhaps it was, Voidwalker couldn't have known for certain one way or another given his shattered psyche – there were protrusions. Growing from the brickwork walls.
Eyes. Golden-coloured eyes with slits for pupils, like those of a skulking cat. The very walls stared back at Hamasaki Tsubasa. Before long, there was very little brickwork left at all to be seen, for it had been consumed. Countless, blinking eyes, leaking that thick, bubbling, putrid puss. Brickwork had turned to mottled flesh where eyes had not grown.
"D̷̢̡͙̙̱̱̼́̀̔̈́͌́̆͊̃͘̕ͅo̶̧̖̙̦̩͇̙͗͂̒̇͋̈́̇̓̔̀̓͠͠ ̶̞͍͖̭͓̼̰͌͊̂͗̐͠y̶̡̧̠̫̯͕̼͓͙̤̖̓̓̍͊͒̇̇͜ͅͅo̵̹̰̩̙̗̟̠͈͔̖͉͎̹̊̄͑͊͋̂͐̍͘ͅu̴͙͋͑́̎͋͌͒̏̈͘͠ ̵̧̢̠̣͔̦͈̻͔͎̩̅̍́͋̓̃͛̒̾͂̐͜͝ͅḩ̸̝̞͙̪̟̫̮̠́̾̅͘à̶̟͔͖̙͕̈́͊̎̿̈́̌̐̚̕v̴̧̨̡̦̱̟̈́̈́͛́̈́̈e̸̟̩̘̙͈͖̜̲̰̹̦̠̣͋͊͛́̿͗̈̌̽͛̎̓̋͜ ̵̢̡̻̳̻̲̮̟̟̦̏̑̎a̶̘͈̜̻̟͉̹̞̗̱̠̞̟̦̿ń̷̟̥̲y̸̧̧̛̳̜̭͔̣̮̪͎͒̾̓̇̊̽̌̐̈̈͝͠͝ ̷̨͖͓̰͔̥͚͉̰̣̘̹̲͕́́͂́̈́̾͂͜i̷͉̺̾d̵̖̫̥̮͙̹̣̺̱̆̓̏̈́̐͊̎̃̓̂̓̂͘͠e̶͎̤̜̮͈̳̫͕͓̹̞̓̓̅̏̏͋̉́͜͜͝a̴̝̳̰̹͂͆̽̓̐͋̃̌̚͘ ̷̧̳̜̯̎͐̂́̓̚ḩ̵̧̥̺̟͕̳̥̜͔̞̪͕̰́̈͑̾̂̌̑̄͜ŏ̷̡̡͍̪͕͚̱̠͙͖̰̦̈́̋͑̏̊̑̂̑̒͝͠ẘ̸̥̞̭̺̘̦̙̎͐̓̅͆̌̔̐͋͘ ̸̢̫̅͊̄͋̐̾l̷̨̛̲̱̼͋́̒͐͛͝ǒ̷̝̠̼̿̚ṇ̷̢̨̢̪̜̰̤̬̹͚̩̤̤̄̾͜è̵̺̝l̴̞̰̻̐̾͋̈́̽̄͑̋̈́̈́͠y̷̢̥̺̿̏̆́̔ ̷͍̃͑̂̇̓̒̑̏͝i̵̧̧̨̹̪̗͇͓̝͔̪̺̋̉̈́͐̾̂̇͘ť̵̙̥̤͉̖͔̲̉͝ ̶͔͇̽̈́̅̉͋̊̅̒́͝ḯ̸̹͈͋̊͌̇ͅs̷͇̮̍̔͋͝,̸̧̺̻͚̗̙̗̭́͆̀͒̇̂͊̈̎̾̋̋͋̕̕͜ ̸̧̢͚̻͕̗̻͙̝͗̑͊͜͠h̶̡͎͓̺͔̺͂͂͛̋̇̃̓̈́̄́̎̐̔̀̾ę̸͈̤͙̯͉̞͇̲͕̭͈͂̓̀̆̆͒̎͑̇̾̚͝ŗ̸̟͓̖̥̠̔̅͌̍̉̐͗̓ę̸̛͕̮̣̹̞͔̝̖̰͕̣̹̐̔̕.̸̝̼̗̟̤͔̮́̈́͆́͑͗̔͛͝͝.̸̧̢̼̙̭̗̩͊͘.̵̻͈̬̼̋̂͗͂̑̅͝?̶̧͚̖̈́̿́̇̆͋̑͒͂̇̄̚͠͝"
The endless voices had screamed and whispered and chuckled and shouted from the exposed depths of this annihilated ballroom.
Hamasaki Tsubasa realized where he was. This was a place of cultural importance in the United Kingdom; hadn't he visited it as a child, with his father? Perhaps a different Hamasaki Tsubasa had. Or perhaps he never had, at all.
Voidwalker's waning sanity offered no answers to these endless, maddening questions.
This was Windsor Castle. Some sixth sense dictated this to Tsubasa.
Or, at least, this was a horrific vision of Windsor Castle. A potential future. Or perhaps a potential past?
Something formed, then.
From nothingness it came, stepping towards Tsubasa as if it had thrown open an invisible door. The hulking thing was disproportionate. Its elongated arms, terminating in whipping, barbed tendrils slapped against the cracked tiled flooring. Its muscled legs, supported by two-toed feet crunched repeatedly beneath the thing's colossal weight. Hunched in posture, it lacked a face. Rather, it possessed a long, thick tendril jutting awkwardly from the space where a face should have been. Its thick, mottled hide was coated in a sheen of putrid liquid, emerging from the painful-looking, infected boils covering its hide.
This Windsor Castle dance hall collapsed further into a crumbling ruin. Not only was the dance hall merely in ruins; it was infected. Eyeballs and mottled flesh that expelled stinking, wretched puss, everywhere. Even the floors were becoming infected.
Hamasaki Tsubasa, with his back curled, holding his knees between his arms sat against the eyeballs, against the mottled flesh, on the warping floor. His power. This was his power. The Void. The incomprehensible Void.
The pose Tsubasa had curled himself into was anything but comfortable.
Voidwalker, Academy City's fourth-ranked level five, one among the strongest espers on Earth had fallen. There was nothing he, or anyone else, could possibly do.
This was hopelessness.
This was crushing, agonizing defeat.
This was the end of all things.
This would be the fate of the Earth, the solar system, the galaxy, the very universe. Perhaps more.
"A mooorrtttaaaalllllll?" The hideous miscreation inquired, stomping towards Hamasaki Tsubasa. It seemed excited by the presence of life, here, in the Void. The place that was mired in existential pain. "A liiiitttllllleeeeee liiiiitttttllllleeeee mooorrtttaaaalllllll!"
The rumbling which followed sent the miscreation packing; Hamasaki Tsubasa did not react. He forced his face into his arms and closed his eyes shut. But he could still see. He could see everything, even as his eyelids were closed; there was no escaping this. Neither sleep nor blindness would save Hamasaki Tsubasa from this.
"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaasteeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr coooooooooooommmmmmeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssss! Maaaaaaaaaaaaaasteeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr!"
From the colossal cavity in the Windsor Castle dance hall's flooring, something emerged. It rose like a sea monster, like some sort of aquatic abomination that sought to consume the flesh of men upon their sea-faring vessel.
Its gargantuan, round head was easily the size of hundreds upon hundreds of football fields. Paradoxically, it fit effortlessly, snugly within the ruined, infected Windsor Castle dance hall. Its mottled hide was covered in gaping maws from which jagged teeth protruded. Jutting outwards, emerging from within puss-laden gum-lines, these teeth – these fangs – seemed to only grow wider, longer, with each passing moment.
The greatest maw was below all of them, and it spanned for millions of miles. Paradoxically it fit effortlessly, snugly within the ruined, infected Windsor Castle dance hall. This defied all known laws by which the cosmos were forced to abide. Black, bubbling liquid dripped freely from the colossal, greater maw.
The innumerable, barbed tendrils that emerged from its greater, looming mass could have been as small as chipmunks or as large as entire universes. Hamasaki Tsubasa could not tell. His mind slipped further. It seemed as if he was forgetting how to even breath; Voidwalker gasped aloud as if he had suddenly been deprived of air.
This thing sought out pain and welcomed filth.
This thing was an Old God, or at least the emanation of one. Those who were first and fatherless. Those who had ruled the cosmos before Yahweh had ordered all things and cast them into their subterranean prisons from which they would never rise.
Imprisoned or not, the Old Gods evidently had sway within their cradle. Their Void. That which Hamasaki Tsubasa appropriated for his own purposes whenever he so much as inputted even a single calculation into his Personal Reality.
Beneath the gaze of this outerversal abomination, this foul cosmic atrocity that seemed to live and breathe just as much as Hamasaki Tsubasa himself did, he folded further. Voidwalker shrunk beneath this aberration's gaze, like a terrified child reeling from the verbal abuse of an enraged parent.
"Î̶̢̭͖̯̹͓̻̤̱̼̠̑̒̇͜͜ ̷̡̩̜̟͉̟̬̹̞͚̩͚͐͜A̷̢̨̳͈̲̟͍͖̖̲̐͗̇͒̑̀̐̂͌̾̔̂͒̑͘M̵͎̭̊̀͋̏̎͑͛̈́͝ ̴̡͚͙̪̩̱̺͚̱̥͎̱̣͔̈́̆̆̄̔͋̆̑͌͗̕̕͠T̵̝͎͙̮͂̋̿̀̋͂͐̈́̀̀̓̕͝͝H̸̛̟̯̳̣̜̙͔̳͌̓È̵̦͍̪̟͓̖͚̩̭̦͎̟͖̯̺̚͠ ̴͚̻̊͂͌͆̎̀̒̇͝͝L̸̢͎͔̍̊̋̃̈́̈́̕Ú̴̡̝̼̞̠̼̳̹̟̈́̃͋Ç̷̨̢͇̠̘̝̫̻͙̞̗̿̌̾͘͜I̵̠͎͔̤͛͜͝Ḋ̵̛̹̝͎̀̏̊̅́̾̽̋̉̌͝͝ ̵̘͚̣̰̜͐̏̀̑́̈́̿͊D̷̼̙̠̮̣̙̪̄̄͘Ŗ̷͉̮͍͎͓͎̣̯͎̄ͅȨ̵̨͇͔͍̪̘̝̞͐̀̔̉̅̍͑͌͑͜͠A̸̖̩̾̀̈́̂͗̎͑͛̎͐̒͠Ṃ̶̱̙͕͔̩͕͌̐̿̏̾̍̕͘͘͘͝.̷̨̗̙͛́̽̍́̍͛̄̃̈́̽́͝ ̵̨̟̪̥̗͔̦̮̀̈́̿̋̈̀͊͜I̶̝͚̍͌͆̓̅̒͆̈́̒̔͠ ̵̢͇͍͇̬̟͑̔̀̈́À̶̘̠̜̫̫̝͖̅̚M̷̭̏̂́̈́̾̅̇ ̶̡͔̞̹̫͎̹̼͓̑͊͆̃̅̋͛͑͐̀̽̈́̉͋͜T̶̛̗̍́̊̋̽̂̂̀̈́̔́͝H̵̱͆̊́̈́̿̃̓̒͑̚̕͠͝Ĕ̷͖̺͍̭̟͎̫̱͑̏̀̂̔̓̎̈͘ͅͅͅ ̴̡̱̥͍̳̰̥͉̲̙̩͛́̈́͗̃̆̑̍̎͌̆̋̆̆̚͜F̸̟̫̬̰͓͙̘̘̆̿͒̎͆̿͌̇̌̋͘I̴̪̗̩̫̠͙͓͑̽E̴̡͙̺̥͚̗̺̮̹͙̦͑̓̉̑̓͐̋̾̈́̎́͛͌̑͜͠N̷̢̛͉̝̘͕̪̻̘̺̯̼͔͖͓͍͑̐̔͝Ḏ̴̘̱̈̅̍́͜͠ͅ ̴̛̜̱͉̪̻̘̖̰̄͐̈́̈́͐͛̾̌͑̉Ơ̵̧̮̩̩̼̠̣̣͉̮̙̲̤̍̆̄̉̽̋̓̿͆F̴̧̨̱̩̙̫̣̹̏̆͌̈́ ̴̘̦͖͉̮̓̇̂̉͝͠Ả̶̦͓̳̠̝̼̆͐̅̈́ ̸̢̪̙̖͑̾̈́̒̉̇̊̋͒͛̂̇̕̚Ț̷̢̡̘̥̦͔͚̠̉Ḧ̴͚̳̩̘̮̠͇̩̟͎̰̟̭͈̝̉̍́̋͑͋̄̆̏͌͝͝Ȍ̷̙͚͋̓̐́̀̆̇͑̿Ṵ̴̡̨̨̭͈̤̪̠̬̻̑̈̌̈́̀̊̔̅̈́́̃̾̀ͅS̷̳̹̘͍̆͌̅̂̀̚Ḁ̶̥̤̊͂̿͛̈͑̄͋̓͌̋̿̀̕͝N̷̙̼̜͒̏̔͊Ḑ̸̨͍̼̘̟͇̩̦̟͗̄͒̿̏͒̇̑̾͐ ̷͖̪͎̤̒F̷̢̩͚̮̻̝̣͒͒̒́̓̾̈́͐̆͑̈́̐̏͝Ä̷̧̡̛̝̝̗̠͈͉̟͎̬͍̠̦̭́͗̉̆͑̅̉̾̑͌͒̌͝͝C̴̯̪̘̭̯̟̮͕̝͌̈̽ͅE̸͔̺͌̌̃̌́́͘S̷̨͉̜͚̩͍͍͓͓͒̔̒̇̉̊͐͌̾̚͝͝.̶̜̥̫͉̤̱͎͎̐̍͊̎̇̃̂̔̿̄͜͝ ̶̼̩̰́́̇̀̔̎̃Ṃ̵̡̠͖̫͈͔͉̮̹̯̿̀̾̃̿Y̶͍͖̹̻̲̱̺̼̤̱̅̈́̈́͐ ̸̢̛̫͓͇̹̯̃̄̈́͛̎̎͒͜Ḑ̸̡̻̻̺̮̻͕̹̭̞͉̹̉́R̸͓̝̫̱̣̫̮͙̂̽̒͑̈͋̕̕̕E̸̡̖̲͎̦͚̠̠̼̟̊̅̐̏͐̅̈́̚̕ͅA̸̧̖͓̗̣͈̩̦̽̎͐̏̈́͐̽̚̚M̵̻̮̗͂̑̒̅̉̃͆̒͌̀̾̃̚͠͝Ḯ̶͇̞̝̦̩͕̘͍͔̼̼̈́̎N̶̜̬͒Ģ̵̱͇̟͙̣̗̦͍̯̣͙͈̈̌̍̓́̈́̔͛̒̓͂́́͠ ̴̢̨̱͉͖̙̖́͂̉̉̈́͌̽̉͊̓̅̕̚͠͠E̷̤̱̠̩͑̆͌ͅN̷̹̤̂̃̀̇̏͐̔̂̂̅̈́̈̆̌͠D̸̰̣̙̯͇̥̰̲̜̘̗̮̟̦͇̈́͋̂͝S̶̨͖͙͕͕̣͇͛̍̃͝ͅ.̸̟̬̗͎̙̦͗́͒͑͐͆͠͝ͅ ̷̱͍̞̰̦͒̃̉̈́̓̋͆Ỹ̴̢̝̤̞͔͙̂͋̾̋̀́́̍̽̓͘͝͠Ö̵̧̨̥̺͔̭͖̼̞͙̠͈́͌́͆̃̏̇͜ͅͅŲ̵̮̹̿̈́͐̄͂̏͌̓̏͋̌R̸̢̡̛̪̙̼̓͐̃͛͊͜͝ ̴̟̗͓̤͇̏͑͋̌̈̅̚͝ͅŃ̴͎̼̻̗͚̅̊͗͑̀͋̍̍͠͝I̷̟̿̒G̶̢̡̺̘͈̣͚̝͊̊̓͋͂͒̒͌͐̀͒͘̕͝͠Ḥ̵̩͗͒̆͆̏̈̔̃T̶̢̨̛̬̙̩͓̣̺͕̙̈́̿͆͂̐͐̄̇̂͝M̶̞̗̤͍̺͚̣͍̖͙̜͗̑͆̈́̏̓͆̚͠͝A̴̧͙̞͓̰͙͕̻̞̞̹̬̬̗̍̾̋͌͊̉̌͒̀̇̓͗͋̐̌R̵̮̈́̒͠Ȩ̵͔͎̖̹̬̣̳̟̒͜ ̷̢̡͉̙̪̦̳͓͍͖̹̼̱͜͝ͅB̵̡̛͈̔̏̒̉̽̇͐̓̇̕͜͠E̵̞̎̈́̎͌́͑̕͠G̶̜̃̌͌̎̒̐͛̒͗̍͌͠ͅḮ̵̠͚͔͛̑̀́̆͂̆͒͂̓͘͝ͅN̷̹̘͈̳͕͖̹̩͇̎͗͂͋̓̇̌̐̈́̉͊S̵̛̰̞͔͕̹̱͔̳̯̬̜͇̝̟̒̂͒͝.̴̧̢̝̞̬̟̥̣͚̤̲͇̟̟͍͆́̆̋͑̊̒͗̎̐͠͝"
For the first time since being dragged into this place which was not a place, Hamasaki Tsubasa spoke. His words emerged as pained half-grunts. His vocalizations were strained, as if Voidwalker hadn't utilized his vocal cords in millennia.
"Nsoth, Fiend of a Thousand Faces... I... I am here to bargain."
"Ỳ̵̧̧͉̜͈̠͚̻̞͔͚̲̘̭̳́̆̆͋̄̓̑̃̀͝O̷̜͉̹͌̀̊͜Ǔ̷̫̤̤͚̖̺̮͚̭̗͔̘̯̍̄̀̌̎̎̽͌̋͘͘̕͜'̶͉͙̠̂̔͑̿͘͘V̷̧̬̮̗͔̺͕̠͉̓͂͌̆̾͑Ę̶̡̜̺̪̭̗̠̥̞͍̻͛͂̈́̒̽̄̎͑͠ ̵̨̢̡̛͖̬͎͉̯̖͈̜̥̰̲̳̀͌͋̓̈̿͆͘͘͘Ņ̸̘͇̟̳͇͈̠̩̎̐̓̇̈̒̈́̊̄͠Ó̷͇̫̙̙͓̐͛̓T̴̛̪̭̆́̌̽̈́́̐̀̈́͗H̸̢̯̘͉̲̥͎̦̣̫̙͓̩̘͂̔͛̑̉̚I̸̢̩̮͔̮͍̣̐͜Ǹ̷̟̥̬̻̪͚̪̜̟̬̝͘Ḡ̸͙͕̻̥̇͑̈̓̉̓ͅ ̵̹͚̼̦̎́̐̋ͅT̸̡̞͕̪͓̾̀̇̽̂͌̓́̿͆̈́ͅO̴̲̲̝͍̫̞̫̠̠̤͊̒̽̈͋̀̐ ̴̨͙̮́̕B̴͉̗̭̻̖̬̖̩̦̟͉̄̌͜͝Ä̶̞͑̓͌̿̅̒̀̈́̚͝Ȓ̶̹͍̈́Ǵ̷̭̻̣̗̎̏̋́A̶̛̟͉̞̤̭̭͇̦̿͑̀͌̈͑̏̆̀͊̉͘͝ͅI̷̛͉̝̓̋̓̐̈́̈̚͘N̵̢̻̦͈͇̙̫͚̹̳̲͙͕̣͊̃̆͆̓͋̈́̈́̑̈͂̕͜͝͝ ̸̨̡̙̘̯̮̮̬͔̫̬̮̰̣̬̐͗̈́̑̾̄̊̊͆͛̂̃̚Ẅ̶̢̛́̇̔̋̆̂̔̐̀I̶̛͍͓̙̙͑̉̆̈́̓͜T̶̰͕̰̟̻͎̠̰̩̑̉̎͂͆̄͂̎̅̂̈́̈́̄͒͝H̷̢̛̥̜̥͖͓̙̻͉̗͔͔̑͊̈́͋͒̇͑͘͘͜.̴̡̞̝̦͈̦̖͎̺̝̭̇̐̊̈́͒́͠ͅ ̸̬̹́́̀̒̃̑̀̈͋͌̅̆͆ͅŸ̷͈̥̤̻̞̿̈́̒̕ͅO̷̜͎̼̗͑̐͛͗̏̄̃̾̾̆̀̚U̶̡̥͕͉̬͔̟͕̝͈̜̺̤̩̎̊̌̓̉̈͗̈́̐̒̏̒͘͝ ̵̢̧̮̫͚͎̪̣̝̼̬̦̦̙̿̊̓̏ͅM̷̧̧͎̞̹͇͍̼͍̠͇̤̝̑̈́̽̇̃̊̊̌̊͑A̸̢̧̲̼̬̮̠͙͚̘͎͓̘͇͌́͝͝Y̷͉̞̮̗̱̆͋ ̴͚͖̐̄̾͛̽̎̈̈̑́̋͝O̷̧̞̼̱͙̞̠̞̱̺̠̱̍͗̎̇̑̈́̋͆͌́̚N̶̨̩̲͔̗̼̙͙͍̭̟̹̼̍ͅĻ̸̡̲̲̩͎͖̲͍̼͚̲̐̊̋́̑̅̀̿͘͘͝Y̴̧̩͔̞̫̎̿̅͗̽̋͐̌̓͑͜͠ ̴̡̢̖̰̲̱̠̝̯͖̥̒͗̐͂͒͌̉̽̊͒̀̾͘B̴̨̨̖͔͚̅̊͊̈͘͝E̷̡̱̣̤̹͗͌͒̀̈́͑̐̕͜͠Ğ̵̦͎͚̃̀̑͠͝ͅ.̴̨̠̱̥̰̰̤̘̞̩̖̝̖̞̰͗̔̃͑̂"
Indeed. Hamasaki Tsubasa could admit that much.
"I've never been one for begging. Correct or otherwise, Nsoth, I'm here to bargain. I may have nothing to bargain with, that's true. I won't bargain traditionally. I'll bargain with a game of question and response."
"̴̨̡̬͍͎͕̮̙̙̯͖̗̝͚͗͊̈́̽͗̑͊̃̆̕͠͠Ȃ̷̡͓̦̆͑̋͑͌̆͠ ̶̺̺̦̇́̈́̾͛̓̄̓͌̚Ģ̴̧͔̼̬̦̥̫̝̫͒̓͊͒͛̍͌͗͌͗̋͠A̸̡͓͖̱͕̬͕͔̩̭̺̟͂͐̄̌̈́̎̓̾Ḿ̸̯͍̯̂͊͆̍͝E̸̳͂̑͜͝ ̸̡̪̼͚̣̠͗̏͛͒́̀̄͜Y̴̨̫̞̙͍̮̖̽̒̅̒̒̎͑̆͗Ȍ̵̡̡̨̩̪̮̞̟̱͒͒̓̋̓̊̕U̶̥̗̬̫̿̊̍͑ ̶̢̡̢̹͈̗͍̙̭̙͐̑̉͑̾͊̌̑͆͌͜͝W̶̡͍̮̭͔̘̖͍̱̝̮̗̤̫͒͌̂̏̈́̋̏͘̕͠͝͝Ỉ̷̢̦͓̖̻͇͈̖̞̬̽͂̀̍̓̚L̴͈̅̂͂́̐̊͌L̵̢̢̗͈͔̞̱̟̱̹͎͉̪͕͎̅͛̍̋̓̊̆̂̇ ̷̧̨̛̛͈̖̫̮̜̭̹̥̤͍̤̮͛̎͑́̓̆̿̏͋ͅN̷̢͉̜̻̖̐̆̓͗̈́̇̈́̆̾͂̐́͝Ö̵̬̣̂̅̔̿ͅT̶͎̗̦̙͓̓̇̒̔͒̀͗͜͝ ̴̛̛̲̼̠̱̊̿̽̑͒̀̑͐͛͗́͛͝Ŵ̶̛̘̙͖̱͙͓̺̭̥̟̲͕̺̌́͛̒̓̍̽͛̈̽̍̂̌Ḯ̴̤̱͖͕N̴̞͂̎̏̐̾̏̾̕͝.̸̨̛̞͍̳̖͙̺̥̞͂̅ͅ"̷̨̜̟̮̦̤͚̫̩͐̑͆̏̑̈̆̈͘
"Maybe not."
Still huddled there, Hamasaki Tsubasa smirked, slightly. Whether born of mania or genuine mirth, even he didn't know for certain.
"I'll begin. "In the beginning, I move on four legs. In my prime, I move on two. In my twilight, I move on three. In the end, I move no longer. What am I, Nsoth, Fiend of a Thousand Faces?"
"̵̡̹̼̮̲͓̦̣̜̯̫̞̐͆H̵̟̽̃U̸͚̬̫̣͙̜̞̝̥̓̄M̴̗̔̈́͛̎A̷̟͓̘̜̞̼̻̩̪͉̔́̔̊͒͗̇̒̈̏̃͒̚̕͜Ñ̶̡͇͕̥̖̜̪͙̹̼̎̎̔̎̌̉̄̀̓̔̎̒̚.̸̨̧̧̢͖̻͓̠̯̥̲͍̳̓̌̃̌"̵̥̺̟̝̐̿̈́͒̇͘
"Wrong. I'm a Magic God. What does a Magic God do once they've transcended their mortality through mastery of the arcane arts? They ascend. They seek out their one true home, where their fellows await their arrival. They move no longer, because there's just no ground to walk upon where Magic Gods dwell. I've won our game of question and response. Now, we bargain."
It stared at him for all of a few moments. Those puss-filled eyes which protruded from the infected walls of Windsor Castle turned their attention to him, as well. They stared, unblinking. Even as their lids twitched, those eyes did not break their staring.
Then, it thrashed. With all its might, this emanation of the Old God Nsoth thrashed about. Each and every innumerable, fanged maw that protruded awkwardly from its mottled hide shrieked at once.
Coming from behind, Hamasaki Tsubasa never could have seen it. He never could have predicted it. He could not have moved quickly enough to sidestep it. Even if he could have known, there was, simply put, a zero percent chance that he could have avoided it.
Hundreds of jagged spike-like growths forcibly broke outwards from beneath Voidwalker's skin. His face, his arms, his legs, his chest. It was if every single cell in his body had suddenly mutated and developed into a massive, elongated spike of crackling void energies.
Hamasaki Tsubasa died.
But not for the first time, and not for the last time.
The ruined dance hall of Windsor Castle was not merely left behind; it melted. All things melted away like the wax of a candle with its wick set aflame, dripping.
"̸̥̺̘̰͌̊̈Y̷̡̺͓̭̠̮͍͖̪̖͕͉̟̺̎͝O̷̯̘͆̈́̇̍̈́͋Ú̶̪͋̈́ ̶̨̢̨̡͙͎̠̼̥͉̳͍͙̮̒̽̆̌͋̉̍͐̚͜͠Ċ̶̡̡̛͚͕̗͉̬̮͎͓͖̺͆̋̈́͂̽̽̎͛́̈̌̚͜͝H̴̡̧̡̼̺̪̦̯̦͙̼̫̙̊̊ͅÊ̶͔̋̎͛̌̽̈́͌̽̒̕͠͠À̷͕̘̮͛̈́̈́͆͗̋͒́̿̚͝͠T̴̢̨̛̬̲̭̱̮̮̝͙̝͐̂̾͆̈͐̐͛̅̀̈́͊̕!̸͉̩̱̗̰̞͔̲͚̓͆̌͛̀ͅ"̶̝̮̙̻̌̾̄͐̈́̏͆̓͒̓͝
Voidwalker returned to his namesake, that which he knew well enough; the Void. The true Void. Not a horrific vision of a location on planet Earth, whether past, present or future Hamasaki Tsubasa couldn't have known, with his mind in its fractured state.
The Old God Nsoth had let him go. More accurately, perhaps, it had thrown him out. Tossed from the Void's appropriation of Windsor Castle like an unwanted guest, Hamasaki Tsubasa, Academy City's fourth-ranked level five esper was left to wander, alone once more.
"That wasn't even really it. That was... It was an emanation of its power."
Was that Windsor Castle's TRUE purpose, then? To act as a prison for an Old God? Locked deep beneath the Earth in some sprawling subterranean complex from a time before time, from hundreds of millions of fathoms, was Nsoth there? Maybe, that which the world knew as 'Windsor Castle' was simply the 'prison lobby'?
Voidwalker shook his head, as if he needed to do so in order to catalogue his mind's warping, flashing thoughts. Still reeling from the spiritual and mental attack he had suffered through, Tsubasa stumbled upon the vast orb he stood.
Was this level six? He couldn't have known. It seemed as if there was much he couldn't know, or didn't want to know.
"Omnitron dictated it. Six hundred and seventy-five level four Voidwalkers would have to die in order for the original to achieve a Level Six Shift. Is this it? Is this level six...?"
His scattered thoughts and fractured psyche made performing even the most simple of calculations exceedingly difficult. Inputting the numbers into his Personal Reality, once a relatively simple task, had become akin to juggling hundreds of diabolos at once.
Why had he been dragged here? For what purpose had Hamasaki Tsubasa been pulled from his own world and into this non-world? This Void. This place that was not a place, where dreams died and hope was violently suffocated, kicking and thrashing until it moved no more.
Drip, drip, drip.
Dripping along the nap of his neck, upon the crown of his head, onto his hands, there was dripping. As if he'd stepped out from a building and into the open streets of Academy City on a rainy afternoon.
It couldn't rain in the Void; the Void had no atmosphere. No water. No clouds, no sky. Nothing.
Hamasaki Tsubasa looked downward, examining himself. He half-expected to see several 'new' limbs jutting out from his body. No spikes. No limbs. He seemed completely unharmed.
In the absence of light, there was no shadow. There was no looming darkness to warn Voidwalker of that which lurked just behind him, just above him.
He spun on his heel to meet it.
The colossal, gnashing teeth. The hideous, snapping jaws. It was black, bubbling sludge-like liquid that dripped upon him. Nsoth's greatest, gargantuan maw opened impossibly wide – was it large enough to swallow an entire universe? Or hardly large enough to chomp on an acorn? - and devoured Tsubasa whole.
Jutting, sharpened fangs, elongated and pallid bit into his flesh, pierced his bones, tore his tendons. Voidwalker could just barely utter a shrill, childlike scream as his internal organs were sucked from his body.
Hamasaki Tsubasa died. Not for the first time. Not for the last time.
"̸̹͑͆̿́̈́̆̓͂̈̾͛͊̌̕J̶̼̌͆̏̈́̉͐̾̂̏͆̕̚̚͝͝Ủ̵̡̨͕̥̗̹̘̹̪͚̭͓̊̽̑́̓̓̈͑̅͘͝S̴͙͍͇͐͗̈́T̵̢͍̟͚̖̯̯̻̼̙̘͎͑̇ ̸̧̡̦͇͍̥͓͓̞̤͇̼̟̪̀̾̍̅̅̄̃̉̑̏̋͝B̶̰͚̬͉̝̉̊̓̈́̊̚͝R̵̨̢̛̙̟̘̪͛̍̈́͊̉͗͊̑Ẻ̸̹̖̭̻͍̦̙̆̃Á̷̡̖̖̳̪͚͙͖̋͌͝ͅK̷̫͎̅̃̉́̑.̷̢̡͉̙̪͉̗̮̜̙̏̐͠"̵̛̳̼̒̓̅̋̑̎́̈͘͝
The Old God was not done with him. It hadn't had its fill, yet; it sought to mete out further punishment.
"̶̡̰͔̖̠͍͊̋̔̑̀͠Y̵̯̘͙̰̫̿̓̌͛̓̽͐́̍̃̚̕̚͠͝O̴̫̲̪̪̯͓̠̠̥̥͛͐̂̀̍̚Ư̴̳͆͒͊͛͋̌͐̈̌̐̆̄̕͘ ̸̛̘̜̬̩̱͖̒͒̿͗̎̄̿͋͊͒S̴̨̲̼̭̓͋̇͠Ḙ̸̖̹̪̲͉̻͕̄͋͗͘Ë̷̦͇̎̌͗͜͠Ķ̴͈͕̥͔̩̜͓̭̬̈̂̓̈́̉͑̕͜͝ ̶̧̨̡͔̯͈̰̟̖̮̰͕͈̫̉͂̌͋̔̎O̸̠̒̔̆̽̓͗̿̋̀̍̓̇̔͝͠Ú̸͕̙̻͍͖̼̱͐͊͆͜Ȑ̸̹̑́̈̌̄͐̌͆̚ ̶̡̛̟̗͓̺̻̞͈͕̜̆̑́̽̉͠P̵̢̱̺͇̝̙̔͘Ǫ̷̗̙͖̼̜̱̪̻͔̗͈̱̫͗̒̈̀̌͌̌̀̂̀͛̚W̸̬͎̞̦͛͆̆̌̏̀̐́̾̆̈́͜͠Ë̵̼̤͍͇̹̙͎̭́͒̅̃͘R̷̖̲̄͌͝?̸̡̡͉̟̝̳͓͚͕̙͔̓́̕̚͘͜ ̸͖͚̮͓͕͕̒́̀̒̋̌̓͠͝Y̷̤̰̐̑̐̍͛̈̕̚Ỡ̶̦̗̫̲͍͙̣͙͉͐͌͐͒̈́̈́̾͗̽̓̕̕͝Ų̴͕̝̎̈́̑̅͆͗͘ ̷̨̛̱̳̣͈̻͊̿͑͒̃͒͝ͅA̷͍̜̔̽͗̾̍͆͆̌͛͌̕͘R̸̢̠͉̟̘͙͍̥͇̪̰̝̲̍͋͆̔Ë̵̛͕̫̖̙̝̦̲̞̰̗͕́̈̽̾̈̂͋̀͋ͅ ̸̙̝̼̹͕̖̼͎̲͈̻͉̍͑͐̇͆́̈́͋̈́͋̕͘͝͝N̸̨̠͔̖̲̹̼͓̍͊̅͂̈́͠͠ͅO̴̻͓̮̺͕̯̪̞͇̹̹̘͒͐̈́́́̉̎̂̐͂T̶̡̐̒̊̾͛̐̀͑͑͘ ̵̲͗̽̀̎̂̽̚W̷͚̗̘̬̠̻̘͍̿̏͊̂̑͑̍̊͒͝Ô̶̢̧̫̜͙̩͍͍͉̘̦̟̽̌̀̏̓̈́̈́̆̈́̐̽͘R̸͈͚͕̞̞̮͍͙̺͎̮̣̰͒͆͑̇͒͛̈́͘̕͠T̵̝̯͙̞̈́̈́̊͒́̿H̶̯̟̭̮͐Y̵̢̨̧͉̩̹̥̹̣͎̟͔̭͛̇͒̑́̋?̵̢͍̙̺̹̿̂̑ ̵̲͔͓͎̪̭̥̙̺͕͔̙̉͐͐̌̈̋̓͋̅̃̇̔͘͜Y̵̛̫̦̤͓̥͙̒̀͗̈́̔̏̆̔̽̆̾ͅÓ̴̮̗̤̲̚U̸̡̫͙̹͎̓͊͑͑̎̎̍͘̕ ̴̡̢̹̝̬͈͎̣̠͓̅̈́͊͜͜ͅÄ̵̧̜̙̺̞̩͉̬́̐̿͜ͅŖ̴̧̳̮̣̺̭͙̲̺̬̠͌̀̿̐͋̐̀̔͋̈́Ě̴͕̜͎̤͎̎̿̌͋̒͒̇̚͜ ̴͓̈́̉͗̑̾̌̄̆N̶͇̗̰̳̜̲͚̏̒̃̑͆͂̍̚͠͝O̷̢̡̲̳͍͚̗͓̙̞̬͕̬̪̓̆͂͗͑͋̓͘͝T̷̼̬͙͓̆̉̎̈́̎̓ ̸͇͉̭̰̮͇̂͒́͂̎͛̑̓̉̎̿̀̋̚͠Ẁ̷̛̖̥̔̊̀̅̏́͂̚͘͠͝Ơ̴̱̔̈̅͒̓̀̽̇̔̍̈̀̀Ȓ̵̼̩̹̖̲̋͆̆͑̐͐̅̒̄͒̆̕T̶̙̮̣͙̳̪̣͍͓̰͂ͅH̶̨̢̡̙̹̙̥̲͕͆̓̐̀̋̃̇͒̾͋̉͆̿̎ͅY̴̧̧̫̼̘̠̥̺̠̩̻̔͋̽͛̿̎͊̑͜͜ ̷̩̭̫̪̯̥̺̗͕͚̱̻̜̺̆̈́̏̂̀͑͋̏̆̊̉͆̒͝Ȍ̶̹̮̂͛͒̉̑̒F̴̧̢̥͕̥͔̺̩̹̙̳́̂̅ ̴̼̬̦̪̪͔́̾̋̇̿̈̅͆̑͋ͅU̴̢̢̦̜͙̇͊̉̚S̶̻̬͓͇͍̞͈͎͚̪͖̗̼̈́̈̾̊̀̑̊̀͊̂̂͐̚.̸̢̛̜͉̩͔͙̼̒͑͆̑̏̓̈́̈͒̏͠͠ ̵̨̢̩͉̞͙͎̩̭͉̼̲̘͉͗̍͆́̐̾̔̽̋̽͆̀̕͘Ẇ̶̧̛͎͍̩͖̖̟͕̖͕͖̹̱͋̔͂̅͊̽̉͠͠E̶̙̎̐̓̃̎̔̓̇̌̄̾͌͐͠ ̷̡͍͓͓̅̕ͅR̴̡̮̖̜̼̲̗̫͈͉͕̊̓͒Ȩ̸̡̯̣͚̙͇͎̬͙̥͓̰͛͌̒̽̒̽̄͜J̵̡͎̣̪͔̲̞̙͙̩̦̻̙́̏̈̿̏͘Ẽ̶̢͇͉̳͕͔̒̂̃̏̉̉́̓̾̋͘͠C̸̡͓͙̺̝̩̙͙͐͑T̸̡̙͓̦̠̖͇̖͇̪̬̣̹͖̂̊̑ ̶̡̛̛̗̤͙̥̼̽̈́̆̂͊̃̀́̈́̆̆͘͝Y̶̧̘̗̼̮͈̮̫̞̺̻͑͗̈̃̃̂̽̈́̄͝͝O̷̘̲̗̼̪͍͒Û̵̼̺̤̙͇͜͝ͅ.̵͇̮̥̘̠̱̭̹̖̫̖̦̩̐̋̏͐̿̍̉͌ ̴̥̬͕̲̲̋͑̈́͋͋͑͜W̴̛̹͉̆̔̀͐̇́̾̑͌͋̍̈́͆̚Ë̶͚̞́̇̍͌́͐̓͒̊̊̈̓̈͠ͅͅ ̶̧̢̢̙̗̫̭͓̦̗̖̟̔̓̿̃̀̇͌̈́̋̔D̵̬̥͖̣̦̟̜͆͑̓̐̄͘͠Ě̴̤͖͖̪̻̭̳̥̪̝̩̠̞͎́̑͂̃̄̒̄̔Ņ̸̛̗͋̄̈̽̐͐̓̀̐͠Y̶̛͈̬͙͍̞̜̪̱͎̍͗͗̉̉̄̑̐̒̋͘͠ͅ ̸̧̛̜̥͒̔̌̀̇̈́́̎͗̾͒͐͜͠͠Ỷ̶̨̡̢͓̖̜͕͉̗̯̦̘̀̈́̽͋̉̕͜͝͠ͅỜ̴͙̥̏͊̂͌͆̈́͐͗̉̒̕U̶̲̙̜̻͈̱̗͎̱̱̠̩͉̬̅̓͊́̊͑͒̈̕.̷̢̻̲̟͖̽͌̆ ̶̨̨͕̼̗͖́̽̑̏͋̏͛͊̄͑͋͌̈́̆ͅW̵̨̗̤̪͕̳̬͖͖̹̙͙͕̜͇͒̄̃̃̐̇̕̕͝Ě̸̫̳͔͚ ̶̨̛͕̙̳̞͍̩̤̼̹͙̫̖̯͉̀͂̋͑̏̍̇͗̄́̚Ẅ̶̧̱̳̮͈̬̖͚͚͎̖̭́̇́̈̄͑̀Ǐ̷̧̡̗̹̩̮̼̳͈̠̓̈́̅Ḽ̸̨̛̭̩͓̦̭͔̘͗̏̔̃̾̔͂̆͒̋Ḻ̴̝͕͙̳̺͔̙͕͙͚͖̰͇͊͊̉̔̊̀́͝ͅ ̴̡̨̫͔̙̥̬̜̪̀͜G̴̟͙͓̀̂͆̒̃͒̇̍̇͊͜I̸̛̻̙͉̫̻͖̮̼͋̾͘̚͠V̵̼͇̦͕̦̉̔͒̓̔̋̈́͊̌͘Ĕ̴̡̛̜̼͓͖̥̜̞̫͛͑̅͛̑̅͘͠ ̷̢̛̱̠̺̝̙̉͛͒̌͌͛̍Ỵ̴͂͐̓̑O̴̧̼̟̥͙̬̰̝͎̟̠̒̑͂̓̋̉͂̌̈U̶͚̫͎̥͕͊͊͘ ̸̡̡͎̯̼̺̣͚̝̄̉͑̽͗̀̎͗͌̊̈͒͊N̶̳͉̭̣̫̯̮̝̙̯̹̅Ó̸̧̱̮̹̜̼͉̦̝̂͌̍͜͝͝T̸̝̍͌̒̓̒͠͠H̷̢̼̺̩̮͚̺̭͕̊̏̿͌̊̇̓͑̈͊͜I̴̢̦͓̪̋̍̈̊̑̎͜ͅN̸̘̠͔͚̘͕̭̳̪͓̳̄͊͗́̄͑̀͌̔͜͝͝G̷̖̳̫̜̜̣̙̔̉͒̈̓̄̌̊́͘ ̸̼͑̐̔̔̔́̒͂̚̕͠M̵̢̭̻̳̿̓́̌̽́̔͗̀͌̐̃̕Ơ̵̢͉̪̯̈́͛R̶͓̣̟͕̹̱̀͊͂̒̑̏̈́̂͝͝Ê̴̢̨͉̹͓̗̩͍̦̝̟͔̹̱̂͜.̴̤̝̒̀̄͜"̸̱͖̈̄̀͐́̃̑̆
The words were incomprehensible. The countless voices, shrieking, screaming, whispering and shouting all as one in innumerable, unfathomable tongues made no sense.
Nsoth sought to drive Hamasaki Tsubasa completely and utterly mad. It was succeeding.
He lived again – or did he? – and awaited the next death with patience, with bated breaths. Regardless of his frayed psyche, his crumbling higher mind, regardless of how many times this cosmic fiend would torture him, kill him, it hardly mattered. Hamasaki Tsubasa would persevere.
"There's no dying here!" He exclaimed aloud to no one and nothing. "Keep playing your shitty games, and I'll keep coming back!"
Nsoth's emanation came from below; Hamasaki Tsubasa brought the Void itself around him, cloaking himself in it. Great bursts exploded from his hands' palms, forming into semicircular shields. The lashing, barbed tendrils of the Old God's emanation slammed into those shields with such force that they were rendered irrelevant; Tsubasa was knocked away like a tiny farmhouse ripped from its foundations by the whipping winds of a hurricane.
"̴̨̟̖͙̜͕̘̎́̈́́̏̌́̂̈́́Ÿ̷̧̟̉Ǫ̷̤̥̦̘̦͚̤̫̙̥̦̭̫̓͛̏̓͛͑̾̆̔̅̈͐̏͠Ù̷͕͕̻̹̯̜̹̟͛̈͌̈́̃̉̓͂̏̔̒͂̾̚ ̵̡̡͔͍̼̲͔͎̱͙̋́̈̈́̅̊̐͐͐̕ͅW̸̩͍͍̞̮̆͌Ḭ̵̟͆̎̎͋̃̔̑L̸͚̯͍̫͎̼̯̺̞͖͙͑́̐́͒̈́́͆̅̇ͅĻ̶̛̳͇͇̘͚̩̲̞̜͓̮̞̀̊̍̃̈́̏̋͊ ̷̡̛̲̺̻̰̱͎̝̂̂̀̍̓́͗̆̔̄̐̚F̶̦̯͔̈̉̋̏̈́̐́̓̈́̂̑͂̽̌A̸̯̞̤̠̩̤̍̈́̈́̃̐̿͋́̈͗́͠I̵̡̮̱̙͕̠̟͍͖͔͕̠̓̿̂̀̆́̾̋͐̈́͛̇̑̕̕͜L̶͎̲͌͑͗̈́̒̌̉͊́́̓̈́̅.̶̛̲͉̺͚̂̈́̊̆͆͛̃̊̍̒̈́̈͜"̷̧̨͇̝̥̭̟̖͇͗̓́̔͑͊̀̈́̊ͅ
If he had actually been in the United Kingdom, deep below Windsor Castle – if that was truly where the cosmic aberration that was Nsoth was imprisoned – Tsubasa would have experienced much less in the way of good fortune. One who visited the Void as often as he knew of such things with as much confidence as the average person knew their own reflection.
For all the good his last stand had done, that feeble defensive brought Voidwalker to the same place. He reached the same ending, regardless of the 'route' he took.
Death.
The sharpened edge of a barbed tendril forced its way through his back, splitting his rib cage, piercing his heart, and emerging effortlessly out from the opposite end. Slowly, methodically, that tendril gradually rose.
Each individual barb grew, expanded, sharpened. Each individual barb bit deeply into Tsubasa's innards. Even as his heart had been pierced, even as globules of lifeblood were forcibly spurted from between his lips as he gurgled, choking on his own blood and bile, Hamasaki Tsubasa's knowing did not depart from him.
Even when he finally died, then was reborn without so much as a single, lasting scratch, the knowing did not leave him.
"Nsoth!" Tsubasa nearly screamed, his vocalizations manic, "death's will and grasp can't breach this Void! Stop wasting my fucking time!"
The Void shifted once more. Voidwalker toppled, falling upon his hands and his knees as this not-reality twisted, churned and warped upon itself in impossible directions. The laws of physics were repeatedly violated here, in this place that was not a place.
As the settling came, and stabilization of his vision returned to him, Hamasaki Tsubasa wished it hadn't. He wished, he pleaded mentally to himself, he silently screamed inside of his own mind and begged for blindness. Begged to be struck dumb, numb, lame, blind, and deaf.
Academy City.
No. Not Academy City. A horrific vision of Academy City.
The Void's appropriation of Windsor Castle had been little more than the beginning, it seemed.
There was no sky. There were no stars, no planets. Simply innumerable eyes. Golden-coloured, with slits for pupils, not unlike those of a cat. Feats of human architecture had been wiped from the face of Academy City; instead, there was little more than those queer, unfathomable structures that dotted the Void without limit. The cobbled walkways and brickwork roadways of Academy City were no more. There were only sprawling, vast expanses of filthy mottled flesh spewing puss and foul, stinking grease. Snapping maws rose from below, filled with elongated, dirtied fangs that cracked whenever they gnashed, clacking against one another as the innumerable, gaping maws bit at nothing.
Where the Windowless Building should have been; that looming, ever-observing structure in the heart of Academy City's seventh school district, there was only the Old God, Nsoth.
It beckoned.
Stumbling, Voidwalker approached. Though entire school districts had originally separated Tsubasa from the goal he unwittingly marched towards, space itself seemed all too happy to accommodate him. School districts were crammed against one another, flattening.
It beckoned.
Voidwalker approached.
There was nothing else to do. There was nothing. There was only hopelessness. There was only pain. There was only the end of all things. There was only finality. There was no rest, no hope, nothing. There was only the Void.
There was only Nsoth.
There were only the Old Gods.
But, was that true? There was someone he was forgetting. There was someone who mattered more than all of this nonsense ever could.
He could almost hear her voice. Had he realized memorized its intricacies that closely?
"But don't forget this. I'm here for you. If you can't do it on your own, please let me know any time, okay?"
"You won't ever stop impressing me, will you, Ruiko? Hah. Here you are, saving my level five ass again. What a world, what a world..."
This was the Void, wasn't it? The place which was not a place, from where he, Academy City's – the true Academy City, not this horrific vision – drew his power. This world that was not a world, this was the origination of his power. The endless, infinite void energies he could effortlessly bend to his will.
Nsoth, the Old Gods at large, the Void was their cradle. The heart of their power.
It was Hamasaki Tsubasa's, as well.
He focused. Even as void tendrils, barbed and with jagged, piercing tips slashed at his wrists, tore through his flesh to reach his exposed tendons, even as they ripped his back apart, wrapped themselves around his spine, and tugged with such force that he felt his entire upper body arc backwards, bending unnaturally, Voidwalker focused.
Gathering as much power as he could, here in the Void, in the heart of his power to him, Hamasaki Tsubasa focused.
So close to level six.
So close to level six.
Level six was not a physical state. It was a state of being, a state of mind. One could not achieve level six through simply performing a certain task so many times and then instantaneously 'levelling up' like a character in a role-playing game grinding enemies, nor could one achieve level six through forced injection of cosmic power, as that old rotting Kihara fool had attempted to do with Misaka Mikoto, the Railgun girl.
No.
They'd all been wrong.
Why had Aleister Crowley, the General Superintendent of Academy City allowed the number-one ranked Accelerator to keep his little tagalong 'Last Order' around? He'd known all along. Level six. SYSTEM. Inspiration. Desire. Personal Reality.
The power surged from him. Hamasaki Tsubasa's own tendrils ripped themselves from his back, freeing the fourth-ranked level five esper from those of the Old God, Nsoth, those which had ripped and torn his mortal body. Were there millions? Only a few dozen? It would have been impossible for any onlooker to tell.
A hideous, inhuman scream was ripped from his throat as he convulsed. Innumerable, twitching limbs began to protrude; from his shoulders, from his knees, from his hips. Stillborn and twisted, these limbs were not unlike those which he freely manifested while using his esper ability to attack a foe, or alternatively to defend himself.
He, himself, had shifted. This was not a full Level Six Shift. Pitch-dark like a shadow cast by gleaming sunlight, the Void had come onto him. Purple-blue orbs floated, seemingly inert within concave sockets where functioning human eyes had once sat. Arms and legs unnaturally elongated, fingers stretched and terminating in sharpened, purple-blue talons which released plumes of crackling void energies, the cosmic aberration which had once been Hamasaki Tsubasa stared up at the Old God, Nsoth.
It stared back, unreadable, unknowable.
It stared back at the pinnacle of human evolution.
The Old God, Nsoth stared at the purported 'purpose' of Academy City, the experimental supercity in the Far East, the City of Science. The crown jewel of the Great Beast 666, the Worst Magician, Aleister Crowley. The fulfilling of 'SYSTEM'.
Nsoth stared back at the closest an esper in Academy City had fundamentally come to achieving SYSTEM. To achieving level six.
And that which was spoke words that made no logical sense. To any outsider who could have possibly been present, these words, these refusals of logic and sanity would have been unfathomable, incomprehensible, maddening.
"̵̧̛͚̫͉̳͂͌͑̆͆̌͒̑̚Ṋ̶̳̩̮͆̏̋̄͊͠Ş̶̣͕̙̺̜̺͚̗̣͆̔͛̓̄̔̈́̂́̚͜Ǫ̷̛̲͙̝̰͔̥̱̿̉̃̊̃̈́̇̎́̋͘̚O̵̢̡̢̙̺̳̬͇͍̱̺̘̞̺͙͐̄̀Ơ̴̰͋͒̎̐̎̇̃̊̏͑͌͘O̵̡̻̙͎͚̱̞̭̫̦̼͔̫̗͊͋̍ͅÖ̴̩͙͖͖̻͖́̋͝͝Ỏ̸̯͚̠̳̣̬̯̠̩͕͛O̵̢̡̼̪̜̙̟͔͔̹̜͖̠̦͂̎̋̊̆̀̈̿̈́͛͌̈́̒̆ͅÒ̵͙͈̗̟̥̥̖̪̟͒̾́̀̇͆̾̉͛͜͜ͅͅO̴̡̡̹̻̪̮͉̲͙̝͙͠Ö̴̡̧̥̪̬͈̠̖̘͉̭͈͓̫́̓̿͜O̴̦͖̙̲͌̔͋͂͘͠Õ̶̢͒̊̽͐̈́̇͒͑̽̉̕͘Ȯ̵̗͋͑́̒̀̀́͐̓̈́̚͘O̴̢̗̫͎̰̅͛̊̄̍̚O̶͔̮̐̉̓̏̓͝Ỏ̴̧̪̯̌̉̕O̷̢̖̤͓͙̬̝̬̣̝̫̫͑̿͛̄̂̈́͌͒͜͠ͅO̴̝͌̆͂͒̂̊̉̕Ỏ̸͈̦͇͙̖̗̝̈́̕Ơ̸̛̝̈͑͋̄͋̆̿̀̈́̈́͘̕̚O̸̢̞͓͌̌̉Ơ̴̛̠̗̭̪͇̜̇̅́̒̐͋́̓̑̋͌͠O̴̱͙͋̎̽̒Ơ̶̱̤͖͚͇̠̌͐͊́̐̃͂̉̕Ơ̷̡̺͕̙̪͇͈̜̰͎̾̉͂̈́̆̔̿̓̀͘T̸͙͉͎̬͖̊̆̏H̵̱̞̟͇̼͚̑̒̚!̴̳̼̭̪̾̓͛̾̂̽̊̍̂͒͊"
What an ending! How will things play out from here?! Do forgive me for leaving you on the edges of your proverbial (or perhaps literal) seats.
I won't be publishing anything for quite some time; December tends to be a historically busy month for me, holiday season and all that. Decorating, shopping, not to mention actual work! I don't consider these fanworks to truly be 'work' as they're more an amusing, fun distraction than anything I take overly seriously. We're all here to just have a bit of fun sharing creative ideas, thoughts, ideas and maybe, once in a while, feelings.
Thank you as always for your finite time. I appreciate and love you all very much, my wonderful readers.
Take care. Stay safe. Happy holidays.
- Brosephg.