Sadness painted the sky as if God had left it to rot; the darkness, permanent and very much perpetual. The sun had been missing for over a year now, its disappearance followed by the loss of hopes and dreams. The land below was not so different, lifeless and unfertile, as barren as the grimmest of moors. There's nothing but blood-colored clay and lost tokens of life, telling a tale of a world that used to be there.

Only a weak crimson moon served as illumination; a faint light against the darkness.

Sitting on a hill was a young Asian girl, wearing a sailor fuku and short blue skirt. She wore long white socks and brown leather shoes. Her ivory skin lacked a pink tint, her long frizzy hair bundled into twin ponytails, swaying in the wind. She had thick glasses and a grey sweater, sleeves engulfing half of her palms. Her eyes, too, were as grey as her attire.

She stared at the sky, thinking deep of where she'd been, how she got there. This place was supposed to be their haven – their little Shambhala, but the rough year had not been kind to her, constantly facing death and suffering. Now she looked at the dark skies with tears flowing from her eyes, hoping things would be different, praying she would stop fucking things up.

A marching sound emanated from behind, making the young girl get up and wipe her tears. She straightened her gait as she walked down, trying to look serious while hiding her uncertainty.

This is it… please don't screw up.

The group marching below bore tired faces; their exhaustion beginning to catch up to them. They couldn't stop to rest however; the cruel world did not allow them to. How their faces appeared contrasted how they looked, wearing colorful costumes of many pop culture heroes.

Some were comic book geeks in superhero costumes, wearing capes and tights, spandex and masks, vibranium shields and armor. There were otakus too dressed in wacky anime costumes, like Japanese gakurans, mechs, and fantasy samurai garbs. Gamers were present as well in their SPARTAN-II armors, diamond swords, and gravity guns. Besides them were also the film buffs, bookworms, tabletop nerds, and other sorts of geeks from various fandoms. No matter how magnificent their cosplays were, their faces spoke of despair.

Their faces changed the moment they saw the girl, a sudden stream of energy waking them from sadness to rage. They looked intently at her like a freak and an outsider; one who did not belong and should just stay away. Hate spread in their hearts as the girl walked with them. Though they continued their trek, they wished she would go away, or better yet, trip, fall, and die on the path.

She too wished that she didn't have to go with them, for she deserved this hate. Shame had gnawed away at what little happiness she had, leaving nothing but a cavity of negativity. No one hated her more than she did herself. She wished desperately to die today.

Her walk of shame didn't last long, as the group stopped on a cliff overlooking a large valley. Below was an old city, not yet visible for them to assess. So everyone took a seat and waited on what they should do next. Their destination was in front of them, but taking the first step was hazardous. For all they knew, the place was Hell itself, and the lord Satan was waiting inside.

"We're here now. Guess this is it, huh?" a young man in his twenties said to the crowd. He was a tall pale-faced redhead, sporting a combination of various Medieval and Steampunk costumes. He wore a black tricorn hat, a steel breastplate, gauntlets, with a leather duster coat serving as the final layer. In his chest was a picture of a sun, with a grinning face and red rays all around. He carried an assortment of weapons, from various swords, shields, staffs, and even a giant meat cleaver. The guy was literally dressed to slaughter.

All of the geeks present, thousands of them, turned towards him. "We've done everything to arrive at this moment. All that planning and surviving. All I ask of you right now is to summon every faith that you have, keep it in your hearts, and remember what we are striving for. If we succeed today, we can succeed in the next, and the next, until we finally get home!"

No cheers were heard, only silent nods and twitches of brows. The powerful speech was not enough to give them hope. There was no positivity for the people there; they knew many of them would die in their little incursion.

"So what do you think, Amp?" whispered a black-haired brown woman who came forward, as the rest of the geeks prepared. She wore a slim red and golden armor glistening in the sun, with rocket boosters on her feet and ion cannons on her forearms. "Should we attack now or wait? We're sitting ducks here."

Amp took a deep look at the valley below, synching his mind into the horizon, taking everything in and weighing their options. It would have been a great idea to give them time to mentally prepare, but in the end, he decided to take the other option. "No. We attack now. I wanted to give everyone a breather first, but you're right Catherine, we are in the open. We can't risk getting attacked here by a patrol, or getting our presence known by that city."

With the decision made, everyone was now ready for the assault, but before they disembarked, Catherine said one final thing, "The girl's here by the way."

"What?!" Amp said in surprise. "How?"

"I told her to be here."

"Why did you do that, Catherine?!"

"You may not think of it, but she's one of us too. She has the right to be here."

"That idiot's gonna get us all killed!"

Catherine didn't come there to argue, but she didn't regret what she did either. The girl suffered a lot like everyone, and she did not deserve this treatment. "There's no point in telling her to go back. It's her choice. I merely gave her the location where we are going. Like everyone, she deserved to be here, either to share in our victory or die with her boots on. If you don't want her to be here, you can kill her yourself."

"You bitch. I'm telling you this is a very sensitive mission and that girl is bad luck. She's a toxic wench. Everywhere she goes and everything she touches turns into shit."

Into the valley, the geeks in their cosplays marched, keeping their senses alert, their wits grinding. Catherine and Amp signalled them to scatter into four groups, forming a perimeter that surrounded the city. They then closed in like a slowly crunching iron maiden, making sure no one could escape. They prayed for success even if this mission was heading for a bust. Though they were no strangers to death, this mission was far more dangerous than they'd ever been before.

The young girl elected to be alone, probably for the best she thought. The city seemed abandoned, the only sounds coming from the clattering of rickety wooden windows and doors dancing in the wind. The houses, built in the design of the late 19th century, were mostly made of bricks or wood, painted tar-black, with broken frames looking like they were about to collapse.

Soon all of them trudged into the city streets. The atmosphere was thick, smelled of guano and rotting meat. The young girl crept from house to house, hiding behind alleyways and walls, her heart beating fast as she stumbled upon an old sign that said: "Welcome to the Library". However, the words had been scratched out, replaced with "Welcome to Arkham, Massachusetts" instead. Throughout the city, ripped book covers and pages lay scattered on the streets.

As she laid her sight inside the stables, more horrors filled her as living skinless animals, morphed together, welcomed her. There were pink excrescences made up of chicken, pig, cow, and human parts, calling for her, moaning if she might be kind enough to put them out of their misery.

This is a mistake… we shouldn't be here.

A series of screams jolted her from her momentary regret. Her fear for herself turned to loose bravery, driven by adrenaline as she found her legs running towards the sound. All the while, the chilling screams continued; desperately seeking help. She hoped for her comrades' safety even if they didn't have the same compassion for her. If there was anyone who deserved to die, it was her.

When she arrived, what greeted her was thick blood flowing like a river, with severed limbs, ripped costumes, and viscera scattered all around.

As the girl stared at the carnage, her body froze like her muscles became wood. Her breathing became difficult and her eyes started blinking uncontrollably. The horrors had sapped her bravery, draining it away.

Hands then forcefully twisted her backwards, making her scream. She wanted everything to be over as she had had enough.

"What the fuck happened?!"

It was Amp, who along with Catherine and the others, came to check what was going on, staring at the carnage of what remained of a whole group lost. Less than a hundred died in this butchery, and now they were standing with the lone survivor – this sobbing idiot in grey. "You better tell me what happened right now!"

"Onegai!" the young girl yelled. "I don't know! Please I don't know!"

"Don't be like that young Amp, don't treat the girl like that…"

The voice from the shadows sent chills through everyone's spines, making them form a pike square with their weapons and powers. Amp had let go of the girl, and the latter dropped to the ground, still shaking and crying. They were supposed to be the ones to surprise their target, but now they were the ones caught off guard.

"Show yourself!" Amp yelled. "You want to destroy us?! Well, we're here now!"

They heard a small mocking clap, followed by a series of footsteps on wooden stairs. A man walked down from a house, giving them a creepy grin. He wore a coarse brown tweed jacket and dark pants, large spectacles, with neat hair covered by a black fisherman's cap, complemented further by classy white penny loafers. He was dressed in a weird combo of awful looks from many famous writers. Above his head hung a bright white cross – a sign of someone inhuman and unnatural.

As he walked down the stairs, his knees crackled like gunshots. "Oh young Amp," said the man. "Why should you make this difficult?"

"We'll make this difficult as long as we breathe, Professor."

"Oh poor you. You've always had the theme of difficulty in you. Not because the world is hard, but more because you just don't want it to be easy. You always want to hurt yourself. Such a masochistic love for pain and torment in you."

"What the hell are you talking about, you freak…"

"Take a look at your costume, very From Software right? You love those games, don't you? Your favorite games and costume symbolizing your whole life. A life of always wanting to hurt yourself. You always want goals you have no chance of accomplishing, always wanting yourself to suffer. You're a sad little boy lost in the woods, crying for help, but not acknowledging you've dragged yourself there."

A blue energy orb struck the Professor, which threw him through a wooden house. "Verga..." Catherine, who was the one who fired that blast, muttered. "You talk too much."

With a battle cry, the rest of the geeks attacked, blasting the Professor with pulse rifles, laser cannons, and missiles. Others hovered and shot heat vision and energy blasts, while some charged and threw their magical spells from elemental attacks to dark jinxes. Everyone poured everything into the Professor, hoping to put a dent.

Debris flew into the air as the Professor came rushing out with a monstrous scream, his hands turned into giant hairy spider legs. He slashed, slicing several geeks in half, before jumping upwards as a scaly reddish dragon appeared in the sky. As the Professor rode on the dragon's back, he then said "Dracarys" and it vomited thick flames that burned down many of the heroes. It chomped on Catherine as she tried to fly away. As the dragon landed, the Professor's knees jolted and made gunshot sounds.

Catherine felt her lower half being crushed by the dragon, saved only by the thickness of her armor. "Oh sweet Catherine, you poor poor girl," the Professor jeered. "You have a theme of loss and pain in you, wearing that armor thinking it will protect you. You are pathetic. No armor can block away what life will throw at you… including me!"

It was of no use. As long as he could read the "themes" of their lives, discerning who they were and their weaknesses, nothing they could do would harm him. They were screwed.

Suddenly, a spread of buckshot struck the Professor's dragon from the side, making it let go of Catherine who then crawled out of there quickly. That blast came from the vintage hand cannon of Amp, who had stepped forward to fight the Professor. The rest of the geeks fell back as they heard the Boss Music from the classic Dark Souls games.

With his giant meat cleaver ready, Amp yelled, "Let's do this, you ugly lonely virgin nerd!"

The Professor tapped his heels on the dragon which then flew back to the sky. Up above, the dragon spewed flames but Amp lifted his shield to block it. Taking out his magical staff, Amp fired a homing yellow orb that tagged the dragon's face. He then raised his left hand, which turned out to be a prosthetic arm, and shot a grappling hook at the dragon.

It was too late for the Professor as Amp launched himself towards him, burying his meat cleaver in the former's shoulder. They then fell painfully on the pavement, breaking bones and cracking skulls. As Amp laid down in pain, the Professor stood up, slicking his hair back and limping, a bit wobbly but mobile nonetheless.

"Oh Amp... always trying to make things difficult…" said the Professor as he towered above Amp, raising his giant spider leg to finish him off. The girl on the ground glanced over the Professor standing over Amp. As their leader laid vulnerably, the girl was quickly filled with genuine panic and worry.

"No!" she yelled, summoning a large silhouette with a black aura from her back. The black aura turned into the shape of a thin woman who wore black funeral clothes, with a white face, black eyeliner, and a black hat with a net covering its head.

"Hmm… an otaku with a Stand," the Professor remarked. "How do you think you can beat me, a master of literature, with a stupid low-class anime power like that?"

The girl did not answer him, even as her legs and arms shook. She would still gladly sacrifice herself to save anyone more deserving – anyone whom the world needed more.

"Helena! Za Warudo!" yelled the girl as she ran towards the Professor, her dark silhouette turning golden. Time then literally stood still. This was her favorite anime power; a Stand from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, and since every Stand was based on a song, her's was based on her favorite My Chemical Romance tune.

She ordered her Stand to release hundreds of punches, as quick and many as it could. It pummelled the Professor with all its might, burying him deeper to the ground, creating a large crater in the process. The Professor somehow sensed what was going on, reverting time back to normal, but it was too late.

"Ora!" the Stand yelled as it drove both fists into the Professor's chest.

"Oh!" the Professor grunted, his chest caving in and his mouth spitting blood. He released a psychotic laugh as he tried to get back up, but his wounds made him fall back to his knees. Said knees created gunshot sounds as they fell.

With a beaten face, the Professor eyed the victorious girl and said, "Fucking well done. I can see that you have the theme of shame in you, which meant you went through a lot of unpleasantness. But your theme has changed from shame to redemption! Kill me now, and everyone will finally accept you back. You will again be loved and cared about…"

Redemption? It was a common word that had been distant from her. Was it true her battle with the dreaded Professor had finally earned her this thing called redemption? Would she finally find comfort and happiness again?

Her deep thinking had cost her gravely, as the Professor's knees suddenly opened to reveal colt revolvers. Bullets pierced the young girl's abdomen, making her fall down clutching her gut. "You dumb fucking bitch! You actually fell for it!" the Professor laughed as he climbed out of the crater, before mounting himself on the girl.

The Professor then punched her in the jaw, almost knocking her out. "Your theme ain't redemption! It's not even guilt or shame! You're nothing more than a dumbass!"

To her horror, the Professor started ripping away her sweater and skirt. "You're an anime girl, right? You like anime, you bitch?! That means you like sexy ecchi stuff too. You like this don't you?! You like being given a waifu treatment! I'm gonna go Daenerys on your ass!"

"Help me!" the girl screamed. "Anyone… please!"

A longsword suddenly swung near the Professor's head, making him fall backwards. "You again?! Why make everything so difficult?!"

"Oh shut up…" Amp replied.

"You fool! Can't you see you can't kill me! You, this bitch, and your whole entourage had failed to kill me!"

"No, no, no, no…" Amp said with an evil smile, making the assaulter back away as the man's theme changed from heroic to sadistic. "We didn't come here to kill you. We came here to say just how stupid you are."

"Excuse me?"

"You keep talking about themes like everything for you is some high-class bullshit book. Nobody gives a shit about themes. Do you think Endgame became a masterpiece because it was fucking deep like Moby Dick?"

"Theme is the soul of literature and storytelling. A gamer like you would never know because video games are–"

"Let me tell you something, alright? We don't care about themes. Nobody in this world cares about themes. Themes are only for loser teachers who want to put importance in their jobs teaching middle school kids. It has no place beyond an eighth-grade classroom."

"S-Shut up–"

"You see? Themes are subjective bullshit. Why emphasize a character's actions? Why do you have to think Mary picking up the spoon symbolized this or that? Why can't you just read it as it is: Mary was hungry so she picked up a fucking spoon so she could eat!"

"Quiet!"

"Face it, Professor! You're the most pathetic of them all! Literature is dead! Movies, anime, and video games killed it! The only people who read it are sad emo girls and boring middle-aged women! You're nothing! You're even worse than shit!"

"Noooooo!" the Professor yelled as he rushed towards Amp. This was the chance Amp had been waiting for. With the Professor openly blind in rage, Amp made his longsword shine with bright flaming energy. He let out his strongest attack, completely beheading the Professor, making his head fly.

Holy shit… my plan worked.

With the Professor gone, the geeks gathered to where Amp was. Their leader raised his sword and gave them a toast of victory. The death of the first boss, a feat they'd been planning for weeks, was the greatest achievement they had so far. "Now only two left! Before we get to kick the Nihilion's ass!"

"Death to the Nihilion!" the rest of the group cheered; this being the first time they'd been happy in months. They could never defeat the Professor as long as he had the power to read them. He always deduced who they were and always reacted faster than them. He could deduce their weaknesses, while also knowing how to survive their attacks. The moment Amp plucked his strings and he broke character, he lost his cool, making him vulnerable for Amp's charged attack.

Their new victory gave them hope and comfort, a sign of future victories to come. After several minutes of celebrating and allowing the mechanics of this place to heal them, they began to head home. This place was far too creepy to stake a new territory.

One of the people not cheering was Catherine, and she came to Amp, asking, "What about the girl?"

"What about her?" Amp replied callously.

"We should do something. She saved your life…"

Amp looked back at the girl who was still crying and holding her tattered costume together. He smirked, replying, "I saved her life too. So that makes us even."

He then turned and walked away, leaving the two alone. With pity, Catherine asked the girl to get up. "Please, dear. We need to get out of here. It's not safe here."

However, the Japanese girl continued to sob, crying like her heart had given away. This was the biggest load of dump her life had dropped. She had no choice being in this endless cycle of misfortune. She knew it wasn't over, for this world would continue giving her hell. Lying on the street in tears, she wished to die right now, she needs to die right now.

Tears also flowed from Catherine's eyes as she couldn't help her anymore. She didn't even know if she could be saved; it was all too far and too late. The great armored hero flew off into the sky, abandoning the girl.

Throughout the city, corpses of her fallen brethren lie to keep her company, non-decomposing nor disappearing. They were all part of the scenery now, a testament to the evilness of this place. They were only there to suffer.