A cave with one way out
No more room to reroute...
For in this lonely drought
Words of the weak sprout.
Night again.
It's the best place for thoughts to gather and bundle up. More so with the grueling sense of uncertainty amongst most of Gallidren- but overall something off-putting from the recency of events. All underneath the cement would be the same thing; a lone female figure standing upright, sweating.
With a silent grunt and a stretch, she would close two eyes and only open them at the sight of the blank bricked decaying wall, as if the very object was looking right at her, but no words would be spoken apart from its empty mouthless mouth.
From the silence breaking nothing but the solemnity, the lady's eyes would train left and right to see any of her progress.
Over to one side would be rods and apparatuses strewn together on boxes labeled with jumbled letters numbered 1 through 20, each supposed signal indicating some subject in regards to the purposes of each one.
The other would be a flat line stretched in three dimensions with rods supporting each corner. On it, would be another individual - dark-skinned, pinkish-white shoulder-length hair, naked and covered in blankets - leaving only their feminine face and feet exposed.
On the blanket itself would be another label entitled: "Gashadokuro".
The lady who was stretching earlier would have their eyes staring at this particular individual, only leaving the interpretation of what could be on her mind at the moment.
Only the haze of pure blankness.
Only something with a face so pale.
White.
Like bleach to clothing...
Washed out.
...
...
A few weeks later.
"Creator..." a voice would mutter out, coming from behind.
Glancing, "Yeah?" and dropping the pencil off the table, "What's up?"
With nothing but the grey blanket to cover themselves, they'd bend over to pick up the item and hand it over.
"It is to my knowledge that you've been growing rather... impatient with what you are trying to create...."
At the right would be multiple monitors, all with notes containing mere gibberish, as if a chicken would be the one responsible. Many at a time would be little pings occurring every 1/10th of a second, enough to disorient anyone who hears, but not those who have gotten used to the frenzy.
"May I ask why that is?"
Ping!
For a moment, all the lady could do was stare.
Stare right into the eyes of the being she merely crafted for one sole purpose.
Stare right into the nothingness she tried to avoid, and chose to stay rather than something else.
Stare into the maw of the very thing she swore never to become, yet thus did.
Not a moment would last, no...
That very exact moment became seconds and devolved to minutes by the end. The occasional pings only signal the awareness of the two - as neither one blinked nor uttered anything. More so just the way it became a staring contest to those outside, yet carried something else when taking it all inside.
Each pause of breath uttered completely different stories, but for just that one occasion, it all seemed to impact everything down to the last fiber of their being.
"Simple..." would be the first of the many words she would answer towards them, "...a mere precautionary measure, in case things go south for the group... or for me..." as she stared back to the graph at the table, before turning back, "A.... backup of backups..." following the many walls of silence to counteract the words she should be giving.
"..."
Exposition wasn't the best.
She keeps writing and drawing out the lines - up and out - into a circle and down to a sphere, following the notations placed on each indent she made with graphite, the lead shavings on her blackened nails as she snips some of them for shading specific parts.
Most of those would often covered already, as if forgetting to have placed them on parts shaded in complete grey. Her mind lingered on and on for what could be the result, for what could she have done for that specific scenario.
-YOU KNOW THE TIME BLADE IS GONE, RIGHT?! THERE'S NO POINT IN FIGHTING WHEN YOU ALL HAVE NOTHING TO GAIN!-
Words from a memory that wasn't hers - yet still was - hit at even the most sensitive parts.
They failed.
All of them did at that moment.
Someone who was beyond their powers, people who had Godlike abilities...
Trampling down on those weaker. On those ants like herself.
The same ones who destroyed her town
T̴̠͝h̴͔̊e̸̜͠ ̷̂͜s̶̖͑ã̷̬m̵̤̓e̵̹̾ ̸͉̏ȍ̷͎n̵̩͝e̸̻͝s̴͙̆ ̴̤͝w̶̮͒h̴͚͗o̴̹͒ ̶̪̔ṱ̸̏o̸̳̽o̴̹̽k̶̖͋ ̶̣͒m̶̦̕y̶̟͂ ̸̧̌ḅ̵̀r̴̩͌o̷͚͝t̶̠̏h̶̺͘ȇ̸̪ṟ̷̂a̶̞̾n̷̼̂d̴̹͝ ̵̟̚ṁ̷̻o̴͇̒t̵̥͆ĥ̶̫e̸͚̋ṟ̷̈
The same ones who caused innocent people to spiral down a road of madness.
Bordering the line between that which is right and wrong, those who had everything under their control seized everything - remaining ever unsatisfied with their unmatched desire for more - fueling the great fire of Greed.
With nothing but a flailed body and nothing to do but fall unconscious, what could she possibly do? Think? Act? Make a plan? Improvise and overcome?
None.
There was nothing for her to do. A warrior defeated couldn't do anything to bring themselves back up. A dead man cannot perform a revival on himself. Defeat cannot be turned into victory.
That was a hard cold fact.
-AND YOU NEED TO WAKE UP-
Why else would anyone go this far?
Who else would be this desperate?
Will there be anything to end this?
Why must there be something like that to ever exist? Just... why?
CRACK!
"Creator, you...!"
With that same pause, the lady would stop the graphing. Taking in one deep breath after another, she placed the broken pencil on a cup holder alongside other pens and torn-up tools not worth mentioning.
Hands shaking and shivering, her cheeks pale and cold, face planted down. Moments after the shaking would cease....
Ping!
...the silence that once was the processing machines drowned out would resurface.
Nothing but the rivers flowing down her neck would explain.
...
My destiny, no swathe of nathe
Losing this grip, senselessness rathe
Eyes staring at my own wraith
For in this misery, I lone bathe
"The Centurion Prison - Zachary. One known for the capture of many criminals judged to be sentenced forever and remain irredeemable. A facility surrounded by warriors of the same namesake, all ruled over by the War King, has been subjected to massive causalities during a prison break with the death toll reaching the hundreds of thousands... all following the release of a being known as The Destroyer, and the subsequent rising of a wanted post about an individual who initiated this incident: Yoshio-"
Beep!
What have you done?
"...."
What did you do?
"I killed them."
Why?
"For my friends."
But you killed innocents.
"It was for the greater..."
Greater what?
The ground was a husk, a hollowed-out echo of what once was. Where vibrant cities had stood, skeletal frameworks of steel and concrete now mocked the sky. Nature, in its relentless march, had begun to reclaim its domain, but even its efforts seemed feeble against the overwhelming desolation.
A choking, gray dust hung in the air, a constant companion that seeped into every orifice. The sun, a malevolent eye, glared down through a fractured atmosphere, casting an eerie, sepia tint on the world. There was an unnatural silence, broken only by the mournful howl of wind that seemed to carry the whispers of a dying land.
The soil was a graveyard, a macabre tapestry woven with the remnants of those living. Skeletons, twisted and gnarled, lay scattered like discarded toys. Some were still perched in positions of frozen terror, their final moments etched in bone. Statues, once symbols of freedom and progress, were rusting monuments to a bygone era, their interiors filled with skeletal occupants.
A city, once a pulsating heart, was now a hollowed-out carcass. Towering skyscrapers, sheathed in glass that now hung in shattered ribbons, cast grotesque shadows. The streets, once teeming with life, were choked with rubble and the desiccated husks of trees. The only signs of life were the resilient weeds that forced their way through the concrete, their green defiant against the gray.
A lone figure moved through this desolate landscape, a silhouette against the dying light. Cloaked in layers of black clothing, they held a blank expression towards the incident. Their eyes, twin pools of darkness, held the weight of their creator's loss. They walked on, a solitary ghost in a ghost town, their footsteps the only sound in this void-like battlefield.
As the sun began its descent, casting light in hues of orange and purple, the figure stopped. They looked out at the ruined city, holding what could be a shard- one still crackling with the electricity of a bluish hue before turning a reddish black- sighing.
All I am is a mass murderer. That cannot change.
"Creator... Have you truly gotten that down?"
Even if my sins were forgiven, who says the world would?
"Truthfully, I find this world's status to be abhorrent..."
There wasn't anyone talking to them. Yet, if those words would be reaching her, then it would be worth the shot and say the sayings for this emptiness to be filled.
"Lesser of the two evils...."
Trust me, only those who are like them... can defeat them.
They nodded at the air, starting to walk out of distance yet again.
Moments after treading the rough soil, peering into a distance kilometers away from them, silhouettes of a group of people, ones carrying a particular sleeping lady - smart-like and crystal incarnate - the hooded nun-like figure smiled.
"Till we again..."
...
There was nothing- a void.
Lakes across a river, drowning across the horizon. Her gaze would point nowhere and bear no direction toward what journey one can take.
A road not taken by anyone, for the road exists not.
A cave embellished with stygian pupils and eyes contain naught.
A corpse born from the hubris of her mind, her body taut.
A mirror on the wall, reflecting no saught.
A restless goal, yet its genesis thwart.
A sacrifice not worth, her soul caught.
Why be?
Why bother?
Your brother is dead.
No.
He will never come back.
No.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
But, perhaps...
Perhaps if I do.....
"!"
Eyes shot wide, yet returned to their normal state. As if the drowning had occurred for years and years to come by, the body would grow fragile. As such, the lingering sense of breathlessness choked onto her form, making her suffocate on nothing but the mind's play.
Strangling her neck to check and pumping out a fist to make herself beat, the heart was normally and perfectly fine.
Wh- whatever you do-
Now's not the time for the past! Would the way her arms shouted and broke free from the cocoon made of pure Glass. The eyes, still just as dilated, would dart to look at anyone and anything that could pose a threat, anyone that could be an image of something that wasn't there...
Anything? None.
"Yoshioka?" asked a man, drawing close to her with a hand held out in front, "How... how do you.. feel? Are you alright?"
Foolish question.
Such a stupid thing to ask-
"Yeah, I'm fine." and such a liar's way of replying, rubbing her hands on her cheeks as if to make something comedic, making it only a fuss and nothing more.
Definitely.
"Yaomu!" a witch-like figure would approach her now, this time, helping her get up. Placing one hand over the shoulder, and not letting the lady take one single step herself, the two would walk across the distance to meet up with the rest.
"Master Yos! Master Kon! You two are alright!"
A feline girl would shout out, her tail rushing over to embrace the two. Arms wrapped around the necks.
"I'm glad you're safe too..." replied the exhausted Yoshioka, "Yep, same here.." added Konoe, with the two returning the hug as well, the comfort spreading between the three.
...perhaps if I kept going down this road...
Tell me, Mom....
are you....
smiling up there...?