Some find it hard to believe what I've become.
Well, they would, if they were still alive.
The only one of them who's still around is the other half of my soul.
No, not in that way, I mean the literal other half of my soul. It's an interesting concept, soul dichotomy. The basis is that in the beginning, there is only one soul as it goes through the rebirth cycle, but over time it splits into two distinct beings. These two beings continue on their path until being joined again, and the process repeats itself. Over and over again, across the centuries. Sometimes, one will even die before the other, or become temporarily immortal, until Death claims us once again to continue on the Great Cycle.
But that's just it. He hasn't come to shuffle me onwards this time. I've been trapped here, stuck, an omnipotent being, for over a million years.
And damn, it's boring.
So I started using my infinite cosmological powers to screw with the world. Not much, just accelerated some technological processes here and there, gave a couple people a few supernatural powers, developed a bit of a dubious religious following. You know, the usual stuff. Nothing real big.
Then he appeared.
Exactly one million, sixty thousand, seven hundred twenty-two years and fifty-three days after I appeared in this world, the other half of my soul appeared as well. In the body of a human, yes, not the one I knew him best for, but it was still him. I knew.
Poor, little, baby Daud. He grew up in the slums of Karnaca. I watched him as it happened, guided events around him as to not lose him again.
At the tender age of nine, he took his first life. Life in the slums was dangerous, but Daud was even more so. Others in the slums relied on their skill at hiding to avoid the gangs, but Daud was not skilled enough then. So he killed the man. And the three others with that man. All he used was an old spoon, the one keepsake he had left of his mother before she was taken away by the slavers.
He was a terrifying monster, even at such a young age, and I couldn't have been more proud of him.
At sixteen, he was spirited away from the Jewel of the South, on a slave ship headed for Morley. With a stop at Dunwall, of course, the true locus of my power, where Daud escaped during a routine inspection by the Overseers. They have a fanatic way of going over everything that comes out of Serkonos, as it is where most of my worshipers live.
Well, as far as they know. They don't even realise that they worship me in every single Abbey, because I am not only the Outsider. I am the Everyman as well.
Yes, the Abbey of the Everyman, an entire religion dedicated to hating me, fails to even realise that to hate me is to hate the Everyman. That their entire way of life was created by me, just as a way to entertain myself. That the only existing temple in my name as the Outsider is buried deep beneath their own Emperor's palace. Of course, knowledge of its existence is only entrusted to a small few, like the royal family. And now Daud.
Finally, I could truly feel it again, the bond between us, linking our souls through time and space. I reached out to him, and gave him my Mark. Told him to do great things with the power I had given him. Told him I would be watching closely.
And he brought it back.
Daud brought back the Shinobi Way, the philosophy of complete secrecy and silence that had governed shinobi long before our time, before all the flashy techniques and pitched battle came along.
Twelve years and one hundred one days later, Empress Jessamine Kaldwin I of the Empire of the Isles was assassinated by Daud, and Lord Protector Corvo Attano locked away in Coldridge Prison. Certainly, he had done some impressive feats in those twelve years, like creating an entire Assassins' Guild of sorts, hidden right in the heart of the City. Underneath the underneath, as my old teacher used to say, eons and eons ago.
At the age of twenty-nine, Daud had become the most dangerous and infamous man in the world. He was a monster, and I couldn't have been more proud of him for it.
Of course, as a poet from one of the worlds that I had stayed in had said, "nothing gold can stay."
And so it was. Before the end, my little Daud cut a bloody warpath through the witches of Brigmore Manor, saved the young Emily Kaldwin from possession without anyone even knowing of his gracious deed. Other than me, of course. And then Corvo did the impossible: he escaped Coldridge prison—without being seen by anyone—with just a key to get him out of his cell. He stole a sword off of the first guard he incapacitated, then slit the throats of every single other guard in the facility.
His priority was to save his daughter, and nobody would be able to stop him. And who was I to deny such a noble goal? I may have changed in the eons since I was a naïve little boy, but I never got over the loss of my family in my own youth, and I would always aid those who tried to save such families. Corvo simply got more help than most: powers comparable to those of Vera Moray and the Lonely Rat Boy, Sean Prince—not that anyone else knew that he was technically part of the royal family.
A mere three days later, Dunwall was in chaos. The High Overseer, Thaddeus Campbell: dead. Three members of the Parliament, Lords Morgan and Custis Pendleton and Lady Boyle: dead. The Royal Physician, Anton Sokolov: missing, presumed dead. The Lord Regent, Hiram Burrows: dead, both literally and politically. All by the hand of Corvo Attano. Even most of Daud's assassins were dead as Corvo crept closer and closer to the other half of my soul.
I fell to the floor, slumped against a crumbling wall. Looking up into the cold, lifeless eyes of the Lord Protector's mask, I began to entreat of him a final request.
"I have one last request from you: I ask for my death."
Suddenly, Corvo hoisted me up by the throat, a blade held against it. I held up a hand, signaling for him to allow me to finish speaking first. Miraculously, he seemed to stop.
"When I killed your empress and took her daughter, something broke inside me. Now I want nothing but to leave this world, and fade from the memory of those who reside here. I've had enough killing. So my life is in your hands. Make your choice."
The grinning visage of the mask remained unmoved. Then, without warning, the blade drew across my throat, and I was thrown backwards, to the watery ground far below us. As I fell, I barely managed to smile and say to Corvo, "Thank you."
The sky was black, and the air felt like water. I twisted around in the soupy fluid, and saw a silver gate.
"Daud"
I looked around, and there, floating in the near-complete blackness around me, I saw him. The Outsider.
"I don't understand."
"Daud, Daud, Daud. It doesn't matter if you understand. What matters is that you are here now."
"Where is 'here'?"
"This is the End, Daud. It is where we go to be judged, and either continue to the next life or get sent back to redeem ourselves. I have waited for over a million years to come here; waiting for you to return to me."
"What does it all mean, though?"
"It means, Kurama, that we can finally go home."
He extended a hand to me, and as he did, the black of his hair faded into a shining gold, standing up on end in random spikes; and his eyes changed to a vibrant blue. The suit melted around him, and shifted into a hideously brightly-colored orange and blue jumpsuit. I found myself reaching out to grasp his hand in mine, even as it shifted into a clawed paw, and red-orange fur began to spread up it.
"Naruto…" I whispered, the memories returning. He smiled, his mile-wide grin filling me with warmth, happiness, and nostalgia.
Then our hands touched, and we knew no more.