Somewhere in the depths of the Fractured Realm, there was empty space. For a time, it remained as such. A moment, an eternity, I know not. The line of distinction becomes vague and distorted in this unnatural plane.
With a burst of light, that twisted reality unraveled. A hole opened into the air. From within, I appeared.
I did not know why. I did not know where. In fact, I did not ‘know’ at all. Drops of red soaked into the cracks around my empty, lifeless shell, my mind as much a hollow nothingness as the land I lay.
Were I capable of thought, I might have wondered if I would die there. Perhaps I would have held on to hope, that the light of my creator would come to my rescue, spirit me away to a warm, inviting place. Perhaps I would have fought against my fate with the entirety of my fleeting being.
Were I in a kinder realm, perhaps it would have even mattered. But here, it would have been meaningless; the last, fleeting moments of one doomed to oblivion.
The Void is not kind to those who intrude into its domain, even those insignificant enough that they could never hope to stand in its path.
A shadowed form swerved its head from the distance, narrowing in on my entrance. It bounded across the endless planes towards my unmoving form. For a moment, I was safe. It could sense no being, so it tore apart the ground and the air instead. But the violent churning of the earth saw me thrown apart from it, and as I flew through the air, the beast found its prey. With a lunge and a flash of teeth even larger than I, I was swallowed whole, my body ripped to shreds by gnashing jaws, the scraps ripped to their constituent atoms by foul magic.
I cannot tell you what it was like. To a nonexistent soul such as myself, it made no difference whether I was or was not. Perhaps it would have even been a relief, were I capable of such feelings at the time.
But I would not be left to my rest, it seemed. In the Fractured Realms, all reality and reason lie eternally shattered and useless.
The ticking of the clock ground to a halt, then unwound. Matter mirrored itself across space and time, then shattered upon itself into motes of dust and flame. And within that writhing storm where even Truth comes to die, a spark of a life that should never have existed was struck into something that should have no longer been; a blasphemy in even this twisted land, a blemish upon those laws written into the rotten, fermenting parchment of reality.
On an island in the depths of that maelstrom of discordant spacetime, sky and ground both filled with the broken bodies of dead titans, swirling violently in unknowable currents, I was born anew.
My first moments of true existence were ones filled with confusion and fear, for even my own thoughts were foreign; unknown, and the unknown an object of terror. Had I lived as such, I would have surely met a grisly fate. But with the death of Truth, a fragment of itself was given to its killer: to me. I learned of Vacuos, and the coming invasion of the Void, of philosophy, of ‘self’, and a thousand other truths.
Though it may have seemed a miracle, it was almost a disaster. Had I not been reeling from the foreignness of existence, I would have seen that Truth overwhelm my being; see myself become that Truth, and thus, end my own existence as an outsider to It. But in my rejection of all that is, I rejected even It. But through my rejection, It pushed knowledge, wisdom, and idea; a miracle upon miracles.
One may wonder, though, if I rejected all that is, was there anything within at all? There was, in fact: one single memory, a scant few moments that should not have been. In that memory, I saw a hazy, indistinct face; soft, kind, and framed in locks of chestnut as she smiled down on me. My creator, or so I assumed.
With the knowledge that flooded me, I decided who I was. Though I had learned the concept of ‘smiling’, and its source, ‘happiness’, I did not truly understand.
I wanted to understand. I wanted to know why she smiled, why that memory carried a spark of warmth. Though my soul, my past, my present and future as well, all stand, tiny, meaningless, and false, that one small desire filled my small self to the brim.
My luck had been truly astonishing, that I could accomplish such self-reflection even within a tempest, but in the end, the eye of the storm always passes, and the rain and thunder falls once more.
A fraction of the sky began to fall, like a piece removed from a puzzle, twisting and fracturing in its own swirls of coiling spacetime. The strange knowledge within me was quick to inform me that I would not survive, were it to strike while I was still on this island.
Unacceptable. Unacceptable. Though I had only just been introduced to life, death would see this desire within be left unresolved to eternity’s end. Thrice I say, Unacceptable! I could not die until I had seen it come to fruition, so said I, with every fraction of my being.
I tried desperately to escape, with every fraction of my body - but there was something I had forgotten, a simple fact tossed to the wayside in light my newfound existence:
I was a hamburger.
I had no arms, no legs, not even a single muscle to move. No matter how hard I strained, I could only sit there, motionless, as oblivion came for me once more. This could not happen, I could not allow this to happen! I abandoned my attempts to use my useless shell. Instead, I attempted to take my fate into my own control with the very thing that had shattered fate: my soul. Yet, it did nothing. I tried again. And again. And again, again, and five times more. Nothing happened. One cannot change the way the world works with mind and soul alone.
But I had to. I must! Nothing else could be accepted!
The falling titan grew close, flames flickering around the edges as the air burned, then freezing and falling off as patches of time halted
Once more, my soul reached out to the world. I screamed with every fiber of my being, though my body couldn’t make a sound.
And finally, my grasping found purchase: a passing stream of mana, stirred by the tempest, pulled me along in its wake, spiriting me away from that land that would never be.
I could not rest, however, not even for a scant instant. In the depths of my fractured knowledge, there were fragments about an entity named the Voidgod. And though it may have fallen, it was still a god; it could not, would not accept a blasphemer such as I. Its minions would hunt me down to the ends of reality, and could never be reasoned with.
Should I still seek my wish, there was only one solution: victory. To gain strength so overwhelming that not even a god could stand before me.
So be it. If I must, I would tear this entire realm to shreds to fulfill that wish. No matter how long it takes, no matter what I must do, one day, I shall see that far-off dawn.
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And so my journey continued. As I rode the mana stream, I learned how the movements of my soul could affect its direction - a powerful weapon against the voidlings. I practiced control, precision, and once I had finally finally been thrown from my perch, I learned power, drawn from the depths of my spirit in a desperate final stand against a raging voidling. I learned that the Voidgod mistakenly saw me not as a blasphemer, but as kin; a chilling thought, but a grand boon nonetheless. I fought, I improved, and I fought again, over and over, as time blended my memories into a single color: death and the void; a black abyss. Along my journey, I found a cape - scant protection from a voidling’s claws from where it was wrapped around my form - and a sword, the usage of which via levitation magics I found to be much more efficient than the mana constructs I had relied on until then.
In the fragments of safety I had between battles, I thought. I wondered what, why, and how I was in turn. What I found threatened to tear me asunder - the weight of the truth slowing my actions, even as the endless Void marched upon me.
I once said that I was little more than an empty shell, devoid of life. That was false. In truth, to be even a shell, would imply that there was a hollow; a warm, inviting space made for life to flourish. I did not have even that. I was nothing more than an object, a pebble to be stepped on and tossed aside. And yet, here I am, a product of this blasphemous reality, clinging to the slightest scraps of hope in my scant, meaningless memories. Ironic, is it not? That all true beings of Vacuos should stand helpless in the face of the Void, yet one that never was, never will be, and never should have been, fights on their behalf. That all pride, power, and cunning crumbles to dust, and yet, something as small and insignificant as I should stand against the tide. Even as the vestiges of my being flake away, I fight on. Why? Why do I struggle so, when a mere moment, a single mistake, could return me to the nothingness I was always intended to be?
That single wish carries me forward, but it has waned from when I was young, a faint, wavering hope, held more out of obligation than true desire - for if I were to release it, what would remain?
Through my fears, I stood tall against the tide. I found comfort in a greater purpose - in my role as the guardian of Vacuos. When my wish was no longer the entirety of my being, I found it revitalized - peaceful and comforting, no longer desperate.
Now, after what feels like an eternity, I stand at the gates of the Voidgod’s inner sanctum. My power is polished, my skill unmatched, and my determination unshakable. All the pieces stand in their place. I know I cannot truly kill it: a god can never truly die. But in the gap between its death and rebirth, I will have an opening - a chance to finally be free from this endless war; feel the sun upon me, speak with the people of Vacuos. Perchance, I might even fulfill my wish.
The time has come. Raising myself on the flow of mana, I go forth unto my destiny.
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The Voidgod twisted unnervingly as its wounds flowed with dark, unknowable streams. “You, who was born of the Void. You, who was to be one with it. Cease your struggles against your fate. I know your false past, your purpose, and this ‘wish’ that drives you, those weak, meaningless things. Join us, and you will be gifted with purpose, destiny beyond imagination, and all that you could ever desire. All you must do is forsake that world. You have no part in it. You share not even the most passing resemblance to any of its denizens. There is no need for you to fight for them.”
The lies spewing from its mouth sought to enrage me, but I stilled my emotions. I could not waste the time and mana to write a retort. I would prove myself with my actions, not words - I am not one of the Void. Regardless of what power gave me life, my body was given by my creator; my self, by the same. My past is true, scant as it may be, my present as a guardian cannot be denied, and the future of my wish will come to pass, greater than any twisted ‘comfort’ this foul realm could offer. I will not be swayed.
Red flowed from missing sections, staining my cloak as I flew around its strikes, yet I felt no pain, nor weakness of thought or form. A body that was never meant to live had some benefits, it seemed.
Growing impatient, the Voidgod let loose an explosion of dark energy, vaporizing the ruins of its stronghold, stretching for countless miles; a pittance. Revealing one of my final trump cards, I simply opened a small hole in the fabric of reality, slipping into a subplane. Opening my senses, I saw an opening - my foe thought itself the victor, and rested from its assault. I would make it regret, I thought as I opened another from behind it, unleashing a slash meant to rend its left from its right. It jerked, sensing the rift, but not fast enough; a large portion of its body was separated, then incinerated in a blast of pure mana, ensuring it could not be recovered.
It screamed, a terrible death knell that shook the very fabric of reality, but I paid no heed. Avoiding its desperate, reckless attacks, I took another portion, and another, and thrice again. And as I neared its heart, suddenly, it burst into flames like a dark sun, waves of power stretching out into infinity. Again, I fled to a subplane in turn - only to find a blinding-dark rift already awaiting me. My soul was on the edge of oblivion - but still, I called upon it, and I crashed through the waves of void in a corona of white; through the rift, and straight into the heart. Scant moments until my demise, I slashed, interrupting its defenses, and burned the last of my power on an incinerating blast.
The Fratured Realm itself seemed to shudder with the Voidgod’s death. I had no time to savory my victory, however. With my expanded senses, I could see every voidling and voidbeast in all of the planes switch their tasks, rushing directly towards me. I had no plans to meet them, however; a fraction of a second was enough for me to recover some of my mana. With the barriers the Voidgod lay now gone, I ripped open a path to Vacuos, and stepped through to the future I had always dreamed of.
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As I took my first flight into Vacuos, I was met with a blinding light, bright and beautiful, more than anything I had ever seen in the Fractured Realm. It shone down on me from above, filling me with a warmth reminiscent of that first memory, the warmth that had carried me through my darkest hours. Had I tears to shed, keeping my composure would be an impossibility. This… This is what I fought for. The sun above, the breeze across my form, the swaying of the leaves on countless trees… How could the Void ever believe itself superior to the natural order?
I broke myself from my musing. With the completion of the goal that consumed my every waking moment as long as I had lived, I must find a new purpose.
…and what, exactly, would that be?
Ironic. One might chase a single moment for an eternity, but all they might gain from it is a gnawing emptiness and aimlessness. No matter. My achievements mean the safety of this beauty, and that is something to take pride in. Regardless, it is far better to be an aimless warrior in a garden than a hopeless gardener in a war.
For now, I believed I would simply wander. Perhaps I would find a chance encounter, one that would give a meaning to my future.
I took a moment to heal my scars, enforcing the Self I held in my soul onto reality, restoring every section lost in the battle. Lifting myself up, I flew through the forest, sword at my side, I savored the way the wind twisted and turned, the countless eddies and swirls born of life. In the Fractured Realm, the air was uniform; stagnant. Yet another way Vacuos was far superior.
On that very same wind came a voice: the third I had ever heard, paired with the sound of countless beings marching. My excitement filled me to the brim, and I was forced to restrain myself from rushing immediately to the source. I could not forget what I was: a blasphemous, false life. I would be met with fear wherever I go. A conundrum. I would have to ponder on a path to proving myself to them.
The sounds drew near, and I chose to lie dormant for now; listen, observe. Perhaps I would gain insight into their thoughts.
The voice’s owner became visible, in the midst of an army of the dead: “First Windrip, and then the rest of the Astrad Kingdom.” Its owner raised his rapier with a laugh, pointing it into the distance. Mana gathered around the blade: a spell that evoked a feeling of plague, weakness, and fear.
Curious, I stretched my senses, seeking the target.
At the end of the spell’s path I found something beyond even my wildest imaginings. A sprawling metropolis, filled with life and magic so great, it sought to blur into a single slurry to my sight. From the mass rose grand structures that must have been the work of decades, centuries perhaps.
Why? Why would a denizen of Vacuos seek to defile its own? I could not understand.
Darting in front of the man, my mana drew the words I could not speak: “Your actions seek to doom countless innocents. Cease.”
The traitor startled, spell releasing half-formed and fizzling into the atmosphere. He barked out a command, “Who’s there?! Show yourself!” As he let loose a flurry of detection spells.
I did not respond; there was no need. I was quite visible, floating in front of him, and my intentions were clear. I assumed he believed me to have allies. He would see himself that I came alone.
His spells returned no presence but myself and his summons. Eyes narrowed, he examined myself and my message. “Identify returns… a level 0 [Burger]? A type of sandwich, perhaps? Tch. A harmless distraction.?” Waving a hand, he sent a wave of death, erasing my message and threatening the destruction of all it touches.
I see now. It is not fear I shall be faced with - it is ignorance. Disbelief that I even exist. I will consider this in future attempts. This ‘level’ business though… If I recall correctly, the denizens draw their strength from a power that is called a ‘system’. By his reaction, my lack of connection makes me appear to its users as weak. I should rectify this misunderstanding.
With a thought, I banished the wave, summoning my blade as I replaced my message with another; one of authority, power, as opposed to of the gentleness of the prior. “Do not let my form fool you. I am the one you see, and I am not one to be ignored. Explain your actions, immediately.”
The man reacted to the overwhelming power emanating from my words by teleporting away, placing his army between himself and I. “Curses! My triumph must have served to blind me! A distraction can be far more dangerous than any blade!” Mana gathered across the floor behind him, countless undead rising from the ground. “Go! Destroy everything! This trickster assassin cannot be far!”
At his command, thousands of undead leapt forth, clawing, thrashing, crushing all in their wake. Great oaks that had stood for centuries were toppled, a pack of wolves fled from their territory, only to be crushed under a titanic skeletal heel.
This was the price I paid for my lenience. There would be no more.
With a swipe of my blade and a burst of my soul, each and every undead under his command was ripped asunder, leaving the remaining woods unharmed, and a lone necromancer standing in a pile of ash.
The man showed little remorse over the loss of his army. “Idiot! I am Zolan, student of the Lich King Ar’elith! Even if you defeat me here, this world is as good as dead! Give in, or he will ensure you suffer for all eternity!”
Once more, I set myself in front of him. For the third and final time, I wrote my words into the world: “I will not ask again. Why do you turn against your fellow denizens of Vacuos?”
The man, Zolan laughed, the crazed laugh of a man who was far, far gone. “Even now, you refuse to show yourself to me, going further to compare me to those primates?! Ha! All of them can burn, you coward! I have a purpose far grander than those insignificant pests! When I was young, I found a book depicting the feats of Ar’elith, and I was enthralled! The feeling of power as I saw myself standing at his side, watching the world burn, I will never forget it! Nothing in this world could compare to his majesty, and I would gladly kill all of my kin for it!”
I dropped my sword in shock. A single memory, a single feeling, and he would destroy all that he was meant to serve? It was preposterous! It was… it was all too familiar.
Though I’ve fought to the brink attempting to forget, I know that seeing this tiny form, never intended for life, as my true self is something incredibly strange. It would be far easier, far more reasonable to see myself as a being of the Void, unfortunately tied to this pathetic vessel. Perhaps that’s even the truth of my creation.
And yet, a single memory, a single feeling, and I cast off the Void, destroying it all in an attempt to feel that warmth once more. I instead dedicated myself to something I saw far greater than what should have been my kin.
Truly, what difference be there between he and I?
Suddenly, he lunged at me, shrieking. “I WILL NOT BE MOCKED LIKE THIS! REMOVE THIS SANDWICH AND SHOW YOUR-“
He never finished his sentence. In my sorrow, I struck out with a wave of power fit to slaughter a Voidling.
When the dust cleared, naught remained.
For a time, I float there, unthinking, unfeeling. I knew that for one like him, complete erasure was the only solution. But to do so purely out of grief, because he simply revealed to me the truth? I was ashamed. It was clear I must take the time to resolve these contradictions within me. I could not allow such a failure to someday fall upon one less deserving.
But my contemplation would have to be delayed. A bright ringing echoed throughout the area, and words - not unlike my own, but still foreign - were written into the air in front of me.
[INITIATING INTEGRATION INTO THE SYSTEM]
I regarded the message skeptically. It seemed this ‘system’ sought for me to join it, as the denizens of Vacuos had. It would likely be necessary for acceptance by others, but I would question the motives of one who would offer power to both sides of a battle.
[You have defeated an enemy sixty levels above you! For this achiȩ̶͔͕́̅͝ ̵̗͑ ̴̺̒̎̔ ̶̺̍̄ ̷͙̯̈́̈̾ ̵̲̤̔́͘ ̷̨͍́̇̽ͅ ̶̧̨̼̈̎vement you have earn/̶̼̝̱̍̆/̷̯́̊/̸̡̦̰̘̇/̷̠̫̏͒͝ed the title of Underhotdog!]
Strange. It seemed it was having difficulty speaking. And why ‘hotdog’? Wouldn’t ‘Underburger’ be more precise? Or perhaps, is there a city called Underburg, and such a title is already taken?
The message shuddered, before breaking apart into pieces. Within the shards, I saw text listing many of my deeds: The deaths of voidlings, voidbeast, and the Voidgod alike, my survival in the fractured realm despite my crippling form, my mastery of mana, alongside numerous mentions of Level Ups, though I still did not understand what they were. The largest of the shards grew to stand at the center, displaying a large message, written boldly in crimson:
[SYS?EM 3RROR: BURGER.]
Ah, I see. It was not prepared for one such as I, and is unsure of how to continue. I cannot blame it. Even I find myself unsure from my own strangeness from time to time.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
[SIS?3m 3RRON: CONGRATION TO THE ̷͚́̉͝ ̸̲͕͐͊͝ ̶̧̡͍̣͊̈́͌Ț̸̠͉̲̎͝É̸̩̬͌̂̃M̵̧͋͛̾ͅ FAILED. Raisin: You do not have a.]
[To grate your shelf into the Tem, please one of the alloying Grasses:
I believe it may be having a stroke. Oh dear.
[Worldwalker Burger of]
A otherworl*** who has arrived in to _the destruction from pride of fast food chains everywhere. As //// Class, the [Worldwalker Burger of] is unrivaled in pickles and ketchup, hold the cheese. Benevolent and 500 calories, you will ɹoɟɹǝʌǝ ǝpvote yourself to the the thethethee̷e̶̷̴e̶̶̴̷̷̴̴̟͔̤͚͒̈́͛̕e̵̶̸̴̸̶̸̴̴̵̷̷̶̷̸̷̶̴̶̴̴̴̴̟͔̤͚͒̈́͛̕e̸̸̸̴̸̵̷̸̸̵̸̸̷̸̶̴̶̵̸̷̵̴̶̵̷̷̡̛̟̤͕̹̰͑̓͌̏̾͠e̸̸̸̴̸̵̷̸̸̵̸̸̷̸̶̴̶̵̸̷̵̴̶̵̷̷̡̛̟̤͕̹̰͑̓͌̏̾͠e̸̸̸̴̸̵̷̸̸̵̸̸̷̸̶̴̶̵̸̷̵̴̶̵̷̷̡̛̟̤͕̹̰͑̓͌̏̾͠e̸̸̸̴̸̵̷̸̸̵̸̸̷̸̶̴̶̵̸̷̵̴̶̵̷̷̡̛̟̤͕̹̰͑̓͌̏̾͠*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ*̶̴̵̷̷̵̸̶̶̴̵̵̶̵̷̵̵̸̸̴̵̶̵̸̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̴̷͉̦͕̫̳̬̖̐̈̋̉̈́͆͘͜͜͠͠ͅ
Hmm. Perhaps these messages are not quite as meaningless as they seem. Despite the apparent chaos, a pattern can be clearly found: Once, and twice again, sentences end simply with ‘of’. In light of how grammatically incorrect this is, one can only assume a final word was intended: a noun. Given the blank near the beginning, one can assume that this word was removed a third time more, and its length of six spaces gives us a word with letters of the same. Given that it says I have arrived in this missing noun, only one comes to mind: Vacuos. By removing its name from the message, this ‘system’ claims that I do not belong in this world; and by leaving no replacement, it expands to claim I, in fact, belong nowhere at all. A profound truth; I have no argument to muster.
However, it continues: In two instances, letters are underlined; combined, they say Nu. The thirteenth letter of the ancient Greek alphabet. Thirteen: misfortune. The message is clear: To it, I am a harbinger of death and desolation; it will not welcome me.
This, I cannot accept. Even with no intended purpose, being, or self, I stood against the Void time and time again. I never, even momentarily, considered its offers, no matter how much I stood to gain. Should the Void once again rise from its eternal grave and trespass on this land, I alone shall stand against it. To claim me as the harbinger, not the defender? Mindless scapegoating, nothing more. Should the [System] of this world reject me, I shall have no choice but to reject it in turn.
I waved away the fractured words, blocking out any further distractions as I looked towards the horizon. I had not forgotten the so-called King that Zolan had spoken of. If teacher was as student, and truly of greater power, the havoc that could be wrought would be unimaginable. It seemed that my role of Vacuos’ protector had not yet ended.
Strange… What was this disappointment, welling up from within? Had I truly been so enamored with the possibility of laying down my blade?
It mattered not. Should I lay upon my bed at this time, I would soon see the fires of evil light it aflame. I may rest when that fire has been extinguished.
Stretching my senses, I set forth towards this so-called king.
----------------------------------------
Ar’elith proved to be little more of a threat than his student had been, and gave far fewer insights. Now alone with my thoughts, I wondered: on my past; what I’ve done. On my present; what I am. On my future; where I go from here. My encounter with Zolan may have wavered my resolve, but I would not falter in my path. For good or ill, I knew naught else. As for my future, there was little I could think of, any gainful interaction rendered meaningless by the simple fact of what I was.
However, it was yet another simple fact that revealed the flaws in my thinking: One crazed man does not a world define. Perhaps I would find another, who could see and accept me for what I was. Yes, this is what I would seek. I could remember only traces of the warmth that drove me, time slowly stripping those hazy memories away, but now, I would take the first step on the path to find it once more.
And I knew the perfect place to begin: That sprawling metropolis that Zolan once sought to defile. As I imagined the people, the bustle, the sheer life of such a place, I was filled with excitement and trepidation in equal measure. As I lifted myself once more, zipping around the trees as I set forth towards my destination, I admit, I may have quickened my pace to a somewhat unnecessary degree in my impatience.
Nearing the gates, I slowed myself to a less threatening momentum. It would not do for the guards to see me as an attacker, after all. Likewise, I quickly buried my blade in a spot to the wayside, layering it with wards and sealing the hole.
There was a waiting line, it seemed. Not one to shirk the duties of society, I placed myself at its back to await my rightful turn.
My advance was quick: a sign of municipal efficiency. I approved.
The peasants coming up behind me, however, did not. “Agh, what’s with th’ line today?” Said a middle-aged farmer to his wife.
“Uh. Haven’t the foggiest, but I’m more worried ‘bout th’ floatin’ sandwich,” was her reply.
“Th’ what now?”
Had I arms, I would have gave proper greetings. Sadly, it was all I could do to write a simple hello.
The couple jumped. “Hun, did the System jus’ say hello, or am I goin’ crazy?'' Said the wife.
“I’d put my bets on us both goin’ crazy, hun.”
It seemed I had been severely misunderstood. A simple fix, at least.
“My apologies, I am not the System. I am simply incapable of speech, and must write my thoughts to make them known.”
They quickly relaxed. “Phew. Sorry ‘bout that. Mute prob’bly shoulda’ th’ first thing I thought of. So, uh,” She looked around. “Where are ya?”
“Directly in front of you.” I explained. Strange. She had already spoken of me, what would make her ask such a question?
She and her husband stared at me for a moment, blinking in confusion, before bursting into laughter. “Talkin’ sandwich! Ha! Ain’t heard that one before!” The husband rasped. “Good one. Must be one of those adventurin’ types, ain’t ya? Got some nice skills there. Just make sure yer all visible-like when ya see the guard, they don’ take too kindly to fellas tryin’ ta sneak in.”
Though I felt I must correct their misunderstandings, a strange feeling held me back, telling me that they would stay in denial, and I would lose the only positive interaction I had had with another being throughout my entire existence. It did seem the most likely reaction, so I saw no need to force past. I would have to meditate on this strange emotion in the future, however.
Our conversation ended just in time, the caravan at my front pulling through the gates.
“Next!” An armored man called. “Party of two?”
“Er, no, there’s a fella ahead of us.” The farmer’s wife replied.
The guard blinked. “I don’t see anyone, unless you count that enchanted sandwich.”
I took that moment to make myself known. “Greetings. My apologies for introducing myself in such a manner, but sadly, I am incapable of speech. How may I assist you in this process of entrance?”
The guard jumped back, hand reaching for his blade, before he processed the contents of the message. “Sheesh, don’t write so close to someone’s face!” He chastised.
Ah, that was quite the oversight of mine. My next message was written a few feet away, larger to compensate for the distance, “My apologies. Is this better?”
The guard sighed. “Yeah, that’s better. Anyway, where are you? I can’t do anything if I can’t see you.”
In a burst of inspiration, I wrote an arrow directly over my form, pointing down, with a simple message of “Here.”
The guard blinked, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, you’re holding it! I was so confused why someone would enchant a sandwich. Anyway, again, I can’t do anything if I can’t see you, so drop the invisibility, please.”
Again, misunderstandings upon misunderstandings. I thought I had been perfectly clear, but apparently not.
“I can’t drop something that does not exist. I am the ‘sandwich’ you see, though the correct term is ‘Burger.’”
The guard’s smile faded as he stared blankly towards me, the cold, dead stare of someone who has dealt with far, far too much nonsense. “So… You’re telling me you’re currently transformed into a sandwich- sorry ‘Burger’, and since you’re not invisible, you don’t need to show yourself?”
The farmer hacked from behind me. “H-Hold on a minute, yer tellin’ me ya actually turned inta a sandwich fer one joke? That’s some real dedication right there.”
The guard sighed. “That’s all well and good, but you still need to turn back before I can let you in.”
Even now, he couldn’t believe that I was what I was. In this world of fantastic powers, any possibility can be explained away, any truth refuted. Should I be adamant about what I am? Such an action would surely see me tossed from the gates, barred from entering. Should I… should I pretend that I was once human? Such an action would go against my nature, but… it may be my only choice.
Now, how can I convince him?
“My apologies. I am currently incapable of transforming back.”
The guard pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, let me get this straight. You turned into a sandwich as a joke while waiting in line, and your shapeshifting skill has a cooldown until you can change back?” He sighed. “Sorry, but I can’t let a shapeshifter enter the city without registering their true form and mana signature. Go wait outside until the cooldown’s up before you try again.”
It got worse and worse. I could not take my words back now, however. I made my bed, I must lie in it. Hah, ‘lie’. What clever wordplay, had I only intended it.
I wrote once more, “That is sadly not an option. I have been stuck like this for over ten years, I do not believe it will end any time soon.”
The guard glared. “You’re telling me your own skill got you stuck as a sandwich, and you can never turn back? Get real. Jokes over, take this seriously, or I’m gonna have to start treating you like an infiltrator.”
There were many paths I could have taken. I could have said that I was transformed unwillingly by another. I could leave, and wait patiently for the changing of the guard, hoping the next would be more amenable to my plight. I could fly over the walls, ignoring this city’s laws completely. However, my guilt over my lies - alongside that nameless emotion rising once more - swelled to the breaking point.
I fled. All I knew was that I could not bear that situation a moment longer
I did not go far. My senses returned to me in seconds, and I was immediately filled with shame and confusion over my actions. What drove me to spout such falsehoods? I may have been a falsehood myself, but I felt no joy in twisting and disregarding the truth even further than was necessary for my existence. And that nameless feeling, twice has it driven me to actions I would not have taken otherwise.
I must reflect upon this, I thought as I retrieved my blade. I could not accept any less than absolute mastery over myself and my actions. The folly of Zolan’s death could not be repeated.
There was a mountain visible in the distance. Perhaps a change of scenery could give me the change of perspective I need to understand
----------------------------------------
Scant hours later, I opened my senses back up to the world, taking in the snow and the wind of this mountain peak. With a flick of magic, I brushed off the snow that had buried my form, rising up on the currents of mana.
My meditation had proved fruitful. As I saw now, my prior actions had been borne of fear; the fear and anxiety of rejection, of loneliness. I had known of these things, but I did not truly understand them. Now, I was far better equipped to control them.
Likewise I had also solved the conundrum of acceptance. If my words are to be of no effect, then I must prove myself with my actions; by the protection of all those countless innocents threatened by the insidious evil, which I had discovered permeates all worlds, not just the Fractured Realm.
A shame. I truly grew tired of battle, yet even now, it was the sole way forward. Life rarely gives what one desires freely, it seems.
I set forth back to Windrip, the only city I had ever known. It may be some time until I find those in danger. Until then I would require constant vigil-
Fire. The great walls of Windrip had fallen, the sky painted dark by the ashes of what was lost, as waves of filthy, ashen green poured into the city. How could this be? Mere hours ago, it was a bastion of unparalleled prestige, a bright beacon against the wilderness. Two mere hours of weakness, and all had been lost.
Vacuos had dulled my edge. A mere second of lapse would have spelled my demise in the Fractured Realm.
This, too, was the price of my failures.
I spread my senses, taking in the battlefield. The city guards had lived up to their reputation, it seemed. Droves of civilians had been evacuated behind the line of defense, and the guards held a fighting retreat against the tide, for now. But even still, droves more of bystanders and combatants alike lay broken in the streets, never to rise again.
The enemies… were not mindless monsters, it seemed. They spoke to each other in a primitive, gibberish tongue, used tools and weapons to unleash even greater violence. They spoke words of revenge, of justice, but the needless cruelty wrought by each and every one of their kind spoke of a species meant only for destruction; even the most violent of societies had outliers. For there to be none at all, meant that they were incapable of anything else. Mindful monsters, but monsters nonetheless.
I took in the horrors of war - I saw a husband, desperately fighting on behalf of his bleeding wife. I saw a guard in crumpled armor, standing alongside his comrades as they held the line.
I saw a woman with hair of gold and eyes of silver, standing before a goblin a dozen times her size, bruised, broken, yet refusing to leave the family of four and the bystander a distance away to their fate.
I took in the consequences of my lack of vigilance. I would not look away, imagining a world where all was well.
I could not raise the fallen. But I would not allow my mistakes to fell a single soul more.
----------------------------------------
As she stood against the Goblin Lord Glutaz, Noele knew she would die there. Her chances of victory were slim to begin with, but now, the deaths of his people had raised him from an A-rank threat to an S-rank one. Still, even as his fist fell, she could not retreat. If she was to die, she would die with her dignity and honor intact.
But the impact never came. She opened her eyes, first seeing the family and receptionist she had been protecting, but second, she saw the sky, as a storm of shining spears fell to Vacuos, a stark contrast against the blackened heavens. She saw the goblins that were moments ago fighting Justyn and the family get erased where they stood, not a single spear striking missing their mark.
Glutaz roared, power unlike any she’d ever seen flowing off of him in waves.
“What…?” Noele whispered in both awe and fear. This rain could only be the work of an S rank. And yet, no S rank she knew of should be anywhere nearby. More than that, they should have known to kill the Goblin Lord before slaughtering his people in droves.
Strangest of all, she thought she saw a floating sandwich in front of her. She must have been hit a bit too hard in the head.
A message appeared before her. At first, she thought it was a notification from the System, but it was different than any other she’d ever seen. “Will you survive your injuries?” It asked.
“Who…?” She asked as she spun around, looking for the writer.
“If you can still move in ways such as that, I can assume you’ll be fine. As for me, I suppose you could refer to me as a guardian.”
Glutaz’s screams rose to a fevered pitch, and Noele shook herself out of her daze.
“You… Whoever you are, I cannot thank you enough for saving us, but do you have any idea what you’ve done?! That goblin lord gets temporary levels with every dead goblin! It must be around level 80 now! Not even a team of S-ranks could handle it!”
The reply shook her to her core. “There is no need to fear, fellow protector. I have kept track of its rise in power; it is still far too weak to be a threat.”
What shook her even more than that was Glutaz, rocketing towards her in a corona of raging red energy, four times faster than before. “YOU! I CAN SMELL YOUR MANA! YOU’RE THE ONE THAT SLAUGHTERED MY PEOPLE! YOU WILL SUFFER WHAT THEY SUFFERED, A THOUSAND TIMES OVER!”
Noele couldn’t even keep up with him when he was level 60. Her chances now were nonexistent.
But before she could make a sound, chains of shining silver shot out from nothing, wrapping around Glutaz, anchoring into the air itself and stopping him in his tracks. Even as he tugged and thrashed, the chains did not so much as squeak.
Another message appeared in front of her, before quickly vanishing. “Excuse me, I have someone I must speak to.”
In the distance, she saw a series of words, similar to the ones that had just vanished, appear in front of Glutaz. Glutaz, of course, ignored them entirely, unable to read.
After a few seconds of pause, a hundred voices sounded from empty space instead, a raucous, grating cacophony that no being could ignore.
“Thousands upon thousands of innocents dead. Just as many of your own people lie with them. A bright, bustling city, burned and demolished beyond recognition. What drives you to war, when you have nothing to gain and everything to lose?” The voice questioned impassionately.
Glutaz frothed and spit. “You kill my people, again and again, hunt them for sport and hang their hides as trophies, and you have the gall to ask what drives us?! Human, elf, dwarf, gnome, I will see all those who slaughter us be slaughtered in turn! Only then will we be free!”
A message appeared before her. “Is this true?”
She cursed. “Don’t fall for his mindgames! Time and time again, every time we try to treat them with kindness, they stab us in the back and slaughter as many innocents as they can in the process! Besides, if he actually cared about his people, he’d hide and protect them, not throw them into a war just to make himself more powerful!”
The message shifted. “This matches what I have observed. The judgment is clear.”
The chorus sounded once more. “You do not truly fight for your people. You fight for your sense of superiority, to avenge the loss of those you consider your property, and to follow the inherent violence that all of your kind possess. For all those who have been lost due to your selfishness, begone.”
The chains that bound Glutaz grew, wrapping around and around, even as his curses and insults grew in volume and number. And as the last part of him was rendered unseen by the cocoon of light, that light grew blinding, then disappeared in a flash. When the light faded, not even a speck remained.
Noele watched this in utter awe. This was what she aspired to be. An unstoppable guardian, justice itself.
Before the guardian could move on to whatever was next, Noele shouted into the air, hoping against hope that she would be heard. “Please, teach me how to be as strong as you!”
The guardian’s words appeared before her once more. “Why do you seek strength?”
She swallowed nervously. Her answer here could make or break the entire rest of her life. “Because I must. This is the Age of Calamity. More catastrophes, wars, and disasters have happened in the past decade than in the past century combined. Without the strength to overcome anything that may come, I will be unable to protect anyone.
For a moment, nothing changed. For a moment, Noele thought she had answered wrong.
The words shifted. “Then find me, and speak what I am. Only then may your training begin.”
And with that, they faded away, leaving Noele alone in the wreckage of the guild house. With a hand to her heart, she made a vow. “Very well. I will do whatever it takes.”
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A month later, there was hardly a soul in Windrip who did not know of the Faceless Guardian, the unknown entity who single-handedly routed the entire goblin army in a single attack, and executed the Goblin Lord for his sins. This was not their only appearance, however. For thousands of miles around, hundreds spoke of times they neared death, only for a blinding light to whisk them from their fates.
Noele had spent all of this time searching, speaking to anyone who might have a clue, be they [Guild Masters] or common [Farmers] who had been rescued.
With hundreds upon hundreds of stories, and researched facts in equal measure, her search came to its end with a single gate guard, who had been on duty the day of the attack, yet was lucky enough to switch shifts just minutes before the gate was felled.
The man hiccuped with a flushed face, a sound that got lost in the chatter and bustle of the bar. “Sho yea, I was doin’ ma job, mindin’ my own biznatch, when this wacko walks up, an’ shays he’s a shandwich!” He laughed. “Even made up a big ol’ shtory ‘bout it too! ‘Oh no, I been turn into a shandwich, and I can’t turn back! Sherusly, who even doesh that?”
Sitting in the seat across from him, Noele politely sipped her wine. “Did he just say he was a sandwich, or was he actually shapeshifted into one?”
Her dining partner gasped. “Howd’ya know? He was! Are you, like, sidekick or somethin’?”
She sighed in exasperation. “Maybe. Did he also happen to speak by writing words with magic?”
He gasped again, in exactly the same way. “He did! Did it all fancy-like too, like he were wearin’ a moncle! You are piekick! Psykit? Physic!”
Noele pinched the bridge of her nose as she got up. “I’ve learned what I was looking for. I’ll be leaving now.”
The off-duty guard groaned dramatically. “Awww. Well, ya kno where to find me if ya wanna shee me again!”
“If I ever see you again, you’d better hope all you get is fined.” She muttered under her breath, briskly walking out of the bar and into the night.
Noele made her way straight to the inn she was staying at, entered her room, and flopped face-first onto the mattress, where she groaned loudly.
All of that work, and she finally had her answer. So why wasn’t she happy about it?
“Because my future mentor is a freaking sandwich. Burger. Whatever.”
She knew it wasn’t the Faceless Guardian’s fault for being a sandwich. The only reason she had come to this conclusion at all was because every single account of them painted a picture of a thoughtful, honest, lawful being, who wouldn’t prank a guard in a way that could have interfered with a city’s protection.
Every single account also included a floating sandwich.
She groaned again. There goes her dreams of being taken under the wing of an angel, or a god, or a dragon, or something. She’d have even taken an eldritch entity who was defying their nature to do good in the world.
But a sandwich?!
Sitting up, she shook her head. Maybe their skills were too specific to let them change back to whatever they were supposed to be. Maybe they had gotten on the wrong side of something even stronger, and were hoping against hope that someone, someday, would be able to break the curse.
Regardless, she had the first part of the puzzle. Now she just needed to actually find them.
They probably weren’t expecting to be tracked back to their home, wherever it is. They left no hints to that whatsoever. The locations they’ve been seen in had no pattern either. Well, no pattern except one.
They were always seen where someone needed help.
It really was an amazing strategy, Noele thought. You could only find the Guardian if you held the same drive and dedication in protecting others as they had, and only if you were both strong enough to survive, and stuck with it long enough, until you happened to run across them in the defense of another. A test of character, courage, wisdom, and power, all in one simple package, that also saved hundreds of people over its course.
She pushed herself out of bed, doubting her ability to sleep that night. There were too many thoughts swirling around her head.
Far better to spend her time completing the test she had been given.
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It took a week of wandering, but finally, after battling a pair of Lycan Drakes that were heading towards a caravan, she saw them out of the corner of her eye: a floating sandwich, next to a floating sword, stood to the side watching, waiting to see if their assistance would be necessary
“Guardian!” She called with conviction, staring directly at the floating burger. “I have the answer!”
After a momentary pause, two words formed in front of her: “Then speak.”
“You… are a sandwich. A ‘burger’, to be precise. You were transformed against your will, and are unable to turn yourself back, for whatever reason.”
She was met with an even longer pause, serving to drive her nerves up the walls. “And what if I was not?” The words shifted.
Her brain stalled. She… was wrong? Are they actually an angel or something, and the sandwich was a distraction? Did she fail, and call an angel a sandwich? No, the Guardian wasn’t the type to make a trick question like that. Then…
“You… are a magical construct shaped like a burger, constructed by some eccentric but incredibly powerful artificer, whose mastery over magic allowed you to gain sapience, and rise even higher than them?”
Once again, the Guardian took their time mulling over her words. Had she dug her grave even further? Was the personality they showed also a test, one she had failed completely? Was she about to-
“That is closer to the truth than any have ever gotten. You have passed.”
Noele simultaneously felt the urge to relax into a puddle in relief and coil into a spring in excitement. “I-I passed? Really?” She shook her head, composing herself. “You said I was closer to the truth, but not that I was right. Could I know what you actually are, then?”
The burger did not react. At all. Really, it was a social nightmare trying to deal with something that couldn’t express itself in any way but written word. “Very well. I accepted your answer because it included the possibility that I was an object given sapience. That is the truth. It is not my form that is unnatural. It is this mind, this life of mine, that was never meant to be.” Continuing, they spoke of their origins; the warm memory, the fractured maelstrom, the death of Truth.
Noele felt her head spin. A completely ordinary sandwich? Without any help, not even the System, a literal sandwich became stronger than anyone she’d ever met? It was ridiculous. But…
“But why don’t you change into something besides a burger? From that story, it sounded more like you’re a spirit bound to that object-” Instantly, she knew she said the wrong thing. A nameless pressure emanated from the Guardian, bringing her to her knees, before it just as quickly faded away.
Her eyes were unfocused, enough that she could barely read the next message.
“My apologies for my lapse in control. But if you knew what you speak of, you would not have even entertained the thought.” The message faded into transparency, evoking the idea that the writer was sighing sadly. “Yet, I cannot say such things, for I have entertained such thoughts myself. However, I ask you this: Were I not a burger, what would I be?” The words shifted, continuing. “The most logical choice would be a spirit born of that fractured maelstrom. But the spirits of the Fractured Realm are not like those you know. The Void, which permeates every layer of that realm, is an unfeeling kingdom of death, destruction, and corruption; the antithesis of all I am. But far, far worse; were I a spirit of the void, I would be a kinslayer; a thousand million times over. I would be guilty of regicide, a hundred times over. And I would be guilty of deicide. I could not bear such titles.
Even as Noele’s head spun, they continued. “And were I to reject that as well? I would be nothing. A cosmic mistake; a joke. I would have no past to speak of, nothing to cling to, neither creator nor kin. I ask you, could one with not even the barest fraction of a past, a formless nothing even in the present, truly claim to have a future? At least as I am, I have one small comfort; my creator. For she is my creator, make no mistake, in both body and mind. That one memory shaped all of who I am today, and I would be remiss to not give credit where it was due.”
Shaking off the last of the dizziness, Noele looked The Guardian in the… filling? Should she just say face, even if they don’t have one? Nevermind. “I… see. Those are incredibly profound reasons, far more than I could have ever imagined. I won’t be bringing up the topic again. Though… Before we begin any training, might I ask why you accepted me as a student? I have almost nothing to offer you.” She blinked. “And maybe, might you tell me your name?” Immediately she regretted it, not because of any pressure, but because who on Vacuos would name a sandwich? Or who in some other world would name a sandwich, she supposed. Wait, does this make The Guardian an otherworlder? That’d make a lot of sense, actually.
There was another time of silence as she waited for a reply, thoughts spiraling. It was something she would have to get used to, Noele thought. The Guardian was proving to be a very thoughtful and introspective being, it seemed.
“My reason for taking you as a disciple is long, varied, and somewhat selfish. You see, I have fought my entire existence; ten long, tiring years, without a single moment’s rest. And yet, no matter how much my heart aches for rest, I cannot rest with a clear conscience unless there is another to take my place. I seek for that one to be you. You, and any other disciples I might take. As for my name, I once called myself Amelia. But now, I see that belief to be the folly it is; for as kind as my creator must have been, who would name a burger? It is her name, not mine, that she spoke. In truth, I have no name.”
Noele waited a moment to see if they had anything else to say, opened her mouth, and was immediately met with a message waiting for her.
“Now, before we begin your training, there is one thing I must mention: I know only the method that I was taught by. I have spoken of my story; you know as well as I what that means.”
She gulped. “Almost certain death?”
“Indeed. Do you still wish to continue?”
Clenching her eyes shut and steeling her resolve, she answered: “Yes.”
“Then all you must know is this: The only way to grow strong is to do so because you must. Because the desperation and resolve of one doomed to die can - if your will is right - overcome even fate itself, if only just. Once you have done so once, you must do it again - and again - tens, hundreds, thousands of times more.
“There is a nest of countless colossal insects to the west. Find it, enter, and emerge victorious. Only then, will you have taken the first step on the path to strength. You will have no assistance. Even should you fall, I shall not do nary a thing to assist.”
Her eyes widened, looking at her mentor with a mixture of fear and respect. “I understand.”
“Then go.”
Noele took her first steps forward - then turned back, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Master.” With that, she activated a burst of speed, shooting off faster than a mortal eye could track.
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I pondered on my deception as I watched my disciple depart. I felt somewhat guilty for the deceit, but the truth was, I would not allow her to die in my task. Should she fall, she shall fall only from grace. However, I knew it to be a necessary evil; for if she believed in even the possibility of salvation, she would not be truly capable of releasing her potential.
My mind wandered to her final words. Master, was it? I felt a warmth filling me at the-
This warmth. I know it. It has remained there, fading at the edge of my memory for as long as I have lived, drawing me, but never allowing my touch. To think, that I would reach it so soon? A miracle among miracles.
I thought back to one of my many epiphanies: on my namelessness. That first warmth gave me my first name, false as it may have been. It seemed to me only fair that this achievement, of reclaiming that warmth once more, should gift me with another: one that truly could be called my own.
As I thought this, the warmth returned once more. And as I basked in this light, I grew content; with what I am; who I am.
I am Master. And I am a burger.