Chapter 195 – Longest Late Lunchtime
"Palkia." Owen approached with a grave expression.
"Oh, hello!" He waved cheerily, near the back of the Heart army. Owen had spotted him returning after evacuating the Hearts who needed a rest.
"Do you have energy for another Teleport?"
"Certainly, for just you… This seems urgent." Palkia's cheery demeanor shifted to something more somber. "Owen. Why do I sense Star's power in you?"
Owen held his breath and closed his eyes.
"…I understand."
"I need you to find Dialga and take all three of us to Quartz HQ."
"What?" Palkia, taken aback, crossed his arms. "Away from the fight?"
"Yes. It's where Nevren is. He's Revising things randomly, and Alexander can remember those rewound memories."
"Ah." Palkia nodded. "Say no more. Wait a moment."
Owen counted the seconds. He'd promised two kilos or less. Simply planning this out had cost him a hundred seconds of that.
As Palkia left, Owen looked down at the glimmering army of lights dropping off of a giant Torterra's tree. Forrest was looking up at him with a knowing stare. Owen descended until he was just by his tree, watching the spirits peel off and reform with Xerneas' might.
"So, this," Forrest said, "is your answer in defying the future the world had laid out?"
"It is."
Forrest closed his eyes and rumbled. "I only know that it is different," he said. "Good luck."
Owen exhaled through his nostrils, exhaling some orange flames.
Different. That's all he needed. From here on, Owen carved a new path for the future's river.
Salty air tickled Owen's nostrils. Warm sand stuck between his scaly toes. The wind blew gently, carrying an ocean breeze from the south. Quartz HQ was an ancient nostalgia, but this time, Owen was not returning to a home. He was returning for a showdown… once again. No Eon. No mutant army. Not even Elder.
It was just Nevren.
Behind Owen were the only two Pokémon he needed, sans his Guardian spirits. Palkia, and Dialga. But it would not be for the fight itself. It was only to lay a few traps. They stood awkwardly behind the tree line before it thinned out, though they were still noticeably taller. But hopefully out of any camera views of the headquarters.
Owen conjured a single spirit, faded but present. A Jumpluff formed and nodded nervously up at Owen.
"I truly hope this works," Klent said.
Owen faced the gods of time and space. "On Klent's signal, Palkia."
"Of course. I believe I understand."
"And I'm here to…" Dialga shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want to be near when he Revises things. That blasphemy… it sends me into a rage I cannot describe."
"It's okay. You'll come in when it's all over, hopefully, to disable it for good."
"Why can't I sneak up and disable it? I probably only need to do it once, you know," Dialga said.
"And what are the odds that he installed a panic button for just that purpose?" Owen reminded.
"…Hm." Dialga looked like he'd been spat on and was trying to keep his composure.
"Uh. I'll just… do this to be sure, you know?" Owen said gently.
Dialga growled and looked away. "Continue."
Even if 'Rhys' was but a memory, Owen certainly saw some of those old mannerisms. "Right."
And, slowly, he approached, his Perceive now restored and as high as it could be. He brushed his tail on the ground and tried to sense the 'past' of the area, too. And it was easy. Nevren's aura had been flaring so badly that his prior movements were like a glimmering trail through the air. It went underground and through the labyrinth.
Each floor of the labyrinth was deep, but the surface had very few cameras. There were ample blind spots if Owen didn't go toward the entrances. His Perceive could reach as far as five floors down… and that wasn't quite enough.
Thankfully, Owen did not Perceive anything that he'd mark as a sensor for things digging underground. He could take advantage of that.
As he walked, Owen thought about the troublesome 'blooming' effect of the timelines that he could now perceive, but only retroactively. It was disorienting—much more disorienting than the memories of the actual timelines returning to him. He wasn't sure if it would work, but he tried to focus and anchor his spirit within his body for this confrontation. He didn't want his spirit getting distracted while his body struggled against Nevren's constant retries.
Hopefully, now he could just deal with the memories after the fact…
Owen stopped walking. This was approximately the center of the underground base, only aboveground on perfectly normal soil. He took a steadying breath and his body shifted green. Scales became leafy feathers. His claws extended into the ground as roots. The rest of his body followed, losing its flesh and bones in favor of wood and sap. The roots went deeper and deeper into the earth, and with it, Owen replicated his Perceive at the tips of two of those roots.
He could see nine of the ten layers and the full floors of three through seven.
And that was all he needed. Nevren was chatting with a few mutants who had stayed behind in the HQ while enjoying a simple drink and sandwich. Owen couldn't tell what the drink was, but it had no pulp.
This positioning was good enough. He went on with the next step of his plan. Okay, you two. Are you ready?
I'm not sure about this…
It's been so long since we've been in the HQ…
Just act natural, Owen assured them. You just have to lead him into that room. There, see the one I'm focusing on?
Yeah! Wow, how'd you do that?
We can share thoughts.
Oh, right.
Wait, then why did you ask us if we knew the plan? We're in your head!
Let's focus, please.
Owen sent two spirits through his roots and gently prodded a small crack in an out-of-the-way hall. Nevren wasn't reviewing the security cameras—in fact, nobody was—so being spotted would be meaningless here.
A Seviper and Tyranitar formed and quickly fused into their rocky serpent bodies, shedding their Grass attributes for now to keep up the act. They slithered down the hall, not spotted by anyone with Owen's guidance, and entered the room Nevren had been in. It seemed to be one of the side break rooms meant for mutants and Hunters to enjoy snacks or read up on something.
Now came the acting.
"Hello?" they called.
Nevren stopped drinking and looked back. His body language was still at ease. No suspicions yet. He likely didn't have a mental catalog of every mutant who should have been here.
"Ah, hello," Nevren called.
"So you did come back." Tyraviper beamed. "Um, we need some help… Are you busy?"
"Mm… No. I'm not." Nevren finished his drink in one great swig and set it down, nodding at the other mutant—a Delphox-Meowstic hybrid of some kind—and stood up. "May you put this away for cleaning?"
They nodded, and Nevren followed Tyraviper out. A little further… A little more…
Klent, now!
Ah! Ah—okay, okay!
Owen waited. He realized he couldn't be sure if Nevren would be able to sense what was coming, or if he could, either.
Palkia put up the barrier. He can keep it going for a while. A lot longer than the two kilos you promised…
Perfect. I didn't notice anything and Nevren didn't either.
What do I do now?
Your part's done for now. Wait until I call for Dialga to come in and disable it.
Owen refocused on the walk. How many seconds had passed already? Twenty or so, on a leisurely walk. Nevren was looking more nervous… Wait!
Tox, Soli! Owen called to Tyraviper. Don't go that way. You can't use the elevators anymore; they Teleport!
Oh no! Um… uh…
Thankfully, they maintained their idle slither, and Nevren's mind seemed elsewhere. They could salvage this.
There's an open chamber for… Yes! The Beammaker room! Go that way!
Isn't that place destroyed?
It'll do.
That's far…
That's good.
They made another turn. Nevren continued to follow for another fifty seconds in total silence. Nevren wasn't one for talking, from what Owen recalled. Not during walks. Maybe walking and talking made him prone to errors he'd Revise, and that led to having too many conversations over and over again? It was hard to guess the perspective of someone with a retry button…
Sixty seconds. Seventy seconds. Eighty—
"Have you been doing well?" Nevren asked.
"Kinda," they replied coolly. "To be honest, I'm a little scared…"
"Ah. No need to worry," Nevren replied. "Everything will be just fine soon."
Ninety seconds. Owen's nonexistent heart fluttered. Nevren was trapped. The hardest part was over! Now it was time to get moving.
As Owen dug forward, he made a mental note to pick a specific spot that hadn't been sealed. And not to divert for any reason, because in the end, Nevren would know that to get out of there, he would need to speak to Owen and settle this the old-fashioned way.
Suddenly, Nevren made a turn away from their fused decoy. He flashed a glare and marched down the halls.
Ah! He realized what's wrong… but it's already too late! Owen, giddy, sped along as Nevren wandered the halls. He never ran into Nevren once on his way to the Beammaker room. He quietly pressed the button to open the door, which slid open as sterile white light spilled into the halls.
And then the memories of countless rewound seconds hit him:
"Why are you here?"
"What are you planning?"
"Really, now?"
"What have you done?"
From instances where Nevren had run into Owen on the way to the Beammaker.
Other times, Nevren attacked, or tried to strike from behind, only for Owen to have blocked it. "Try the other door, Nevren. It's rude to attack from behind."
And, occasionally, Nevren had replied "Yes, yes, rude from behind, just—just—"
And then, time ran linearly again. No branching paths. No specters in Owen's memories. And Owen had a moment to breathe and appreciate the room, recovering from the first flurry of memories. The first of many, he imagined. It was better than the confusing bloom of timelines, at least…
Mispy had spent so much time in this place. Nevren had used it to test the durability and regeneration capabilities of her mutant Meganium body, making stronger and stronger Beammakers when the old ones weren't enough to push Mispy to her limits. But during the time that they took out Necrozma and Emily, the Beammaker had been relocated, and no longer fired inside.
This would do. Owen had already formed a plan on how to take Nevren out and this room was just the place to let it happen.
The door on the opposite side of the Beammaker chamber opened.
And Nevren immediately went on the offensive. He couldn't Teleport, but he could strike. Owen beat his wings and kicked off the ground, leaving behind a tiny, invisible trace of energy when he did.
He lifted his right arm and brought up a tiny Chaos Protect, deflecting a Thunderbolt that careened into the ground, leaving a small crack where the plasma superheated the floor. Owen flew all the way back, nearly against the wall, and then trailed across the top of the chamber while firing gouts of embers down below.
Nevren dodged every single one with practiced ease. He not only knew when Owen would fire, but also where every single ember would land. He'd memorized the rain and dodged it.
In some ways, Owen was impressed.
"Ngh—"
He blocked several Psychic blasts, but a few clever mix-ups in Nevren's strategy—practically haphazard flips between Psychic warping and crackling Thunderbolts—grazed him. An electric burn traced his left leg; parts of his body throbbed from concussive Psychic bursts. But nothing was broken. His Perceive was doing the work.
Owen had to play evasively for now. He had to predict what Nevren was going to try, and make sure he could ease in and give Nevren some confidence as he left more and more invisible motes in the chamber walls. By the time the first ninety seconds passed, he'd covered the whole walls with what he needed, and flying evasively was getting hard.
He descended to the ground, Nevren idly standing in the middle, conserving his energy, as a flood of memories bombarded him:
"So, you've come to fight me directly… and alone, have you?" echoed the first Nevren to ever enter on that side.
"Yeah, I have," Owen echoed back. Meanwhile, countless overlapping memories showed many times Nevren failed to dodge Owen's blasts, or completely missed hitting Owen at all.
"I'm sure by now you're aware of my power. Your Perceive can't outpace outright luck."
"Cut the act, Nevren. We all know it's time, even if I won't remember it."
"To be honest, Owen, you were always a risk. Perceive is a threat higher than most other things… ever, really. Even the gods are subject to this power. I suppose the only greater threat would be Dialga."
"Thanks for the compliment." Owen smirked.
"…Right. No point in talking."
"So, didn't rewind yet, did you?"
"Not yet." Though, by "now," Nevren certainly had.
"You know, each time you do, Alexander gets another chance. He… remembers. Why Rewind? Why don't we fight fair?"
"Alright. Remove your horns, then."
"…I guess we can't trust each other," Owen conceded.
Owen shook off the memories and landed heavily on the ground. Nevren saw it coming, but Owen predicted that and blocked the strike. For some reason, Nevren looked especially frustrated when he'd blocked that one. He would have to give him a freebie next.
Thankfully, Nevren went with another Thunderbolt. Owen misplayed—intentionally—his block, and the Thunderbolt burned a hole through his left wing. He winced and quickly grew a few leaves to patch up the hole, gliding over the ground. His tail, bent out of shape from a prior Psychic blast, dragged along the ground… just as Owen wanted as more invisible pockets of energy embedded themselves in the chamber.
Just a little more. Owen couldn't take a lot more of this while suppressing his power. He couldn't show Nevren how strong he was, or he'd Revise even more. He had to trick Nevren, the master of timelines, to think he'd found a victorious path.
When another ninety seconds had passed, the memories Owen received were significantly smaller. Only a few misplays from Nevren that he'd revised away.
And after a few more rounds throughout the Beammaker chamber, his work was done.
Now Owen had to play the act for another moment. Another ninety seconds. He just had to endure.
Exhaustion was starting to get to him. Strain from flying, strain from channeling so much energy, and perhaps the fight from Alexander had taken more out of him than he'd realized. Owen grounded himself in a stumbling, graceless landing. He held up an arm, erecting a Chaos Protect. Like a hollow black-and-white marble, none of Nevren's attacks got through, and Nevren waited patiently every single time, perhaps contemplating how to best strike Owen.
And, curiously, the timelines thinned considerably. Nevren was more confident.
Owen's shield flickered. Nevren pointed a finger at Owen's center of mass. His spoon crackled with electricity and Nevren marched closer. They were twenty feet apart. Eighteen. Sixteen.
The timelines were dwindling even more. Nevren had found his victory.
The air smelled of ozone as electricity bounced off Owen's ever-thinning shield.
"There wasn't any strategy to this," Nevren said. "You were desperate. I don't care how many times Alexander resets. I will find a way around it, as I always have. What came before was… a mere setback."
"Setback, huh?" Owen laughed weakly, keeping his guard up. He wasn't sure if the timelines had stopped or he was so weak he could no longer perceive the bloom of it all. Had he lost his touch?
"Yes. Just as you being here is a setback," Nevren said plainly. "Though, I will admit… this is the first time a conflict had truly lasted longer than the moment allotted by my Revisor. Very. Interesting." His eye twitched. Wow, Owen had never seen him so irate before, even after his perceived victory…
Electricity crackled in Nevren's fingers. Owen held his breath. Five… four… three…
"I will allow you one last chance to surrender, Owen," Nevren said. "That kind of power is useful to have. It will maintain world order."
Two… one…
"You know I can't do that," Owen said.
Zero.
Owen gave it ten extra seconds. Just to be safe. Just to be sure he hadn't miscounted in the heat of battle.
But the bloom of timelines that followed confirmed to Owen that it was over. But the final Owen, the timeline that never got rewound, only saw Nevren suddenly collapse to the ground, screaming, slamming his fists into the ground hard enough that his knuckles broke and his blood smeared on the white tile.
"WHY?" Nevren shouted.
The utter switch in countenance was enough to startle Owen into stepping back. "What?"
Nevren gasped and staggered to his feet. "Take it," he said, suddenly trembling like he'd been in the snow for a year.
"TAKE IT TAKE IT TAKE IT!" He hurled the Revisor toward him.
Owen caught it with ease, staring at it confusedly. "What—"
"Don't destroy it," Nevren said hastily. "You can't you can't GET DIALGA JUST DESTROY IT NOW!"
"O-okay, okay!" Owen staggered back. Klent, have Palkia teleport Dialga in here! I have the Revisor. Do it fast!
What? Are you—
"YELL AT THEM TO COME NOW!"
"Okay, okay!" He then mentally urged Dialga to hurry. Owen tried to comfort Nevren by approaching, but the Alakazam, with bloodshot eyes and graceless stumbles, babbled hopelessly. "Please hurry just hurry please hurry…"
Owen dreaded when the memories of the timelines would return to him. It had to have been twenty seconds left.
A rift appeared right next to Owen. Dialga emerged and locked eyes with Owen, who raised the Revisor.
Dialga nodded. "Right…"
He pressed a steel hoof on the Revisor. Its gray button… slowly dimmed, its divine energy snuffed out in a matter of seconds. Then, as if to be sure, Dialga gently knocked it out of Owen's hands and stomped on it. When Dialga removed his hoof… it was scrap and diamond dust.
Nevren retched on the ground, vomiting coffee and chunks of a sandwich onto the floor. It soaked into his mustache.
Five… four… three… two… one…
It had been the largest bloom of all. A divergence of timelines to end all other timelines—and Nevren's final struggle. And during it, Owen had hardly moved as he recalled all that Nevren had experienced just before the Revisor's destruction:
"Is this really your choice?" said the first Nevren of many.
Owen stood in silence during this first timeline. Meanwhile, in so many others, Nevren jumped back, desperately swiped at invisible foes, and stepped on countless Fire Traps that he had no defense against. In the few times Nevren tried to block it, Owen plunged his fangs into the Alakazam's body, forcing another reset. In those, Nevren gurgled weakly and waited for the Revisor to pass.
"We need you, still, for Alexander," Nevren said firmly. "I don't intend to kill you. But if I must control your mind, if I must Reset your aura—"
"Do you really think I still have that vulnerability?" Owen questioned. "I'm part of the Worldcore now. You can't corrupt me that way."
"What? What does that mean?" Nevren asked.
Owen sighed. He refreshed his Protect now that he had a moment to pause, and Nevren only frowned more at that.
Meanwhile, the countless blooms around them became more and more desperate. Nevren was covered in burns in some, and in others had merely collapsed to his knees, slamming his fist into the ground. A few times, Nevren had rushed him, taking several blows, before begging him to take the Revisor. That had truly surprised those Owens.
Several times, Owen had held the Revisor, having no idea what to do with it. In several other instances, Owen had tried to destroy it, only for Nevren to scream that obviously wouldn't work.
Eventually, Owen sent word to Palkia through Klent to send Dialga.
"You were trapped several 'moments' ago, Nevren. It's already too late."
"Excuse…" Nevren paused. And then he pressed the button.
"Ugh." Owen knelt next.
"Are you okay?" Dialga asked. The lights of his body flashed a strange orange now and then, but it seemed to be calming.
"Just… dealing with timelines," Owen muttered. "Really glad that's over."
"Right."
Palkia appeared next, carrying Klent with him, who nodded and floated over to Owen. Their mutant fusion decoy slid into the door shortly after, nervously peering under Dialga to see Nevren collapsed on the floor, barely able to stand.
"How many times did he try to escape?" Klent asked.
Owen shook his head. "I'd need a whole day to count them," he said. "But I finished what I had to. Revisor's gone. Alexander won't get his free retries anymore. I… I need to get back to the fight."
"Take a moment to rest," Dialga warned. "Palkia still needs to take care of Nevren. We spoke briefly about that, and he'll get you back to the fray much faster."
"Oh, right… Nnngh. Fine." Owen glanced away. "I'll try to clear my head."
"Oh, did it bother you?" Palkia asked.
"No. I just have a headache. From… remembering—it's hard to explain."
"Ah."
Dialga nodded. "I believe I know what he means. Owen, try thinking about the future. Strategize about Alexander. Your headache should clear."
"Right… thanks. How long will this be?"
"Not long," Palkia said. "Actually, Dialga. This is a… private moment. May I be left alone with Nevren?"
Dialga offered Palkia a suspicious glare, but it was fleeting. He seemed to trust Palkia enough to oblige, following Owen. And Owen sensed no malice from Palkia, either. In fact, with the subtle way Palkia's shoulders were slumped, he seemed… to pity Nevren.
He just hoped it wouldn't take any more time than it had to.
"I could probably accelerate time in this room," Dialga said. "That isn't much of a strain."
"Ah, save it for the battle," Palkia said casually. As the door opened for everyone else to leave, Palkia added, quietly, "This won't be long."
Seconds? Days? It was a surreal superposition of no time and all time.
Alex, still a Hydreigon as far as he could feel, drifted within a weightless void of white. Somehow, he knew he was no longer in that chamber under the Tree of Life. Despite the overwhelming light of the stars, his eyes were not strained.
"Hello?" Alex called. His voice had no echo.
The lights shifted, revealing a blackness beyond it. Was that good? Bad? What was any of this?
More and more darkness bled through as the sphere of light that had surrounded Alex collected into something in front of him instead. That white light shifted closer to gold, like the beginnings of a molten statue.
It dwarfed him. It stood as tall as a building with a shape reminiscent of a four-legged Pokémon. A great, cloudy head sprouted from its torso, followed by two red rings that almost looked like eyes on its face.
And Alex heard, certainly from it, yet directionless and in his mind:
Hello.
It wasn't… a voice. It was a presence. He knew it said 'hello,' yet could not place any kind of audio to it. It was knowledge of a greeting.
"Are you the Worldcore?" Alex guessed. "What is this? Nate didn't tell me of this."
Nate does not know this. Only you will ever know this.
Alex looked over his body to make sure it was still real. Still had scales. Still had wings. His little heads wore his anxious expression.
I am the foundation of reality. I am the instructions of this universe's laws. I am what the Eternatus you know as 'Nate' used to construct this world, with the assistance of the other patrons. I have no spirit; I am information meant to modify others, and I manifest according to the spirit that seeks my information.
"For being information, I'm not getting a lot of it from here," Alex admitted. "Sorry if that's… rude…"
You were instructed to spiritually interface with the Worldcore's foundation. This is that process.
"Right, I—I remember that. Gods, do you know everything about me?"
In the context of the spirit, you and I are the same entity. What of me is accepted and rejected will dictate whether the Worldcore Integration is successful.
"…Did Owen go through this?" Alex whispered.
I do not have knowledge of any of my other instances interacting with other souls. I am you. I am not anyone else.
Alex tried to piece together what this meant.
"…Is this a vision?" he finally asked. "A dream?"
You are thinking of a dream as a manifestation purely of the mind that has no tangible effect on the material world. Using this definition, this is a dream. However, you also think of dreams as meaningless things that will be forgotten over the day. Using this definition, this is only a dream if the integration process fails.
"…Symbolic. This is… me, trying to comprehend the integration." Alex sighed. "Knowing Owen, he probably fought against you to 'understand' the information…"
This is possible.
Alex nodded. "I don't totally understand what this is, but… I'm ready for this 'Integration Process.' What do I have to do?"
Due to the nature of souls, for such matters to have lasting and stable effects, the steps toward Integration must be with full and conscious approval. Outside interferences will compromise the stability of this modification. Are you under the effects of any form of hypnosis, coercion, or duress?
"…No. I'm not," Alex replied.
Lying is not permitted.
Alex shrank. Right. Lying to 'himself.' That wasn't going to work anymore.
"…It's not like I want to do this like it's some hobby or career path," Alex muttered. "I'm doing this to save the world. It's a sacrifice, but… but my son has already done so much! Everyone has… done so much, and I've done so little, and… I lost everything anyway. At least in this way, I can undo some of the damage my lineage has done."
The misty, golden presence said nothing.
"No. No, I've… I've decided. I'm not under duress. And I certainly haven't been coerced into any of this. I want this… as the best option. Not as the ideal one that's out of reach."
This is acceptable.
Alex sighed with relief. He couldn't face Amia and the others with failure, after all. He had to go through with this. He had to.
Integration to operate behind the world's reality requires the nature of your being to fundamentally change. You must give up aspects of yourself.
"I know," Alex said quietly.
First, you must give up your body.
"I give it up."
It happened in an instant and it didn't even hurt. He saw his own heads puff into clouds of light, leaving nothing behind but stars in a hollow, vague constellation of his old shape. His golden stars matched the cloud before him.
Next, you must give up your mortality.
"…What?" Alex asked, his voice suddenly so much quieter as if speaking from far away, even to his own ears. But perhaps only to him, he still sounded mostly… normal. And the cloud heard him all the same.
"I already gave up my body. Doesn't that kill me?"
Your mental mortality, the cloud clarified. Mortal minds are not equipped for eternity. They erode. An immortal mind changes slowly and endures stretches of time readily and easily. But there is a downside: mortals may struggle to relate, and vice versa, when speaking about topics such as waiting, of life and death, and of a 'lifetime.'
"Oh. Like the Legends. That isn't so bad."
This is similar to the Legends.
Yes, I accept."
Alex waited for… something to change. He didn't feel different.
"Did it work?"
Yes.
…Somehow, that was the more unsettling answer.
The cloud continued. Next, you must give up your tether.
"My what?"
You must tie your soul to the Worldcore. You will not die until the last soul of the world dies as well. Your role shall be to ferry all souls from this world to the next when reality reaches its ultimate end.
"Oh. That." Alex nodded. He did not know what he was agreeing to, yet he knew he didn't know. But this was part of the sacrifice. "I… Yes. I'm ready. I can handle 'forever' now, so…"
Another change Alex couldn't 'feel.' But this time, he knew something did change. What, specifically, was… ethereal.
Lastly, you must give up your mind.
Everything stopped. Alex didn't even have a body yet suddenly felt cold.
"Excuse me?"
The Worldcore is a machine. A construct. It has no mind, no will. It operates impartially, with no judgment, and only follows its strict rules. To waver even slightly is to risk the inconsistency and destruction of reality. Therefore, zero leeway is allowed.
"W-well, the brain is the same, in a way!" Alex objected. "Er, at least, so I've read…"
You know where the distinction lies.
"I do…" Alex slumped. "…B-but! But Owen! He's… nothing like that!"
Then Owen failed to Integrate, or he did not seek the same form of Integration. But this was an "all-or-nothing" request. The modification required of you must be deeper than what Owen had gone through.
"C-can't I do this without that part? Or… or temporarily? Can I be freed?"
I do not have the information necessary to determine the answer.
Suddenly, Alex felt trapped. He wasn't ready for—
If it helps you, the information cloud said, you will experience none of this once you lose your 'mind.' Your soul will be the interface for the Worldcore, but your consciousness will have nothing to receive. The time from accepting this proposal, to the time when the world ends, will be imperceptible.
You will close your eyes. And then you will open them at world's end, with nothing perceived in between. Before Necrozma's loss and the creation of the new afterlife, death operated similarly. You will not suffer.
But that would still mean he'd be leaving everyone, everything, behind. And…
And it was the one thing Amia had requested, just before leaving. To wake up soon.
Wake up soon, and doom the world? Or accept… 'the end of time,' and give the world a chance to make that 'end' far, far away?
This is the final step required for Integration. When this is complete, the destruction of Alexander's soul will be possible, locking him out of this reality forever. This is the goal of this Integration.
Will you give up your mind to become the perfect conduit?
"I… I…"
He did not have the resolve for this. But, if he accepted… he wouldn't have the mind to regret it. Not until it was over, and he was free, and everyone he ever knew was gone and changed and probably forgot about him or even worse missed him for all that time and…
And…
"I can't."