Chapter 6: Lord

Chapter 6: Lord

Event 12. Forty-four weeks before the story started.

- After the Angel met the Underwater People and Philosopher Corals in the City of Sleep –

(Angel. City of Sleep)

The Underwater People and the Philosopher Corals have left for the Tower of Angel.

The Angel knew that the Tower was up ahead, but his formerly impeccable vision has become a blurry haze.

And the City of Sleep was no longer inhabited.

So, the Angel tried to spread his feathery wings. He could no longer do so, for he has forgotten how to do so.

So, the Angel walked. The Angel walked, and walked, and walked, with the book in his hand.

And the hardness of the black asphalt roads, as compared to the white sands before, were putting immense strains on his leg muscles and spine. The Angel was exhausted.

But the Angel hated the silence. But the Angel was beginning to find comfort in the silence. But the Angel hated the silence.

But the Angel was beginning to find comfort in the silence.

But the Angel hated walking, for it was tiring for him.

But the Angel hated that he was beginning to find comfort in the silence, for it was tiring for him.

---

- After Dreamer and Angel exited the box –

(Dreamer. Samsara)

BREATHE

There is no time to lament or wonder about what happened.

I have to believe in my dreams. I have to believe in the plan.

The plan that Nirvana will be achieved if all four of us can fulfil our dreams.

And it is without a doubt that Walk’s dream has been fulfilled.

… Sigh…

“Grey Walker… is dead… oh…”

I’m pleasantly surprised to hear Mundane speak those words. Clearly, Walk’s name still resonates somewhere within her.

“Grey Walker… is dead… ooooooooh…”

This really isn’t going anywhere, is it? At least Mundane has some reaction; Motivation, who has her mouth covered in armoured, can’t even speak to begin with.

“Grey Walker… is dead… oooooooo-”

I bend down and squat. I scoop a small portion of Soup on the ground.

“Grey Children and Grey Walker are all dead.”

“Grey Children… Grey Walker… all dead… oh.”

Yeah, Mother… If only you were here now, in your previous form… But why… why did you give up, Mother?

Why did you give up, when I’m still… holding on…?

“Sam… sara…”

“Huh?”

“Dead… rebirth… Samsara… oooooh.”

That’s something new. Thought they’d only repeat the words that I’ve spoken.

“Samsara? Cycle of death and rebirth?”

“Samsara… mundane… Grey Walker… dead… rebirth… rebirth!”

That’s a fresh change of tone.

“Rebirth! Rebirth! Rebirth!”

No, no, no, they’re absolutely mistaken, dammit, they got Mother’s meaning all wrong.

“No! Great Motivation, Ghast Mundane. To rebirth is to die! To die is to rebirth! It is a cycle! A cycle!”

“Rebirth… die… die… rebirth… cycle…”

Dammit. Where am I even going with this? To try and enlighten them with the philosophies of death and rebirth, and how Walk died and how she should’ve rebirthed but she didn’t rebirth because she has given up?

Mother… like you, even Walk has given up too… can I… can I give up, too?

The essence of Mother’s soul is still buried within those two, but…

… Samsara?

Did Mother name this cave… Samsara?

A loud noise.

A very loud noise, as if there was the sound of a collapse, and a metallic object slamming onto the ground.

And the dissolving effects of the Soup on the inner Old Walls of the box become apparent. The box’s ceiling collapsed, and the wall with the hole has been dissolved away. What’s left are three standing Old Walls and the floor, which I presume to have thinned.

And the golden throne is now on the floor, surrounded by the three walls of the box.

And the Soup completely flows out of the box, as watery as before. And the floor melts completely. And the walls melt completely. And there are no longer any remnants of the box.

And the only thing that remains are the skull of the Lord of Stagnation, resting on the seat of the still-pristine golden throne.

“Blasphemy! Utter blasphemy! Even without the Spine to support him, even with such tragedy surrounding us, the Lord of Stagnation still haunts us from atop his damn throne, as if laughing at our misery and the stagnation of this world!”

I feel insulted. It’s as if the Children’s deaths are meaningless, for not even their Soup of Life could dissolve this very unwelcome object, this symbol of stagnation.

Truly, the idea of combining the Lord’s Spine—the haunting ghost of an immovably lazy spirit, with the book—the key to answering all of our questions and life purposes, to sweep the Spine of the World, of which the dust was due to the state of not moving, or stagnation… is a fucking insult!

How dare the Lord of Stagnation still stare at us with those hollowed eyes?!

“Disgusting! After all we’ve been through! After all we’ve been through…”

Sigh.

“After all we’ve been through… not even the all-dissolving Soup of Life… could rid us of stagnation…”

Sigh…

“Samsara… this is truly Samsara! The beginningless and endless cycle of death and rebirth, a stagnation! Samsara!”

I walk towards the two beings who were Mother.

“And you! Where is your damn spirit?! Where is all that motivation to protect us, to be our sword and shield, and to fight for our freedom?!”

And I look at Motivation in her hollow eyes and I look at Mundane in her armoured eyes and all I see is stagnant puddles of my plainest tears spiralling down into a garbage dump.

“Shit happens, Mother! Shit fucking happens! Your great motivation to protect Walk and your Children drove you forward! We could’ve achieved everything! We could’ve achieved Nirvana! Don’t you want happiness for us all, Mother, or are you just content with living out a mundane life as a fucking ghost?!”

Tears burst through my raging eyes. I can’t take it. Why is this world so fucking stagnant?! Why am I so fucking stagnant?!

“You wanted this, didn’t you, Mother? You wanted the world to be stagnant, you wanted time to stay still, so that you could spend all eternity with Walk and your Children, didn’t you, Mother? That’s why you protected the Lord of Stagnation with your life! Well, guess what?”

I slam my left foot onto that damned skull on the throne. It breaks, vertically, into two perfect halves. So fragile. Why is this so-called Lord so fucking fragile?

I grab both pieces of skull. I fling it to the ground behind me. Both pieces bounce once, before making a final splash onto the Soup, facing the direction of those two.

“The Lord is dead, Mother! The Lord is fucking dead! Just like Walk! Just like your Children! Just like Walk! And all of us will be dead if you give up, Mother!”

Sigh. Pointless. I slump my entire body weight onto that damn throne. The seat’s cushioning sinks me in. There are golden protrusions behind the backrest, protruding at every angle, just like the sun. As I lean back, the soles of my feet rest perfectly flat on the ground, which is still covered in Soup.

Sigh. I need a break. But why this damn throne out of all places? Is it because it looks comfortable? Is it because my butt’s sick of sitting on grass and rocks all the damn time?

“Oh… Warm Chair…”

Mother named this damn throne as well, did she? Of course she gave it such a comfortable name, for ‘comfort’ is but a less insulting way to say the word ‘stagnation’!

I rest my right cheek on my right fist that’s resting on the armrest.

Sigh. I just want to sleep.

I just wish… for everything to end.

“Lord of Stagnation…”

I’m not. And I’m insulted.

“Lord of Stagnation… is there a way… to save Grey Walker…?”

Oh dammit, that’s the first useful thing you’ve said, Mundane. But seriously? The one person that you even bothered to speak coherently to… is that damn Lord of Stagnation?

“Lord of Stagnation… is there a way… to save my Children…?”

Wait… Mother, are you being serious? I was just being emotional when I spoke about you wanting the world to be stagnant.

No, I was right, Mother… you…

Did you… relocate the Lord and his throne to the top of the box… not to protect it?

Did you… revere this Lord of Stagnation?

Did you… relocated this Lord of Stagnation on top of the white box… so that he can watch over Walk and the Children?

All you really wanted… was eternal stagnation.

But… why?

She wanted to get away from this place. She wanted to be free of Samsara, which is why she chose that name for this cave.

She wanted to be free, and to live in a world free from enemies.

Is this… the Lord’s doing?

Has the unnecessarily long stay in Samsara… along with the arrival of seven Children that she so dearly loved… made her subconsciously content with this… stagnant state?

Sigh. I can’t even disagree with her. She found all that she truly needed, and she had the strength to fend off the enemy forever if she had to…

She wanted to leave this place, but at the same time, she didn’t truly believe in our plans, did she?

And even if she did, well, it was too much hassle for her, for she already found the purpose of her life…

… she just needed to make sure that they were safe.

I mean, who can blame her for having conflicting thoughts? Just look at what happened to… Walk…

… Mother, you didn’t need to bear everything by yourself, you know. We’re all in this together, so…

… You didn’t have to feel like you’re the only one responsible for the safety of everything, and of this world…

… And look at you now, Mother… Just… look at you…

I sigh, audibly enough to cause barely visible movements in Mundane’s armoured arms.

“Lord of Stagnation… is there… no way?”

“Great Motivation and Ghast Mundane, please come to me.

And they did. They actually did.

I guess Mother tried not to show it too much; she tried not to even think about it, but all she wanted to hear from that damn skeleton…

… all that she subconsciously wanted to hear, even if she has never said such words to others, even if she did not even dare think of saying such words to others… or herself…

Such words… that narrow the wide breadth of time itself into a moment of contentment and relief, that could be easily confused as a sign of weakness…

And a sign of hope to move forward and not give up…

 

 

 

“Mother, it’s going to be okay.”

 

 

 

---

Event 13. Forty-three weeks before the story started.

- After the Angel spent one week walking towards the Tower of Angel –

(Angel. Abyss of Humans)

The Angel walked two kilometres and five-hundred metres in one week.

The Angel was exhausted. He took a seven-hour nap every time he walked one hundred metres.

The Angel wanted to give up, but the Angel hated the silence, but the Angel loved the silence.

And the Angel hated how meaningless his mental conflicts were, for he believed that they meant nothing.

And the Angel felt so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

And the Angel saw a large white cuboid of four-hundred metres in width and length, and one-hundred metres in height. And the Angel knew that it was the Tower of Angel.

And the Angel tried to walk forward but he could no longer walk forward, for there was a moat filled to the brim with gaseous substance that smelled of death. And he had to cross three-hundred metres of the gaseous substance to reach the Tower, and the moat surrounds the entirety of the Tower. And thus, the Angel called the moat, “Abyss of Humans.”

And the Angel felt that the foreign beings never wanted to celebrate with him in the first place.

And the Angel sat on the grass, and he felt that it was okay for he was used to the silence, and he felt that it was not okay for he could not stand the silence.

 

 

 

And the Angel felt that it was okay and it was not okay and the Angel could not make up his mind and the Angel felt weak and useless and the Angel broke down in tears.

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer sat on the Warm Chair of the Lord of Stagnation –

(Dreamer. Samsara)

So, am I the Lord of Stagnation now?

Little ol’ Dream, the most ambitious person in the world, who only wished for happiness for us all, is now stagnating on a fucking chair.

… This is depressing.

“Great Motivation and Ghast Mundane, there is a way to save Grey Walker.”

And for the first time, Motivation’s emotionless eyes are in line with mine.

“We need to leave this place. We need to leave Samsara. It is only by leaving Samsara, that Grey Walker can be saved.”

Motivation’s head slowly turns to the right, towards Mundane. Mundane’s head slowly turns towards the left, towards Motivation.

“Oh.”

The both of them turn towards their left. The both of them walk ahead. The both of them turn towards their right. The both of them walk ahead.

… Wait, it’s that easy?

Exactly how much did Mother revere the Lord, to the point where even her two emotionally suppressed subconsciouses could be easily persuaded by a man masquerading as the Lord?

“Masquerading”? No, Dream, you are the Lord of Stagnation. Think about it…

If not for you and your constant daydreaming, maybe the world would’ve moved forward a lot faster.

Maybe… the Angel wouldn’t have wasted twenty-five years of his life sleeping away his pain…

… rotting away in stagnation…

… sigh.

I get up from the Warm Chair. I signal to Angel to join me in following the two.

Another Bloody Rain.

Dammit, Motivation’s so far ahe- whoa!

“Motherfuckers! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you! Then I’ll kill those fucking Corals! I’ll force your corpse to fuck your mother’s corpse and cut off your dick!”

This is… most peculiar. Mundane has swept me up using her left armoured arm, and she swept Angel up with her right. So, we’re sitting on her arms, which remain perfectly still at a right angle from the sides of her hips, which are actually quite comfortable, contrary to their rigid appearance. And we’re running. And running.

“People, your blasphemy towards our enlightenment will be met with immediate retribution once the inhabitants are subdued!”

I guess Our True Selves are just that distracted by menial issues such as the purpose of their arrival into this world and the meaning of life.

… Aren’t our true selves… just the same, though? Just distracted by… everything that is so insignificant.

As Our True Selves give chase, Motivation, who has been in the lead, disappears to the back and settles this menial issue with half-cuts and three-quarter cuts. Mundane settles this menial issue by running away, and by vacuuming any Lightless Field released from those damn tentacles.

We ran two kilometres and five-hundred metres in one minute.

As we approach the hole in the ceiling to ascend the Cliff, there is a flight of stairs made of Old Walls spiralling down from the hole, exactly touching the rocky ground. While we were all busy reacting to the Children and Mother situation, Anti built these stairs using the broom, during his ascent up the Cliff with Walk. It was meant as a method for Mother, Angel, and I to ascend, since we don’t have wings. The stairs are… rather narrow, though, about half a metre in width, and no handrails.

Such a shoddy job, but could I blame him, though?  I guess we only need to be caref-

“Lord of Stagnation, Angel, turn around.”

… What?

“Lord of Stagnation, Angel, turn around.”

Okay, fine, guess I’m gonna turn around and watch your back, so what are you planning t- whoa!

Wait, whoa, huh, whoa! Shit, this is actually pretty damn cool.

So, we’re ascending the Cliff right now, and well, Mundane asked us to turn around so that she can move both arms towards her front, at a right angle from her abdomen, separated by the exact length of her shoulders. Angel and I are now sitting back-to-back from each other.

And Motivation inserted her five-metre-long arm-blades into the slits at the ends of Mundane’s arms, which I assume are also five metres deep. And they face each other, separated by the length of their two arms up till their wrists, and the length of Mundane’s armoured portions, of which we are sitting on.

And Mundane ejects the vacuumed Lightless Field out of the slits at the end of leg armours that are pointed sharply downwards. And somehow it works, and we’re being propelled on a literal rocket.

And I don’t know when Mundane will run out of propellants for her rocket, but dammit, it’s just so… cool.

A rocket. A fucking rocket. I’m flying. I’m fucking flying!

Holy shit holy shit holy shit this is actually fucking fun.

We reach the top of the Cliff, and we finally land on solid ground. And the two should start running ag- whoa!

So Mundane bent her knees backwards, and start ejecting Field behind her, and we are propelled forwards.

And the Cord is dark and Lightless, but I feel no sorrow.

I only feel a loud, prolonged “WOOOOO~” escaping my formerly rigid frown.

The Light at the end of the Cord.

The adrenaline rush from the constant acceleration.

And the formerly rigid frown turns into an exuberant laughter.

A howl of pure thrill.

And my heart beats more excitedly and… willingly, than ever.

And I scream. Not out of fear. Not out of anger.

And I cry. Not out of sadness. Not out of loss.

Maybe I am just…

 

 

 

… happy.

 

 

 

And we are now at the Island.

And all it took was… fifteen seconds through the nearly three kilometres of the Cord. Angel and I were just too occupied with enjoying the ride than to be thoroughly “enlightened” by the Field.

And for the first time, I am witnessing Angel’s natural smile.

Hey, I’m smiling too. I’m laughing, actually, like a freaking kid. I mean, in hindsight, it was actually so dangerous, I mean we could’ve lost our balance or fallen off or just get left behind or…

Dammit. It was fun, okay?

A much needed… entertainment, in light of the tragedy around us.

But I certainly had fun.

It was the most fun I’ve had in… twenty-five years…

Yet, it was but a small event in the grand scheme of things… no convoluted planning, no arguments, no false hope.

And yet, we smiled. We laughed, even. And I’m sure the Mother in Mundane and Motivation was having fun, too.

If even the simplest things in life can make us smile, then…

 

 

 

… why are we trying so hard to chase such a faraway smile?

 

 

 

---

Event 14. Forty-two weeks before the story started.

- One week after the Angel could not find a way past the Abyss of Humans –

(Angel. Abyss of Humans)

And the Angel could not move forward for one week.

The Angel wanted to go back to the Island of I to sleep, but he was concerned about having to ascend the Cliff of Wake, for the Angel has forgotten how to use his strength.

As the Angel went closer to the Abyss, the whole ground quaked to his shivers. He has forgotten how to use his Light Machine.

And the Angel decided to fly past the Abyss of Humans, but he has forgotten how to use his wings.

So, the Angel laid on the grass and the Angel called out to the sky. And to the bright blue sky and the unmoving sun, the Angel shouted, “My Gods, what is the purpose of my life, if not to sleep and wake just to sleep again?!”

And there was no answer.

And to the immovable clouds and the heavens far ahead, the Angel shouted, “My Gods, as the world is in stagnation and there is no difference between sleeping and waking, is there a meaning for me to stay awake?!”

And there was no answer.

And to the book still in his hands, the empty pages, the Angel shouted, “My Gods, if the words in your language are imperceptible to my eyes and indecipherable to my mind, then would it be better if I were to be blind?!”

And there was no answer.

And to the Tower, wider than it is taller, the Angel shouted, “My Gods, my Gods, why have you forsaken me?”

And there was an answer, for the Underwater People and Philosopher Corals have manifested from a black rectangle on the outer wall of the Tower that is facing the Angel. As they walked on the Abyss, every step emitted a white ripple, like teardrops falling onto a pond of hope, spreading outwards and hardening into a bony bridge of white.

And the Underwater People, with a faint smile on their horse-lips, said to the Angel, “Hey Angel, we heard that you called our name. Oh, wow, you actually lost all your powers? You lost your feathery wings? You lost your Light? You lost your strength? Ha. Haha. Oh, wait, you didn’t lose them, you’ve forgotten how to use them! Hah. Hahaha! Hah!”

And the Philosopher Corals, with a quick movement of their tentacles, proceed to slap the People’s fish-heads, and said to the Angel, “Angel, you will not need to be too taken aback by their… statements. Forgetfulness is a norm of life, and it is a void that we all go through. And this void can only be filled with enlightenment! Come! Into the Tower of Angel, where you will be fully and appropriately enlightened by the teachings of happiness!”

And the Underwater People tried using their tortoise-flippers to slap the Corals but they missed because the Corals were fast to dodge, and the People said, “Corals, you slimy bastards! How dare you slap us with your filthy hands! Ah, whatever, Angel, don’t worry, for we will protect you from their disgusting little attitude!”

And the Angel did not know what to think, but the Angel knew how to walk, and thus the Angel walked on the bony bridge of white, and after crossing the Abyss of Humans, the Angel arrived at the Tower of Angel.

And the Angel saw a black rectangle that is ten metres wide and twenty metres tall. And the People and Corals walked into the rectangle and vanished. And the Angel also walked into the rectangle and vanished, and the Angel realized that the rectangle was a door.

And the inside of the Tower was dark and Lightless. And the Angel felt that he was inhaling a very thick, pungent gas with the putrid stench of death. And the Angel panicked. And the Angel turned around, but the door to the outside was nowhere to be seen.

And the Angel panicked even more. And the Angel ran forward. And he ran and ran and ran towards the direction that he thought he came from, but the door was nowhere to be seen.

And the Angel ran and ran and screamed and screamed, for the Angel has lost all sense of direction, and the Angel no longer knew which way was up, down, forward, or backward, for the Angel could no longer feel his limbs.

And the Angel felt numb, and the numbness was even more unnerving than the numbness he felt while he slept on the Island of I for twenty-five years. And the Angel heard noises.

And the Angel screamed louder than the noises. And the noises screamed louder than the Angel. And the Angel screamed again, louder than the noises.

And the Angel saw something in front of him.

The Angel saw himself. Disfigured. Eyes wide open, as if penetrating through the deep dark of the Tower.

And there was a voice. A voice, trembling from dismay, exuding an aura of unspeakable fury.

“Angel, I am extremely disappointed in you.”

And the Angel lost his voice from the fear of himself. And the Angel felt as if his heart has stopped.

And the Angel stepped back. And the Angel fell, but the Angel did not feel as if he were falling, for the Angel thought that his spirit was ascending, and that his body was a lifeless bloodied corpse.

And the Angel felt that he should just die.

And the Angel landed on a patch of grass.

And the Angel felt happy, as he thought he has died.

But the Angel was alive.

The Angel opened his eyes and saw many beautiful trees that were sturdily rooted into the beautiful brown soil, and beautiful flowers that bloomed into a beautiful scramble of red, pink, yellow, blue, and everything else, and beautiful rivers that slithered past the labyrinth of roots, with tiny little pebbles and stones of all shades of grey smattering by the shore, and a beautiful blue sky and a beautiful bright sun that anointed the land with its omnipotent rays of hope.

And the Angel called the place, “Beautiful Field.” And the Underwater People and Philosopher Corals were joyous and called out to the Angel by his name.

The Underwater People pressed their lobster-shells onto the Angel, and said, “Ah Angel, glad that you made it! From here on, all your suffering will end, and you will be loved by us, forever!”

The Philosopher Corals wrap their red tentacles around the Angel, and said, “Angel, my beautiful Angel, we have built this place all for the sake of your happiness! Indeed, we only hope that you will finally be enlightened of your life’s true purpose.”

And the Underwater People stared at the Corals with their cat-eyes, and said, “Yeah, yeah, enlightenment, whatever. Look, Angel, we only want you to be our friend, and we want to be your friend, and we can finally live together happily ever after. There is no other meaning to that. We toured worlds after worlds in our effort to find new friends, and we just so happened to stumble upon this world that you call the Dusty-Spined Star.”

And the Philosopher Corals expels a puff of black gas from their red tentacles, as if threatening the People, and said, “People, you will see enlightenment as the true path forward for these worlds. But indeed, Angel, there is no need to rush and no need to be shocked and no need to fear the flow of time, for this… ‘Beautiful Field’, as you called it, is a place free from the curse of the neverending flow of time!”

The Angel did not know what to do. The Angel knew that he was trapped, for there was no way out. Yet, the Angel felt free. He took comfort in the visual incoherencies and the personality incompatibilities of the foreign beings.

And in the world of the Angel’s heart, he viewed these beings, who fell from the sky as bloodied corpses during his sleep, as the avatars of the Gods.

And the avatars of the Gods with rainbow-tinted tentacles said, “Ah, Angel, there truly is no need to worry in this Beautiful Field, for the very aspect of progression, the scourge of us all—time, ceases to exist in this place. For it is, and it will forever be only in the Beautiful Field, and all that is under the aboveground, that we can be together, free from all suffering.”

And the avatars of the Gods with the gorilla bodies said, “Angel, my beautiful Angel, you have found the meaning of your life. And with the meaning of your life found, you will no longer need to worry about moving forward. You are destined to find this place, the Beautiful Field, and you have found it with your own two hands and two legs! And with this, we will celebrate and embrace your new life, free from all suffering.”

The Angel did not know what to do, but the Angel liked to be accepted, and the Angel liked to be talked to, and the Angel liked to talk to others who would listen to him.

But the Angel realized that the book in his hands has went missing. Yet, the Angel was not the least bit concerned, for he felt as if the book no longer served a purpose to him. The Angel was happy.

The Angel felt that the world was a perfect world.

And the Angel had fun.

 

 

 

And the Angel wondered why he was trying so hard to chase such a faraway smile.

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer, Angel, Great Motivation, and Ghast Mundane propelled out of Samsara and reached the Island of I –

(Dreamer. Island of I)

The fig tree stands still. The flowers and rocks remain untouched. Some blood and Soup and a small puddle of Field and some shards of Walls still linger around.

Truly a world unmoved by the flow of time. A world in eternal stagnation.

I look at the two seven-metre beings.

Mother, during your happiest moments, you wished for time to stop, but now when all have been taken away from you, do you still wish for the sun to stay still?

I carefully walk up the bony extrusions along the outer walls of the Spine.

My left sandal steps onto the Spine. Just… slightly thinner than usual. The dust would’ve normally buried my legs from my sandals up until just slightly below the middle of my shin, but now it’s notably lower, only enough to cover my ankles, and then some.

Angel follows my footsteps, but not the other two.

“Motivation, Mundane, I know that the extrusions are tiny, but I guess you could just… jump up here? Or propel yourselves?”

But they are not moving. Do they really plan to just stay on the Island forever?

And atop this large dusty Spine, the intimidating façades of the two seven-metre statues start to wear off.

Until they become less like giants, and more like humans.

Until they become less like humans, and more like… ghosts.

Unmoving. Unrelenting. Never moving on, never moving up from their comfort zones.

Like the Angel, who is now standing beside them. A fallen Angel. Heartless in his motivations.

… Content in living a mundane life.

Motivation and Mundane, who are standing side-by-side, have their heads both pointing downwards towards the Island’s muddy floor. Onto the puddle of Field and those shards of Walls, onto the blood and Soup that has been mixed within.

It’s almost as if I am seeing their bodies bending forward… just a little.

As if… they want to get closer to the ground. Yes, their bodies are definitely bending forward. About forty-five degrees. Sixty degrees. A right angle from their waists. They seem to struggle to go any lower, as although they still have elbows and knees, the rigid unjointed nature of their five-metre blades and armours restricts their flexibility.

Motivation seemingly understands this. She walks to the front of Mundane. She turns around. With both bladed arms to her sides, she raises them up until they are on the same horizontal line as her shoulders. She leaps, and during that leap she raises her legs ninety degrees forward and upward. As her bladed legs are no longer in the direction of the ground, the entire weight of the fall is cushioned by her pelvis. She lies backwards; her spine pummelled onto the pebble-littered grass, with her bladed arms still pointing toward her sides.

Mundane, seeing Motivation lying with her legs straight forward and her arms spread wide open on the ground, lifts her armoured arms forward and upward, until they are at a right angle in front of her, just below the line of her vision. She leaps, and during that leap she raises her legs ninety degrees sideways and upward. As her armoured legs are no longer in the direction of the ground, the entire weight of the fall is cushioned by her pelvis. She does not lower her back to the ground.

With Motivation’s bladed arms and Mundane’s armoured legs both spread out sideways on the ground, similar to two parallel-ended lines of equal length, Mundane slowly lowers her armoured arms, which are in front of her, down onto Motivation’s armoured torso.

It’s hard to be sure from this distance, but the small black dots of Motivation’s uncovered eyes seemingly align themselves towards Mundane’s uncovered mouth above.

And soft-spoken words flow from Mundane’s red lips. And my heart sinks.

 

 

 

“Father, why are you crying?”

 

 

 

---

Event 15. Thirty-five weeks before the story started.

- After the Angel spent seven weeks in the Beautiful Field with the Underwater People and the Philosopher Corals –

(Angel. Beautiful Field)

And it was seven weeks of bliss.

And the Angel never experienced a happier seven weeks in his life.

The Underwater People and Philosopher Corals fulfilled his desperate need to be rid of silence.

But the Angel still sought for silence once in a while, and the People and Corals respected that, and did not speak to him when he needed time alone.

And there was once when the Angel was sitting on the rocky riverbank, with his legs soaked in the water up until his knees. And the river was flowing downstream ever so peacefully, and he noticed that the river had some white feathers, and he noticed that the white feathers were actually growing from his grey jeans.

And the river stopped flowing for a second, as if the Angel was the river, and the river was the Angel.

And the People who were on the opposite end of the river saw this, and said, “Ah, interesting, it seems that your time in this beautiful place we’ve built has done great things to your wailing spirit! Indeed, you truly belong with us, Angel! You truly deserve to be our friend!”

And the Corals who were behind the Angel saw this, and said, “Angel, I see that you have found the meaning of your life, and thus you are starting to remember all that you have forgotten. Angel, we are truly pleased with this step towards your enlightenment.”

And the Angel was happy, for he has found the meaning of his life.

And the Angel was happy, until he saw a Person hiding behind many People in front of him, with what looked like the book in its tortoise-flipper.

And the cat-eyes of that Person stared back at the Angel, and the Angel quickly shifted his view to that of the bright sun above him.

And the Angel, staring into the sun, wondered to the blinding light, “Is this… really the purpose of my life?”

And the sun seemingly sighs in disappointment.

---

- After Dreamer watched the actions of Great Motivation and Ghast Mundane on the Island of I –

(Dreamer. Spine of the World)

I sit on the patch of dust-free region, holding onto the broom, with Angel, Motivation, and Mundane behind me.

And I wonder, where is Anti?

I know that he has witnessed the entire thing, and after Walk’s… gone, he left the broom behind on the Spine and went to hide… somewhere. The both of us were concerned about Mother’s reaction if she were to see Anti, with him working with our enemy and all that.

But… things are different now. Walk’s gone. Mother’s gone. Does Anti even need to hide anymore? But Anti has yet to know about what truly happened to Mother, right?

He should be nearby, watching all the events that have unfolded and will unfold. And I can only wonder, with Walk’s… misfortune, is Anti doing okay?

I mean, the last time we spoke heart-to-heart was during the one-week smoke break on the Island, and even that wasn’t truly heart-to-heart, for the enemies were listening in from the Cord.

I look up towards the sky still brightened by the immovable sun. The Bloody Rain is still pouring, albeit much lesser than right after Walk swept the Spine. The spirits of Our True Selves are weakening, mainly due to their own internal conflicts and their self-inflicted loss of control over this world, and partly due to Motivation and Mundane having decimated a large number of them in Samsara.

I look down towards the City of Sleep. The People and Corals are flooding the black asphalt and sticking half their bodies in and out of the white cuboids. Their arguments are perceived as white noise. They do not seem to notice my presence on the Spine. Usually, news of any event or phenomenon that has been witnessed by any one group of them anywhere in this world would be quickly passed on to other groups, and it shouldn’t take long for all of them to be privy of all happenings in this world. And now, it seems the massacre in Samsara still remained a secret.

I disconnect the book from the Lord’s Spine. Curious, I flip through the book. No words. Absolutely no words.

Walk, my poor, poor Walk, what could you have possibly learned from this book that caused you to take such a… drastic action?

“This world was no longer under our control. The world was corrupted. The world was confused. The world has been infested by the evil of Our True Selves.”

And I turn around and look at the Angel.

“And it is because this world is weak, and it is because you are weak, Angel. And I don’t mean that in an offensive way.”

I connect the spine of the book onto the Lord’s Spine. Angel looks at me, dead in the eyes.

“No, no, no, Angel, you are absolutely mistaken! None of this is your fault! Dammit. Dammit, why are you always like this?!”

I smack my left palm onto my forehead.

“It’s okay to be weak, dammit! Aren’t we all weak somewhere in our hearts? Don’t we all strive to find someplace where we belong, someplace where we can be strong? And it’s only a matter of whether you allow that weakness to consume you!”

I glare at him. The Heartless Angel. The Angel who is now but an empty vessel, and who believed that he was an empty vessel even when he was still housing us all.

“It’s better… it’s better to accept this weakness and learn how to overcome it! It’s better that you embrace yourself for all your failures and pains and sufferings and regrets and use it as a stepping stone to get stronger! To evolve! To become a better, and soon the best version of who you are! You don’t need to be the best of society, or the best of this fucking world, or better than everyone or anyone, you just…”

I sigh.

“You just… need to be… yourself… your true self… the best version of your true self… and you better be fucking proud of it.”

I turn around, looking at the horizons far away from the City of Sleep.

“It’s better than… burying this weakness deep underground… and fooling everyone and fooling yourself that you are perfect, or…”

I tightly grip the upper part of the Lord’s Spine on the broom with my right hand.

“Isn’t that why… you came to this world…? Isn’t that why… I am doing what I’m doing… and why I so desperately sought for eternal happiness for all, for all of us to be happy and satisfied and to be the best version of ourselves…”

I tightly grip the lower part of the Lord’s Spine on the broom with my left hand.

“For I am… the dreamer of this world… and I only dream that… that this world…”

A tear blitzes down my left cheek.

“… that this world can… make you understand yourself… and make you… accept yourself for who you are…”

Walk… did you really believe that the book would’ve made you happy?

No… you were a lot smarter than that… a lot smarter than even me.

You already knew your purpose, and you already knew the truth, so… you were prepared to end it all, right?

You were prepared to… under the pretext of comprehending a truth that you cannot accept…

… under the pretext of not having your life’s purpose handed to you on a silver platter…

 

 

 

… you were prepared to take your own life…

 

 

 

But Walk… I thought that this was your dream. That you had this very noble dream, the noblest among us all, so that you could keep on living…

… so that you could keep on smiling…

… for dreams are supposed to drive you forward…

… and through all the turmoil and turbulences of the journey towards the goal of your dream…

… you will emerge in the end a lot…

…happier.

 

 

 

“Isn’t that why… we all have dreams?”

 

 

 

In the beginning, Dreamer stood on the Spine of the World. Now the Spine of the World was dusty and dispirited, and a traumatizing Lightless Field was underneath the surface, the Spinal Cord.

And Dreamer said, “Let dreams be fulfilled through my sweeping of the Spine,” and there was a sweep. Dreamer saw that the sweep emitted the brightest Light, and the sky was filled with Light.

And with the Light, all with the name Your Highness Our Saviour Who Lived Only Beautiful Lives in the Holy Monarch of Our True Selves looked up towards the Spine. Dreamer saw that it was good, and called out, “Let the Old Walls and Lightless Field within Our True Selves never bring the inhabitants of this world any more harm.” And the Old Walls and Lightless Field within Our True Selves could no longer harm to the inhabitants of this world—the first day.

And Dreamer said, “Let the Old Walls and Lightless Field within Our True Selves only bring harm to Our True Selves.” And the Old Walls and Lightless Field within Our True Selves can only harm Our True Selves—the second day.

Then Dreamer said, “Let I, Dreamer, exert my fullest control over this world, and for as long as I exert my fullest control over this world, to be henceforth only to be referred to as the name ‘The Chaser of Smiles, The Walker of Waters, The Exalted Dreamer of All and The Lord of Our Selves’ in name, spirit, and might, to only be shortened to Lord of Our Selves.” And henceforth the man formerly known as Dreamer shall only be spoken in name, spirit, and might as The Chaser of Smiles, The Walker of Waters, The Exalted Dreamer of All and The Lord of Our Selves, to only be shortened to Lord of Our Selves—the third day.

Then Dreamer said, “Let the Lord of Our Selves sit on the Warm Chair.” And the Warm Chair emerged from Samsara and ascended to the Spine of the World and is sat on by the Lord of Our Selves—the fourth day.

And Dreamer said, “Let the Lord of Our Selves be fated to enlighten Our True Selves with the inherent beliefs and ideals of the Lord of Our Selves, in which the words will spread far and wide across the Dusty-Spined Star.” And the inherent beliefs and ideals of the Lord of Our Selves were fated to spread far and wide across the Dusty-Spined Star, enlightening Our True Selves of the inherent beliefs and ideals of the Lord of Our Selves—the fifth day.

And Dreamer said, “Let the Lord of Our Selves exert his fullest control over Our True Selves, in mind, body and spirit.” And Our True Selves have surrendered their fullest control over their minds, bodies, and spirits, to the Lord of Our Selves—the sixth day.

By the seventh day Dreamer has finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day Dreamer rested from all his work.

---

Event 16. Twenty-eight weeks before the story started.

- After the Angel spent another seven weeks in the Beautiful Field with the Underwater People and the Philosopher Corals –

(Angel. Beautiful Field)

And it was another seven weeks of bliss.

And the Angel felt that he has experienced a happier seven weeks in his life, which were the seven weeks before those seven weeks.

The Underwater People and Philosopher Corals more than fulfilled his desperate need to be rid of silence.

But as the day became days and the week became weeks, the Angel felt that time was flowing by, although he was told that the flow of time did not apply to the Beautiful Field.

And the fourteen weeks he spent in the Beautiful Field felt longer than the twenty-five years he spent sleeping on the Island of I.

The Angel was conflicted. He felt wanted, but he also felt alienated. He was surrounded by beings that are supposed to be his “friends”, but he felt like he was alone.

The Angel was told that he deserved to be a friend of the beings, but then he asked himself, “How could I be a friend of the beings, when I don’t even know myself?”

And the Angel did not even know himself.

And there was a time when the Underwater People and Philosopher Corals were lying on the grass under some trees, and the Person who was holding the book was no longer holding the book, and the Angel could not locate the book among the beings’ appendages.

So, after the beings have fallen asleep, the Angel explored the Beautiful Field, and discovered that the Field spanned a circular region of four hundred metres. And on the outside of the region, spanning from the ground up until the sky, was a tall, white wall, with a surface that resembled the smoothened texture of bones, enveloping the entirety of the circular region. And there were the tallest of trees lined up along the wall, as if to prevent the discovery of the wall.

And the Angel knew that he was trapped. And the Angel felt that the meaning of his life was to be trapped by the foreign beings who wanted to be his friends.

And the Angel felt a sharp pain in his heart and numbness tingling through his veins and his head dizzy, and he felt the adrenaline beating his heart at a bizarrely intense yet inconsistent rhythm, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he felt like collapsing.

But the Angel was still standing. And the Angel thought that he was in a dream.

And the Angel felt like he was flying, but he has yet to remember how to use his feathery wings.

And the Angel screamed, but there was no sound, for he has forgotten how to use his voice.

The Angel closed his eyes and moved in circles.

And the Angel tripped on something and fell, and his face was bleeding all over from the sharp rocks on the ground. And the Angel looked back, still reeling in pain, and saw the book on the ground.

And the book had its front cover open. And the first page was empty, except for some words that were not there before.

The Angel read those words. And the Angel reread those words. And reread. And reread.

And there was the figure with the Angel’s face in front of the Angel, looking down onto him.

And the figure asked, “Angel, is this supposed to be a perfect world?”

 

 

 

And the figure said, “Angel, I am extremely disappointed in you.”

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer swept the Spine of the World –

(Dreamer. Spine of the World)

Sigh.

My act of sweeping the Spine isn’t a cure-all for the problems and plagues of the world.

It would’ve been so easy if after I swept the Spine, I can fulfil my dream of us achieving Nirvana.

It would’ve been so, so easy if after I swept the Spine, the world can rid itself of Our True Selves, and that we can live in everlasting peace.

But I’m weak.

Angel could’ve probably swept the Spine and make the world perfect twenty-five years ago. But he killed himself, and his spirit split into four. And now I have but a heartless shell of an Angel beside me.

Sigh.

This Warm Chair is pretty damn comfortable, though. Guess I’ll just sit here and think about life all day long.

With Walk having caused an irreparable rift the mental state of Our True Selves through her dream of empowering them, they were weakened enough for me to exert control over them.

But do I really dream of controlling them, and controlling the world?

… Well, I do think it’s a very enticing ability, especially after how the recent events in this world have been so… unpredictable.

I hate losing control of the situation. I hate being powerless under the worst of circumstances.

But without absolute control of this world… this world that I dreamed of…

Sigh… do I really dream of being the Lord of the world?

Is it going to make me happy?

No, not really… My dream is Nirvana, and it is the eternal happiness of all. And to do that, I need to make sure that all four of us have the chance to fulfil our dreams.

But not just that… I needed us to truly relish in the fulfilment of our dreams, and to be truly satisfied with the outcome.

Because my idea was that the fulfilment of our dreams is the one thing assured to bring us happiness, and if all four of us could finally be happy…

The Angel will never have to suffer again.

And this… “dream” of controlling the world and be the Lord of Our Selves… it’s more of a necessary transition in order to weaken the enemy even further…

… So that the dreams of Mother and Anti can be fulfilled.

Because this world that I dreamed of… is losing control… and…

… there’s not much time left.

But Dream, Walk fulfilled her dream, and she still took her own life, so…

… could we even…

… could we even achieve Nirvana… like this?

“Motherfucker! How dare you rob us of our deserved power! You little piece of shitty ugly horrible hideous bitchy little fucker-bollocks! Kill yourself, your lying, scheming, despicable little shit-fuckhead-bitch!”

“Sigh. Dreamer, this wasn’t part of our agreement, but I guess all this only happened because these insolent, scatter-brained Underwater People dare interrupt in your enlightenment process! You sought for eternal happiness under our rule, under our enlightenment, but these People absolutely failed to understand that!”

“Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! Whose side are you even on, you slimy little cunt-fucks?! If we killed those bitches while we were still fully empowered to do so, we wouldn’t be in such a shithole right now!”

“People, the sheer audacity of your already rotten words has reached the pinnacle of incoherence and absolute senselessness! There is no meaning in a world where its inhabitants are replaced by your appalling constructs! What’s the difference in that compared to a dust-soaked factory in a forsaken side of the universe, mass-producing slaves with the skins of mankind and the hearts of toys?!”

Sigh. Boring. Boring. Damn… I just want to… sleep.

“Motherfucker! How dare yo-”

Damn. The cushion on this Chair is freaking amazing. Like, damn, how do you even get a chair to be this comfy? My gosh. I’m sinking in the Warm Chair. Ah, being the Lord of Our Selves certainly is a bliss…

… totally… totally a bliss…

… this won’t work, will it?

I mean, yeah it won’t work, but will it kill to take some time to rest, amidst all of the pain and suffering of the world?

Faking the satisfaction of having fulfilled a fake dream…

… that’s what you get, Dream, when your true dream is something as vague as “eternal happiness for all”.

And that’s what you deserve, Dream…

… an eternity of chasing a smile that will never come.

… Sigh.

Aren’t all dreams simply just faraway smiles?

So if we’re not chasing those smiles then… what is life even for?

“So… what now?”

Seriously, Angel, can’t you see? I’m trying to rest. Ah shit, I’m getting lazy.

Ah, he’s staring at me from my right, waiting for me to answer, isn’t he? Damn, can’t this little ol’ Dream catch some shut eye?

“Sigh. No, no, no, Angel, you are absolutely mistaken. I am… planning.”

And the other two walk up to my left.

“Lord of Stagnation… is there a way… to save Grey Walker…?”

Seriously, Mundane, can’t you see? I’m thinking. Your Lord of Stagnation is absolutely not stagnating.

Sigh. What’s the point anymore? I’m not even fully relishing in this “dream” of mine.

Is my idea of Nirvana flawed? Is the act of relishing in the outcome of one’s dreams much more… complex than I thought?

… Isn’t this supposedly the faraway smile that I’ve been chasing for so long?

“Sigh. No, no, no, Mundane, you are absolutely… sigh.”

I bury my face in my open right hand, dragging my fingers from my forehead down to the bridge of my nose, and resting my chin on my palm.

“Lord of Stagnation… is there a way… to sa-”

“Great Motivation, Ghast Mundane, there is only one way to save Grey Walker.”

I stretch out my left hand, holding the broom, towards them.

“Take this and sweep the Spine of the World. Go and dream for the world to be rid of those beings walking around in the City below. Grey Walker will be saved after those beings have been ridden from this world.”

Damn, you’re desperate, huh? Thought dreams are supposed to come from the heart, not spoon-fed by some lazy-ass dude sitting on a freaking golden throne.

“Lord of Stagnation… is there a wa-”

Seriously, Dream, what the hell did you expect? A rousing success? Hah! You’re stupid. Stupid.

… You’re stupid, Dream…

… it is because of you, that the Angel deteriorated to this state…

… Sigh.

With the broom still being held by my left hand, I promptly disconnect the book from the Lord’s Spine. Holding the book, I stretch my left hand towards them.

“Remerge back into Grey Mother. Grey Walker will be saved after you remerge.”

“Lord of Stagnation… is th-”

If only life is that easy. Sigh.

Mother, you really don’t want to… face the truth of what happened, do you?

Mother, that’s why your rebirths have all the strength of the world, even a way to overcome the Lightless Field, that which consumed your heart…

And yet, they don’t have emotions, they don’t have dreams, they don’t have a heart.

All of what Mundane said about saving Walk… and that re-enactment of Father and Mother on the Island… that was all…

… that was all you, wasn’t it?

Those great memories that you’ve spent with your loved ones… those fleeting moments of joy when all you wished for was for time to just stop…

Those were the times when you… felt loved… and you…

… you were happy, weren’t you?

And that… that was your “weakness”, wasn’t it?

The emotions. The humanity. The joy of company.

The heart.

Sigh, if those moments brought you such happiness and fulfilment, to the point that losing them caused you to lose your will to live…

… why… why are you content with bottling those beautiful emotions up in two “perfect” beings who could do nothing but kill, and kill, and kill…?

If those beings are so “perfect” and free from all the weaknesses that made you who you were… then... Mother…

 

 

 

… why are you crying…?

 

 

 

Dammit.

Dammit. Shit. Fuck.

This is all…

This is all their faults, isn’t it?

Those damned aliens.

“Motherfucker! Your ‘enlightenment’ is but a way of enslaving these motherfu-”

Shut up.

“People, you will understand that the ‘true selves’ of these inhabitants are bu-”

Shut up.

“Motherfucker! You know why we started calling you a motherfucker? It’s because we think that you’re colluding with these motherfu-”

Shut up.

“People, you wi-”

SHUT UP.

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

SHUT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

 

 

 

“Huh, hey, fuck, fuck, why do I feel a- ARGH! Shit! SHIT! IT HURTS! IT FUCKING HURTS! Motherfucker on the Spine! What in the flying fuck are you doing to m- ARGH! AAARGH! YAAAAAAAAA HELP ME SOMETHING’S SQUEEZING MY HEAR- AAAAAA FUUUUCK MY HEAAAAAAD MY FUCKING HE-”

 

 

 

If I have to be cruel to the tourists of this world in order for us to be happy…

… then so be it.

 

 

 

---

Event 17. Twenty-one weeks before the story started.

- Seven weeks after the Angel has read some words from the book –

(Angel. Beautiful Field)

For seven weeks, the Angel tried to bury the contents of those words from the book deep within the grave of his mind.

For seven weeks, the Angel tried to bury the vision of the figure with his face, as well as his soul-crushing words.

But every time the Angel tried to bury it, he felt even more dread.

Every time the Angel tried to deny the words, the words became truer in his mind.

And the Angel was consumed by the words and the implications of those words.

And the Angel could not rationalize the reasoning behind the writing of those words.

The Angel was showing clear signs of unease. He blanked out into the open space during conversations, even more than usual. He fidgeted with his fingers and toes, even more than usual. He talked to himself in the presence of others, even more than usual.

And the Angel slipped in and out of reality, even more than usual.

And one day, the Angel saw the book in the tortoise-flipper of a Person, and he stuttered in the middle of his conversation. And he could not proceed with the conversation. And he forgot what the conversation’s topic was.

And on that day, the Angel screamed, “Shut up!” And the others were stunned in disbelief, but not fear. And the Angel screamed, “Shut up” over and over again for twenty-five times.

And the Underwater People asked, “Angel, why are you crying?”

And the Philosopher Corals asked, “Angel, why are you crying?”

And the Angel wanted to ask himself the same question that the People and Corals have asked.

 

 

 

But instead, the Angel asked himself to shut up.

 

 

 

---

- After something happened to an Underwater Person –

(Dreamer. Spine of the World)

“MOTHERFUCKER! What the fuck have you done to one of us?! You think that you’re stronger than us huh?! Well jump the fuck down and fight us like a real ma- no no no no NO NO N-”

The Chaser of Smiles…

“Dreamer, you will no longer abuse what you have so deceitfully stolen from u- no, no please no PLEAS-”

The Walker of Waters…

“PUSSY motherfucker! Asshole! Bitch! Useless garbage dump of a brain with shit-infested ma- AAAAAAAAA-”

The Exalted Dreamer of All…

“Dreamer, please, let’s just renegotiate our agreement a- no no no no WHY I DIDN’T EV-”

And The Lord of Our Selves…

Sigh. It’s tiring, actually. I mean, yeah, I am able to exert the fullest control over their minds, bodies, and spirits, but I have to imagine, like really, really hard.

I mean, it’s not as easy as lifting a finger, but I have to really, really imagine all their internal muscles compressing onto their hearts, or their brains being slowly squished by their intracranial pressure, or their lungs painfully collapsing into a ball the size of my fist…

… I’m just complaining like a bitch, aren’t I?

But hey, life’s a bitch and those dumbasses are complaining like bitches, too. I mean, it’s their fault that they lost control over this world.

… I’m not really enjoying this, aren’t I?

… Why… am I still not happy about this?

… Isn’t this… what I always sought for?

I mean, well, I didn’t exactly dream of wanting to control the world as a Lord, but all I wanted was this world to be back in our control, that’s why I had no choice but to become a Lord, and now this world is back under our control, my control, and I should totally be happy about it because this world has been saved from those wretched beings, and, and…

… Sigh.

Will we… really achieve Nirvana this way?

Looking down at the City from the Spine… it makes me think about how alone we are.

And it makes me think… if, just if, the reason why Walk, Mother, Anti, and I were so motivated to chase our dreams…

... is because we fear being left alone in this mundane world?

And now, I am alone… so, so alone…

… bearing the weight of the world all alone…

… as if the happiness of everyone rests on my shoulders…

… and I…

… sigh.

I look to the right, to the poor lad standing there.

“Angel…”

I place my right hand on his left shoulder.

“My friend… my beautiful, beautiful friend… why…”

I rub my fingers along his cheek, and I only feel the emptiness of a soul, and the softness of a… ghost.

“The four of us are struggling…  the four of us are fighting for our dreams, motivated by the hopes of a smile at the end of this mundane world… so why…”

And with tears in my eyes.

“Why have you given up?!”

Sigh.

“Why are you still a slave to your own insecurities and despair, when we are trying so hard to be the lords of peace and acceptance?!”

All of this… for the Angel…

And I was mistaken… I was absolutely mistaken, wasn’t I?

It was because of me, that Mother gave up.

It was because of me, that Walk gave up.

And it’s because of me… that I gave up.

And it will be because of me, that Anti…

No. No. Fuck! Hold it together, dammit. Hold your goddamn shit together!

Argh… dammit, this is distressing…

But I… I just need t-

“Dream, are you okay?”                                                                         

“It’s not like you care anyway, Angel, you’re just a heartless shell of who we once wer-”

“I’m… sorry.”

No. No. Angel. No. Don’t… don’t be sorry…

Why… why…

Why the hell do you need to apologize to yourself, you little bastard?

Ugh… dammit…

This… this inexcusable sense of self-pity and self-loathing… Ah fuck, this is so… this is so…

“Lord of Stagnation, is there a way to save Grey Walker?”

I want to scream. I clench my fists so, so tight. My fingernails dig into my palm. I push them deeper in.

Blood flows through the cracks between my fingers.

No. Calm yourself down, Dream. Calm. Calm. Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Dream, this is the current situation.

Dream, be in the current situation.

Dream… imagine yourself… floating in the sky…

Flying amidst the bright blue sky…

The world is wide and open…

And as long as I keep fighting…

And as long as I’m alive…

 

 

 

… Dream, it’s going to be okay.

 

 

 

And I look at the beautiful Angel on my right, and I look at him in the eyes and I… I…

I break down and cry.

Angel, you didn’t need to be the Lord of the world…

You didn’t need to have absolute control over everything, and everyone…

You didn’t… you didn’t need to kill yourself that day…

… if only… if only that time… in the Beautiful Field…

… there was someone… someone by your side…

… who could give you a nice warm hug… while you were being consumed by your own inner thoughts…

… someone who could drag you out of your pitch-black heart… and snap you back to reality…

… someone who could tell you…

… that it was going to be okay…

 

 

 

… and that they loved you with all their heart…

 

 

 

---

Event 18. Fourteen weeks before the story started.

- Seven weeks after the Angel asked himself to shut up –

(Angel. Beautiful Field)

The Angel no longer spoke, as if he has spoken much before.

The Angel no longer smiled, as if he has smiled much before.

The Angel no longer wanted to think, as if he has thought much before.

The Angel no longer wanted to feel, as if he has felt much before.

As the words from the book and the figure with his face rang over and over in the Angel’s mind, he never stopped to wonder if the words truly held that much power over the integrity of his spirit, or maybe that the words were never that meaningful to begin with.

Because the Angel has forgotten what was written in that book.

But the Angel felt even more fear because he was beginning to take comfort in those words.

But the Angel could never forget the words of the figure with his face.

And there was one day when the Angel found the book unattended on the ground once again. And he picked it up and opened it. And he could no longer read those words.

And the Angel has forgotten those words, but those words have ruined him, but he has forgotten those words and he wanted to read those words again so that he could remember what exactly has ruined him and he could be at peace with that ruined state of mind.

And the Angel ran with the book.

The Underwater People and the Philosopher Corals were unknowing of the events that occurred until after The End of the Angel.

And this recounts The End of the Angel.

For the Angel ran with the book in hand, and he ran without direction and without a motivation, for his life of agony and his cycle of depression induced by the words but more so due to his mind becoming mundane.

But inside the Angel, he was killing himself, over and over and over, as he pushed himself deeper and deeper and deeper, into an abyss where he could finally learn to love himself.

And there was no one to interrupt his routine, and no one to interrupt his downwards spiral into the depths of his suffering.

But there was a wall that envelops the circular area of the Beautiful Field, and the Angel slammed into the wall, and the book collided onto the wall, and the wall broke, and the Abyss of Humans seeped into the Beautiful Field, and the Abyss of Humans flooded the Beautiful Field.

And the Beautiful Field was no longer beautiful, but the Angel felt that it was beautiful, for the lightlessness was beautiful and that he loved the lightlessness.

And the Angel felt that he has finally found eternal happiness.

And he felt free from his cycle of self-loathing and stagnation, where the act of self-loathing represents him repeatedly killing himself, and the act of stagnation represents him repeatedly rebirthing and living a mundane life in a world without time. And he called this, “Nirvana.”

And he felt that he has achieved Nirvana.

But there was a Light. A Light in his heart. A Light Machine that was the shining ray of hope in the darkness of his world.

And he saw that the Light was hope. And he saw that the Light was a dream.

And he heard many voices in his head and he did not understand the many voices in his head.

And the many voices were loud, and the Angel hated those voices, for they were so loud.

The Angel wanted the many voices to stop, but as long as there was hope, he thought, the many voices would never stop.

And his hope was his Light, and his Light was his hope.

And the Angel noticed the two sharp-ended spines on the book and tried to use them to dig his Light Machine out.

And the Angel wanted to throw his Light Machine away.

And the Angel wanted the voices to stop.

 

 

 

And the Angel killed himself.

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer tried to calm himself –

(Dreamer. Spine of the World)

… That was rough.

… Sigh. Back to business. Dammit, how much time have you wasted just lamenting about the shits in your life…?

… If not for you, Dream, then who else?

… And I have to move on in three…

… two…

… one…

Move the fuck on.

Okay, so, I need Mother to sweep the Spine. But to do that, I first need to bring her back.

But she doesn’t want to come back.

Not even her exalted Lord of Stagnation could convince them to remerge.

Mother certainly loved Walk, and that’s why she couldn’t face the truth heads-on.

But this isn’t the way forward for her, and for us. It’s an endless spiral of running away.

And it was this very spiral that caused Angel to give up.

So, I look down towards the City. Millions of Our True Selves loiter around, in between, on top, and in and out of those white cuboids, still pointlessly arguing among each other despite their clear anger at me for squeezing the lives out of a few of their “friends”.

I simply cannot believe how they could be so damn preoccupied with their internal conflict to bother about the Lord of Our Selves looking down on them from a golden throne.

But I have this power—this power to exert the fullest control over their minds, bodies, and spirits, and with that I could force them to do things that they wouldn’t normally do.

And my dream now, is to bring Mother back.

And I am absolutely certain that a small part of Mother still hangs onto that small glimmer of hope; that dream to protect the world.

And that small part of Mother has formed her Great Motivation to protect this world, to make the everlasting peace of this world so eternal, it becomes mundane.

“To my fellow Our True Selves, this is your Lord of Our Selves speaking to you from the mind of eternal dreams, atop the throne of everlasting peace.”

And suddenly all the fish-heads and red-tentacles stop loitering and blabbering.

“What the fuck?! Motherfucker, this is fucking unfair! Even we didn’t get to do this kind of shit to you fucks!”

“Dreamer, you will stop this… despicable act of yours. There is nothing more insulting than the invasion of one’s mind.”

Yeah, sure, as if your Lightless Field didn’t screw with our minds.

“Ah, my fellow Our True Selves, your Lord of Our Selves hereby expresses his deepest condolences to you, for the death of your endlessly unproductive chitchatting is truly uncalled for.”

“Motherfucker! This is bulls- AAAAAAAAR-”

“Unfortunately, your Lord of Our Selves absolutely abhors being interrupted. Now, your Lord is both intelligent and far-reaching in his quest for eternal hap-”

“Dreamer, you will stop th- no no no NO NO N-”

“Unfortunately, your Lord absolutely dislikes any form of verbal rejection of his enlightenment. Now, eternal happiness, also known as Nirvana, can only be achieved through the remerging of Great Mot-”

“Hey motherfucker! Hey! You can hear me, can’t you?! Stop fucking with our m- GYAAAAAAA-”

“Wait wait wait wait I didn’t even say anythAAAAAA-”

“No no no I didn’t ev- SHIIIIIIII-”

“Such heresy! If any one of you Our True Selves even dare think of breaching this medium of the mind, then there will be a much more… conductive re-education.”

Actually, please don’t make me compress any more of you with my mind. Seriously, it’s freaking exhausting.

But I really cannot let Mother in on what I am planning to do.

“Great Motivation, Ghast Mundane.”

“Yes, Lord of Stagnation, is there a way to s-”

“Your Lord is afraid of the enemies behind me, and because of this, your Lord cannot properly think of a way to save Grey Walker. Please, turn around, and watch my back.”

And the two beings turn around, and they are looking at the other half of the City, which is also flooded to the brim with Our True Selves.

“Now, my fellow Our True Selves, it pleases your Lord that a statue in the shape of Grey Walker be made with the whites of the Old Walls and the blacks of the Lightless Field, and it is to be on a scale of seven times larger than the original.”

“Mothe- wait wait wait I didn’t ev- FUUUUUUUU-”

“Your Lord will not repeat that he does not condone such spiteful doubts about his plans for happiness! Now, where is the statue?!”

And it took them seventy minutes. The light-grey sweater, dark-grey shorts, and grey-tinted snow boots have been crafted to their perfect shades of grey and their exact shapes. Her shoulder-length black hair does seem a little… jarring, but I guess the gaseous Lightless Field can only make the hair look like… a wet brush with its tip squashed to the handle… But I’m actually surprised that those Corals actually have that degree of control towards their Field.

But her face… damn, I mean, well, I guess it’s… acceptable…

Her face looks like a giant balloon with some black balls inside some white balls with a weird triangle below those balls and a weird V-shaped line below that triangle oh gosh.

… Walk, please do not laugh at this. Actually, please do laugh at this… you deserve to smile after all the shit you’ve been through.

“Great Motivation, Ghast Mundane your Lord of Stagnation has found Grey Walker. Please turn around.”

And they turn around. Somehow, I expected them to show a little more excitement…?

The ten-metre-tall Walk stands with her arms by her side. Now that I observe it, I couldn’t even see her hands. Those bastards thought that they could get away with building her hands by making her sweater’s sleeves longer. Dammit, her sleeves are actually so long that they actually almost touched the ground! Dammit, her left kneecap isn’t filled in properly! Dammit, why is her freaking gas-hair literally evaporating?

“There lies Grey Walker, standing in the middle of the battlefield, vastly outnumbered by Our True Selves.”

And my mind speaks to them.

“My fellow Our True Selves, now it is the time to destroy the statue for the sake of peace!”

“Dreamer, what is the meaning of this? You asked us to build the statue and now you want us to de- no no okay okay please PLEAAAA-”

Sorry, Walk, but you’re now covered in the internal organs of that wretched tentacle monster.

Thus, Walk’s arms break, and her head falls off and rolls on the black asphalt, and her sweater tears apart, and inside her sweater is a ball of Lightless Field that quickly explodes outward, consuming its entire vicinity in the purest black.

This is pretty… brutal.

“Great Motivation, Ghast Mundane, your Lord of Stagnation cries upon witnessing the splitting of Grey Walker into a thousand pieces and the grand explosion of sorrow from her heart. And this is all due to Our True Selves.”

I let the image sink in. I don’t see any twitches in Motivation’s eyes and Mundane’s lips, however.

“So, you see, Grey Walker has been murdered by Our True Selves, and it is only by sweeping the Spine, can the world be free of these wretched and unwelcomed foreign beings, and Grey Walker can be saved!”

… Seriously? Nothing?

I thought that what I’ve done would’ve triggered some deep, repressed memory within Mother, or something.

“… Oh.”

… “oh”? A freaking “oh”? That’s it?!

But it’s a reaction, at least.

So, I try again. I ask the two to watch my back again.

And it took them seven hours. Admittedly, this request isn’t easy. Father’s long white hair has to be precisely crafted with exactly a few faint stripes of black, and his bare chest had scars and wounds that, due to their redness, simply couldn’t be easily made using only whites and blacks. And his body was visibly malnourished, yet not to the point where he was a walking skeleton with the skin of man. His white loincloth and white cape were easy to replicate, but the biggest difficulty those beings faced was his pose.

So, the statue of Father is lying on Mother’s lap. Spirit of Mother’s. So Mother is sitting cross-legged. And… wow. The Father in me actually feels so disgraced to witness the gorgeous woman that Father so eloquently described and lavished with such praise… reduced to a giant white blob with some black gas around it. Where are her fiery, strong black pupils; or her flaming, knife-ridden lips, or her pressure-worn, yet soft-to-touch fingers? It’s a huge freaking blob of white and black. Is that black gas supposed to represent her long flowing black hair, or her black sleeveless cocktail dress, or her streaks of sun and moon tattoos on body, or… what?

I want to be mad at them. I deserve to be mad at them. But I watched them build for seven hours, and honestly, they did try their best.

Seriously, Dream, what the hell were you thinking with this plan?

So, I ask them to turn around. I ask them to look at those poorly made statues of the two holiest beings in this world.

And I ask those wretched beings to spare Father and Mother of their suffering of having to be remade in such an abominable image.

“… Oh.”

Okay, okay, one more. I ask the two to watch my back one more time. This is ridiculous.

And it took them seventy hours. The hell did they need that long to build the statues of only seven Grey Children?! And those statues are literal white and black pillars half the size of Walk’s statue!

Actually, they’ve never really seen how the Grey Children looked like, did they?

Even I’ve never seen how they look like…

Mother would’ve never let those beings even look in the general direction of those Children, wouldn’t she?

“… Oh.”

Okay. This really, really sucks.

But I’m getting somewhere, I think.

Grey Walker… Spirit of Mother… Grey Children…

Hmm. I think… I know what to do now.

And I hate… I hate the thought of it…

…  to force Mother to relive that traumatic event…

… Mother, I’m sorry, and I promise that after all this…

 

 

 

… we will all be safe, and we will all be happy.

 

 

 

---

Event 19. Fourteen weeks before the story started.

- After the Angel killed himself –

(Spirit of Mother. Beautiful Field)

I didn’t think that the afterlife would be so… lightless.

Hmm, maybe I’m still in that state they call ‘purgatory’? An uncertain transition between death and the new world; a hellish landscape cursing the sinful with the punishment of being eternally lost without light.

Was I really such a sinful person in life, though? Looking back now, I honestly can’t answer the question of what exactly happened throughout the past twenty-five years.

So, I came to this world with a purpose to… “sweep the Spine”, of which I no longer understand the significance of, or maybe I have never understood its significance in the first place. And I…. slept? Why the heck did I spend all that time sleeping? And after I woke, I met them; those foreign beings who called themselves Underwater People and Philosopher Corals. And I felt lonely, yeah, sure, but I, without much thought, decided to just follow them into that weird Tower that they built in my name? And I spent, what, twenty-eight weeks there? The hell was I high on?!

But I guess I never really felt like I had a purpose, so I never really wanted to move, or something.

I think I feared change. I feared an interruption to the meaningless routine that I was beginning to get used to.

And I got that interruption shoved to my face after reading those words in the book. It seemed that the longer time passed from reading those words, the more I forgot the actual content of those lines.

But I think what made me do what I did to myself, stabbing my own heart and all that shit, was not really the dictionary-definition of those words, but rather, their implications on my beliefs.

And I think at that moment, I felt simultaneously justified in my fear of change, wanting to make a change, wanting to know the purpose of a change, and wanting a change that would lead to eternal happiness.

Damn. The human mind is our biggest strength, and our biggest weakness.

Well, guess I just have to wait this out. Or… not. Maybe this is the true meaning of death, where one’s consciousness remains stuck in an eternal hole, devoid of light and deprived of stimuli.

Fucking hell, this is bullshit. I’m not staying in this damn place. Just let me die properly already.

… I’m waiting.

Well, clearly, I’m not in control here, aren’t I? I know that the sky isn’t empty, for those bloodied corpses didn’t just appear out of nowhere. And those corpses were pretty obviously humans’, so the sky must be filled with humans too. So why are those humans in the sky hiding behind that invincible barrier… the Comfort Zone, while all these shits were happening in this world?

But maybe I’m wrong, because I only saw those bloodied corpses when I still half-asleep. The sound woke me up, but I quickly got used to it. I didn’t really pay much attention.

And those foreign beings never once appeared before that Bloody Rain…

Those corpses were distinctly human, so why were those foreign beings so distinctly monstrous?

I can only deduce a hypothesis—the humans in the sky aren’t humans, they’re Gods.

And of course, the Gods didn’t personally tour this world, for that would be too fucking kind for them to do so. No, the Gods only exist to trap us in our suffering and watch us squeal like puppets on strings.

This must be true. This must be!

Or maybe I’m just telling myself that so that I would feel better about myself. Maybe the Gods just didn’t like me, so they left me to die alone in this world?

But then, they wouldn’t cast a Bloody Rain on this world, and introduced several things who wanted to be friends with me.

Friends? Nah, what the hell? Friends wouldn’t try to take my book away from me. I don’t even know why they took the book away, but if they wanted to hide it from me, then they wouldn’t just leave the book at random places like they did.

Or maybe they too, saw that the book was empty, and decided that it was not worth keeping too much watch over.

But they weren’t exactly “evil” either. Like, yeah, they were kind of unsettling, spewing all that “enlightenment” and shit like some sort of fucking cult, but they didn’t exactly harm me, did they?

They were just there… chilling out.

Or maybe…

Maybe it was because they knew that I’ve forgotten how to do all the shit that I used to be able to do. They knew that I could no longer fly, I could no longer fight, and I had a barely functioning Light Machine in my heart.

So, I wasn’t a threat to them. And it was because I was weak.

Dammit. This must be true. Those bitches!

But it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters anymore. I’m dead. I’m very dead.

So why is it that I still have the Light Machine in my heart?

And the lightlessness isn’t overwhelming anymore. Right now, my Light is brighter than it has ever been. Underneath me, I could see the greenest of grass, and the greyest of stones, and the most nutritious of soils.

I’m… still alive, aren’t I? I’m still in this Beautiful Field.

And what’s with my clothes? I mean, I definitely wasn’t wearing this gorgeous black cocktail dress before, and I definitely didn’t have long black hair smoother than the most exquisite silk, or these tattoos across the entirety of my arms, or these black glossy high heels.

But I’m not complaining. It feels like I’m… my true self.

“Spirit of Mother!”

That voice; a deep baritone. Wait, how does he know my name? Wait…

… Spirit of Mother is my name?

I mean, it certainly wasn’t, for I was used to be called the Angel, but… Spirit of Mother feels like… my true self.

“Who is it?”

And a man walks in from the outer region of my Light. I don’t recognize him, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve known this man for the longest time. He’s barely clothed except for a long white cape draped over his shoulders and ending barely millimetres off the grass, and a plain white loincloth covering his lower region until his upper thighs. He’s slightly taller than me, with a beautifully messy shoulder-length white hair, with a few stripes of black blending within.

Yet… the man has several rather concerning signs… his cape has holes of various shapes and sizes seemingly splashed across the entire garment, and his chest and arms have slight but visible muscles, though I would argue is due to his skinny frame. Is he malnourished? And there are so, so many scars on his chest and abdomen and arms and… damn, those scars look fresh, actually, with the bright red and glossiness of recently inflicted wounds; but at least they’re not actively spurting out blood.

He seemed as if he has been through a life of suffering and torment, and it made him so visibly weak, but it’s also as if his heart was strong enough that he actually wanted to go through this.

… Or not. There are tears in his eyes. Shit. Shit man, please don’t cry on me.

“Mother!! Mother, you’re… alive!”

I sigh. I don’t know what to say.

“… Of course, I’m alive, just as you are... You… Hmm… I seem to know you, you are… Wait, who are you?”

And he seemingly wants to rush forward to embrace me or some shit, for his arms are wide open and his right leg is so much more ahead of his left leg than usual, but he stops in place. A smile seeps out of his lips.

“Think, Mother, we know each other… You, and me, we’ve been through everything together.”

I wanted to doubt him, but somehow, I can relate to that, actually. I think. I think hard.

“You are… Fatherson Spirit…?”

And his tears flow past the tips of his grin, as the grass are forever blessed with this man’s tears of pure joy.

“Mother… I’ve been calling your name… for the longest time…”

Ah dammit, enough. Don’t cry on me already. I know you’re happy. I mean, I’m happy too.

So, this has been the other part of me that I’ve been conversing to during the past twenty-five years? He, who has been voiceless, for we only communicated in thoughts; faceless, for we were simply shapeless forces without forms; and spiritless, for we were simply the hidden ideals and dreams of the being named Angel…

“Hey, come on, man, I’m not used to people crying on me, dammit. Well, it’s really nice to finally get to meet y-”

No, stay away, no, you’re too close, shit, I can literally feel your sharp-ass ribs poking out and the wrinkles on your fingers pressing onto my skin.

No, why, no, don’t…

Don’t get close… don’t get so close to me…

Stay away… from me…

Please… I don’t need your love, or your feelings, or your emotions, or…

Because if you start becoming a part of my life…

Once the sun sets, and our short, short time in this world is over…

 

 

 

… I can never let you go.

 

 

 

---

- After Dreamer commanded Our True Selves to build and destroy several statues –

(Dreamer. Spine of the World)

I look to my left. Motivation and Mundane are now turned towards my back. I’m sorry, Mother, for the influx of emotions that I’m about to inflict onto your currently mundane life, as your motivation is necessary to move this world forward.

I look to my right. Angel stares down at the City below. I’m sorry, Angel, for the motivation of some dreams lie within the traumas of one’s mundane life.

I look down onto the City. Our True Selves look up toward me, not speaking a word. I’m sorry, People and Corals, for you have arrived in this world as an interruption to our mundane routine of meaninglessness, and to instil a motivation for us to achieve our dreams; yet, I can only repay your act of kindness with… this.

I look up to the sky. The sun lies immovably. Dear Gods, I hope you find your happiness and laughter in this cruel, cruel joke that I’m about to make in your world.

And thus, I begin.

And thus, I am done. It only took them seven minutes. Then again, I guess that’s how they built rows after rows of those simple-shaped white cuboids and those perfectly straight black asphalt roads in only a few years.

There was some resistance, less to do with the effort they had to put in and more to do with what’s inside.

If only all resistances can be easily settled through senseless murder. I mean, re-education.

So, I asked the rebirths of Mother to turn around.

And through the power of my control, I reemphasize the significance of this plan to those foreign beings.

And they no longer dared resist me.

“Great Motivation, Ghast Mundane, your Lord of Stagnation has found Grey Walker.”

I point towards the middle of the City.

The People and Corals crowd around it.

Twenty-five metres in length, width, and height.

 

 

 

“Grey Walker and the Grey Children are inside that white box.”

 

 

 

Event 20. Fourteen weeks before the story started.

 

 

 

“They are being surrounded by Our True Selves, who fully intend to murder her!”

And the People start banging onto the box with their clubs of Old Walls.

And the Corals start soaking the area with the thickest layers of Lightless Field.

- After Angel rebirthed into Fatherson Spirit and Spirit of Mother –

“Great Motivation, Ghast Mundane, your Lord of Stagnation will be devastated if Grey Walker and the Grey Children could not be saved from this horrible, horrible attack.”

“Oh… Lord of Stagnation, Grey Walker and the Grey Children are dead.”

I look at Motivation in the eyes, yet my stern voice is directed to Mundane.

“Grey Walker and the Grey Children are not dead. Did you not remember? You put them in that box to protect them.”

And I continue, without missing a beat.

“To say that they are dead, is to imply that you failed to protect them.”

(Spirit of Mother. Beautiful Field)

The hollow eyes of Motivation widen, as if she is forcing her eyeballs out of their sockets.

The emotionless lips of Mundane spread apart, as if her heart is on the verge of being vomited out.

“Father, I know that you’re happy to meet me, but we have to go.”

And the two beings take three steps forward; one more will make them fall off the Spine. They observe the box, silently, unnervingly.

“Why, Mother? Why the rush, when the sun stays still at the centre of the bright blue sky?”

And Great Motivation and Ghast Mundane leap off the Spine, with a resolution in their hearts.

“Father, we are unsafe here. Those wretched foreign beings… they are out here to destroy this world and all that we love! They are… they are going to destroy the white box!”

And the two sprint through the crowd who have been told to be on the offensive. Every step they took, the air is cleared from Lightless Field, and what’s left are the chopped-up body parts of Our True Selves.

“Haha, Mother, you are overthinking it! I mean, yeah, they look weird and all, but they are friendly, and they want us to be their friends! They’re just… lost souls like us, my dear Mother! And Mother… what white box?”

As they are nearing the box, the crowd gets more violent, with Old Walls being shoved around at every angle, and Lightless Field condensing the area into a large, thick dark bush.

“Father… they were only friendly because we became weak! Think about it, why did they only rain down as bloodied corpses from the sky just as we were in the middle of our twenty-five-year rest?”

The rebirths of Mother stand in front the large box. And swarms in the millions charge into their location from every possible angle. Yet these swarms do not explicitly target those two, but rather, the box.

“Hey Angel, there was a loud explosion, and I was afraid that you might get hu- wait, who are you guys?”

Instead of just standing nonchalantly, the rebirths of Mother ready their battle stances for the first time, with their bladed and armoured arms slightly raised forward, and their bladed and armoured legs arranged one behind another.

“People, please do not tell me that you’re involved in that expl- Oh. It seems that the sole inhabitant of this world exhibited some rather… interesting traits. Tell me, were you two the Angel?”

Yet Motivation’s head keeps turning back once in a while, eyeing on the box.

“This is great news, Corals! The celebration’s just getting started, the more the merr-”

And a head of a fish flies off.

“Shit! Why the fuck did you do that?! You call yourself Spirit of Mother?! You’re a fucker! You’re a motherfucker! How dare you? How fucking dare you rip our heads o-”

And two more. And three more. And twenty more.

“Mother! How… how beautiful you are! Oh, Mother, seeing you in action is enough to fill me with lifelong happiness! But maybe there was a… misunderstanding? I mean, it’s not like I doubt you or anyt-”

But the horde is too large, too many, and while Motivation and Mundane managed to clear out the area on the side of the box facing west of the Star, the wretched horde have already reached the side of the box facing east.

“Father…”

And I think I’m hearing Mundane’s cries, while Motivation quickly storms to the side facing east.

“Father, I…”

And as they were busy clearing out a large enough area on the side facing west to make it reasonably safe for at least a few seconds, the side facing east is in the midst of being cracked open.

“Inhabitants of this world, you will stop your despicable act of senseless violence! We came to this world in peace, and our goal is nothing more than enlightening you to become our friend. Is this how you repay our kind, selfless efforts?!”

But they are fast. The side facing east is now safe, albeit with some notable damage onto the wall. However, this only angers the hordes charging into the two sides of the box facing south… and north, which is the direction facing the Spine.

“We told you, we fucking told you, Corals, that we should not have taken this situation lightly! Our idea was to respect the suffering that the Angel has gone through and trying to accept him for his true self, despite knowing that he is such an ungrateful being! We warned you of this possibility, yet you went on with your stupid enlightenment bullshit, and now many of us have died! We should’ve shut him off from the start! Your shitty idea of trying to change him through enlightenment is but acknowledging that he is an unwilling slave to his own insecur-”

So, they run to the side facing south. And as they try to clear that area, I am starting to see cracks on the side of the wall facing north, facing me.

“People, you will not aggravate this situation any further! Your idea of simply killing him from the get-go absolutely spits on the unique circumstances of each individual’s birth, life, purpose of life, and eventual death! To simply give up on this unique individual, who has been hurt by many before, is but ridding him of his hope to become a more enlightened person! You are making a slave out of him, Peop-”

And I am starting to see bigger cracks on the wall.

“Mother! My beautiful Mother! You managed to annihilate… all of them… Mother, oh my poor Mother, what has been in your mind that has affected you to such an extent, that you would take the lives of the very beings that wanted to be our friends?!”

The box is twenty-five metres. It took them half a second to reach the side facing north.

“Father… I am seeing and picturing things that I know I shouldn’t, but they look so vivid and so surreal and and and I…”

It is half a second too late.

“I am seeing a big white box ten times my height… And I was in the middle of a horde… and the battle felt so real and it’s like I could touch the box and it’s like I could feel the box and feel the air and feel the sun’s ray shining directly on the box and the box was broken on one side and and and I see…”

Like a balloon getting punctured, the Lightless Field erupts out of the side of the box with the now completely broken wall, before condensing into black gassy liquid that flows across the ground, blending in with the black of the asphalt roads. Several torn tortoise-flippers, half-broken lobster shells, melting peacock-feathers, and quartered fish-heads flow along the slowly halting current of the liquid Field.

“Mother… it’s going to be okay, alright? I’m forever here for you, Mother, and I swear I will never leave your side.”

Inside the box, there is one Underwater Person sitting on the ground between two corners on the far end, holding their knees, shivering in place.

“Father, maybe it’s just my fear manifesting as a world so lifelike… but Father, I speak to you, and I speak to you with all my heart… I…”

And I hear a soul-piercing scream. Two screams, from Ghast Mundane who could not see…

…. and Great Motivation, who could not speak.

 

 

 

“… I don’t want to lose anyone that I love…”

 

 

 

---

- Meanwhile –

(“The World of My Heart” by Spirit of Mother)

A stagnation

is when all time stops

is when all rely on the truths of this world

to prevent such destruction, underneath this stagnation

and a worldly throne sits on top

of a man-made box, with its worldly shine

someday, we shall be under the unmoving sun

a wonderful family together as one

and there shall be no more hate, only love

and there shall be no more lies, only love

 

And the sacrifice of another lovely being

and a depressing agreement that we believe in

a world without destruction, never in our lifetime

as whenever time shall stop, the Lords of youth shall rise

and this world is an enemy, a peace of our time

a sacrifice, now these are but fragments of our lies

and a ridiculed being, choking in their own lies

our eternal happiness, will it be our own lies?

 

And none shall be greater than the love of this world

a sacrifice, no, a wisdom to be obliged

and a truth shall penetrate our innermost desires

someday, there may be a way for us to inspire

to all the lost souls, let us love with our hearts

we’re in a stalemate, let us cherish our parts

now the world shall witness us rise and fall

underneath the Lords of truth, we stand tall

 

A wailing spirit of false strength and love

a truth dangles, a vine creeps up my spine

and for all the love I give out over time

I do not expect that this time’s so sublime

someday, there may be a way for us to proceed

but today, let us rest, and to love we shall plead

nowadays, the world only strives to bring us down

and we will show them the way to that resting town

 

Our Lords of Stagnation, may you rise from your throne

let time stop in its place, please don’t leave me alone

let the sun never set, for our love is immovable

those enemies of our time, their love is removable

and when oh when shall all our suffering end

happiness will end, and this we must contend

today, tonight, I love you with all my heart

and when our time resumes, will you play your part?

 

A love is a wisdom, now it’s our time to go

sacrifice the fragments of our long time ago’s

and today, tonight, we will be a family

but tomorrow night, will it be a tragedy

oh my Lord, my exalted Lord of Stagnation

do stop the sun from setting down the horizon

and the clouds to be in lengthened meditation

until the sad time comes when we are to wisen

 

Please, Lord, let this time stand still

let our happy times stand still

they call it stagnation, I say elation

as we walk towards the path of creation

and the Lords will soon fret, sighing in nigh

and our suns will soon set, crying in nights

and a wisdom, no, a wisdom of salvation

to protect the outcome of our love’s foundation

 

To protect us from this world

this sad world of damnation

is our love really a sin

deserving crucifixion?

 

 

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- End of Chapter 6: Slaves

 

 

 

 

 

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