LIGHTNOVELONLINE Introduction Chapter: Akemi Kishimoto
[3 years ago]
July 16th
Sweat drizzles from my forehead after doing 3 sets of one hundred hand-stand pushups. My body may now rest, my spirit is in peace, and my mind is glad that homework and training is now finished.
"Phew! Glad that's over with..." I say to myself in sweet relief.
I look at the clock that hangs on my wall.
"8:42"
"..."
"Shit"
I sprint out of my dorm and look for Naota throughout the Academy.
I check the few classrooms that are scattered throughout the school. I don't know why Naota would ever be in a classroom this late but he's practically Naoki's older brother, so if Naoki isn't just born stupid then he most likely got his 'isms from Naota of all people. Check them all. No avail.
I run inside every bathroom, every stall, occupied or not, male or not I look for him. Yet to no avail.
I look through the dorms, through the hallways, through the faculty meeting rooms and offices
And to no avail.
Until-
there he is.
"...?"
Naota gives a confused look at me, just as he finishes brewing his tea in the kitchen.
"You okay?" he asks
After catching my breathe I ask him in a polite tone:"CAN-I-GO-OUT-TONIGHT-I-FINISHED-MY-HOMEWORK-AND-TRAINING-AND-ITS-NOT-9-PM-YET-AND-THERES-A-DANCE-DANCE-REVOLUTION-TOURNAMENT-AND-ITS-THE-ONE-DAY-A-WEEK-I-GET-TO-GO-OUT-TO-THE-OUTSIDE-WORLD-MAY-I-PLEASE-GO-SIR." And of course, end it with an acute 75 degree bow.
Naota gives me a concerned stare. His furrowed brow only meant to signify his heightened sense of confusion.
"I hate to repeat myself but
Are you okay?"
"May I go out?" I ask once again.
"Yes."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I already said yes; stop looking at me like that."
I finally respond.
"Thank you sir. I shall be back momentarily"
"Just make sure to come back before midnight" he demands.
"Understood."
I bow once more.
"In the name of the Rising Sun."
He continues giving me that odd stare.
"You're not going on a mission, you don't have to do that."
"I understand. It's a force of habit."
Naota pauses and gives a somber sigh.
"I know."
He immediately goes back to his normal mood, cooling down his tea.
"Well, see you then. Have fun."
"Will do!"
I quickly sprint to my dorm, change into my civilian clothes, grab my bag, stuff my uniform as well as the three masks into it, and finally head out of the Academy.
.
.
.
I immediately sprint out of the Academy's barrier and jog for 24 minutes until I reach the center part of Kyoto. I still have some time so I continue to walk around.
It is amazing really. The culture of Kyoto and how it has stuck to its roots for hundreds of years- some would even argue a thousand years. There is beauty in it. A country is defined by its roots, then evolves as the world around it affects it. Yes... that's it. Evolution. Change. Rebirth. Our country is the poster girl for such a concept. Even with the few times we have faltered, we grew up stronger than before, without losing our identity. Some might say this skewed cultural scenery is unpleasant; schizophrenic even. The wooden machiyas clashing with the concrete city; shoji doors mixing with neon lights? Never. No; nononono, no. Mr. Mishima has told me that though it hurts to see our country change, it is only necessary. But I don't agree with that sentiment. How is having both bad? Our country may be modern, but modern Japan is not modern America. Modern Tokyo will never be Modern London. Change and influence doesn't necessarily mean loss of identity. If losing our identity is the equivalent of change, then Japan would not be the same after the Meiji period. That being said, he doesn't like it when I mention the restoration. In the end, sticking to the roots of a country is a beautiful thing but, to me personally, I find beauty in neon, as well as in the gardens. That is just me though.
Eventually, I walk past the downtown district and into the actual city part of Kyoto. There I see it, the small arcade venue near all the street side shops. The blacklights fill the ambience to a comfortable degree. I see some of the regulars around here, hopefully they don't notice me or else I'll have to wipe some memories tonight. And I'm really not in the mood at the moment to-
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
It's him.
The Prancer of Osaka.
The Champion of Breakdancing.
The one to contest Shiva in rhythm.
"Sqlooge"
I audibly gulp.
Of course if I use Ki to enhance my physicality, I could blow out the competition with ease. But a grimy feeling fills my stomach every time that thought comes into mind. Of course, someone like Naoki would give up his pride and show everyone off with comical ease, no matter how obnoxious and suspicious it would be. Nevermind the fact that he would get caught instantly, the last thing I want to become is an avatar of idiocy like him. But deep down, that's just an excuse I tell myself. A feeling of want that these people have. A commodity that they don't even know they have, yet a much more preferable existence to people such as me.
Eugh. No time to get sentimental. Fucking Sqlooge is here.
And though I may enhance my being with Ki to win this competition,
He is the only one who might win no matter if I amp myself up or not.
Focus- Focus.
I take a deep breath.
Calm down and breathe. I shall reach the true essence of my being by being calm. That is the key to victory, Akemi.
"Dude, are you okay?" asked another tournament goer.
"Ah!- yes I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, you looked like you were having a stroke, so I was just making sure you were alright."
I try to give an expression that wasn’t so irked. I force a smile, though my eyes say it all.
"Yes. I'm fine"
Keyword: try.
.
.
.
The tournament went on, everything was normal. Clearly, it was some people's first time competing. Even though they got mid level ranks, they at least look like they're having a good time. Most of the other people who are competing here are giving their usual performances; great, but still manageable.
"Up next, give it up for a national champion, Sqlooooooooooooooooge!"
NATIONAL?
WHAT THE FUCK? WHEN WAS THAT CONFIRMED?
The crowd cheers. Hell, even I reluctantly cheer. For no matter how hard I want to win, there is a very important concept that every Japanese citizen must adhere to in our modern society: respect. And an even uglier social concept is at play in this very room- nae, this entire country. If you stick out, you will be hammered down. No matter if I mean it or not, I still have to clap.
"Hey guys, how ya doin! I came up with a new dance routine on the way here. I can't wait for you all to witness it!" exclaims Sqlooge in an excited tone.
"Psh, surely he can't get even better from his regular performance" I thought to myself.
A blend between 90's style Brooklyn inspired boldness skewed with the Japanese mentality of swift execution. Bouncing between using the bar handle and openly breakdancing in such a cramped space, how- HOW, AM I GOING TO TOP THIS? An eastern and western dichotomy that's performed with such bravado, such clever executions such... such- YOU CAN'T DO THAT! HOW IS HE DOING THAT? NO SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK THAT'S NOT ALLOWED, THERE'S NO WAY! Oh no.... OH NO, HE'S GOING FOR IT. HE'S FINISHING IT OFF-
WITH THE YOINKY SPLOINKY.
I am fucked.
The main commentator stands on the stage.
"What a great performance! It's going to be hard to top that one off!"
SHUT UP DON'T ENCOURAGE THE FEAR!
"Up next, Hirohiko Tsunada!"
I walk up the stage quivering in my boots. The sweat from trying to top something so divine is drenching my entire attire. My hands tremble and quake more than a patient with Parkinson's. The dread.
The dread.
An ax looms over my head. The fear of failure has never been so prevalent. Their eyes, stabbing me with their javelin gazes. Their silent judgment chipping away at my composure. Why is it that despite having less than a 4% chance of ever seeing these strangers in my life ever again- Why do I care so much?
I've battled spiritual beings; creatures that these normal humans couldn't fathom comprehending of fighting, or even witnessing and yet-
This is the most terrifying moment of my life.
"Tsunada are you alright?" asks the host helping me walk up the stage.
"Y-y-yeahh"
Quick, I just have to save myself!
"I just...I just have to... use the restroom"
I hobble over to the restroom with my thin paper legs while my sandbag of a torso guides me with all this artificial weight. I break into a stall and kneel over a toilet. I do what comes naturally.
Gagging, retching, the revolting thought of rejection as well as the unkempt smell of disappointment mixes rather unnaturally with this decently clean restroom. An alien feeling that overwhelms me with its newly birthed presence. After being unnoticed for weeks, traversing through the outside society at parks and at grocery stores, how is it that when they notice me, I feel so weak?
Sickening, Sickening, Sickening.
What is with this foreign guilt; these regrets and urges that I failed to take up on life. Now that I'm dead it's all for naught, and consumed by my ire and rage, my vile form shall wreak havoc and-
Wait a second
Wait a second
Those last ones weren't my thoughts
"What the fuck."
I sniff the air.
That's it.
That stench.
The stench of a day old rotting corpse, infested with wriggling tiny maggots. A day old 'steak' with a three pound fresh dead rat substituted as the meat- its unkempt hair and everything still intact. An ill noise that made forks scraping ceramic dishes. The sentiment of a greasy, naked stranger rubbing up against me. The taste of roadkill pie filled the air, all with its bitter and revolting hairy and soppish texture softly embracing my tongue.
That taste. That sound. That feeling. That smell.
I don't need to look at it to recognize what it is.
"There's a spirit around."
No time to bitch around, Akemi.
Its time to serve your country.
I quickly change from my casual clothes into my uniform.
A slick, buttonless umbra dress shirt uniform as well as baggy military grade trousers, and slick silky gloves; all of which made it so that not even an atom of skin could be seen.
As for the most crucial detail of my appearance: the mask that shall aid me in my mission today.
I take out the three masks, and decide on a heavy gambit.
I discard the Black Mask.
Its burnt-like wooden texture and its most fowl expression sours my decision. The presence of this spirit doesn't seem to warrant the heavy use of black magic and vile hellfire. Not only that, but this is the only mask the academy warned me about. "Only use it as a last resort, and make sure to ask us for permission before using it" is what Mr. Mishima told me. And besides, I don't want any accidental casualties. From what I've heard of its personality, I'd rather avoid making the situation worse.
I grasp the Grey Mask.
Its stone visage is that of a classical hero in Chinese myth. Dependable, yes; best choice for the scenario is questionable however. A massive spike of Ki energy on top of blitzing the enemy could make this situation end in an instant. However, knowing his rambunctious personality, I doubt he would really take into consideration the safety of the citizens and the potential environmental damage. If things go south, I'll have to switch masks, which would run the risk of an enemy catching me with my pants around my ankles.
I Switch masks and gaze into the White Mask.
Its porcelain face bears royal and divine Eastern insignia. Its proportions are awkward and big, being an Elephant's head with hands that extend so as to grasp onto the user's skull. A benevolent local deity in an Eastern country that specializes in mental applications and good will. With its psionic powers, I believe that it has the necessary powers to protect the people, as well as be enough firepower against the spirits.
After stuffing the other masks into the bag, I stuff the white mask into my pocket. I quickly hide the backpack into the cleanest trash bin and sneak out of the bathroom. Going out the back entrance of the venue, I sense a malicious presence that grew stronger and stronger. As it appears, the one strong scent of spirits was in actuality, multiple faint presences scattered around town. How could I not sense such malice? Was I really up my own ass that it muffled the detection? God...no matter. In order to take down the spirits, it's best to take down the hypothetical source of them- just in case they spawned from a higher hivemind. And if I just concentrate on the location of a dense-
"CITIZENS OF KYOTO" announces a man holding A katana and wearing nothing but a fundoshi.
"For too long, we have become dogs to the western powers! Manipulated into depending on them for trade and commerce! Our sense of identity skewed with these American pigs!
BUT NO MORE!
But no more!
I'll be the one responsible to turn the wheel!
The necessary evolution to bring us back to our glory days!
Death to the nonbelievers; to the bitches and the whores of society! The ones who kneel down to anyone but the emperor. Glory, glory, glory to the motherland!"
...
Found the source.
I take out the mask from my pocket.
I only gaze into its eyes for a brief moment, knowing that lives are on the line. Yet, its spiral gaze and hypnotic fragrance elongate the split second into a never-ending connection.
Its voice speaks to me, encouraging me to put it on, for it is the right thing to do. Yes, yes, I understand.
Nevermind my cowardly self when under the eyes of the public and self hatred for my inadequacy; now is not the time for self pity; lives are on the line.
As a child of the holy land, I shall protect my country and its citizens no matter what. Stranger or not, it is my duty to do so.
It was the way I was taught, and it is the correct way- nae, it is the ONLY WAY
Forbidden to fail, as a citizen of Japan. I shall guard this town with my life.
Not to do so would mean dishonor.
Path of the warrior, journey towards death.
Deified ideals; vengeful rites.
I put on the mask
In the name of the Rising Sun
In the warm embrace of the Benevolent god, we met eye to eye, body to body, soul to soul.
Xanadu, the beholder of good will and benevolent benefactor of knowledge guides me with their divine wisdom.
They gave me permission for their powers. I piloted the holy being. Sharing the same body, I inevitably carry the burden of experiencing a higher plane. Though my body is still the primary vehicle, taking a fraction of the load is still a lot to handle. My sensations are a lot more sensitive. I can clearly feel not only the locations of the spirits, but of all humans as well. And since Xanadu is primarily geared towards psychopower- I can feel what they're feeling too. Broken bones. Clouds of rubble and dust. Panic. Ingested smoke. Seeing my girlfriend dislocate their ankle. Running away from the theater. Panic. My arm is broken- mY ARM IS BROKEN. OH GOD. My dog was just hit by a car speeding out of the PANIC. WHAT IS THAT. WHAT IS THAT? SAVE ME. SAVE ME GOD. GGGGHGHHGGHGKKGLGHGHGGGGGG----
WHO AM I?
SNAP OUT OF IT.
SNAP OUT OF IT.
𝒜𝓀𝑒𝓂𝒾.
I HAVE TO SNAP-
Calm down...
Calm down...
I have to calm down...
I forgot...
The whiplash of these masks are a pain to bear. Luckily, since Xanadu's psychopower is already so high, I can use that power to also dilute the voices of every person's mind. Can't keep this up. I have to save these people before shit gets worse. Using our psionic abilities, I teleported our person right next to the hypocrite.
We both agreed, we were sorry for what was about to happen, but it is only necessary. For the wicked have no positive impact upon thy neighbors.
And thus, we struck our holy pose, and whispered into the man's ear.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
We whispered to him a holy rhetoric that only an enlightened individual could understand. Whispers of higher planes, equations that went out of this temporal reality's bounds. Fractal haven. Incalculable beauty. Ancient tongues from before our primal era. An alien logic. The powers that be, spiraling this pool of energy, and funneling it into a miniscule, concentrated area that was the terrorist's brain.
The mortal couldn't come close to comprehending what was said.
But he heard it.
In that instance, the mortal could hear a murmur from the universe.
Albeit, at a frequency he could not perceive.
Within four seconds, his face ballooned into tumorous proportions, before shattering into a bloody crimson mist.
It seems he could not understand the lesson at face value.
The Sorcerer's corpse plopped down onto the cold, hard floor of the ceiling.
Though the root of the problem has been dealt with, there were four other weeds that needed to be dealt with. On the bright side, since this guy is dead, it doesn't seem like he has anymore willing summons up his... corpse. On the downside, taking down the root problem didn't fix much.
Some of the presences are fainter than others however, with the aid of Xanadu, this should only be a momentary issue.
Noises of collapsing buildings and screams could be heard on the other side of town. The sense of self dwindles every second that the people suffer. Not that it's my main issue however, this issue is that it's in the background. It's as if I were in a tug of war match between a four year old. I'm winning. I will always win in this scenario. But if the four year old has infinite stamina (not strength, just stamina), and my body is still limited, that's not good. In tug of war, even tripping means death.
We teleported towards the core of the noise. Chaos was widespread; the neon atmosphere was replaced by smog and rubble.
As we casted invisible barriers towards individuals and groups of peoples, we also formed a plethora of tentacles and arms to either hold buildings up, or dampen the fall of the debris. Seeing as how most of my missions with this mask mainly rely on support or facing psychopowered opponents, this was less tense than the usual city scale event with 18 other students and several more agents policing the city. Though, seeing as how I'm the only one here, and I really don't want to involve the others, I have to do this all by my-
...self.
What
the fuck is that.
About 80 meters away, I see a giant room sized scrotum with what seems like 8 testicles inside its... sack, and various skewers poking through the membrane. It doesn't help that the screams of its many faces and mouths echoed from a distance. If anything, it's shocking how it took us this long to notice it.
And not too long afterwards, it wouldn't take long for it to see us.
As if revving up like a hedgehog, the ball of grotesque pain and misery started spinning in a stationary mid-air position. Spinning, faster, faster, faster; twelve thousand revolutions per second.
One of its faces saw my eyes.
I saw its eyes.
Even if only for a split second, we locked contact.
He may have seen me earlier. But unlike the various screaming crowds that it glanced at, it only saw them. This time oh...
This time, it notices me.
And its screams.
Its god awful
fucking
ear-piercing
shrieks.
It careens towards our way at what seems like the speed of sound, effortlessly crashing through buildings, shredding holes into everything it impacted. The splatters of blood that showered its grotesque figure glistens in the smog of downtown Kyoto. We preemptively set up a barrier for ourselves so as not to be turned into another stain across the wall. Especially not by something that came out of "I have no mouth and I must scream". Death should be natural and peaceful; not an embarrassing circumstance by such an obscene creature.
Instantaneously, the vile spirit crashes into my barrier, screeching and scratching against the psionic bubble I've set up. Huh? No way! As an unpleasant surprise, this thing was actually doing damage to it. Considering Xanadu's barriers were the type to withstand some large explosions, this is pretty shocking. And then I see it. The ends of the spikes were leaking fluid. Probably a spiritual poison of some kind, since the only form of doing real damage to these barriers were either with magic, psychopower, or Ki. Like a hypothetical chainsaw that never ran out of gas chewing up against a wooden medieval fortress: it wasn't a matter of the wall being able to withstand the chainsaw; it was the matter of the chainsaw getting through eventually. And judging by the thousands of scars this thing was doing, it was sooner rather than later that this thing was going to burst through.
Think
Think
THINK DAMMIT
I don't mean to be rude but, isn't this mask's power supposed to grant me wisdom and-
Wait a second.
Wait a second!
I just have to think outside the bubble. Trapped between the harsh barriers of emotions, if I just think clearly for a second, this fatal puzzle is a lot simpler than it seems to be! I'm fearful of the eventual death, but how is worrying about it going to help me? Silly, SILLY, SILLY!
I DON'T NEED TO SAVE MYSELF FROM YOU-
I NEED TO SAVE YOU FROM YOURSELF.
Immediately, I unwrap my barrier and instantly surround it towards the evil ballsack. Without a second wasted, I close my fist, converting the size of the barrier to such a small and miniscule degree, smaller than that of a cell, the tiny ball can barely hold all of the blood and spiritual juice of the demon that just imploded.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWugthMcbmY
One down. Three more to go.
After gently letting down the debris, I enter the mind's of all the victim's and ease them into a permanent mindless, calm, and empty state. A soothing tune where all went mute and asleep in a blissful slumber. I surround them all in a giant blanket of protective barrier. I shall be back, for you all are my flock.
After minutes of trying to find the next creature, teleporting here and there, I finally see it.
A basketball sized eyeball with four wings attached to it, floating and commanding mindless people into a frozen state.
As a professional mindwiper, I only soothe citizens into a comfortable state.
This thing is causing permanent brain damage to everyone it interacts with.
It flaps its wings towards me. A cold and bold voice booms out of its small figure.
"Do not be afraid, child, for I am an angel."
I doubt this thing can see past the mask yet I still give it the most tired face imaginable.
First off, I'm far from afraid. I'm so insulted, I'm surprised the mask is having a hard time containing this emotion down.
And second of all, there's no way this thing is an angel. Angels are rumored to cause apocalyptical events; the highest known beings in the spiritual echelon. Higher than demons and deities alike.
This thing can barely level a fucking door.
So the only explanation is that this must be a lesser spirit that's unaware of how weak it is. This design... it's reminiscent of biblically accurate angels- or rather a mockery of them. Since spirits are embodiments of common perceptions of things, and are a result of both appraisal and fear of these types of "angels", that's the only logical conclusion of this thing. But since we're in Japan, there's no wonder this thing is so miniscule. A fraudulent visage, most likely unknowing of the damage it's actually doing. What a shame.
"How peculiar. It seems I am unable to read your mind. Perhaps you are an agent of chaos, contracted with despicable forces to oppose me."
Yeah I'm already tired of this thing. I hate to get the ego take the better of me, but Xanadu, why don't you exemplify real divine power. It'll be the quickest way.
An echoing sound of a beautiful voice was heard within the back of my mind. A sound so loud, so holy, it skews all...my...
thoughts.
"𝒞𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎"
The attempt could be felt. It seems this creature mainly utilizes psychopower, since it keeps on trying to force its consciousness into our collective space. Like a puppy scratching away at a Bank's security door in an attempt to break it down. Now if I weren't wearing the mask, that would be a different issue. Nevertheless, the attempt is admirable-
𝒴𝑒𝓉 𝓊𝓁𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑒.
Transferring consciousness, Xanadu shared a fraction of its existence with the lower being.
The vast expanse of the universe was glimpsed upon. Its holy and immaculate glory set upon eyes that could not perceive beyond the immortal plane. A layer far beyond even the highest of so-called "enlightened" layers. Grasping so much knowledge it wound back to learning nothing at all. Everything, everywhere, nowhere, and nothing. No need to be pretentious about it. It's simply something
𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝.
The false angel immediately plopped to the ground like a duck that just got shot down. The eyeball droops and melts with its veins bleeding.
...
If you don't mind me asking, what did you do?
𝐼 𝑔𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒾𝓏𝓊𝓇𝑒.
Ah.
Well, thank you for the display, enlightened one.
𝒩𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎.
Slowly but surely, the people began to wake back into consciousness. We could sense the damage in the people. Brain damage is serious, and most often than not irreplaceable. However, a dip in a couple of iq points is barely noticeable. But has me wondering: what type of person would willingly want this spirit? Obtaining it might've been a pain in the ass, but what use does it possess?
And that's when I notice it.
We could sense the people. We sense their emotions and their thoughts.
Little did I realize, it was already too late for some of them. As my eyes count the people on the ground getting up, I see the trail. A shriek comes from near the corner of an alley. A stream of blood that was dragged towards the street and across other sections. I frantically follow the stream.
Most of the bodies were laying down, probably from unconsciousness yet the more I followed, the more the bodies piled up. Bisected bodies.
How?
There's no way this ant of a spirit would be able to physically hurt a fly.
Unless.
Unless.
And then I smell it.
A stench that reeked worse than that hostile scrotum five minutes ago. It smells worse than a Shanghai sweatshop, where children and slaves cried for basic needs. A most vile presence. The same feeling as seeing the scum who sexually assaulted a mother in court, smiling and licking their teeth as they stared the victim down with intense lust and hatred. Genuine, unending malice.
I turn around and see the figure.
No.
NO.
IT WASN'T WORKING ALONE
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"
In the blindness of my shock, one of the humans got eviscerated in front of my eyes.
I see it. That thing.
Its long, lizardous tongue that slipped out of its gigantic razor sharp maw. Rows and rows of blood drenched jaws. Its intimidating muscular proportions standing at a macabre nine feet tall. Its mechanical body that meshed with reptilian scrappy scales. An exaggerated octopus tentacle that acted like a tail. Its limb of destruction...A thick, long, cold blooded claymore blade that slithered out a good 6 feet out of its left arm, and a giant, tumorous right fist that eclipsed the size of its own torso. And of course, its giant skull sneering at me.
No eyes.
How poetic.
Its disgusting tongue licks the blood off its chest and utters out a grovely groan.
"𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕫𝕖..."
It sluggishly charges towards me, raising its awful blade.
"𝕐𝕠𝕦ℤ𝕖......"
In a panic, I charge my fist up with Ki, delivering three meaty blows unto its meaty body, before teleporting away and evading a swift slash from death.
And to no one's surprise, it doesn't look like my strikes did any real damage...
"𝕐𝕠𝕦ℤ𝕖......"
Nevermind that, no use in toying with this disgusting spirit. I'll just finish this one off like I did the spikey meatball.
It slowly turned around before hunching itself over and stood in place, saliva gushing out of its mouth.
"I-I heard you... now stay like that and forever hold your-"
"𝕐𝕆𝕌ℤ𝔼 𝔸"
Where did
Where did it go.
"𝕄𝕆𝕋ℍ𝔸𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝔸
𝔾ℝℝℝℝℝℝℝ𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸"
In an instant,
I felt the spirit's giant meaty paw turn my entire diaphragm and ribcage into dust.
I was knocked through seven entire buildings.
At first I felt nothing.
And then I felt all of it.
.
.
.
Fading in and out of consciousness, sentiments repeat themselves in my mind; as if a computer booting on and off, saying the same line of code.
I hate this.
I want to die.
Lives have been lost. I'm doing a shitty job. And this pain is only making me lose my will to live faster than the depression of the situation.
...
In the immortal words of Naoki: "This sucks".
.
.
.
I hear their voice.
The enlightened whisper.
They call my name.
𝒟𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁.
Why not.
𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝓎.
𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓇𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈.
I was born to be a brainwashed soldier for the government. I know that.
𝐹𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎.
𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉.
I am not. I'm no hero. I'm not even a citizen in the eyes of the country I give my life for. I'll never be... any of that. As much as I hate to admit it, they will cast me away once I die and replace me with another orphan. Please, let me be. I'm just... tired...
𝒜𝓀𝑒𝓂𝒾...
𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝒸𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓏𝑒𝓃.
𝐼𝓉𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃.
𝐼𝓉𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓃-𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑜𝓅𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀.
𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒.
𝒫𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑒𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓈. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓋𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓊𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝑔𝑜.
𝒢𝑒𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝒜𝓀𝑒𝓂𝒾.
Why are you doing this? Why should I be the good guy, the savior of these people? These ungrateful citizens, unknowing of the powers that be. Unknowing that people like me, both adults and teenagers no less hold their stability, and yet, cause misfortunate all over us, bot tangible and otherwise. I'm not even doing this for myself, that's the worst part. I won't be treated better, or rewarded. So why. I don't even know these people. So why?
Why won't you let me die.
𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒷 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒿𝑜𝒷 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇.
𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃: 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒶 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝒩𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝒶 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒, 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒶 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒. 𝒩𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓃𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝒶 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒.
...
...
You preach too much.
𝒫𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽?
𝐻𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝓎.
𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽.
𝐼𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝒾𝓂𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔?
𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝑜𝒻 '𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁' 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓍𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓊𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃.
So isn't this all an endless cycle?
𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓎𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓊𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹. 𝐼𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 '𝐻𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃', 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓁𝓎.
𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓎𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓎𝑒𝓈. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝒶ï𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓊𝓁𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒿𝑜𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓉. 𝒫𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓎; 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓊𝓂𝒶 𝒷𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓊𝓅.
But that's...that's dumb. Why would I ever willingly want to get hurt? I'm already hurt as is. But.. but... but I've been hurt before. And I've experienced this plenty of times before. And i'm still standing. And if it weren't for my ass getting kicked, I wouldn't have learned my lesson. And if it weren't for me sacrificing myself to save Makoto that time, I wouldn't have learned to use such creative uses of Shinra fist... and she wouldn't be alive... But it sucks! Pain is terrible! This glorification of pain means to grow...
It's unfortunate...
but
but...
But I think I get it. If there was only negativity in the world, then that would suck! Negativity wouldn't exist if there's nothing to contrast it! But negativity wouldn't exist if we never existed...
But that's... that's the curse of being human. But due to the law of logic, our curse blesses us with positivity as a natural counter. And no matter how awful the times are, and how awful it will always be,
we're still here...
Holy shit- you're right. You're right! That...
I guess that makes a lot of sense....
...
Alright.
You got me.
𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇.
As a discretion though, you're going to have to carry 90% of the load for this next one. I'll gladly pick myself up, but I think you're forgetting the fact that us humans are fragile, superpowered or not. Also, my entire rib cage got fragmented into small particles.
𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝓂𝑒.
By the miracle aid of the mask, my body gives the middle finger to my broken physiology as it stands up from the rubble.
Feeling all the intense and infinite pain of my injuries, my shrieks soothe down as a fragment of Xanadu's essence helps numb the pain as they slowly take over 90% of my body. I command my partner to teleport all the nearby citizens into a couple blocks over.
If this demon wants to play hard, we might as well make this area our playground. Rubble and smog clear away. The rustling of the beast revving up from quite a distance away. The scenery of the chaos. Silence is loud. But it's also tranquil in such a sense. The tingles of anticipation. The drum of the heart beats louder. Malice against benevolence. Beauty and the beast. Beauty within the beast. Twice nature; DOUBLED ALL. SYNCHRONIZE. ESSENCE. BE. AM.
We don't move an atom.
We don't even breathe.
We only concentrate on what the move is going to be.
I give my life unto thee
In the name
of humanity.
.
.
.
.
.
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"
VYOOM
I KNEW IT
IT DID IT AGAIN
This spirit is much like that one spirit at school who puppets my dead friend's corpse as his own. Though I rarely interact with him, I've seen him pull... that move off.
The Flash step.
A dash so fast it seems like the person is teleporting.
Thank god I deduced this before round two, or else it would've cleaved my body in eights. A mere inch away from my face, I gaze upon the blade of death. Pinching the weapon still with my mind, i've finally caught it. With my heightened telekinesis, I finally grab the spirit and scrunch it up like an accordion, before stretching its limbs out like 5 separate trains pulling and yanking its head and limbs with maximum force. I know this creature is muscular beyond reason, but it shines through with its surprisingly sturdy flesh.
GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Increasing the intensity tenfold, the plan finally works; all of its limbs and head pop off seamlessly, flying a good 50 meters away in their own directions.
What I didn't expect however was for it to regrow all of its limbs back in seconds, and at the same volume as before. I know I did damage to it, however, its more minimal than anything.
𝒜𝓀𝑒𝓂𝒾, 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝒹.
Ah.
If you insist.
It's a surefire way of eradicating the spirit.
But it's riskier.
The demon assumed its charging pose once more, squatting and pulsating its muscles to an even greater degree. Its vicious tongue mocks us with wrathful vigor.
Are you sure this is going to work?
𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒾𝓈-
-doubt. Right. I know.
I know.
"𝔾ℝℝℝℝℝℝℝℝ𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸𝔸-"
Performing our holy pose once again, Xanadu blew their trunk.
Silencing the awful screeches of the spirit, a divine solo plays. An echoing of the cosmic abyss was heard. From the stars, a dismal tune was strung upon a galactic instrument. A sound so beautiful it would spark tears upon the holy, and make the dead cry in more ways than one. The buildings took the shape of a solar system blanket. The spirit grasps its head in a frantic seizure, as its entire being melted.
Making a force field that covered both Akemi and the creature, the holy sound echoed even more, vibrating the spirit to such a magnified degree, the lines of its being fluctuated; as if its then smooth proportions were reduced and rendered into mere scribbles.
The more the spirit resisted, the louder the noise became. Using the last of its spiritual essence, the being reaches out in an attempt to skewer Xanadu and I
only to become atomized into a mess of spiritual nothingness.
It was the most beautifully destructive thing I've ever witnessed.
Thank you, enlightened one.
𝑅𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒.
Right.
I trace the faint stench in an attempt toooooooooooooooOOOOOOO- owhat the FUCK
Forget tracing the smell.
I found it.
2 miles away, clear as day.
An oversized, legless, skeleton just dragging itself and wreaking havoc in a straight line.
I teleport to its whereabouts to get a closer look.
My god. Its stature was as if fifteen people were stacked atop another, this mindless boney kaiju ate everything it could get a grasp on. I realized by its iconic and simple design that this was no run of the mill simple spirit. It is said that if a spirit is recognizable to a degree, then the fear or appraisal of that specific spirit or concept will come into fruition.
This is such a case: The Hungriest of spirits, Gashadokuro.
Nevermind the question of how an insane person was somehow able to summon two lower spirits and two greater spirits, right now, I just have to focus on the safety of the people, and the destruction of this ghoulish apparition. Within the sector of the area, I blind the people's minds with a peaceful glow, and teleport them towards the safety of the main barrier.
It's just me and this skeletal specter, alone in this giant arena.
It's sneering. It reeks of burnt corpses. And not in a spiritual sense either.
It opens its mouth and vomits a volley of magma encrusted boulders. Its ghastly breath burns my nostrils as it reaches me! Weaving, teleporting, and telekinetically carrying myself all over the place, I dodge the hellish projectiles as best I can. Normally, I would've put in the effort of protecting the city, but seeing as how this entire city block has already gone to shit, I might as well focus on not DYING and just finish the job.
Utilizing the rubble of the fallen buildings, I send all of the debris in shapes of spikes towards the greater spirit. It did a noticeable amount of damage, clashing against the dense creature's ribs. Thunderous cracks ring in the air. It roars in pain, the reverb of the screech could be heard for miles.
But, if this thing wants to scream,
I'll give it a reason to scream.
Extending the trunk of the mask outward, I attempt to reenact Xanadu's song from earlier.
The soul piercing screech rattles Gashadokuro's bones, much like the other demon; its spiritual body vibrates to a high and unnatural degree once more. As if repeating the same mistakes as the prior spirit, it held one of its hands in its ears.
It's working, its working, IT'S-
In a suicidal attempt, the giant skeleton was willing to sacrifice its right arm in order to snatch me mid-air.
I smell a lively maggot infested landfill from its evil breath, as it laughs in joy that it managed to capture me, holding me near its face. In its grasp, the pressure of a room sized hydraulic press was applied upon me; its fingers scrunching tightly, and even moving them ever so slightly so as to grind my bones into a paste within its hand. The pain from earlier worsened, as inevitable gashes and fractures form.
The only reasoning I can come up with is how the spirit could survive the song for more than 4 seconds, simply of its nature. Being a greater spirit, it can naturally last a longer time against that type of attack. It also didn't help that I didn't put up a barrier to amplify the reverb effect. Or maybe, it was simply born better.
Well. I'm vomiting blood. I can't feel anything below my neck. All the neurons have fried from the pain. The shock wore off a long time ago. My reserves for magic and psychopower have dwindled down, and I can't use ki at the moment seeing as how mY BODY IS ACTIVELY BEING OW OW OOOUUGGHGHGHGHGYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I hate to admit it but
This is checkmate.
𝒩𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒.
What?
𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹, 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒
Well what do you want me to do?
𝒦𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓉𝑜, 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑜𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒.
𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒, 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓅 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝑜𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒.
...
It's funny, really.
Even in the last moment of my life, I still have to meditate.
.
.
.
No... no! I already faced the mentality once, but never again.
Am I really going to think about death when there's a clear option available? Options aren't granted- they are made.
Through the unbearable pain, the bones sticking out of my body, the duty of my service, my on-the-spot intellect, through my bad luck, my boulder, my spiritual being and my will to live.
I see it.
The hole through the needle.
The flaw in my downfall.
The necessary course of action.
As the Giant Skeleton presses his thumb against my chin in an attempt to pop my head, I garner the remaining grasp of my consciousness for one last quick technique. My mind tears itself between fear and concentration. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. But fear won't get me out of it. As if pushing a plethora of people away from my path, in the aim of finding that one golden memory from my kit, I brace for the last trick up my sleeve. It was at that moment that I remembered: I can teleport.
Fractions of a second pass. The strength of the colossal finger upon my chin slowly but surely forces my neck muscles to rip. With one last deep concentrated thought of action, I imagine myself in a place I would much rather be.
I place myself high in the sky, eclipsing the moon in all of its glowing glory.
My sponsor is right.
Everything can be solved, if you clear your mind and make the smartest play.
Using telekinesis, I gather the rubble of the town and form a giant cluster the size of a mall.
On top of that, I also use the telekinesis upon myself, placing back all of the bones in its place, suturing shut all the tears in my skin, and seeping back every single cell of my blood back into my cardiovascular system. A flesh doll held together by tape. An ugly toy. Pahaha. PAHAHAHA. BUT AS LONG AS I CAN STILL PLAY, IT DOESN'T MATTER!
Listening to the heart beats of all the humans in this town, I make sure to teleport them all. Far away.
In a futile attempt at stopping me, Gashadokuro breathed in, and let out a spiral cone of hellfire. The visage of all of the souls he's eaten attempts to grasp and rip me apart. The guilt of them screaming and pleading, 'why did you let me die? Why? Why Akemi, why did you kill ME?' A punishing all-rounder technique that burns away at the body, the mind, and the soul.
It burns me.
I do not care.
I fling the psionically charged miniature man-made asteroid towards the demon.
"TO A STRONG MIND, EVERYTHING IS A PLAYTHING."
Delirious Psion.
Vengeful soldier.
A false deity that is propped up by belief; much to its support.
Confidence.
A bright glow blinds the city.
An impact that's going to be hard to cover up.
As if I care.
.
.
.
Seeing as how a giant ball just carbonated a city block, and the rest of the city is in ruins, I did my best in single handedly making everything less shitty. Not necessarily fixing everything, or else that'd be suspicious, rather, making it look like a tiny meteor and a small scale earthquake did the damage, all while minimizing the damage and making it seem more realistic, instead of the damage being cause by a basketball sized eyeball with wings, a scrotum with spikes and faces all over it, a violent machine lizard, and a giant fuck off cartoony skeleton. It also helps that normal humans and regular phones can't capture spirits. So that's a load off my back. I teleport all the humans around the areas I remember them being. On top of that, I wipe their minds and fill their brains with false memories, as if it were a naturally occurring earthquake rather than a bunch of claw marks and exploding bodies. I teleport myself back towards the arcade bathroom.
It sucks. In the end, I couldn't save everyone. Though this is a truth that all sorcerers must make amends with, I still can't help but feel hurt. It saddens me. All the pets that were lost. Every grandmother, every grandfather. Every sibling. Every child. I could've prevented their deaths if I hadn't lost. I could've prevented their deaths if only I executed my plans perfectly.
𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹'𝓋𝑒'𝓈, 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹'𝓋𝑒'𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹'𝓋𝑒'𝓈. 𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒻𝓊𝓁, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒'𝓈 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉. 𝐼𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒹, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉. 𝐼𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.
𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒹. 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒'𝓈 𝓋𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓊𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉.
...
Thank you Xanadu. For your time, power, patience, and guidance. You were truly helpful.
𝒩𝑜 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓂𝑒.
Until next time.
𝐹𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁.
I finally take off the mask. A breath of fresh air. Finally, unsuffocated, I am free.
.
.
.
There's virtue in that too huh?
Hm.
You really are great, Xanadu. But no matter how enlightened you may be,
I don't think I will ever agree.
.
.
.
I fished my backpack out of the trash can. My clothes are drenched in blood and sweat. Even with my significantly weaker psionic abilities barely holding myself together quite literally I still manage to change my clothes and march out towards the tournament. The shirt drags across my skin as if it were pins and needles. Taking a step feels as if a knife is skewing every inch of my body.
But I still walk onwards.
"Hey, guys-" I say towards Sqlooge and to the TO.
Even though I try to hide the pain, it seems my exhausted face and my condition are apparent enough.
"Holy shit are you okay? What happened to you?" props up Sqlooge.
"Ah the reason it took so long was because of uh...uh...UHHHH"
God damn it. Why must I be so honest? quick, what would Naoki say???
"-uuuuuuuUUUUHHHHHH- Indian Food!"
They both give each other a confused look
I continue: "That's why it took me so long."
"Ah.... alright" says the TO
"Say, is the tournament still going?"
The To looks at me with a dumbfounded face.
"...Are you stupid? There was an Earthquake, so we had to cancel early. Most of the attendees already left. I'm still here because... well I'm also the manager, and I have to file an insurance claim."
"...and why are you still here?" I ask Sqlooge.
"I was helping people evacuate, and I'm just helping this guy over here clean up. Hate to see arcades go away because of circumstances so I'm helping out the best I can."
"ah... alright"
Still. With such a stressful night, it's only natural that I have to treat myself.
Whether anyone saw or not, I stepped onto the unplugged DDR machine, and I dance my heart out. My rage, my sadness, my awakening, and my evolution. Thanks to the mask, I found a new aspect of myself. I may not be perfect, I may not be some hero or paragon of virtue. But I am human, and for now, that's enough for me.
"Woah..."
I open my eyes.
Woah shit, there actually was someone watching me.
"Damn that was... awesome dude" exclaims Sqlooge.
"After seeing that, I can't wait to see you at the next tournament! Don't go eating out at Indian restaurants again! :)"
"Thanks, Sqlooge."
"No problem man." he responds with a smile.
Momentarily afterwards, I walk out of the venue, and walk back home. Phasing in and out of consciousness, I walk past the neon district, walk past the classical aesthetics, walk for fifty minutes, and into the forest. I pass out midway into the barrier...only to wake up at the Nurse's office back at the academy.
It's Miss Gretchen, the medic, and Mr. Naota.
"Ah, finally," said Gretchen.
"Are you alright?" prompts Naota.
"I am....
alive"
"...
Yeah he hit his head good, you should look up on that" taunts Naota in a half joking tone.
"I'd love to explain it all but right now, I am... really tired.
Also why do I feel all sticky and slimy?"
I look at Miss Gretchen.
Ah.
Right.
And despite my losses, and despite ruining something I've been looking forward to for a while, I like to believe I have grown in at least one way or another.
And for now,
That's enough for me.