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Capitaine Fantaisie

YKC
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chs / week
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Synopsis
It’s all just fantasy. I mean, boredom can kill, but the driving force behind it—lack of interest—is its mother. It’s hard to become good at nothing, you know? What’s the story here? Damn, I have no clue. It doesn’t make me happy to not improve, though. Everything I write is distorted by my lack of skill, and the more I think about it, the lazier I get. When is the end of the world, anyway? I mean, why drag things out so pointlessly? If the world is going to keep spinning, then at least make me immortal, give me all the powers—something! I don’t know, damn it. What’s the point of prolonging a world where I can’t even figure myself out? But hey, don’t worry. Maybe there will be a story to tell. I’ll write as I go, word by word, and it’s funny, isn’t it, how my synopsis accidentally ended up being 666 words long? Or maybe it wasn’t accidental. Maybe it was destiny’s cruel little joke, mocking my inability to finish anything I start. Every time I sit down to write, it’s like fighting a battle with my own brain. One part of me wants to create something meaningful, something worth remembering. The other part? It’s too busy obsessing over every flaw, every missed opportunity, every word that doesn’t quite fit. And the cycle goes on: the more I try, the more I fail, and the more I fail, the less I want to try. It’s a loop, endless and exhausting, a treadmill of self-doubt that I can’t seem to step off. And then there’s the world. Don’t even get me started on the world. Every day feels like a rerun of the same bad show, the same tired plotlines, the same inevitable decline. The news is a nightmare. People are either fighting over nonsense or pretending everything is fine when it clearly isn’t. Climate change, wars, injustice—pick your poison. It’s like watching a slow-motion car crash and knowing you can’t do anything to stop it. But then again, what would I even do if I had the power? Let’s say I was immortal, let’s say I had every power imaginable—what then? Would I fix things? Would I save the world? Or would I just use those powers to escape, to build my own little pocket universe where none of this nonsense exists? Honestly, I’m not sure I trust myself to do the right thing. I’d probably just waste all that power trying to create something perfect, only to watch it fall apart like everything else. It’s frustrating, you know? Feeling like you’re stuck in a world that doesn’t make sense, with a mind that can’t seem to do what it’s supposed to. Writing, for example—it should be simple, right? Just put words on a page. But it’s never that easy. Every word feels like a risk, every sentence like a gamble. What if it’s not good enough? What if people read it and hate it? What if no one reads it at all? And yet, despite all that, I keep writing. Why? Maybe it’s because, deep down, I believe there’s still a story worth telling. Or maybe I’m just stubborn. Either way, here I am, pouring my thoughts onto the page, hoping that somehow, some way, it’ll all come together. Maybe it won’t. Maybe this will just be another unfinished project, another half-baked idea that never goes anywhere. But at least I tried, right? And who knows? Maybe this is the story. Not some grand epic about heroes and villains, but something smaller, quieter—a story about trying and failing and trying again. A story about someone who doesn’t have all the answers, who’s still figuring things out. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s all any of us can really do: keep going, keep trying, keep telling our stories, even when it feels like no one’s listening. So here it is, my 666-word synopsis. It’s messy and flawed and probably not what you were expecting. But it’s mine, and for now, that’s enough.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1, a fitting title for the beginning of a story!

This is the second time I'm rewriting this crap. My app bugged, so I'm starting over. But now, I can't even remember what I wrote in the first version of the first chapter.

It's the beginning of the story. Well, it's not like the story really starts here, it's just the beginning *of a* story. Before the story, there's definitely something else, maybe just another story, events or elements that aren't included. Maybe because you would have to tell the story infinitely, or start at the very beginning of everything.

Saying "prehistory" sounds boring because it would make me want to talk about the pre-prehistory or something even further back.

It's like making the distinction between History with a capital H and a story. It's true, I'm bored and saying random stuff!

Am I young and unsure what to do with my life? Not at all! I have a lot of projects, lots of aspirations, ambitions. But that doesn't stop me from sitting here, writing something that won't add anything to the world, nor leave anything glorious for posterity. Except maybe the symbol of a man's downfall during a certain period of his life.

I write novels, it's my thing. But before that, I wanted to draw and make illustrations. And before that, I wanted to be an astrophysicist. Just that.

To become an astrophysicist, it took a ton of studying and a lot of money. When I got to middle school, I realized that math is boring. Even though I was good at it, that changed in high school and university. Why? A bad start. Since then, I haven't understood a thing.

Anyway, it was clear that astrophysics was a pipe dream, maybe motivated by the idea of going to space?

Here I am, an electrical technician. And so, I draw. You don't get the transition? No worries, that's life. But I suck at drawing, even though I make an effort. So, the fastest way was to write.

Here I am, an amateur writer. I write, I erase, I build universes, increasingly vast and complex lores. I get lost in them and can't convey these universes, transformed by my vision and lack of skill.

It's a really crappy situation. I'm wallowing at the bottom, swimming in the abyss. I rise thanks to a helping hand, sometimes I drown that hand with me, sometimes I breathe fresh air for a few moments before sinking back down.

It's toxic, it's depressing.

But that's not the point. In fact, Captain Fantasy isn't really an escape from the grim routine I voluntarily dive into, hoping for help.

I just write.

And thus, boom, the battle against Rasmata of the Dimension and Krugel began.

Krugel was out of breath. Even after condensing a body of law, he wasn't up to the level of Rasmata of the Dimension. Rasmata was from the Dimension of Consciousness.

He possessed millions of versions of himself, like a collective consciousness. Or rather, he *was* Rasmata.

"Until the end, you still intend to oppose me?"

Krugel's gaze grew more determined in response to Rasmata of the Dimension's question.

"Yes, I can't let you destroy everything we've built."

"And yet, our fight only brings more destruction."

"What is destroyed can be rebuilt. True, the dead won't return, but that's the price of our deliverance, that's the price of our future."

Krugel spoke with conviction.

"Fool!" snorted Rasmata of the Dimension. "Then come."

At this signal, Krugel leaped towards Rasmata of the Dimension.

Bam! An unusual technical kick. Both were combat experts.

Each Rasmata of the Dimension had a physiology with slightly inferior abilities to Krugel, but they compensated with their numbers and their reading ability.

Yes, Rasmata's authority was closely tied to consciousness.

Even though Krugel's body of law shielded him from conventional reading, he was too young and inexperienced.

One of the Rasmatas grabbed Krugel by the collar and hurled him away. Another stopped his flight with a spinning kick.

It was a combo worthy of Dragon Ball Budokai Tenkaichi, the one on PlayStation 2.

The blow sent him crashing into a massive space rock.

Krugel regained his composure with a composed stance. He struck the rock with his hands, and it shattered, releasing a great amount of energy, dust, and debris.

The goal wasn't so much to blind Rasmata as to buy time to think. Even though he could think very fast, a fight with Rasmata required immense effort.

Then, he flew away as fast as he could. He knew the Rasmatas would follow.

Of course, at that speed, everything left in his wake was explosions and destruction. In that sense, Rasmata was right; the price Krugel was willing to pay was ridiculous. The selfish wouldn't approve.

"Look at you. Moving at the speed of light is damaging everything you want to protect. Your body of law is still immature."

Krugel cursed in his heart. After all, his enemy was right. His heart was torn by the destruction he left behind.

People were surely dying. Ecosystems transformed, lives ruined because of this fight, all for his own self-satisfaction. At least that's how he had come to see what he was doing.

After leading his enemy to an isolated corner – even though the damage would still spread – it was better than nothing. A place on the edge of darkness.

He gathered his power and compressed it. He knew that if even one Rasmata escaped, everything he had done would be for nothing.

This is not a metaphor. He exchanged his body of law and became the sun.

Rasmata was surprised by his opponent's method. What an idiot, he laughed heartily.

"Let's see if you can pull off that ability."

Since Krugel now had the same potential as a sun, his attack was bound to be devastating, but it forced him to remain immobile for a moment.

Of course, Rasmata had seen through it and surrounded the sun that Krugel had become.

"Sealing in the Chamber of Time Currents."

A costly ability for Rasmata, but he had judged that sealing the guy in front of him and his kamikaze technique was the best solution.

Each Rasmata reached out toward Krugel, exerting an immense power.

At the same moment, very quickly, Krugel compressed himself into the size of a small ball. Of course, all the properties were preserved, just compressed. Like when you go to the toilet and want to let out your best.

You take a deep breath, and push everything out.

Well, here it was worse because the thing was compressed. As soon as Krugel let go, everything exploded. Now, like in the toilet, he applied his own force.

Everything was painted white.

"Gloria del Sol!"

The sealing in the Chamber of Time Currents and the glory of the sun.

A hole that sucked in everything formed.