Ohhhhh
That makes a bit more sense. Still though, my condolences to Ora (and to you).
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Nice
This ending is gonna be good.
Chapter 11
–
You held the flower in the Hand.
It was a yellow flower, delicate petals dancing over the Fingers as the air rushed past. Not too much pollen, as someone somewhere might be allergic.
The ground below seemed to envelop in a sinister fog, the presence of that place fading as the sky above beckoned. The Chronicler wrote with a cautious but obviously excited nature, which was suppressed the moment he saw your words being written. The axle was gripped tightly in your hand, knowing full well he did not posses the argument to refrain from this endeavor.
“There, in the sky above!” The Chronicler cried. “There, above the clouds! Your miraculous machine has carried us above the burden and battering of a thousand weary woes and forgotten souls. All our wandering walks have lead to this prolific and triumphant moment. You are armed with the full might of wit, and the world is your tool to combat the drapes of Heaven’s Door!” He threw one of his massive arms out in dramatic display to draw attentions towards the party’s target.
Rocketing through the air, the machine A2-B neared heaven’s door. As blatantly as it could be a door, it showed every detail of having door-like properties and function. Swirling madly nearby was the drapes that had controlled OraNui, and the remains of what held them to heaven’s door. As You approached, the word ‘Kraata’ could be seen embroidered in the trim, barely discernable as they violently twisted and struck down towards the machine like a bolt of lightning, but the Chronicler got in the way of their descent as the cloth wrapped around the author’s powerful arms. However, You had just about had enough of these games, and with a thought the fabric unraveled into so many strands, too weak to suspend itself in midair, and so plummeted back to the ground so far below that it was invisible to view.
“Horrible decor.” The axle quipped. “Remind me to never become an interior decorator.”
There ahead lay heaven’s door, its solid iron framework appearing impassible. However, You had just about had enough of these games, and so with an outstretched hand You threw the door open with a violent screeching of the hinges, unveiling the void beyond the veil. No fear, no dread of the unknown, for not even the darkness could hold against You, as You reached behind and pulled with all the strength You possessed.
Rocketing from behind your view and into your vision came the sun, emerging through heaven’s door into the void beyond. If The One To Trust was inside, he would be compelled to beg mercy at this unstoppable force.
And so You entered heaven’s door.
- And so the door closed behind you with a thud.
- And in the gloom of the shadows you saw a figure standing on nothing, _made_ of nothing, his attire slipping in and out of the background like black smoke, his hands and head only consistently visible.
- It was a visage not soon forgotten. His skin was ashen white, with sickly pale pits of grey in the hollow of his cheeks and brow. To consider such an apparition human would be a crime against humanity and any level of decency. His neck - if it could be described as such - was the same width of and _consisted_ of his lower jaw, bending with the spine as if the bone inside it was subject to the whims of the motion of the head. He had no nose or hair, but this did not seem horribly out of place, as he was far from human. The eyes inside the hollowed sockets were glazed over with a blackened tar, which grew thicker and harder to discern as You neared, although it was not as shocking as the two extra eye sockets which seemed fused directly to the right cheekbone and jaw, glaring unspeakable horrors at You.
- And as You neared, there was a blinding flash of light which seemed to even dim the sun in its presence. The figure was now glowing in an overpowering golden light, all features lost amidst the sea of energy. This monster, this killer of OraNui and Lesnichiy, he was The One To Trust.
- "Did you know, in order to reveal my radiance, I was compelled to consume the shadows strewn about me? Without their presence dirtying the air, I appear even brighter than the sun." The One To Trust spoke, his voice the voice of sweetness, as he slowly approached - or was he? Perhaps he was simply growing bigger as he walked in place...
“We both know I radiate no light, however.”
The shadows consumed all light in the room for a brief moment before the sun burst into a violent glow, flooding the room in warm sunlight rays. The One To Trust was now looming out of the gloom, larger than all of the area itself, eyebrows bent against the sun. In one swift and violet maneuver both jaws cracked open, bony fingers wrapped about the sun, and the light was gone.
The One To Trust must have forgotten how incredibly rude it was to swallow the sun. Perhaps he could use a reminder to utilize proper etiquette.
Before the proper reprimand could arrive, however, he was back to his normal size, towering over the rest of the party, now rushing, now grappling with the Chronicler in the air as you whirled A2-B about to lock him in your sights. The axle mouthed off some doomsday gobbledygook and very plainly stated his discomfort while you leveled the railgun at The One To Trust. He was doing horrible things to the Chronicler, locking an arm, ripping it from its shoulder, then heading to the next and the next.
“You were supposed to solve all of this, Chronicler.” His voice was silken smooth and yet carried an undertone of irrepressible malice. “YOU were to take him and mold him into the greatest of them all but instead you raise up rebellion against your creator. Let us see how far it gets you once you cannot write the story.”
Arm after arm was torn from the Chronicler’s body as the poor amputee was tossing the pen from hand to hand in order to continue. And as The One To Trust reached for the last arm
- The
- Chronicler
- held
the pen against his neck with what could only be interpreted as a chin, continuing to write in spite of losing all his arms. The One To Trust had stopped to glare with irritation at the Chronicler’s stubborn refusal to surrender, giving You the only opportunity you knew you could have. Leaning back, you flipped the switch.
The force of the blast threw You and A2-B into the void at an impossible speed, but You saw the explosion connect as you hurdled through the darkness. You had done it! The One To Trust could not have survived such a point-blank impact from such a powerful attack.
You had done it. The world was freed from this perilous grip of this unfathomable fiend, and those whose blood was spilled in the darkness were avenged at last.
Against all odds, You had won.
You had won.
“Two arms like black lightning bent and cracked through the air, splitting A2-B asunder. With wire-like fingers The One To Trust covered You, blanketing all vision in darkness before he spoke.”
― You were my joy, but now you are silent.
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Naturally Ghid would make himself the final boss. I like the way the final battle is written.
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Ghid is Sun Tzu confirmed?!?!?1??
It was an interesting story. I liked it.
Good job.
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Are you gonna get started on book 3 now?
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It’s Sun Tzu.
smh
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“The truth is not always beautiful, nor beautiful words the truth.”
― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
…was?
smh my mh my s my head mh s.
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You’re embarrassing me in front of all of my friends acquaintances, Winger! 
ooh ho ho, I guess you could say th-
wait that wasn’t the last chapter?
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the tao te ching is included in my copy of the art of war, i really need to get to reading it
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for some reason I feel like this is something The One To Trust would say:
Chapter 12
–
This was it, then.
The end of the story. The darkness had come, and with it, a deep and sinking sensation as if all hope was abandoned into the gloom of the night. Into the nothingness and void flew all sense of being and joy for life.
There was no hope; there never was.
The One To Trust was somewhere out there in the blackness. Was he aware of what was happening? Was he conscious of the lack of hope, the pressing abandonment of all that was dear to You? To You this mattered a great deal; this could not end so foully on a note so resoundingly dull. You had failed the hero’s journey; there was no victory, no final conflict, and no resolution of conflict.
You had brought along friends for this pointless endeavor; they were dead. The Chronicler was probably spending his last few moments ripping his neck apart in an attempt to chronicling You’s final thoughts. You could not help but feel he had failed the Chronicler by his inaction and his foolish decisions, and now You’s company had splintered and fallen apart. There was nothing more You was capable of doing; he had no legs, no arms, no body or presence of being, merely a fleeting thought in an otherwise incomprehensible emptiness.
You had freed the sun from its prison, You had heard the rain’s song, you had defeated the drapes of heaven’s door and You and his allies had challenged The One To Trust only to meet in resounding failure. Was this life worth living, thought You? Had he lied to that To Be?
You.
You…
Something was wrong with that. From out of the unimaginable blackness the laws of the universe cried out in retaliation against that statement; You. It was wrong, You was not some nondescript identifier, yet the Chronicler’s writings bore evidence that he was You. He even quoted it as having been You; had the Chronicler made a mistake? His name was not You.
It was Yuo.
His name was Yuo.
An epiphany of sorts beamed from the void and seemed to push back from the depths of despair. Why had the Chronicler written it as You? Because he wanted it to be related to. To consider the events and occurrences as having occurred to the outside viewer and the story written - the chronicle detailed about Yuo - might be understood from the reader’s perspective.
Now from the recess of the void beamed a resounding ray of hope as the meaning of the Chronicler’s words came freshly to mind. None of the chroniclers who have come before could have had so many things to say about any one person than about you - You. Yuo had simply been a gateway; a jumping-off point for a greater series of novels and stories about… You.
At that moment the veil of nothingness had lifted, and far above the hollow where he sat stood a man much unlike The One To Trust. He seemed dazed, a bright blue glow coming from his head, which was obscured by the rest of his body. At the other end of the void there stood a man much like The One To Trust, who seemed to be visibly incomprehensible. The first figure seemed to be unsteady, as if he did not notice his surroundings, and it was clear he reacted very unhealthily to the world he was now present in.
The man was also missing his left arm. Perhaps he’d like another.
With a thought the unidentifiable man suddenly tossed something at the one with the glowing head. The latter caught it, seamlessly connecting it to his elbow. It was one of the Chronicler’s arms.
The two figures faded away, and so did the rest of the world. But now somewhere in some story there would be the Chronicler’s hand, ceaselessly writing the stories of countless people, reading these words which may be Yuo’s last. His story ends here - but he lives on forever, thriving in memories of encapsulating script devoured by the eyes of many. Perhaps even in yours.
These are the writings of the Chronicler, who detailed the story of Yuo, and by an ingenious series of devices ascended himself and his story from the depths of this world to directly affect the one beyond it. In these pages are placed metaphors and statements meant to inspire and challenge You in your writings and your life, should you care to reread and find them.
The Book of Logic.
“Move only if there is a real advantage to be gained.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War
8 Likes
Ahh my carpal tunnel
With that, the second book in this stupid series is over! I must admit it got a bit random chaotic towards the end there, but yes I’ve been chomping at the bit to post a certain moc in this site for a while now… Any relation between these characters and any mocs living or dead is purely coincidental.
Had some slightly-larger-than-average-brain ideas running for a while there and I’m really happy I got to see them to their fruition. As stated, this book is packed with too many metaphors and I should really calm down. I expect the next book to return somewhat to the more comedic routes of this series, but once you’ve taken that deep dive into subtext you can’t swim back out.
This is a call for help
Anyway, REVIEW!! let me know how much it sucks and why I should never write anything else ever again as long as I live. Would really appreciate your feedback on this one, especially from those who participated in it.
Thank you all so very much! It’s been a blast.
5 Likes
yaaaay
you finished!!!
I rather like the ending. It wasn’t what I was expecting, but then I was expecting something unexpected. that probably doesn’t make sense
now you can start on book threeeeeeeee
though to be honest I didn’t really get the ending part with the two people. Who are they???
Oh
OHHHHH
I get it now
Now lissen here sonny pa
the fact that you have not one, but two completely finished short novels is something that the vast majority of writers cannot claim to have accomplished. That in and of itself is really, really worth it, no matter how bad you may think the actual content is.
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this ending confuses me, but then again this whole story has confused me.
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you were supposed to eat it
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I’ll eat it next time don’t worry.
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