It was a tragicomedy play with an extremely long duration. A play to which it was difficult to apply time scales understandable to a human being.
She was not human, so she could understand the play. Or at least that was her line of thinking.
She had been watching them with interest from the terrible beginning in a dark and empty world where only those two existences faced their ideals.
First, the male existence. He was a mere mortal condemned to the lowest of the low on a scale of power that had apparently reached its peak of absurdity.
Second, the female existence. Someone who had reached the pinnacle of magic until she became a Magic God who changed the world again and again at her whim until she lost what was supposed to be the point of return.
It was for an eternity that saw them face each other.
The universe could have died in a Big Freeze and been reborn in a Big Bang hundreds, thousands or millions of times during the confrontation between the two existences.
A loop that starts in a dark, flat world, without any color or sound.
A perfect world.
... ... ...
... ... ...
5th Autumn.
There was a perfectly imperfect world.
She simply woke up in that place, knowing that she had entered it while trying to fall asleep.
The only thing that seemed strange to her was that there was no sign of the grumpy blonde woman wearing an eyepatch.
She wandered through an abandoned land where the only biological existences were plants and animals, the only traces that there ever was such a thing as the human race were the large cities that lay abandoned at the mercy of nature and an unusual amount of skeletons piled up in giant pits on the outskirts of those cities.
At a certain point, when the leaves had turned orange, brown and the weather was excessively humid for the fifth time, she became bored with this silence. It was not what she was looking for, it was an uncomfortable silence, as if she was waiting for someone to say something to her at any moment and although that would annoy her, it would be better than this.
Thus she found the determination not to fall into a bad dream that would make her wake up grumpy when the scenario changed again. She would seek out the terrifying blonde woman with the patch and tell her to go back to the beginning, to that perfect world.
Even if she had to offer her a snake as she had done with others before.
7th Winter.
Someone was here.
They both looked at each other curiously.
The man was tall, with thick, tanned skin as proof of his intense labor under the sun. Long dark hair adorned his head like a luxurious crown while he sported a bushy beard that was a bit poorly trimmed. His blue eyes looked tired, dull, almost lost in the maw of madness.
He was 15 years old when he was left alone.
When the entire human race, except for him, succumbed to a lethal disease.
Twenty-nine years had passed since that fatal event. The man had forgotten it but today was the day when that fatality was one more year old.
The last person to be by his side was a taller girl whose name he could no longer remember, only her beautiful eyes, a white ribbon for her long hair and the sword she once wore. A sword he kept warily in a shrine to those who had accompanied him to the end but whose names he had lost at the threshold of a dementia that devoured him with each passing day.
But he would live as long as his tired body told him to, he would carry with him the last memories of the human race for when the grim reaper came to claim him and he would go in peace, peacefully asleep.
That day, everything seemed brighter, everything seemed to be alive and relatively calm, inevitably confusing the man.
It had to be that afternoon, by which time only remnants of the sun remained behind the mountains and the brightest stars were visible in the sky that he understood the reason for that day's appearance.
He was not alone.
The man felt as if a sharp object pierced his throat and without remedy he burst into a silent cry.
After 30 years of loneliness, of making only brief sounds and uttering words to himself and living with the burden of keeping the memories of countless people alive, he knew he was not alone.
That December 25th marked a new beginning in the life of Kamijou Touma, the last human being on the face of the Earth.
14th Spring.
36 years since the death of every human being on the face of the Earth with one exception.
14 years since the day she woke up in this scenario where the trace of the blonde woman wearing an eyepatch was almost non-existent.
7 years have passed since the afternoon they met.
She knew Kamijou Touma was someone of few words and she liked that, he had turned the awkward silence of this scenario into a much more pleasant one. Although something that had stuck with her was what he said that time they met he was able to calm her crying was his comment about how her clothes were too inappropriate for a child.
He didn't take long to get her a type of dress she had liked, the aged Kamijou saying they were of a gothic lolita style or at least he thought so, he wasn't so sure about many things anymore.
Now every December 25th he would give her one of those dresses that were not easy to come by in a desolate world where deterioration was becoming more and more evident.
That same deterioration was not evident in the place they always returned to, a small farm with many kinds of animals, all brought to the place by Touma.
She liked the man much more when he started giving her handmade sweets that he learned to make out of curiosity. In fact, he was a good chef, reading all kinds of books he retrieved from devastated libraries and practicing what was in them, from construction books to cookbooks.
He also told her stories, mostly made up, others taken from books but with his personal touch giving them an unexpected ending to which she could only ask questions that made the man laugh and label her a child genius.
This was her routine for the next few years.
30th Winter.
It was at this time that he realized.
He was dying.
With each coughing fit came a more noticeable deterioration in his health and it didn't take him long to realize what it was.
Lung cancer.
He didn't have to wonder why it was happening to him even if he had led a healthy life or never indulged in vices such as smoking and alcohol. From the beginning he had this feeling that no matter what he did, his life was going to end abruptly.
As if since the Big Bang the invisible hand of the universe had placed all the pieces in place for things to end this way no matter what he did, creating an inevitable end.
Kamijou Touma laughed wryly, he read something like that in one of the many books that now lay in the library he had built under his farmhouse. It was not exactly the same but it was inevitable for him to compare his thought and the imaginary character he read about.
It was called Laplace's Demon.
With regret evident in his blue eyes whose sparkle was barely held by the girl who had arranged to help him meet her 23 years ago, he contemplated one of what he knew would be one of the last sunsets of his life.
He stroked the long, silky, dark hair of that young girl he came to consider his daughter who lay asleep on the blanket he had placed under a large tree where they used to picnic. He could not help but fear for what would become of her once he left this world. But at the same time he was certain of one thing, and that was that as naive as she was, she was also very strong.
And she had eyes that could scare a bear if she wanted to, he thought graciously.
He knew that if it was her, then maybe someday she could find another, if not more people. That gave his peace of mind.
She would be fine even without him.
Last summer.
It happened on a warm summer afternoon.
At the age of 61, Kamijou Touma passed away from a sudden onset of metastatic lung cancer.
He was accompanied by the young woman who for so many years kept him going, his reason for going on.
However, to say that he died peacefully would be the vilest of lies.
That girl who had not changed in the slightest since that day 24 years ago, she felt frustration and... sadness at what she discovered.
All this time, Kamijou Touma thought she was just an anchor created by his mind to keep his sanity. And yet he said... No, he promised her one thing.
He made her a promise that would surpass time, ages, dimensions and even the inevitability of death.
"Just wait for me, I will find you again".
For the first time in her eternal existence, she who represented the Infinite shed a tear.
"Perfect" world.
The play continued without further interruptions until its end, a confrontation between those unequal existences that ended where it began, in the world of darkness and silence that had once seemed so much better than her original home before it was taken away by the evil red dreamer.
It was no longer what she wanted.
SHe longed for her silence but also to be together with that interesting person once again. She wanted to return to the one who gave her a new place to call home.
In that crevice, that abyss that was a front row seat to a tragic play about the Infinite Hell that boy had to go through to come to understand the sad Magic God holding the boy's destroyed lifeless body, she was no longer the serpent Ouroboros, the Infinite Dragon.
Just a little girl looking for the way home where her father would be waiting for her.
Her crying only stopped when the "Perfect World" faded away and things returned to the way they were before the starting point.
Through an invisible veil that prevented them from seeing each other, she watched as that man, now rejuvenated, fought with everything he had against the unstoppable force that was the world, all for the sake of the girl who had thrown him into the Infinite Hells.
She always knew that this boy was someone interesting but she also wanted to meet the blonde woman in the patch, something she couldn't do because of this invisible veil that separates them.
To her curiosity, said veil felt weak as if it only took a push to get through it but even having a power that far surpassed Y Ddraig Goch and Albion Gwiber, she couldn't do it, so to her annoyance she had to wait.
The Aeons determined the path so that someday the paths of Kamijou Touma and Othinus would meet again with Ophis'.