“These military devices, leading to victory, must not be divulged beforehand.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art Of War
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Chapter 3
–
The flat grey floor and dark walls had been incredibly boring for a long time, but You couldn’t help but notice it was becoming more and more of an incline. The Chronicler let out what You could only assume was a chuckle, his writing hand still furiously detailing every step You took and every thought You had.
“You’re beginning to notice.” He glanced down at You. “Yes, this is The Path you have been walking this entire time, and it leads to The One To Trust.”
“The One To Trust?” You looked up as the floating entity detailed the angle at which You stared. “He’s the one at the end of the journey?”
“Hush.” The Chronicler scolded. “You’ve barely begun your journey. Don’t talk death into existence; your journey ends when there is nothing else to write. And none of the chroniclers who have come before could have had so many things to say about any one person than about you.”
You felt a bit sheepish at the concept. Ignoring, for the moment, the concept that there were numerous Chroniclers, all detailing the journeys of multiple individuals, none of which You had any memory of whatsoever, You had the most worth writing down. You could fill the most pages and have the greatest journey of them all. And the start of that was at the end of The Path.
“Isn’t that a better outlook to have?” The Chronicler looked kindly down at You. “Now let’s continue. The One To Trust is waiting.”
Then a thought came into that rounded head. Rather than walk up the steadily increasing incline, it would be much more convenient to just be over at a much closer point. So You stepped your foot out and ascended the incline, which was now much steeper, and You almost had to climb up it rather than walk.
The Chronicler was gripping his writing arm with almost all his other arms and glaring death out of his white eyes. “Never do that again.” He hissed. “Or so help me I’ll write something horrible in here, even if it means breaking my oath. You can’t just DO that to a Chronicler and- and expect us - expect ME - to walk it off. Never again. You understand? NEVER again.”
You seemed horrified. The Chronicler’s writing arm had almost exploded, massive cracks in its structure slowly patching themselves together. You tried to think of a detailed apology but the words that would have aligned so perfectly bounced about and scrambled themselves together in all the wrong orders. You felt the body You described earlier begin to shake and feel horrible all over. You had caused another person intense, almost irreversible damage and excruciating pain.
You felt a hand on the shoulder - no, no, the other one - the Right one - and looking up You saw the weary face of the Chronicler, looking down at You with as much sympathy as it seemed he could muster. Even with eyes half the size of your body, it was obvious he couldn’t force himself to make direct eye contact.
“You did not know.” The Chronicler retracted his hand and clutched his side awkwardly. “I am not my own person, you see. I can’t live without a story. Your story came along, and, well, I was created to fulfill my purpose. When your story ends so will I, and the chance to live - to, um hold on…”
He flipped through the massive pages in his possession, glancing from the bottom of his eyes at the words he had penned. “Ah, here, here it is. Quote: The first sensation of being you felt, drifting through your consciousness? You existed before, no doubt, but the consideration of the fact - you were alive, beyond any possible doubt - did not enter your mind until with your very own lungs, you took in the world around you.”
He flipped back the pages. “Outside of pain I cannot feel any sensation of living. I only feel what I have written, the things you experience, and when you rush - when you jump beyond what has occurred to reach the destination - I am forced to fill in the blank with… Nothing. Written emptiness. And when you did that just now, I almost lost the ability to tell your story.”
The Chronicler forced himself to make eye contact. “Please don’t fill your life with nothing. Don’t let days and hours go by where you just fill the void with actively seeking out time-passing, mind-numbing void. You have the chance to live; you can feel and breathe life, you can do infinitely more than I can. All I get is a sliver of your experiences and it makes me yearn for the chance to live.”
“So please. Not just for yourself, but for me. Live a life worth writing about.”
With these words, he slowly ascended back into the air and looked up at the sloping ground. There was a dazzling light from the end of The Road, so bright and incredible it eclipsed the visible area. The Road was beckoning You.
“What do I say when I get there??” You looked down at the Hands, the ones You possessed, at the end of the Arms. “Who is The One To Trust?”
“The One to Trust,” The Chronicler extended one of his own hands to meet the pair You lifted in doubt. “Is whoever you perceive him to be.”
“To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art Of War
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you missed a capitalization there
you should really just use find and replace
I’m really enjoying how both books live up to their names in the style of narration.
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Hmm, yes I didn’t know I was reading the book of ramblings. /s
boy oh boy I sure like it when everyone only notices the grammar errors and misspelling and tells me how to write my own story just because I’m a poor boy who never went to grammar university
(this is a joke, for the record)
imma be honest with you champ
book of ramblings was pretty bad
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Doesn’t mean it wasn’t enjoyable.
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Yee-ep.
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yeah I guess a snort of ketamine is enjoyable from a certain perspective
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You wouldn’t like Cronk when he’s angry.
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I don’t even like him now!
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I will destroy you
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Chapter 4
–
You had to climb up the path at this point; it was simply too steep to conceivably walk up, and You didn’t want to try stressing too many of the rules, lest The Chronicler be in pain and possibly blow up again. The Chronicler, noting everything occurring, didn’t respond, simply floating next to You as the ascent continued.
Once You reached the lip of the path, the light was becoming so bright and resplendent that the Chronicler flew in front of you to cut off the gaze. He stayed there long enough for You to gain proper footing and then retracted, allowing You to be basked in the blinding presence of The One To Trust. Gold seemed as dirt and the sun a firefly; both specks of mud in the presence of diamonds.
There was a voice, the author of sweetness, which echoed across the light itself and thundered beyond the reaches of the sky. The Chronicler was shrouding his face in his arms to keep writing, lest he become overwhelmed by the majesty beaming through the air and fall in fealty. The One To Trust had two eyes perched atop a massive peak, only identifiable as his head, and even with this strange placement they glared downwards with such a masterful air that not even the air around him could stand to move in defiance of his will. Two more eyes appeared on the right side of his head, as if the pair cutting into your very being were doing an insufficient job.
This was all You could take in and process, because the next moment all You could see was the ground, as You had collapsed forwards in fealty to this strange entity’s illustriousness. You could hear the writing hand of the Chronicler scratching away at his novel even while shielding himself.
“The stars and constellations are only as bright as the void is dark.” The One To Trust spoke with the voice of sweetness, his words reflecting off of the light radiating from his frame. “I am at the mercy of the darkness of this world. Elsewhere I am brighter still.”
“You have many places to go and many people to meet.” He continued his elegant speech, the light obeying his whims and focusing brilliantly on You. “You must learn to trust them, and grow your soul when you meet them. Let them impact you with their livings, with their breathings and personalities. They live; let it change you, let that fact make you stronger than you could have ever been alone.”
You looked up, feeling the pressure of the light relieving of the burdens of thought. All four of The One To Trust’s eyes were set in a steady glare at the Chronicler. It was only for a tiny fraction of a second, but You could not be mistaken at what you saw. What did it mean? Was the Chronicler not falling before him irritating him?
“Down this hilltop you will go.” The One To Trust swung a thin and elegant arm with a massive hand at the end towards a valley opposite of the path you had taken. “There you will meet the Sound of the Backwards Sun. Hear his story and fall into the eclipse. The Song of Rain waits beyond him.”
“And because I trust you…” The One To Trust loomed overtop You, letting his glory seep through You and cause you to Glow with his effulgence. “My name is Ghid. You will not forget it.”
And then he was gone. The luminous being had departed. He had been so hidden in the shadows of the light that, now that he was gone, You couldn’t quite be sure he was actually gone or i he had simply turned the lights off. The Chronicler slowly rose, dusting himself off and looking down into the valley below. He never stopped writing.
Well, there was only one way to go. To lose all semblance or notion of reality in the eclipse.
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand in doubt; if you know Heaven and know Earth, you may make your victory complete.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art Of War
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That he has to if he doesn’t want to be cancelled for proliferating misinformation.
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Oh hey, it’s me. I was wondering how you were going to introduce other characters, given the… unconventional nature of the story.
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I don’t recall this conversation
It helps that you freaks have weirdo names
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@WINGER YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO USE THE ANESTHETICS UNLESS THINGS GOT OUT OF HAND!
Gosh, I give him one Simple job, and he can’t even do that right.
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wait that wasn’t steroids
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You can just call me Atobe in the story btw
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Atobe Illustrator?
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