A To Be
OHHHHHHH
Ghid really is a genius
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I’m allergic to the pollen. achoo
All my jokes aside, I do appreciate a good song within a story. Many underestimate the importance of songs and poetry in narratives. They were, in themselves, some of the first narratives.
There is truth to that.
Also I finally understand the Axelford and Atobe stuff lol.
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Chapter 10
–
The large machine exited the other side of the hole you had cut in the mountain, its mechanical muscle spitting out steam and pressing pistons squealing as the ascend ended. You stood in the piloting seat momentarily, looking about as the wind rushed in to consume the space around you.
The Chronicler hovered nearby, writing with an air of the utmost confidence. He noted your observation and cast a glance down at you with the best implication of a smile he could muster while lacking a mouth. “You’ve traveled so far, young friend, and accomplished so much. It’s amusing for me to consider how your journey started in such relative simplicity to where we are now.”
Lesnichiy was holding on to the back of the machine, and suddenly gave a startled cry, throwing one hand up into the air in a nonspecific motion. There in the sky was a swirling mass of drapes, much larger than the last one encountered which had consumed Lesnichiy, which roared through the wind its terrible power. At the sight of this entity You pulled hard on one of the levers of the machine, and it swung its massive railgun upwards, lining it up with the bizarre opponent.
“No!” Lesnichiy scream, grabbing You by the shoulder and pointing at the swirling mass. “That’s my chronicler!”
The tornado of cloth reacted accordingly, letting out a high-pitched wail and setting Lesnichiy shuddering. The ground far below the mountain began to creak and rumble, and out of the earth appeared a formidable and monstrous machination, mechanical and threatening, at least twice the size of A2-B. On the side of this horrible machine were characters emblazoned in black reading GX-05, and whereas the former device had a railgun exiting the slight side of its structure, this one had a center which resembled a massive anti-air weapon, although far boxier and far more dangerous.
As if on queue, the machine fired, something whipping past You so fast it could not be discerned, and yet in the sky far above an explosion which lit up the sky ignited, a deafening shockwave occurring a few moments later. Overhead, the sun seemed dark than ever before in the presence of that blinding light.
“It’s his chronicler, all right.” The Chronicler hissed. “This is his retort. You have the full disposal of my capabilities at your disposal, so act - and act quickly!”
Lesnichiy wailed his retorts to the idea of retaliation, offering that the massive drapes could be reasoned with, but the Chronicler ignored him. “We’re about to become french toasted if we don’t kick his caboose, less niche-y!” The axle spouted off. “If you’ve got an idea that actually works you can open your mouth, but otherwise-”
While the axle continued to fill the air with meaningless words, You looked down at the impassionate foe, who was preparing for another attack - one that would not miss. Looking up to the sky, You asked for a favor.
The whirling drapes suddenly let out a garbled scream and the air around You brightened and glowed. Down from the sky itself the sun had descended, but not in its original purpose of inversion; it had come to assist. It rocketed downwards directly into the antagonistic machine, which let out a horrifying mechanical noise as the sun carved a hole in its frame simply by existing in the same space as it did. It fell to the ground moments later, powerless and ruined.
With its favor complete, the sun slowly ascended, pausing for a moment as if considering whether or not to swallow the drapes whole. Then it resumed its flight, disappearing above the clouds and allowing the air to cool. The axle was spouting off a series of half-completed words of absolute flabbergasted shock. “You- How- Who- Isn’t- But it- Doesn’t that- Hasn’t- I- I- I… HOW???”
“SON∩S.” The Chronicler responded. “The inverted sun. Look out, it’s acting again.” He braced himself as the drapes spun more violently and several loud shrieks were emitted from the fabric. Black liquid spouted from the fabric as Lesnichiy suddenly writhed in pain, falling from the machine and gurgling as his body contorted into physically impossible forms. Sensing something ominous, the Chronicler faced the threat, readied the axle, and threw it like a javelin.
The axle voice its reasonable complaints for the half a second of travel time it took to reach and skewer its target, which inhaled in repulsion and plummeted from the sky. A2-B whirred to life, rocketing down the mountainside to meet the figure.
The Chronicler scooped us Lesnichiy and approached the fallen foe, who sat breathing heavily through the many layers. Lesnichiy shuddered at the sight, scrambling down from the Chronicler’s grip and attempting to remove the axle from the figure’s chest. He could not. It was lodged too deeply and was also having a fit about being used to impale someone.
“THIS IS PERHAPS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT” The metal rod hissed. “IF YOU HADN’T SHOWN UP I WOULD STILL BE SITTING IN THE GROUND COMPLAINING ABOUT MY MALFORMATION AND NOT BUSY BEING DRIVEN INTO SOMEONE’S HEART THANK YOU VERY MUCH”
The drapes surrounding the figure loosened, swirling slowly through the air towards a darkened portion of the sky. The freed chronicler sputtered and gasped, pages emerging from seemingly nowhere and floating about him, feather quills scribbling down portions of the surrounding scenes and flying to separate sheets to continue from there. He was a strange sight, this sad, little figure - he had the same dinner plate eyes as the Chronicler, although he was far more humanoid, and wore dark robes stained crimson in the center from the vicious strike. The massive hat atop his brow wavered and flowed with each shattered breath, as if to fan more air down towards him.
“You are?” The Chronicler slowly asked, a gravity in his voice which carried the implication if his condition.
“OraNui.” The figure sputtered. “I was named by my story, Lesnichy. Heavens, is it always so dark here?”
Lesnichiy tugged harder at the iron axle, which had ceased its incessant howling at the situation as it read the tone in which the two recorders addressed each other. There was a silence only broken by the desperate attempts of Lesnichiy to free his chronicler from his impalement.
“You.” He turned upon You suddenly. “This is also your story. You have to save him. You MUST save him. I’ll die if he does!” The hero of his own story lunged at You to throttle You by the throat, but was caught in the grip of a very ominous author, who brought the subject to his eye level, furrowing metaphorical brows in irritation.
“Lesnichiy.” A silken voice responded from below. OraNui was looking at the subject of his writing, as the latter struggled in the grip of the larger Chronicler. “We both agreed on what would happen when we went through heaven’s door. We both knew we would meet our end at the hands of that infernal foe; this whole world is his doing and our fates are written already.”
“No-”
“My friend.” OraNui responded again, his voice seeming to grow grave and hollow in each breath. “Your story would inevitably come to a close and both of us would cease to be. We could not hope to challenge him then, and even less of a chance we possess now.”
“Who?” The Chronicler asked, although his eyes gave away that he already knew the answer and only asked so You could hear.
“The ignoble foe we face,” OraNui answered, “is The One To Trust.”
At the mention of the name the swirling drapes descended again like lightning, the Chronicler catching them just shy of grappling OraNui and ripping him to pieces. You, however, had just about had enough of these strange fabric onstrosities, and so the Chronicler was only barely able to toss it away before it bursts into flames and disintegrated.
You casually approached and lifted the axle out of the ground with barely any effort. Lesnichiy watched with baited breath and the Chronicler’s scribbling grew quieter in the tension of the moment.
“You.” OraNui whispered. “You can save me, but do not. It is my fate, and the fate of all who challenge The One To Trust. Do not challenge him, or it will be your end.”
“Send me on my way. Please.”
Lesnichiy was now tugging on the Arm and screaming his desperation while the Chronicler tried desperately to hold him back. You gave a slow nod in response.
“Goodbye, OraNui.”
The tugging sensation suddenly ceased. The Chronicler flew back, the object in his grip having disappeared. The GX_05 machine had disappeared, too. All that was left of the trio was a memory and a feeling of desperation which sank into the Heart and stewed up a rage.
The One To Trust was about to pay.
“In a similar way, The Art of War pinpoints anger and greed as fundamental causes of defeat.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art Of War
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Return of the king.
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Even in fiction Ora has awful luck.
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you’re telling me his life sucks normally? does he typically get impaled?
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No joke, Ora has had his life threatened with physical harm multiple times.
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oh jeez uh
wish I had known that before writing him willingly dying after being impaled by a car axle
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I don’t think it’s an issue. It’s humorous if anything.
(Ora is my brother btw. That’s how I know.)
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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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