SIMULTANEOUS

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[PART ONE]

Spri stood at the outskirts of a dense, sprawling forest with a canopy so thick sun light couldn't filter through and heavily built, square-shaped trunks covered in dark rough bark of trees stood like the walls of a fortress. A soft breeze lazily rolled through bringing with it earthly scents and she stood for a moment, taking it all in. Crisp blades of green grass and shifted, cool soil were underfoot, providing a comfortable padding for her bare feet. As she received her orders, her head tilted and eventually a frown twisted her lips. "Kill?" she repeated. The Gatherer of Words didn't kill! Wound, maybe, but never had she killed. She wasn't a hunter and she most definitely wasn't a murderer! Yet she was being told to find a door and kill anything that stood in her way. She wanted to seek Simultaneous, not loose her soul on the way! But that had her asking herself; what was Simultaneous? What was murder?

In the time she took to ponder over this she could have died, been reincarnated, been reborn, achieved greatness, conquered cities, and watched kingdoms fall all within the same timespan. Hundreds upon thousands of possibilities, universes, rewriting themselves and continuously writing themselves. All, either, and none. Where did murder, a concept made up of various views and beliefs, fit into all of that? Darwinism, revenge, retribution, redemption; all together and none at all. A murderer was deemed a murderer by a judge and if there was no one around to deem her a murderer, was she still a murderer? Would she still be in the wrong when the wrong was made up of grays that changed from person to culture? She chewed on her lip, her mind whirling with these thoughts and questions until, like a puzzle solving itself, pieces began falling into place and clicking together, and only when part of the mayhem that she called her subconscious organized herself did she come up with an answer.

Murder was an opinion, not a fact, not any more real or proven than a religious belief.

Spri's mind tossed that thought around some as she ventured cautiously toward the line of trees looming over her. After all, if she was told to kill whatever came after her, the likely hood of being attacked was rather high. The trees grew pretty close together, making it hard to get passed them but not impossible as she squirmed her way through the throng of tree trunks. Scraps formed on her hands over time and the occasional splinter embedded itself in her flesh but it wasn't anything major, she didn't even noticed. Her focus was mainly on trying to get through the trees. A couple of times the Gatherer of Words feared she had gotten stuck but nearly twenty minutes of struggling proved her wrong, fortunately. Though, an hour (or had it been two or even three? The sun wasn't in view making it hard to tell) into her journey, Spri found that she really had gotten her self in a jam. Two trees, trees she thought were further apart, were stubbornly holding her still while another, which couldn't have been there before, blocked her path. She thought about back tracking but as soon as that thought crossed her mind her foot got stuck under a root!

Oh bugger. How was she going to get of here now? A rustling sound pricked at her ears and she froze. Her skin prickled, baby hairs rising to stand on end. The Gatherer of Words froze and listened. She didn't want to look, nothing good ever came of looking, but her body was inching to know what held her in such a state if danger. The young woman swallowed the lump in her throat and snuck a peek only to take on a death pallor. An oversized spider crept down the wide, flat surface of the trunk, numerous black eyes piled on top of its head shined like ominous pearls catching the light and blood red fangs swollen to the size of a body builder's bicep grew out of it's face, twitching and yearning to sink into fresh meat. Spri wasn't exactly afraid of spiders, some species were even harmless, but this arachnid did not look friendly or misunderstood at all!

I implore you...

Did... Did that thing just talk? She stared in disbelief at the monster of a spider but the closer it got, the more it was made obvious it didn't want a conversation. A whimper escaped her and she looked away. Her breath caught when a telltale shadow was cast over her by what sun there was. The thing had reared up, ready for an attack, but stopped. As Spri spared a glance, she realized it wasn't the only thing had stopped. The forest around her had just... stopped. It was as if everything was holding it's breath, waiting to resume it's activity. Leaves were frozen in midair and insects, normal insects, were stuck mid-march.

I implore you, The voice prodded once more. She listened closely, analyzed it better. The voice wasn't one but of multiple tones. They were light, some giggly, some chimed, and other's were airy, whispery even. What no magic, no force can get through, I, with a gentle touch, can. Many in this forest would stand were I not a friend at hand.

"A riddle?" Spri wondered out loud. Wrong move. Just like that the forest sprung to life and the spider lurched forward. Spri's mind stopped dead in it's tracks but her mouth quickly sprung forth the answer out of pure desperation, "A key!" She could feel the fangs press against the nape of her neck, compressing the skin but not yet braking the organ. Her muscles were painfully coiled and she had unknowingly flattened herself against the rough surface of the square tree. Once it was made clear the spider wouldn't continue, she quickly drew a dagger, the trees suspiciously further a part, and dug the metallic blade into the flesh of the spider. The feeling was weird and unwelcome, the exoskeleton crunching under the force before the dagger slipped into the organs underneath. Her hand shook and the spider convulsed, crumbling around the weapon and falling upon the Gatherer of Words as ash.

The young woman stood there for a moment, trembling and trying to catch her breath. Murder was a concept, nothing but a judgement being passed. Killing, on the other hand, was at the real thing being judged. When her arm finally got tired of being held above her head, she finally lowered it and shook herself off. Ashes still clung to her even after the fact but at least the trees seemed backed off enough to let her pass. Spri allowed herself time to breath, sheathing her dagger and was about to continue her journey before something shiny caught her eye. A key now laid on the ground near her and she had to bend awkwardly to retrieve the small object. She gave it a once over before pocketing it. She half expected the door to be unlocked but a key works just as well.

It didn't take long for the Gather of Words to squeeze pass the outer layer of trees and stumble out into a more open area. She took a moment to breathe and recollect herself, which involved plucking out splinters and dusting off what she could of the remaining ash that used to a spider. She shuddered at the thought. She found herself in a forest less dense and more friendly-looking; more normal even. The square trees just seemed to act like a thick barrier, protecting the inner wildlife from all who came to bring it harm like a cell wall of a plant cell. The trees were notably shorter and rounder, leaves and bark color varying from breed to breed. Some bore acorns and pine cones while others bore nothing at all. It was actually quite beautiful and peaceful looking, but where would a door be in a place like this? In a trunk of a tree? Spri examined the palm-sized object in her and hand, the key. It was plain and appeared to be made of copper, giving it some weight. It ended in a hollow loop and began with jagged teeth made specifically for one door and one door only. She pocketed it and continued on her way.
 
Alright. Grab what you will, Chaos.

Once you have, exit the base through the front and re- enter through the back. The back door is another of the Doors. Through it, there will be a massive garden of poisonous plants. With them, you must make a meal, and feed this meal to the gardener who protects this place. Don't bother trying to kill him otherwise, he is immune to all death but by those plants. Once he is dead, call to me.
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Wake up, Chrysea. Now is not the time.

Come on, there we go. Here, lean against this tree. Have you caught your breath? In and out, girl. Bennett would not be happy to see you like this. C'mon, clear your head. There we go. When you are ready, go through the door, on the other side of this tree. Through it will be a world. Kast. Specifically the City of Merigard. You remember that mission right? The Dragon Egg bust that went awry? You're going back to that place, at that time. I need you to enter the VIP section where the deal goes down, dressed as one of the waitresses. There is a person of interest there. Poison his drink, and avoid detection by yourself and Bennett. He will be the one who orders the Blazing Murder cocktail. Once he is dead, leave after the shootout and call to me. I will instruct you from there.
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Technically, A version of me is a bastard, born out of wedlock, Mikel.

Now find the strength to stand, and you will find your wounds heal themselves as you do. The door, revealed by the smashed mirrors? Go through it. Inside there will be another door. This door has three wards on it. Break the wards, and you may pass.
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Excellent, Virathal.

Now you must do the opposite. Through the door in front of you is a village of people. Soldiers will be attacking the village. Get all the people out safely before they do. You have seven hours and forty-two minutes.
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Excellent, Cyrus.

Now go through the alleyway to your right. There will be a bakery. Buy some chocolate cupcakes and ask to see Tim. You will be led to the back. I will be there. Hand me the cupcakes, and follow Tim to a fighting arena in the back. Enter the ring, and render your opponent unconscious. Then exit the building through whatever door you please.
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I cannot speak to him, Nima.

He speaks to me, and I relay the message. Do you with a show of what you will achieve should you achieve Simultaneous? I will show you. Do you feel that? No? That's the point. No more pain, freedom from yourself. An Entire existence for you to be free about in, infinite space for you to occupy and feel no more pain. Now I take away this peek at your goal. The pain returns, does it not? Complete the tasks given to you and you shall feel it again, for eternity.
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Good work, Spri.

Now that you have the key, find the door.
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I am still waiting, Isaac.
 
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"Wake up, Chrysea. Now is not the time. Come on, there we go. Here, lean against this tree."

Chrysea clutched the tree, her knees felt weak and her breath came out in ragged gasps. She was still shaking and slowly, she was morphing to her original appearance, unable to keep the disguise up.

"Have you caught your breath? In and out, girl. Bennett would not be happy to see you like this."

She gasped then choked on her own breath. "Bennett? Where is he? Do you have him? Is he okay?"

"C'mon, clear your head."

She straightened up, turning so her back leaned on the tree and closed her eyes. Becoming Simultaneous was both easy and complicated. She wasn't sure why she took up the offer anymore, all she knew is that her head hurt so much she was half willing it to explode and be done with it. Oddly, focusing on the thought of her head exploding calmed her.

"There we go. When you are ready, go through the door, on the other side of this tree. Through it will be a world. Kast. Specifically the City of Merigard. You remember that mission right? The Dragon Egg bust that went awry?"

How could she forget? Almost everything about that mission and the subsequent missions went awry. Thankfully, Bennett was a very promising Third Gen.

"You're going back to that place, at that time. I need you to enter the VIP section where the deal goes down, dressed as one of the waitresses. There is a person of interest there. Poison his drink, and avoid detection by yourself and Bennett. He will be the one who orders the Blazing Murder cocktail. Once he is dead, leave after the shootout and call to me. I will instruct you from there."


Back to their first mission? Chrysea thought, opening her eyes. Her vision was blurred a bit and there was a dull ringing in her ears. If that is a taste of Simultaneous, she might as well give up. What was it that was keeping her going anyway? In the thoughts she pulled in, she did note something. The fall of Midpoint. Surely, that can't happen. Midpoint is...Midpoint. No beginning and no end.

She wouldn't really know. Perhaps the aftereffects of her spell had muddled her brain and she couldn't think straight. Nevertheless, she obeyed.
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She checked herself in the mirror, adjusting and readjusting the uniform she had stolen from the now unconscious waitress. Chrysea had positioned the girl in such a way that she seemed to have fallen asleep in her underclothes, sitting on one of the crates of the waitress' changing room. She didn't even wonder why they would have a dressing room. Merigard was a fairly cold place, like the end of autumn and the beginning of winter got married and took permanent residence there. And though the uniform fit warmly on her, she'd definitely freeze if she wore it for more that ten minutes outside. She felt a little better now, though. She stole a bar of chocolate from the pantry and munched on it as she changed. She took one last distasteful look on the original waitress' hairstyle (which was now hers) and began her shift.

"Bring this to table ten." She was instructed by a man with a perfectly groomed moustache.

"Blazing Murder?" She asked innocently. "It's for table ten?"

"Yes! Now go!"

She balanced the tray with the lethally bluegreen drink elegantly on her fingers the way the other waitresses did. She swerved between tables, past guests who eyed her and the other waitresses and waiters who busily served. Her heels made a more muffled sound as she stepped onto the specially carpeted VIP area.

Sure enough, she saw Bennett and the Eighth Gen talking in low voices at a table. There she was, a middle aged man. Their backs were turned away from her but to her surprise, Karamrr caught her eye as she came to table ten.

"What took so long?" The man who ordered the cocktail said disapprovingly.

"Well, we have a special service for those who order this drink today." Chrysea gave him the
best smile and sweetest voice that she could offer from the body she copied. This caused the man to look up at her and get locked into her gaze. She kissed the glass and handed it to him.

Dazedly, he drank.


Chrysea noticed Karamrr called a waiter, eyes still on her. Oh no...

Bennett shot Karamrr and the man she was serving dropped to his table as all around her, shots were fired in Bennett's and past-Chrysea's direction. She had dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding getting hit. She had already forgotten if she was to leave before, during or after the shootout but all in her mind was that she had to get to safety. She peeked to where her past self and her ward were and saw that they had disappeared. She let out a sigh of relief as she continued crawling out.

She ran to the changing room and things had become pretty quiet. The girl was still asleep. She began changing. "That was really close,
Jonathan. But I guess now I know why that went wrong." She sat beside the unconscious girl, back in her original form now. "It's my fault. Karamrr can see auras, he knows mine. I completely forgot to mask it-twice."

She put the uniform on the girl. "Are you punishing me?" She called out.
 
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A mistake has been made. A grave mistake that was not even a mistake, no, it was a catastrophe, a singularity, the point in which all realities converge into, a specific moment that stretched as long as eternity, a spectacular collapse of a star that never lived, the death and the birth of life, the endless void that held within it boundless existence, so as such, it was not a void. The planes of reality and the two-dimensional infinite cubes of non-reality were folded upon each other at the exact moment this devastating breakdown of causality occured, creating frightening shapes of paper cranes, lions, scarabs, sphinxes, gryphons, paradoxes, knives, scissors, insanity, protons, quantums, fundamental building blocks that were not at the same time, contradictions, exterminations, ends, beginnings along with cessations and starts that never came to be. It was horrifying, yet it was so fascinating to watch at the same time that even the gods themselves, those who achieved Simultaneous had to pause, point and laugh at the mistake.

And what was this endless spiral that started as but a mere accident, then it grew, consumed, then grew again until it became a blight, a plague that punched through the carefully-constructed fabrics of reality? It was simple, oh so very simple. Nima Morsus had been given a moment of clarity. It was not even for a long time. It was not even significant. It did not matter compared to the entire universe. But at the same time, it ensnared everything, as it was a monumental event, shaking the foundations of logic with its shattering of the rules that Master Schrödinger thought were unbreakable or impossible to overcome. Which they were, however, there was still one undeniable fact: Nima Morsus had been given a moment of clarity, a precious singularity that was free of the agony zile sought to spread, a place in time that allowed zile to focus countless minds into one goal: To be free of pain forever.

To zile, that single moment was undescribable, but any sane being who attempted to live through it would have been utterly destroyed, in fact, even Nima Morsus was no more despite the fact that zile continued existing, because it would be far more accurate to say that this construct born of countless different individuals became a different construct, as if a crystal shifted the viewpoint of those gazing upon it so that it may become a completely different crystal. The brutal steamroller of probabilities gathered so much dirt in its endless road that it became as an unstoppable battering ram which could kill the very concepts it was built upon, it became a blood white spike that was a scythe that was a sword that was an axe that was the executioner who stood above everything. Yet even this flawless being was overcome by death, because countless arms latched onto it, dragging it into the swamp of blood that was free of any taint, into dirtied snow that was shoved into a virgin's mouth so that they may vomit the contents of their holy stomach. Vile fingers of non-existent threads dug into flesh, removing eyes as they pleased, then pasting them onto walls of creation to create a spherical room from a tetraeder.

Holy men were killed upon holy peaks just to glimpse at the thought which would enter the countless minds of Nima Morsus, their heart aching for the solution that to zile, was so simple, yet so complicated because it required the solution of an equation constructed from nothing but a bud which was made equivalent to a symbol of destruction. This strange, yet so normal mathematical construct was at the centre of the tetraeder of eyes, so even though it might have been formed in infinite dimensions, every single dimension of it was percieved, then reduced to its base components so that the solution may be arrived at. To reduce it, however, hands burst fourth from eyelids that have been not there ago, punching through the holes of the mathematical construct that were as countless spikes, shredding the foot that reached for them.

But Nima Morsus knew pain. Zile knew that the best, so the tentacles continued to separate, multiply and dissect until all became one while one became all.
"Tell Master Schrödinger," said zile. "That if he wants to play games, I will find Simultaneous on my own."

The next second, reality shuddered, for it was ripped open, gutted of its contents, its stomach was cut open with a scalpel that had no edge, yet the force behind the weapon was so strong that it punched through all layers of metal that were as skin. A door ripped off its hinges flew by Jonathan, embedding itself into the fabric of non-existence before it dissolved into a pool of entropy and sent an echo through space-time that could be felt at Simultaneous, but not before he got a glimpse of how many times the door has been violated. "Find me again if Master Schrödinger understands the meaning of pain." And then Nima Morsus was gone.
 
"I don't appreciate this guy's sarcasm..." Mikel thought to himself as he regained his composure. The wounds that once riddled his body had been alleviated. He couldn't help but wonder what wonders were at work. The door appeared before him as his guide had said. Something from nothing. Pieces turned into a mosaic. Shattered glass became an ensemble that was now a door. What was this dimension? Where would it lead him? Mikel had to push aside his doubts if he wanted to know what he really gained in his equivalent exchange. He had to suffer to prosper. He had to succumb to overcome. His curiosity and accumulated rage over his family's sudden death pushed all irrelevant thoughts away and gave him the resolve to proceed.

Mikel walked through the door. Another light shone bright, but accompanied with the light was ease of mind... "This feeling is completely different from my first travel through a door" Mikel thought to himself as he found himself in another void, with a door opposite him. As Jonathan had said, the door had three wards on it, three wards which could lead him to another piece of this seemingly nonsense puzzle.

"Everything is made up of core elements with carbon and hydrogen being part of these elements. If I redistribute the carbon makeup in these wards and break the hydrogen bonds within them I can easily break the wards..." Mikel said lazily as he approached the wards. *CLAP* Mikel slapped his hands together and laid them both on the wards, within three seconds the wards had exploded.

The wards came off and the door opened. Numerous black Hands slithering out of the door, inching towards him as if to be welcoming Mikel, perhaps too welcoming. Mikel jumped backwards and called out to Jonathan "What is this?"
 
Another door and another step, reality was replaced in a wave as the portal passed and closed. Before it, Virathal's mass flowed in ordered files, dispersing once the journey had been made. When at last it too left behind the battlefield its first view of the town mirrored those that had gone before. With the mass spread in hidden numbers around it Virathal had already put its plan into motion. Of the bodies it had taken most would be eaten away, the mechanism carried throughout the village populace. Unlike its first efforts this infiltration was subtle, as quiet as a breath. One by one the villagers were taken, their bodies overflowed by the aggregate.

Beyond its walls the enemy were arrayed, marching with the certainty that theirs would be a winning battle. What they did not expect was the village to move, and continue moving away as they marched. Sharp-eyed runners noticed it first and brought back the strange news to their leaders. Questions trickled down the ranks, a small party eventually sent ahead alone. It didn't return. Night overcame the army, fear settled upon them as the black-clouded sky. What began in the mind soon became viscerally clear, movements in the shadows turned to liquid screams.

Morning came to find nothing, no camp and a quiet village. However, beyond its borders were left its inhabitants to wake confused.

As the chronometer set by Jonathan counted down to zero, Virathal's steps came to a halt five miles away. Around it settled the aggregate, mass moving in invisible calmness as it waited the voice's return.
 
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In truth, the Chaos only required one thing from the base. Everything else it could create with ease. What is sought was something from the first place. An egg, now as hard as stone. The Chaos had seen what the egg was to become and had slowly been modifying it as it worked to take over the city. Changing a living organism was much more energy draining, but was also one of the most rewarding things that the Chaos felt it could accomplish. Presently the egg had been forced into a dormant state, one that it could stay in for thousands of years if necessary. Of course, hatching it would be much more interesting, but it wasn't ready yet.

Once the egg had been collected, Chaos followed the instructions of Jonathan into yet another garden.
"We seem to find ourselves surrounded by greenery quite frequently, don't we? I wonder why that is..." Requiem mused from within. Chaos shrugged it's shoulders. "Whatever the reason is unimportant, what I'm curious about is why we seem to be playing Killer for Hire. It is quite questionable. An Underworld Boss, a Gardener, what else could be going on here?" It pondered out loud, however quietly.

It didn't take long for them to find their way through the maze of deadly plants, to reach the man of the Garden. The Gardener. The Gardener was no more a Man than the beasts of the forest were. It bore the appearance, but the emanation of bestial power was quite clear. This thing was a monster. What was more, was that its teeth were clearly not meant for grinding vegetation. Sharp razors behind a permanent grin that was too wide by far.

The Chaos pushed itself back behind a hedge, hiding quickly, just before the creature looked up from the carcass it had been in the process of devouring. It was too late however, The Gardener had seen it. It didn't move however, except to continue eating the body in front of it.

It was accustomed to occasional intruders. It expected that they would eventually consume the poisonous plants, much like the others had. It made them much easier to consume. The poison didn't stick to flesh as well as it did the plants, so the meat was safe. Beyond that though, it was immortal, so even if they did attack it, it would be fine.

"So, we need to kill that... Thing huh? Well, this'll be a lovely little walk in the poisonous fucking park, won't it?" Requiem complained, looping the information of what he'd seen and what he'd been told, which wasn't much. "Alright, it's a carnivore, which means we're going to have to change the plants, that much is obvious, but how do we get it to eat it?"

The Chaos shook it's head as it made it's way back into the maze, the both of them contemplating their fate. After a few hours had passed, darkness began to fall. The Chaos moved more carefully, keeping a close eye on the walls of the labyrinth. It was the attention to the walls that caused it to neglect what was on the ground. Moments later, it was sprawled on the ground, face mere inches away from the wall that it had been trying to avoid. Behind it, as it looked, was another body, remarkably similar to the one The Gardener had been eating.

It was a young man of unknown origin. One of many that presumably came through the area. It's skin was patched with spaces of black, they were not natural, nor were they marks of decay. It could only be assumed that they were a result of the poison. Why did they come? Neither the Chaos nor Requiem could piece together the answer. So far as they could tell, there was only death here. Regardless, the body had supplied them with the answer.

The Chaos ripped the clothing from the alien and made a pair of neat gloves for handling the plants, then closer to the entrance it began plucking various plants from the walls of the Garden Maze, organising them into a vaguely human shape, and then it changed them, making the plants look like their own body, appearing as flesh and blood, giving it the same black marks that the other body had carried. A perfect decoy.

Then, they did something that was even more difficult, they animated it. They didn't bring it to life or anything of course, they simply made it capable of moving. It didn't make it far, just near the entrance to The Gardener's haven. It collapsed with an audible thud, drawing The Gardener's attention.

The Gardener investigated promptly, and began dragging the 'body' away into it's home. An hour later, The Chaos looked around the entrance carefully. The Gardener was laying on the ground, a mouthful of 'meat' still in it's ever grinning jaws. It did not move as they approached it. The plant double had done it's job, killing the beast. "Jonathan! It is done." The Chaos called out as it walked towards the Gardener's hut, which was really no more than a rundown old shack.
 
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Ah, and so we see the trapping of Isaac into a Paradox Loop. Poor soul.
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Excellent work, Chaos. But now I have a mission that requires the control of Requiem.

You've done enough killing recently. Now I need you to do the exact opposite. Through that door is a different realm, and next to the door is a pair of goggles hanging on a hook. In wearing those goggles, you will be able to see death. In that realm, Reapers, invisible to the naked eye, roam about, taking the lives of select individuals. Exactly thirty-two hours after you enter, a reaper will take the life of one Francis Genidar. Stop that from happening.
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I'm not punishing you, Chrysea.

Just intertwining events in the proper order so that they may happen as they should. A set part of the timeline, if you will. Similar to a concept you may better know as "Fate". That mission had to go wrong. Now, the next task. Through the door on your left Will be temple. this temple honors a dark god. Again, to aid in the carrying out of Fate. It is a temple to the Brother, the Dark Son. To Drall Wistfell. In order to aid in the saving of Midpoint from Drall's cult, you must perform a deed as dark as he. You will enter in the middle of prayer. Next to your entrance, will be a rack of weapons, of all kinds. Take the one you'd prefer. Slaughter the Acolytes. Call to me when you have finished.
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Not exactly what I had in mind, Virathal, but it will do.

Next, wait about thirty-two minutes. A wagon, driven by a wrinkled man with long, messy, grey hair and a scarred face will pass by. Climb into the back of the wagon. He will not notice. When you pass by a forest, exit the wagon and enter the woods. In the woods, you will find a well. In the well will be a cave. Jump into it. Inside will be a sword, and an army of shadow-creatures. Fuse with the sword, and slay the creatures. When you have finished, climb back up, and await my next orders.
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You may as well stay, Nima.

I assure you, Master Schrödinger knows pain. He has achieved SIMULTANEOUS, and therefore knows everything and nothing. He has felt all your pain and none of it. Because of this, he has chosen you to join him. Your very existence brings you so close to SIMULTANEOUS, yet so far. To both be rid of your pain and to spread it. Now return, and continue your quest. Assemble the correct door, and you shall be one step closer to your goal. One infinitely finite and finitely infinite step to cease feeling pain, and yet feeling and spreading it.
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Spri, find the door.
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Now, remember, Cyrus, they must be chocolate cupcakes.

Hand them to me, and then render your opponent in the ring unconscious. Exit the building afterwards. I will instruct you from there.
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A calling, Mikel.

They are hands of shadow, seeking to draw you into their darkness and hold on to you, to tear you apart. This challenge should be fairly easy, compared to what is to come. What you must do is allow yourself to be dragged into the door. They will bring you to the center of the room. They will create a small space around you, completely dark. You will be blind. They will occasionally reach out and tear at you. Your task is to make a light source around you to ward them off. The next door will be down a hallway on the other side of the room.
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Now that we have ourselves aquainted, Ciana, let's begin your quest.

There is a door behind you. Turn around and you will see it. go through. Inside, you will find a large garden. Fountains of blood, and white roses stained red with the same. A Blood Lord's paradise, as it was designed for suck people as yourself. However, it was not purposed to be a paradise, but a trap. Every drop of crimson in the place is poisonous to your kind. This will be a test of your willpower. You must cross the garden without consuming any of the blood, lest you die most painfully. I will be waiting for you behind the door on the other side of the garden.
 
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Many hands, black and opaque, reach for Mikel. The hands clamp onto him, as if to rip him limb by limb, and begin to drag him towards the door. Faceless, body-less, emotionless, all were absent. All that was present were many hands and their anxious desire to tear Mikel apart.. Mikel arrived at the center of the room and as informed, a small space was made around him. He couldn't see anything but he could feel the malicious intent. He could feel the intent to kill.

"ACK!!" Mikel suddenly yelled as hands began pulling at him, at his clothing, at his being. They pulled as if they'd been waiting for this very moments for centuries upon centuries. With haste, Mikel slapped his palms together and pointed them straight up into air. Mikel then slapped his hands together again and converted his right arm into his signature blade and dragged it across the floor, making a spark...

BOOM...

Mikel had altered the hydrogen distribution in the air and used his metal arm as an ignite. The room lit up a bright orange as everything was engulfed in a momentary flame. The dark arms dispersed like smoke that had been punched through. Mikel braced himself as he was flung across to the other side of the room to where the next door was. Quickly recovering, Mikel darted through the door and entered a formless space...

"What's next..." Mikel mumbled.
 
Ciana shuddered a little bit, feeling the rising sickness of finding her feet again, or rather, her side finding it's feet again. She had ended up on her side after whatever loops she had been put through, the voice ringing in her head for a few moments, before she sits up. She looked around slowly, her vision fracturing after a few moments as the other half of her returned to torment her. Her hands instinctively shot up to her eyepatch, holding it in place as if that would beat back the other voice as her mind struggled to figure out what it had missed. That other voice was important, somehow, even her other half could see that, it went quiet each time it spoke, as if terrified of it somehow. She reached up to the fastening with a shaking hand, trying to tighten it on her face a little bit more, the leather pressing her hair down some as she does so.

After a few moments of uncertainty, she decided she needed to stand up, as much as lying on the ground and just hoping it was away from anything she could harm or anything that she'd be able to escape with. She wanted to lie down and forget the world, become a quivering ball of gibberish like she had so many times before, seal herself into some pocket dimension and just let go for a thousand years or so. She licked her lips, sitting up slowly, feeling the reeling hangover-like headache hit her harder than a train. She reached up to her head in response, a giggling ringing out in her head at her own weakness, a testament to how pitiful she was, she was seeing herself as such even. A mighty vampire is nothing without a good drink. There was a tingling in the back of her head, but she ignored it upon feeling how her skin was. That of a corpse, gone was the eternal youth and beauty, soft features, or anything like that. She felt like her skin was going to come off in her fingers if she pulled too hard.

This meant she had been out a while, she had a bit of blood in storage in some pocket dimension, the harvests from battles she witnessed, or caused maybe, the two blurred together so easily in her mind. Her mind reached out, confirming her suspicions, the well was long dry, but she tried to pull from it anyway, like a drunk uplifting a bottle for last night hoping for a wayward drop. She found none. She still had her magic, which was better than most of the times she traveled, she could hide her weakness if she had to like that. She dismissed it though, she felt like just a hair would break the few bits of her mind still holding some of her limits in place, she knew the vampiric ones were gone. They had to be, she'd be just a corpse otherwise, unable to move until they received the right sacrifice, virgin blood spilled upon the withered body. Starvation like this was one of the few ways to kill a vampire like her, the 'ascended'. It wasn't even a death, it was a hell, trapped until the end of time as a withered corpse, likely buried alive, or kept locked up in some crypt.

That meant she could overpower someone though, if those were gone, she wasn't as strong as she could be, but she could easily find herself some prey. Her fangs ached to sink into something's flesh, to feel it squirm as it's life was sucked from it by the bucket. Which reminded her of that buzzing in the back of her head, she knew what that was, she recognized the feeling, it was life. Blood. She rose to her feet, a little shakily, turning around, slowly, like some sort of zombie, and staring at the door. She licked her lips again, and started heading towards the door, pushing through it and standing there for a few moments, like a desert traveler finding a oasis.

Blood, gallons and gallons of it, enough to feed her to full strength, and maybe store some for later, but something was wrong. Her mind was torn however, between trying to think of what felt off, and how quickly she could drink all of this. The blood pulsed around her, rising up in little droplets and circling towards her like some sort of vortex, showing her tiny reflctions of herself, licking her lips again at the sight. They all fell to the floor at once though, soaking the floor in blood as her mind remembers something. She can't drink this, she can't remember why, but she can't drink this. Less of a giggle, more of a cackle sounds in the back of her mind.

"D̢̥̘̤͎̘̩̺͓̫̀̃́̄̔̅͆͛̈͝ŗ̨̧͍̟̟̯̫̘͛̊̽́͛͒͌̐̀̕͜i̦̝͉̜̹̳͖̺̤̣̊̆̔̈́̆̑̓͊̕͝ň̤̘͙͓̗͙̱̦̪͓̓͒̎̈͊͐͛͘͝k̼̪̫̹̮̙͕͎͇̣̆̏̑̃͒̆̑̒́̚,͉̙͔̫͖͙̤͇̗̣̒̇̎̀́̊͑͐̚͠ ̺̜̦̰͈̗̣͔̘́͊̍͊͑̇̈͐͝͠ͅg̡̤̜̠͇̬̯̻̈́̊̀̓̈́͌͊̃̕͜͜͠ǫ͔͙̟͓̰͎̰͙͗̋̅̐̿̾́̓̐̓͜ ͖̻̯̬̪̰̩̯̲̔̒̀̈́͂̏̑̅̍̕ͅå̡̟̥̳̭͇͈̖̫̳̄̂̓̍̓̊̄̚͠h͉̤̞͔̣͓̲̥͚͍͑̈́̾̀͑͛̃͂̕͝ę͈͙̩̜̖̰̻͔͂̓͐̀̄̎̇͐͘͘͜à̡͖͖̝̗̙͍̳͕̲́͊͂̀̊̌̿̑̅d̢͎̖̬̞̳͓̥̺̫̂́̆̐͋̔͒̈̄̕,̨̡̟̜̻̹̭̞̣̅̈́̃̄̆̌͊̅͜͠͝ ̡̺͙̟̺̭̟̙̟̳͂̿̀̓̾̂̄̏͐͝ḓ̼͈̰̺̼̤͙͉̎̓͑̾̅̎̾̎̎͝ͅơ̝͔͍͇̤̙̺͎͌̃̄̎̾̾̈́̒̚͜ͅ ̧̯̦͙̻̻̤̼͎̈̇͊̓̒̃͒̓̌͝ͅį̛̠̤̖̮͕͉̤̺̺̐̾̄̇̿͝͝͝͝t̢̧͖̘̯̜̬̟̭̗̅̎̽͛̃̊̚̚͝͝.̠͍̱̻̹̫̮̗͙̀̓̽̀̅̎̒̆͒͜͝ ̛̛͍̭̘͔̼̱̠̺̗̺̀͒̅͒̆̋̾̆Y̢̱̦̞͈͈̗̱̫͌͌͗̋̄̑͆̕͜͝͠ơ͎̞͈̖̘͉̣͂́̈́̋͜͜͠͝͠͝͠ͅư̱͍͖̜̝̞͎͕̤͗͆͌̓͌̈́̓͋̂ͅ ̟̞̥̞͎̪̗͓͈̗̓̋̈́͛̓́̇͋̚͝n̢̧̧͇̟̥̟͉̫̲͆̿̀͋̌̉̋͆͂̊ė̢̛̛̘̟̼̲͎̰̪̟̥̋͒́̿͆̚̕ė̠̦̩͓̣̯̘̜͎̑̃̽͆̋̀͒͝͠ͅd̢̲̬͖̲͍̜̼̱̟͛͊̈́̂̋̈́͒̀̐͠ ̛͚̫̪͔͇̟̹̫̰̪͌̃̃͒̑͒̕͘͝t̡̛͔̟̯͈̣͈̜̣͓̀̋̋̌̒͑̑̕̚h̝̯͓̘̩̳͕͙̖͔̍̇̅͊͐̔͆͐̚͘i͇͙̜̮̙̗̣̪̝͚̎̃͆͂͆̿̓̃͝͝s̨̘̩̰̹͇̦̝̟͈̆̂̔̐͐͂̐̇͌̀,̡̡̛͓͔̜̘͉̱̳̮͒̑̄͑́͂̈́̈͆ ̛̰̜̜̣̟̞̜̼͔̍̀͋̓̿̒́̕͠ͅẂ̢̨̬̹͚͕̞͈̫̌͋̈́̆̔̈́̑͆͒ͅȄ̗̥̮̬̟̘͚̞̺̭͆͗̒̄͗̓̕͝͝ ̧̧̢̱̞̮̹̟̬̩̽̅̓͒͆͐̒͂̊̓ṉ͖̠̼͎͇̯͖̻̩̾̾̆̾͆̿͂̌̍̕ȩ̡̮̞͎̤̯͖̝̎̈́͊̎͊̍́̂͘̚͜e̡͇͓̬̜͍͈̖̦͗͂͋͑̈́̓̃́̑̾͜d̮̺̞͍̼̟̼̹͇͋̑͛́̾͐̾͒̆͜͝ ̡̝͇̜̞̳̗̺̹͙́͊͌͒̒͗̿̿̈́̄t̲͓͚̠̱̻͔̲͕̮̅̉̓̀͑̅͂̇͝͠h̛͙̹̼̮̯̣͍̮̬̗̓́͒̋̎̈́̾͘͝ị̢̮͙͔͙̩̫̭͔͆̑̑̉̓̆͒̈́̀̆s̖̙̹̼̼̳͇͖̪̘͑̈́̾́̌͛̔̎́̚.̛͕̼̗̳͙̳̖̘̥̼̒̋̈́̎͐̌̈́̈́̄"

She couldn't do that, something was nagging at her, she didn't know what, but it gnawed at her like some rat desperately trying to find it's way out. She watched the blood rising again, picking itself up off the floor, and from the pools, more insistent now, she needed to leave, there was a door over there, but it was so far, she needed to keep her strength up somehow. There was plenty of blood for her right here, nobody would notice if a drop or two went missing. She wasn't sure what possessed her to do so, but she began walking, if it could be called that, a gentle shamble towards the exit. The blood however, became more insistent, playing around her face, her nose, she only needed to reach out. She burst into a run, the blood following her now, trying to tempt her in any way it can.

Visions of drinking and growing stronger assaulted her mind, tickling at her consciousness and not giving her a moments rest as she stumbles in her run, tumbling and scrambling to her feet again as the blood tickles at her legs, her body yearning to just drink, mind reeling in ten different directions, but managing to stick to one as she runs. The door hardly was a real distance away, but she was struggling to get there, blood in front of her making the floor slick and slippery, causing her to fall a few times and get some on her clothes, only feet away from the door as she scrambles across a particularly soaked spot, blood behind her gathering up into a large mass. She pulls herself up the door handle, struggling with it as she tries to force it open, pulling it hard, and managing to get it to a slightly opened state, pushing herself through the door and pulling it behind her as she fell, panting onto her face. She lay on the ground for a few moments, before the door was assaulted with a barrage of the blood behind her, not moving as she lies on her face, covered in blood, and looking like some sort of zombie, and showing about as much coherence to the world at the moment as one.
 
"I'm not punishing you, Chrysea. Just intertwining events in the proper order so that they may happen as they should. A set part of the timeline, if you will. Similar to a concept you may better know as "Fate". That mission had to go wrong."

"Are you playing with me then!" Chrysea snapped. It wasn't even a question, she had lost her cool poise entirely. It was a physically and mentally draining task with seemingly no rest. Funny she should think of wanting a break, time has had little to no effect on First Gens like her, giving them a formidable endurance. But this was no ordinary task. The portals she had been going through weren't ordinary portals either. "I don't know if you're unintentionally trying to mess with me, but I'm not doing anything that could potentially harm my protégé. Ever again."
"Now, the next task." Jonathan went on as if Chrysea had not spoken. This irked her, but it was more because she was exhausted. "Through the door on your left will be a temple. This temple honors a dark god."

Chrysea's eyes widened and her lips parted to catch a sharp gasp in shock. She had a very bad feeling of how things will be. "No..."
"Again, to aid in the carrying out of Fate. It is a temple to the Brother, the Dark Son-"

She was on her feet, fists clenched unconsciously.

"To Drall Wistfell-"

She let out a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding and put both her palms on her face, sliding down to cover just her lips. She was trembling again. She had just encountered Abstract, her worst enemy. Then she made her past self fail a very sensitive mission with Bennett involved. Now she was to face the enemy of the Sister and she suddenly felt so powerless despite it all.

"In order to aid in the saving of Midpoint from Drall's cult, you must perform a deed as dark as he. You will enter in the middle of prayer. Next to your entrance, will be a rack of weapons, of all kinds. Take the one you'd prefer."

"Wait. Weapons-what-"

"Slaughter the Acolytes. Call to me when you have finished."

She took a deep breath. Then she took several more unhurriedly. "I can do it. Sure." She was telling herself more than anything. She was focusing on breathing, on being aware of her own life. She decided it was best for her to not get emotionally invested to this, seeing that it would only tire her even more. Her new mindset lead her to the said location with no further ado and no more side comments. She gave up on dealing with her thoughts and with an empty mind, she stood at the entrance. Keeping her thoughts void was indeed for the best. She couldn't risk being discovered again. There was quite a number of Acolytes and for one split second she wondered what kind of lives they used to live. She looked at the weapons rack and was unable to stop herself from letting out a quiet gasp.

The weapons were very familiar. It was the craft of her people, the Papillons. Not from her hometown nor country, but from her homeworld. She was petrified. Papillons were a peaceful race. Mimicry, camouflage and disguises were their only defense mechanisms and these so-called weapons were nothing more but livelihood tools. She had turned her back on her home dimension long ago and never once did she consider returning. There was nothing for her there anymore, she had no family and the people of her species had died out. Natural selection eliminated them. But she understood something now.

She took a scythe and did as she was told.
______________________________________________

Blood pooled in separate puddles that slowly covered the entire floor. "Where are you, Jonathan." Chrysea muttered, her morale was too low to sound polite or to sound at the at least bit as if she was really seeking the PaNADU. She was pale and a total mess. She wouldn't be caught dead looking as she did now, being quite vain. But she didn't care at all. She was staring at the ceiling as if she was expecting Jonathan to appear there. "My people-these-these Acolytes," She could have said if her voice came out properly. She tossed the bloody scythe. It clattered for a bit, splattering blood, then it landed on one of the corpses. "They could be anyone. They could become spies, or anything at all. They were being used. They were just being used."

She ran a hand on her tangled locks, flattening it untidily. "You had me kill them...because they would be used. Please tell me that's the only reason."
 
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Stay? Prison? Needles? Rubber? Chemicals? Philosopher's Stone? Treasure? No, no, no, no, Nima Morsus was far beyond that, the being that did not even exist yet was composed of countless existences was no mere fool to believe in such a thing as blood from gold, for there was no method with which the feats of the ancient ages could be repeated, refined, moulded, then turned into something different the purpose of which was beyond comprehension. Yet silver stars still fell from the sky as an ever-watching ear listened in to the absolutely soundless movements of the world along with an eye that refused its sense of sight, however, it embraced touch as if it was a feeler designed to seek out the most obscure places that were unknown to all.

Birthed from countless tentacles that ensnared reality like a spider-web build by magnificient architects to trap mere ants that happened to walk by, yet carried with them such knowledge that they were worth more than their own wieght in suffering, this feeler managed to grasp at something that even Master Schrödinger ignored, or perhaps, he chose to leave it out of the equation because it was such an impossibility that none may come across it. It would have to be the end of the universe, the collapse of all that was possible and impossible, the cessation of Simulataneous, however, at the same time, such an atrocity would have left everything the same as it was because of the pure abstraction behind its structure, countless eyes that blinked forth tears made out of razor-wire so they could form their own seekers. These spiders would then all feel the vibration of an unseen network which communicated through burning, then report it to the entity that was Nima Morsus.

But that was not what happened at all. Instead of a feeler, it was a relevation that shook the gates off their hinges, tore reality to shreds, then constructed an abomination of a feeler that not only sought out, but also birthed a new sun under the sky that would warp non-existent fabric into believing that there was actually a cloth to make. Then, this trickery of the senses extended to a world which Nima Morsus gained a picture of as zile gained a single, yet eternal moment of clarity that made all lines of focus converge into a single point, namely, a single individual the addition of whom to zile would be subtraction, multiplication, division, limit expression, derivation, integration and the solving of an equation at the same time. And such a thing lured Nima Morsus as bait lured the fish that fed on worms that squeezed their way through the holes of reality, even if this bait was ultimately, a regular girl who was blinded by the truth so she could see the truth.

Or at least that was what it seemed at the first, second, third and fourth glance, but the eleventh glance was different. The girl... She opened her eyes on the eleventh blink. And even as Nima Morsus was about to swallow her whole, to consume her, to let her be devoured by the many that was zile, then not waste anymore pain with Master Schrödinger's petty little scheme, a mouth opened up around zile mouth, watering, oozing acid and spitting blood that corroded souls. Witch claws that could not be burned at the stake sprung fourth from Platon's cave that enclosed Nima Morsus, long, bone-like nails which served as teeth in a gear that was a central piece to the universe, and as such, it could make it collapse, reform, or bring children to term at any time.

And the girl was behind it.

Frail.

Weak.

Blind.

Hopeless.

Wrecked by her own thoughts.

Alone.

A scream unlike any other rung through the cosmos as Nima Morsus decided to shatter Platon's cave to bring doom upon the abomination that should not have existed, however, the devourer followed zile soundless cry with a grin instead of eyes, chains instead of legs and a desire to dare to provide the souls that made up Nima Morsus with a final resting place not in the form of eternal torment, eternal life, or eternal freedom, but of eternal cessation. Pillars that supported entire continents fell into pieces as pure hunger wrecked havoc through the cosmos, playing cat-and-mice with something that was beyond its grasp, yet it was perfectly attainable. Meanwhile, the continents that came crashing down birthed beautiful planets that would bloom into seeds spread through the stars, only to be annihilated by the all-consumption that was the girl who chased.

There was no escape. Only screaming. And suffering. And endless cycles. Infinity upon infinity upon madness upon insanity upon entropy was walked through, the universe destroyed, annihilated, utterly cracked into pieces that would be then glued together before Nima Morsus could finally flee the presence that threatened, but even so, the image remained. The visage of the girl, blind, with closed eyes that were more open than any eyes should be, the image as she used her white cane to slaughter the chance of an alternative route, it was burned into countless souls, and as such, into Nima Morsus.
 
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Wait it did, watching the aggregate's undulations, movements that soon were mirrored in its very form as appearance shifted, memories discarded for truth. Mechanical structures melted away, replaced with flesh, armor flowing like liquid as the countless microscopic machines that made up each plate moved into new configurations. What emerged from the mass seemed human, moreso than that which had been before, dusky features hidden by a hood which it pulled over its head as the promised wagon rolled past. Mounting it, the aggregate followed in mercurial waves, an unseen motion by its master causing the thing to slowly begin the long dissolution that would see its components reduced to miniscule husks blown away on the wind. A sacrifice to be sure, for the sake of discretion and ease of movement.

The time it took to travel what miles had lain before the forest was spent in meditation and half-sleep. Roused by the swarming machines it wore, stepping down from wooden slats it was left amongst the waving fronds of living green as the wagon rolled creaking on. Looking out upon the ancient stems its nostrils flared as nature's scent was drunk with deepest pleasure, one hand lifting before it. Boneless fingers peeled away, a small sphere gathering within its palm as the machines were issued new orders. Tossing this up they dispersed, a glittering cloud that spread in all directions until made too thin by distance to be seen. With patience tempered by strange aeons it awaited their success, pulling from a pocket the datapad to which their signals were being streamed.

Eventually the well was found, seeming as ancient as the wood around its night-filled mouth. Twilight sank within to depths measured with exactitude, a single foot lifting to push without ceremony one of the stones that once had rimmed the opening simply for the sake of the act. The sound of impact was a mere faint echo, the rustle of movement elicited lost to shadows. Affixing a thin rope of interlocked mechanisms it was lowered slowly down, the warning of shadow beasts within calling forth a single, simple solution. From each machine a stream of white light was let forth, their numbers working together to produce a blinding glare so strong as to emerge undiminished from the opening far above. So revealed were walls of unwrought stone and a tunnel made clear of obstacles save dirt and pieces of loose rock.

Lost within the light it walked slowly down into earthen bowels, walls so close eventually rolling away as it emerged into artificial chambers. Murals spoke of those who had built them and why, pictographs showing the history of people that were no more, or perhaps had been reduced to the dark shapes that fled from its brilliant cloak but would not give up pursuit no matter how they were pained. In the distance was the sword, all the artistry of its dais preserved here where wind and weather could not reach. Still the shades clustered as it approached the steps, each one mounted bringing them closer to the interloper they sought to rend. At the last it stood before a weapon wrought as if from midnight, details upon its surface mere suggestions even to a mind that saw beyond the surface of is.

When it took hold of the hilt they attacked en masse, black forms sheared away by light to reveal blacker bones and shreds of what may once have been clothes and flesh. The first was cut in twain as it turned, the blade passing soundless and without resistance. A second fell, a third before the machines took up slack. In a roll of motion more blades appeared splayed in the air around it, coalescing from light to launch with a thought at the pitiful beings. Silent they screamed until none were left, the dust of their unholy corpses dissolving to the nothing they had tried to embody. Across the weapon's surface motes of white crawled as it was analyzed, data processed leaving more than a few gaps as their efforts came up empty. It would do.

Again the Seeker waited.
 
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It would seem Requiem, Spri, and Cyrus are to follow.
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You are, in fact, correct, Chrysea.

They would have been used to infiltrate the Resistance in several different AUs, and bring about the fall of the ones that must survive. I could not let that happen. Very important versions of both Bennett and yourself would've been killed in your sleep. Now, you must complete a... far less mortifying task. You must face the other Seekers. Yes, there are others. All working on separate tasks to achieve the same goal. Step through the door, and meet those who may be your rivals, or your your allies.
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Do you see the next door, Virathal?

No, behind you. There. Your next task is to walk through. That's it. Walk through the door, and meet your fellow Seekers.

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[Jonathan merely stares on, baffled. The girl the girl thegirlthe g irlt the sho ..uld n't exi thegirl st]
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Next, Mikel, is "Social hour."

Prepare yourself, Alchemist, to face your fellow Seekers.


And the answer is no, you don't have to kill them. IT would actually be best you don't or I'll have to train a whole new version of them. And that would be a pain.
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Excellent show of willpower, Ciana.

Now, you may be rewarded. I can't have you go into the next room if you're going to drain the other Seekers. And lights! There we are. Now you can see. And just what is it you see? A pool of blood. Fresh, clean, revitalizing. Drink to your heart's content, and step through the next door. Time to meet your fellow seekers.
 
"You are, in fact, correct, Chrysea."

She sighed, her morale completely depleted. She looked at the blood on her hands, ignoring everything around her and walking towards the entrance. She wiped the blood on her clothes, trying to be as nonchalant as possible as Jonathan went on. "They would have been used to infiltrate the Resistance in several different AUs, and bring about the fall of the ones that must survive. I could not let that happen. Very important versions of both Bennett and yourself would've been killed in your sleep.-" Her eyes widened for a second and she clicked her tongue like it was a pesky brat speaking to her. "Now, you must complete a... far less mortifying task."

She laughed mirthlessly. "Who or what am I destroying this time?"

"You must face the other Seekers." She stopped at these words. She was right at the doorway. "Other...seekers?"

"Yes, there are others. All working on separate tasks to achieve the same goal." She looked certainly irked now, perhaps because she wasn't prepared for something like this. Not seeing things coming always gets on her nerves pretty fast because she liked being in the know. Always. She had just adjusted to having her mindset on killing, so having to meet people was putting her off.


"Step through the door, and meet those who may be your rivals, or your your allies."

"No, no, no. Wait." She put her hands on her waist. "There's no way I'm going to meet them looking like some blood-sucking, flesh-eating thing. Give me a minute to fix myself."

She realized that she had no means of "fixing" herself to make her look cleaner and more presentable. This made her even more annoyed. She ran a hand through her hair, making it bloody in some parts. With an inexplicable noise, she cast a spell and her whole look was fixed to how she appeared when she was starting the journey. "A small time-pull won't hurt. I hope."

With that, she swung open the door and went in with her characteristic confident catwalk.
 
Ciana lay there, panting, clammy skin feeling colder than the floor she laid on, whatever it was. She was panting like a runner out of breath, chest hardly heaving despite her desperate attempts to perform such a function, some sort of giggling, giddy laughter ringing off the walls from nowhere. Girly and sinister, continuing despite the fact Jonathan was talking this time, like a dog finding out that it's master was weak, something more dangerous and sinister lurking within it. She didn't even want to think about the possibility of something hostile in this room, she was useless like this, hardly able to drag herself forwards towards a heavenly scent. Her fingers scratched at some stone, a carving of a angelic being set upon by something feasting on it's flesh, her fingers filling the little crack and nooks of the stone and digging in to pull her forwards some more. It took her what felt like ages to gather up enough of her own mind to focus and clear the blood on her off, the blood in the pool rippling from side to side in response to her rather clumsy control on the magic. The splatter was like that of a giant high-powered hose sprayed on the ground, but it wasn't on her anymore at least.

Her head lifted up over the ledge of the fountain, before pulling herself into it, face-first, and dissapearing under the red, seeming to vacuum in towards her like a violent pump, a whirlpool of blood suctioning into her endlessly. The blood bubbled and roiled, and for every drop that disappeared, black mist rose from the surface of the pool, bubbling up and over the sides of the fountain to fill the pool, small amounts of it seeping out from underneath the door. Though, just as concerning was the indecipherable endless rambling coming from the room, some old and evil language, with a voice like thunder and a deepness that resonated with the spirit, and not in a good way. It drilled into ones ears, and bade every evil thought and whim from birth to come roiling back to the surface, every little sin or slight.

The mist seeped from every crack through the door it could, clinging to the floor and dispersing, a sinister, stale, and sickening evil intent lurking within it, something that tastes ageless. Inside the room, the well ran dry, the fountain either out of blood to give, or the tap turned off, it didn't matter to Ciana at this point though, both eyes a deep blood red, her usually hidden one visible even beneath the eye-patch, pulsating and glowing darkness. Her breath brought forth more of the mist, before the light in the eyes started to fade. Her facial visage proved hard to focus on for a few seconds, shifting between an foot too wide smile, and a somber sad facade. Her face slowly settled, the new infusion running through her veins like rocket fuel. She didn't notice she was off the ground for a few seconds, before her feet struggled to find the ground to stand on, the eye still visible beneath the eyepatch, despite Ciana's best efforts, though at the moment her mind was threatening to split in two. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to remain calm and at least make herself appear slightly normal, before the eye under the patch shot open again.

It didn't matter now though, it wasn't visible, despite it's darting incessantly and dark whispering in her mind. She took a few calm steps over to the door, seeing pinkish-pale skin now instead of the clammy zombie tone she had earlier. She grasped the handle a little too tight as a test, feeling the metal giving way like butter, before turning the knob and stepping through, the room pitch black darkness behind her. To Chyrsea, it would seem as if she was stepping out of a room composed of the dark murderous mist, a amount seeping and clinging to Ciana as she took a few steps out, closing the door before too much left, the mist swirling about and slipping under her eyepatch and into her mouth, or from it, it was hard to tell. After a few moments it seemed to fade, but the lingering aura of malice remained, stuck to her like a perfume, despite her rather hostly appearance, a expression of aristocracy meeting the middle class. Welcoming, but only as much as it needed to be.

Hopefully it was the nervousness of meeting a new person, or a new foe, but there was a pounding of blood, a quickening of pace, something Chyrsea would feel at her core even, pulling towards Ciana for a few moments before it stops slowly. The lingering mist whispered all sorts of dark deeds, murder and more, hopefully explaining the pounding of blood, though not entirely probably. Her appearance was completely clean and well dressed, as if she had just stepped out of her wardrobe ready for a day of meeting important people and delegating political matters. Despite this, there was a lingering voice, wanting to find a crack to get into any mind it could find, a probing coming from Ciana, though not the one physically standing in front of Chyrsea, whispering at first, though a chant if one tried to focus and listen to it.

M͎͙̯͖͙̰̝̓͑̌̅̌͠͠ơ̰̥̻̰͕̩̟̓̑͗̕͝͠r̙̦̺̤̼̘̂̋̿̉̅̿͜͠e̠̗̲̰̤͚̼͌͐͂̅͒͆͝,͎̣̯͉̙̟̌̑̈̊̋͒͋͜ ͙̳̖͕̣̼̊͐̿̆͑̎̓ͅỈ̢̨͈̩̦̪̜̋̍̍̈́͠͝ ̪͔̜̗͈͈̣̃͆̒́̄̉͠n̛͔̠̘̱̲͍̤̒́̀̈́̚̕é̱͈̪͕̞͉̘̊̊̍̎͘̚e̩̱̱͎̼̰̹̔̀͒́́̊͘ḑ̧̦̩̰̞̈́͐͂̏̔̈͘͜ ̣̳͚̖͖̬̥̋̾̔̎͗͑̾m̡̰̦͕͔̙̭̏̐̇͂́͝͝ǫ͇̗̥̟͍̌̐̅̈́̔̈́̚ͅr̝̞̟̗̠̹͔̂̃̂̽̅̊͝ę̤̜̤͕̭͕̾̒̋̈́̑̿͗ ̨̩̤̖͚̬͕̔͛̅́̋͒̚ḇ̢̖̣͕͕̳̈͌̏͛̍̒̕l̛̥̳̺̱̖̙̱̓̾̈̈́̒͐ǫ̰͖̙͎̤̥̆͊̊̏̂̄͐ǒ̠̹͍̰̻̲̀͋̾̏̚͜͝d̘̳͖͍̰̤̩̏̀̐̄͂̾͐.̪͕͖̘̟̺͙̀̈͆̊̄͠͠ ͉̰̫̝̺̭̥̆͌̌̓̒͛̚Ṱ̝̠̜͈̤́̋́̉̈́̕͝ͅḩ̥͔͉̙͋̐̈́̂̏͛͜͝ͅẻ̲̭̫̙̻̪̋̒̿̀͗̕ͅy̖̯̤̺̹̪̺̓͊̔̈́̀̓̓ ͔͔̟̤̝̦̱͌̍̓͋̓̈́̚h̡̨̛̳̙̖͎͋͌̌͐̈̚͜â̢̢̢̛̜̻̦̙̍̂̆̆̂v̨̢̩̣̰̹̈́̾͋̓̐̇͆͜ȩ͚̹̝͖̜̗̉̑̈́̔̏̽̈́ ͙͍͕̱̙͖͉̇͋̾͒̅͐̚p̞̙̖̠̯̣̺̈́͗͐̃̃̅͝l͓̥̳̖͔̰̃̆̃͛̐̔͜͠ę͎̣͉͍͎͙͑͋̓̾̽̈͘n̘̰̩̦̦̬̖͊̽̍̏͒̍̒t̡̻͖̦̠͙͊̾̆͂̕͝͝ͅẏ̢͈̲͙̬̥̝́̇̌̔̐́ ̧̧͈̰̮͚̖̓͊̊̑̑͑̒t̨͓͓̲͇̜̤͒̌̇̉̑̂̚ọ̪̬̭̣̭̪̓̌̔̄͂͌̒ ̡̧̛̖̻̫̣̲́̽̍͑̿̕s̢̼͕̙̯̫̰͐̅͐̑͛͝͠p̬̻̲͈̩̥̯̃̎͋̃͘͘͝ą̪̬͈͇͚̫͌̊̀̋́̇͘ŗ̡̨̙͖̥̝͗̔̈̒́̈́̀ę̘͔̜̗͙̺̊͑̊̂̄̎̚,̢̖̰͚̗̮͉̾̇̄͗̐̅̈́ ̨̲̞̪̟̞͈̏̆́̿̎͗̔ḏ̫̩̝͉̰͇̔͆̔́̏͂̃ợ̢̛̘͖͕̩͊̅̌͗̄͜n̦̣͔̻̲̭͓͌̀͑̀̇͗̂t̡̯̼̻̳̦̜̅̿̆̅͂̈́͝ ̠̦͉̮̞̭́̋́͆́͗̕͜ţ̡̼͚̺̘͉̑̌͒̍̂͠͠h̫͖̩̠͇̞͚̋̊̔̅̈̈́̈́e̘͇̳̻͚̩̼͌͛͐̀͛̑̓ỹ̹͖̟̩̥͙͋͌̓͐͌͜͠?̢͎͓̬̯̺͔̾̊̓̈̓̀́ ̪̟̤̪͉̺͍̃̀̆̈̀̍̚S̡̛̤̮̺̜̠̟̅̀̏͐̓̂ḣ̛͙͙̥̞͕̪͚̑̔͛̋͝o̡̫͕̥͈̥̔̆͛̓̓̚͝ͅų̖̺̦̪͈̺̋̔̊̃͂̓̀ļ͕̺̙͙̘̱͂̐̈͐͐͘̕ḑ̮͚̮̺̹̘͆͌͛͌̿͌͠n̲͔̦͈̱̝̮̓͐͋̏̏̈́͠'̧̢̩͍̣͉͖̌̀̌̐̾̀̌t̨̡̡̙̥̙͔͊̀̍̆̆̚͠ ̧̟̭͎̗̤̠͗̓̆͋̏́̎ť͙̺̳̝̲̪͙̎͂̈̒͊̎h̨̪̟̥̟͚̯́͆̋̅̄̌͝e̠̬͉͇̝͖̙͆̒̈́͒̅̔͘y̢̛̛̫̹͚̦͇̥̐̽̕͠͝ ̘͔̟͇͓̹̆̔̑̍̚͜͝͝b̻̳͔̜͕͉͓̉̀͋͊̏́̎e̛̦̯̘̱̱̬̹̅͐̄̃̓͐ ̧͚̮͈̰̻͆̆̓̈́́̀̕ͅn͎̯͓͙͔̭̺̓́̒̋̿͒͝ȅ̛̪̞̮̥̖̲́̃͌͑̍ͅx̧̫̻͉̮̘̩̍͆̌͋͐̕͠ţ̛̟̝̬̲̝̙́͊́̎̇̾?̡͔͈͍͖͈͂͂̎̾͋̉̍ͅ ̨̝̖͍̝̠̮̓̋͆̀̽͝͝W͙̟̖͚̪͍͈̉͊̓̓̐͋͠ǒ̡͔̩̙̰̖̒̒̊̾̿͜͝n̡̡͔͍̘̗̫̊͛̉͂̾̚͝'̨̢̛̱̝͓̝̥͌̔̈̉͝͠t̰̯̯̞̼͔͕̔̈́̾̈́́͋̚ ̨̘͎̼̻̜͙̈́̉͊̓͂̈́̏ţ̠̣̩̘͔́̄̇̊͘͠͝ͅh̼͉̼͉͎̟͍̽́̀̍̅͆̀e̬̹̰͇͈̲̺̐͐̍̃̍̚̕ý̯̳̗͍̝̖̙͌͒̆̕͝͝ ̢̛̻̭̟͔̯͛̋̅̉̒̒ͅb͍̳̗̤̦͍̻̈͌̐̈́̍̊̚e̡͎̹̱̮̱̘̽͆͋̔̽̓͝ ̥̟̻͖̳̰͙̆̔̾͘͝͝͝n̗̺̝̤̜̩̗̽̾̿̍͘͝͝ẹ̡̯͕̼̤̿̊̿̈́̅̔̈́͜x̢̹̫̙̗̤̑͒͑̾͊̄̋ͅt̡͕̜̖̪̰̲̑͑͒̈̽̂͝?̛̻̘͖̞̣̜̪́̋̊̍̈́͘ ̨̝̳̱̪̙͉́̅͒̾͑̓͛W̛̭̘̬͙̙͈̞̐̌͛̏̚͠h̲̱̭̝̻̽͋͆͒̄̆͂͜ͅơ̛͙͕̤͔̞͚̝̈́̀̒͑̚ ̨̯̼͔̝͖̂͑̾̾̋̉͘͜w̺͎̠̭͖̳̻̒͂͂̿̀͊́o̲̥͙̥̙͚̝̽͑̂̌̽̈̑u̡̨̲͍̰͖̮̍̓̐͋̚͠͠l̢͔̲̣̣͖̆̀̈́̽͂̍̚ͅd̨̩̩̱͉͖̤̀̏̓̈́͆̑͘ ̹̰̱̪̱̫̰̽̀̓͑͒̕͝n̠͖̭̙̳̬̰͛͒̾̀̏͐̏o̧̩͖̪͎̻͋̏͗̓͆̇͜͠t̡̹̲̟̺̤̄͐̅͆́͛̚͜i͖͖̲̼͈̲͋̇͑̈̽̏͝ͅc̨̢̛̠̠̘̪̤̾̋̿͝͠͠e̢̗̹̳̯̥̙̾̃̌̈́̄͠͠?̨̧̹̬̖̼͛̀͌̓̈́͗͘͜

It was so deafening once let in however, that one might not hear what Ciana herself said.

"I am Ciana Andlat Gildrose Ditorri, Ninth of the Circle, Seer and Seeker."

She awaited any sort of reply really, though, it might seem a little off-setting that her manner and voice was so refined, considering the dark things her other side attempted to whisper. Once let in though, it painted such a different picture than the Ciana calmly standing there introducing herself. The eye hidden by the eyepatch pulsed a dark red visible despite the covering, with a vision of Ciana with a smile literally stretching ear to ear appearing and disappearing around the room, looking at Chyrsea like a mouse to be played with, a couple times appearing not a hairs breadth away. However, if she was able to resist listening to the voice, just like that, the vision disappeared, the chant returning to a whisper in moments.
 
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Silence. Complete and utter void which refused to remain quiet for a single attosecond, a drone which pierced ears as if it was a weapon forged out of an unbearable din's essence, the roaring of a thousand flies that hid even their own sound behind the chaos that was the flapping of their wings. Such a thing reigned as a king, an absolute monarch with a throne made out of the dying screams of their enemies that came from disembodied skulls without their lungs or even their vocal chords. As such, their shouts, cries of pain, beggings for mercy, agonised tears and gasps for air were left unheard, yet it was from these silent abominations that the unbearable clash of dissonant sound came from, then ravaged everything in its way. It killed minds, souls, intriguing concepts, materials as it propagated, slicing into even the invisible fabric of what was not there, forever marking a grave that would then become the founding place of a religion in the heart of Nima Morsus.

Perhaps a soul died in the amalgam that was zile when zile fought with the girl, or it suffered such a pain that zile had to mark this occasion, however, one thing was for certain: Everything was uncertainty. Barely escaping the mouth of the beast that collapsed into time that collapsed into pain that collapsed into suffering that collapsed into meaning, the creature that was beyond such things curled up to cry zile tears, which were a roar of meaning that echoed through the chamber. If there was even a chamber. If there was even such a thing as restriction. If there was such a thing as white. If there was such a thing as noise. If there was such a thing as killing, defiling, devouring, reading, walking, chaining, collapsing, knife, scream, little, expansive, nebula, huntress, chaos.

Yet there were no such things, only a serpent that coiled around itself along its own spine, forming endless figure-eights that would spiral into the eye of a black hole, a fracture from which hundreds of claws reached out to grasp at irregular shapes. Lights gathered into one place to paint a picture of geometry, but not as imagined by Euclides, or Archimedes, or any of the greats, rather, as imagined by a three-lens telescope which looked through a sea of countless blankets made out of liquid stone, then its imagery distorted by layer upon layer of different eyes looking upon it in different ways, after which it was poured into a cauldron of jagged saws that mutilated it. Thus, in its limbless, faceless, bleeding state, it was not its original form; it was not the beautifully deadly moth that feasted upon the tornadoes it created with the flap of its wings.

Despite everything else that happened, this lizard of a snake tailed its own stalkers that would then reach out as many, controlled tendrils aiming for their only true goal of choking the concept of existence that went against non-existence. This bliss was torn from them! They had the right to reclaim it! But despite their decision, despite such a close presence of the unthinkable, a white-hot Sun burned them away, casting their bodies into the eternal cessation of the cycle of life, yet their minds held onto the barbed spikes filled with suffering that was their life. It was not their time... yet. Nor the time for Nima Morsus to give up on zile search for Simultaneous.
 
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Another door, a perilous warning. With those challenges of the past firmly in mind the Seeker stepped through. Leaving the tomb, other figures coalesced from distorted ether. Already it sorted data streamed from them, gaze taken by the device lifted up in one hand. A thin veil of seeming distraction to disarm, the circumstances and its own appearance already attested to the caliber of beings attending this meeting. In one corner of its view was held always data from the sword, half-hidden by the same draping cloth that cast shadows across its face. The actual object would stick out as much, by sight if not by the chill that seeped from its span. So, the Seeker moved away, keeping the group just out of arm’s reach but well within hearing should any speak in a voice that would carry.​
Humans, or some facsimile thereof dominated the group, as well as something else. Something that lurked on the edge of perception, many things in fact. With senses beyond those even of the machinery draped across its form the Seeker knew those things that lurked beyond. It stood amongst kin. As their interactions began so too did its movements, slow steps carrying its form in a wide circle around the gathering. Silent, observing, it waited only for that guiding voice to say what it wished to be done.​
Always waiting.​
 
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