Author Omake: Resurface!

Barren. Everything seemed so barren; unkempt; almost dead if not for the smallest glimpses of sunlight every now and then, all because of a barrier. A barrier that has been the plague of all who wielded the creative streak, be it pen, brush, or camera. There is no warning for it; there is no permanent cure. It has felled many a great mind past, present, and future.

It is the Block.

The foreboding landscape was the effect of one such Block, who had taken one such author's mind by storm, even twisting the poor soul's creativity enough to give itself a personification. The Block took on the form of an old, scraggly undertaker, clothed in dark rags that reflected it purpose, and made the author's imagination its own personal graveyard. Marker after marker he made and placed; every single one representing an idea. Ideas that would have sparked such beautiful creations, made fantastic events that all would enjoy.

Each one made the Block gag in disgust. It was its job- no, his privilege- to place everything deep in the figurative ground. It started off light, pounding away at the author's subconscious, making him suffer mentally until he could not be bothered with the problems at the time and left them for future construction.

That's when the Block struck down the Author himself.

That was its proudest moment, and also the place of its most elegant tombstone. The Block hobbled over to it, its decrepit shovel over its hunched shoulder, and smiled its black-toothed grin as it admired the masterpiece. The marker was made of black marble with silver veins snaking through, the words to fallen etched in glowing, cobalt, rune-esque from- 'Here lies The Author of this Realm: even He was not able to defy Fate'.

The Block grinned even wider. Yes, it believed it was this Author's fate to cease his flow. He did not belong in the Realm he was contributing to, and there were other things that-

*BOOM*

The Block froze. That was a crack of thunder. Only The Block decided what can happen in this realm. So why did the clouds above seem so angry? He was not the one caus-

*BOOOM*

The lightning that came before the deafening roar of the skies blinded The Block as it struck the majestic stone of the Author. Then just as quickly as they began, the disastrous sounds ceased. The clouds began to thin, making the land go from being covered in darkness to being simply blanketed by calm shadows that seemed to gracefully rush over the cracked ground of the graveyard. The Block looked at the remains of its once favored marker, reduced to molten rubble. It would have considered the strange events nothing, if not for the cobalt words merging together from the marble's ruined surface, forming one simple word that made The Block tremble with fear- 'ARISE'.

Before it could even gasp in surprise, the shadows that now gently covered the land raced toward the grave, each individual on outlined with a white, gray, of dark blue glow. They sunk into the earth in front of the former marker, creating a sound like none The Block had heard. Were the shadows screaming or singing? As they began to glow brighter, shadows moved faster and faster, their 'voices' rising in crescendo to The Block feared it would be the end of its hearing. As the last corporeal shadow went into the earth, the graveyard was silent once again. The Block slowly edged over to the grave, hoping that what it feared most was not coming true. After a time, nothing happened. The Block sighed in relief.

*ROOOOOOAARRRRRR!*

A hand burst through the ground, along with the return of the shadow voices. The hand clawed at the earth, its skin tearing and peeling off from being so unused. An arm soon followed from the grave followed by a body, a body of a man that The Block hoped to never see again. The man stood from his former forced home and looked around, seeing the sorrowful land and the dreadful atmosphere that was somehow beginning to fade, much to The Blocks surprise.

"…This is such poor scenery," the man sighed, his soft, baritone voice laced with regret and a low tremble of power. "How did I let it slip away from me?" He paused, and then rose to his full height, standing tall and shoulders squared. "…no. I shall not waste any more time." He raised his right hand as it began swirling with the colorful glows of the shadows before. "Light up the Night." With a loud snap of his fingers, the energy from within himself shone forth. The sky began to clear, showing the beauty that was the night sky just after sunset. The earth was once again restored, the huge plains and hills that made up the Author's mindscape returning. Finally, the graveyard erupted, releasing the newly revived creations that spread throughout the land

As the balance was restored, the Block watched in shock, horror, and rage. "No!" it screeched, its eyes wide in anger. "All my work, GONE! I made sure to keep you down, you wretched human. You are not supposed to even be able to think about those things anymore! WHY DIDN'T YOU STAY DOW- urlk!" The Block was silenced by a cobalt ring of energy surrounding its neck and raising it off the ground. It watched as the Author snapped his fingers once again. Black, silver and cobalt energies embraced his entire being, creating his signature attire from the bottom up. Dark gray, heavy boots formed up to his calves; pants made of a tough fabric, colored black with glowing cobalt rune lines trailing the side; a silver long-sleeved shirt bleed onto his torso, followed by a dark, scaly battle vest made from the hide of a mystical creature he had defeated in battle; gauntlets of the strongest metal and the latest technology appeared on each upper limb, encasing his hands and forearms; a wispy scarf adorned his neck as if it were smoke, waving around as though there was a breeze; a coat, made as though it were a shadow itself, snaked its way from his shoulders to his ankles; finally, a simple black fedora with a wide brim formed on his head, casting a shadow to where only his mouth was seen.

The Block watched, terrified. Here was the Author it personally sent off course. It harassed him, told him to forget about his already made contributions, and placed in the grave of his own creation. He forgot one thing about all Authors, though.

"Did you really think that I would stay down?" Seeing the look of confirmation in the gravekeeper's eyes, the Author laughed, something that, to the trapped Block, sounded like the bells of doom ringing for its demise. "You fool, you forget one thing. While there is not permanent cure for your despicable existence, there is one way to keep you from ever plaguing me." The Author thrust his arm forward, and The Block zoomed forward, dragged by the energy ring on its neck. Its chest met the enclosed fist with great force as it wheezed and cried in pain.

"Drive," the Author continued. "As long as I have the drive to do what I love to do, no matter how small that drive may be, I can come back and destroy you." He held the crumpled form of The Block by the neck now, making it face him "You can slow me down, you can bury my creations; you can try as hard as you like, but I will always bounce back up, stronger and better than ever."

"H-how?" The Block whispered, crazed disbelief showing in its eyes as it began to fade. "I t-taken down many a-an aspiring author and made th-them dull and empty. H-How do you defy me?" The Author finally looked at it, and the Block finally saw his eyes. The Author's right eye was swirling with silver, and his left eye –or rather, where his left eye should have been- was and empty socket of flesh, filled only by black, crackling energy.

The eyes of Light and Shadow.

"That's easy," The Author grinned, and grasped the Block's throat tighter and said the last words it would hear- "YOU'RE MY BITCH." With a sharp clench, the Author crushed its throat, and The Block was no more.

The Author turned and sat on the remains of his marker, looking up at the moonlit sky, his voice losing its cold edge. "I was in there for far too long, wasn't I? So many people actually liked my creations, but I let the negatives get the best of me. The ideas even stopped coming. I could not put together anything that would make the Viewers happy. Hell, I bet a few of them are pissed that they are reading this instead of an actual update while others are wondering what the hell is going on? …but now I'm back. No more distractions. I'm focused and determined to finish what I started. If I'm lucky, I'll have something ready by Tuesday." He jumped back to his feet and checked his left gauntlet for a confirmation of the date. "...damn, almost a year has passed since I did anything." He closed his eyes in concentration and the scenery vanished and was replaced with a large room which was empty except for a desk, a chair, and a blue laptop.

The Author walked over and sat, placing his vest and coat on the chair and his hat on the desk. A pair of silver eyeglasses appeared on the bridge of his nose as he finally began to relax, his anger and coldness towards The Block replaced with the calm, soothing patience he was well known for. The laptop booted up, its camera scanning the being in front of it. "Analysis complete. Scan results: entity known as alias NightShade, The Patient One," the laptop spoke in a monotone voice. "Greetings, Master Nintai. It has been a while since you have accessed me. How may I be of service?"

The Author smiled. "Hey there, Proto," he replied before popping his knuckles and flexing his fingers. "It's time to get to work."