———————

    Thank cosmos that I don't have an anus.

    This wasn't at all what I expected to read when I opened it. It's turning out to be a real pain in the... well, another part I don't have.

    That was the first thought that crossed my mind as I began to read the ominous words written simply in ink, almost as if they were staring at me with each line I read.

    I should have realized it the moment I saw a folded piece of paper instead of a scroll. 

    Expressing the unease I'm feeling would make this much better, I mean, I wish I could sweat, but that is just another foreign characteristic I don't relate to.

    In case—if—you are not wondering, let me elaborate.

    First of all, stop imagining me, as well as regarding me, as a human being.

    Sure, I do have a few characteristics, but I am not a biped filled with greed, unjust or fleeing emotions like those depicted in the scroll I'm holding in my other... hand(?).

    Long story short, I'm an interstellar being whose body is a mishmash of geometric triangular figures, and just to add to my uniqueness I should mention that my color is red(?).

    Is that how I radiate to the eyes that only perceive the visible spectrum? It's so sad.

    Well, there you have it, this is what I look like, no skin, no ears, no brain to give me Alzheimer's, no butt to constipate, no **** to ******* ****.

    I've heard that constipation is often considered one of the most uncomfortable experiences. That's what the opening line meant. The essence being unpleasantness, rather than any superficial label that might sound close to it.

    Okay! Let's move on to the scroll in my hand, rather than the folded piece of paper which should be of less concern.

    Now– Woah! What's with these rumblings?! What in the Severance is going on?!

    Hm? Did 'Severance' get your attention? It seems my situation is of more concern now. Before we get to the rumbling part, you need to know where it's happening.

    Simply put, Severance is a fixed path in this gigantic cosmos, utilized for monitoring the Macrocosm while using the Terminal Nexus.

    Macrocosm aside, Terminal Nexus, eh? I know this is going to be a challenge, but picture a beautiful fortress made of spires of oddly positioned stairs and windows. Oh, you refer to that as Escher inspired architecture! That's a load off my shoulder(?)!

    It's a bit outdated? Well, guess who's in space and free of viruses, tellurian? ...Looks like you can visualize it, and as for the Macrocosm– Oh my orbs! What the...!!!

    Explaining things as they are is a challenge enough, and now I have to put up with these absurdities? Yes, I know the narrative is all over the place, but believe me, I wouldn't take this route unless I was forced to.

    ...Oops, I shouldn't have mentioned that.

    Okay, let's clap once and forget about it. Well, should we start anew with minimal details, knowing that neither of us had actually clapped?

    If we skim over the specifics, then we can consider...

    Macrocosm as a planet,

    Terminal Nexus as its natural satellite,

    Severance as that satellite's orbit,

    and us unperceivable beings as inhabitants of that satellite.

    Even though this perspective is far from accurate, it should be enough for someone that hasn't even achieved Type 1 civilization.

    Now for the rumbling part, …I'm afraid I can't provide an explanation. Like, not that I have no knowledge, rather it's a subject that hasn't been explored or theorized in depth.

    Think of it like the concept of life after death. You can debate about the existence of that phenomenon, but you can never prove it. There may be numerous studies and differing viewpoints, yet a conclusive answer remains out of reach.

    Ooo! Oh, no. Mr Know-It-All has turned into Mr Not-Know-It-All. …...My apologies, I thought it would be funny. So, shall we just have a talk about what's happening?

    It was meant to be just another ordinary shift. I say one of the words that appears on my 'Box of Beginnings,' and it pops open with dramatic effect. I grab the scroll, write the intended number of 'Avatar,' and put it back in the box, and continue the cycle.

    I may have wished for it, but never would I have expected this event to happen.

    Today... As I was just about to utter, I... or should I presume, the entire Terminal... no, Severance... no, the very fabric of the cosmos we exist in, was hit by a surge of something I've never experienced before.

    But if I had to describe it, it could be something akin to a gravitational wave, but on a grander… magnificent scale.

    And what I never expected was for it to happen twice more.

    The first time, I did not try to assess the situation until I saw a folded piece of paper along with a scroll in the box, and as you can already guess I could not access the situation the next two times even if I tried.

    But let me just add what happened in those two instances. The second time, exterior aside, the interior was deeply cracked, and the third time, the walls collapsed, exposing me to the internal structure of this fortress.

    Ahhhh!!! That feels so good! Finally! Now we can pick up from here and–

    The reason I decided to stop wasn't due to the fourth instance, but rather the aftermath that followed the third one.

    The collapse of the wall dominoed and reached the roof. Looks like my job—not the one that pays me, but the one I'm forced to do—has protected me from suffering any consequences.

    The dust soon settled, revealing– What the?!!! No, what in the–!!! Oh my–!!! Get away from her, T'jambi!!! What the f–?!!! What the F are you doing?!!!

    "Oh! Hi, Zen! I waz juzt wrappin' my trunk aroun' Amber'z waizt and uzin' the tip to–"

    There is nothing just about what you are doing! I don't want your courtesy and I definitely don't want to hear about what you're doing! All those exclamations unquestionably show that I, an extraterrestrial, saw something that undoubtedly needs no explanation! And put Junior down! Immediately!!!

    Bursztyn Amber exclaimed with a cheerful wave, "Cześć, Sen!" (Hi, Sen!)

    Cześć, Amber—I returned the greeting to the four foot tall doll made of amber, sculptured in traditional Polish clothing with a long cone almost half her height on her head.

    "Ah! Nothin' wrong here. Zhe told me to zmell her azz," said a gray half-biped half-mastodon as tall as the roof, with a drowsy tone, draped in rugged garments that blended seamlessly with his skin tone.

    Wh-What?! H-Ho-How?! No, you shut up, T'jambi! Amber, chcesz wyjaśnić? (Care to explain?)

    Amber, still in T'jambi's grasp, nonchalantly tried to address my concern by pointing towards a book she held in her other hand.

    "Znamy las, moja książka. Zgubiłem ją, gdy podczas jej czytania wydarzył się wstrząs. Więc krzyknąłem, „Nie, Znamy las!” i dzięki jego szybkiej reakcji udało mi się go odzyskać na czas. Czy możesz mu podziękować w moim imieniu?"

    (We Know the Forest, it's a book. I lost it when the jolt-thing happened while I was reading it. So I shouted for it like, 'Nie, Znamy las!!!' and thanks to his quick reaction I managed to get it back. Can you thank him for me?)

    She would like to thank you, T'jambi.

    "Eh?! Then tha' meanz it'z ok to go on, righ'?" muttered T'jambi, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

    There's no way that's okay! Stop treating her like Pluto, dammit! You know she only speaks Polish, and I know you can only understand English, but how can you misunderstand 'Znamy las' for 'Smell my–' ugh, for whatever your worthless fantasy was.

    "I mean–"

    Your 'mean' has no meaning! Just because they have the same amount of syllables and vowels, you just can't assume whatever you want! Put her down already, for Nexus's sake!

    T'jambi murmured softly as he gently set Amber down, "Hehe... You zounded like–"

    Shut up! Being made fun of by an interdimensional crime offender is the last thing on my list. And what in the cosmos does T'jambi mean?! It sounds like something even a foster parent wouldn't name their least favorite of the adopted.

    "Oh! It'z Buddy Talk time'!" T'jambi exclaimed as he dusted himself off.

    Ain't anyone is your 'Buddy', idiot! And congratulations, that line just updated my list.

    "My real name waz Ozwald. But I change' to T'jambi after Mama make fun of meh," he continued, turning a deaf ear to me.

    Wow! I'm really curious to find out what Mama said to hurt this clueless desperado!

    "You know knoc-knoc jokez? You be me and I be Mama! I will ztart now, OK!"

    Curious as I was, I just went with his flow and acted out his little skit.

    "Knoc Knoc"

    Who's there?

    "Ozwald"

    Oswald who?

    "I zhould have zwallowe' you!"

    Wooooooooow! Mama should have. So, how did you end up with the name T'jambi?

    "Oh, I take it from one of my good figurinez," he said softly.

    You are not helping much, do a little better, in fact do a lot better than that, because even I can't think of anything like that.

    "No... Everyone knowz T'jambi. Know, those things that are actually lifeless yet instinctively seek refuge in the living," he remarked, holding out his name tag that read as 'Zombie'. I don't think it's necessary, but I feel like I should add that his voice had a certain steadiness to it by the end.

    I really like your sense of style, but in your case it's more like the dead dragging the living into the oblivion of suffering.

    Amber, who quietly crept into our conversation, questioned, "Czy „oblivion of suffering” coś znaczy?"

    (Does 'oblivion of suffering' mean anything?)

    I don't know, Amber. But how about you instead of stressing over my vocabulary, you stress on those English classes? How can you only understand and not speak, you piece of amber? Or rather, how can you—as a girl—put up with this wasted zygote?

    "Nie rozumiem, co mówisz, ale jestem chłopcem," she said in response to my argument.

    (I can't understand what you're saying, but I'm a man)

    How hard is it to not– Wait, you are a man?

    "She's a man?!" exclaimed T'jambi, his trunk wriggling with excitement.

    I'm not liking that enthusiasm, and I'm not going to look into it any further. And what are you looking at, Amber? Why are you looking at me like I'm a cluster of spite?

    "Ta rzecz–"

    English...

    "Hi, how eeez… aahh… are you, me is Amber…"

    Change classes, I will... You know what, your supervisor will pay you for the platinum classes. Wait, no. That sounds like the wrong kind of service. Still... upgrade your class, but pay for it yourself. For now, just say the words that come to mind.

    "Left... Scroll... Next... Dobra! (OK!)" she– he exclaimed, battling his way to the end.

    I would like to toast you, but one of them is still spelt in your blood. And what does that mean? ...Oh, Shi–! Wow! Thank you, Amber! Hey, Bipedmasto! Where is your 'Box of Constant'? I lost mine earlier.

    Without any shilly-shally, he pointed me to the debris that had come down with him. I undulated my way through the mess, and pulled it free from the wreckage. Wish my work here could have been over with a few simple steps, but that was not going to be the case.

    There was something else glued to the box. Something you are familiar with. ...Yes, a Matrix Weaver. What? Never heard of it? A PC? What's that? O-Oh Oh! Oh, that's what it's called. A PC. That's sad, I mean, my bad, my apologies. Mmm…

    Its functions are supposed to be similar, but the appearance is completely different.

    The wood and brick framed interface glued to the box was already lit up, displaying the recent activities. In short... Search history!

    In any of my reincarnations—if any exists—I would have overlooked it entirely, but a single word turned that impossible event possible.

    Loquat?

    "The fruit? Me like!" Amber added to my wonder.

    I opted to explore it further and came to a realization that I should have never attempted it. Shoving the interface in the possessor's face, I demanded an explanation.

    What is wrong with your head, man?! Read them!

    The smallest loquats?!

    The seedless loquats?!

    Loquats basking in the radiation?!

    Loquats timelapse?!—And only half of it has been watched?

    Do loquats taste better when eaten as a bunch or one at a time?!

    Is this what you do with your spare time?! You swine!

    In disgust, I threw the interface with the box glued to it at T'jambi. Whether it was fate or my bad aim, the box just barely grazed him and fell through the broken floor.

    "Ooo! Nigdy nie myślałem, że Senior będzie fanatykiem owoców!" Amber commented, sounding boastful.

    (Ooo! Never thought Senior would be a fruit fanatic!)

    Shut up, Amber! Your remarks are not improving the situation and certainly don't exonerate this scoundrel. And as dumb as it sounds, loquat is a fruit, true, but also an ex-associate, an ex-associate you replaced!

    Haa… Amber, give me your box—I gestured to him with a minimal movement.

    "Och! Moja skrzynka jest w konserwacji, a ja siedzę na Seniorze i na co dzień zajmuję się pracą," she– he, he replied matter-of-factly.

    (Oh! My box is under maintenance, so I sit on Senior to do the work on a daily basis)

    What? Since when?

    "Since... day one..." said the doll with a hint of doubt.

    Disbelief, you might call it, I shook my clumps as I made my way to the elevator.

    Turning back one last time, I pointed the scroll at the horrendous being and declared that as soon as I'd finished with it, I'd make sure it ended up in the Event Horizon, as well as giving Amber a little reminder that she– he would be forced into rehab.

    This would be the final time I laid eyes on them, I thought as I stepped onto the elevator. But color me surprised, the two of them casually strolled in after me.

    I would have asked them to get off, but just looking at the mayhem behind them made me think twice. Instead, I shifted a little further away, and the collapsed wall that served as a door began to reconstruct itself, and the elevator glided toward the heart of this space fortress.

    As we advanced in the direction I was facing, surrounded by a cascade of lights, there was an astonishing 16 seconds of absolute silence. The very next second, the playful trunk moved and pointed at me.

    "Woooow... Buddy change' color... Blue... Green..."

    That's turquoise, pea brain.

    "Och! czy czerwono-zielono, czy czerwono-niebieski?!"

    (Oh! Is it reddish green or reddish blue?!)

    I apologize for ridiculing the eyes that can only perceive the visible spectrum.

    "I waant to feeel it..." the drowsy voice added.

    Try it, Nefarious. Shade me if you want to puke all your insides out!

    The dejected proboscis quietly retreated, and we were nearing our destination. The silence was reclaimed, and I shifted my attention to others in the distant stream of lights.

    Not everyone was calm about the situation, but there sure were others who were doing their utmost to manage what they could. Like Mike, expertly directing the massive flow of traffic, and Wish, diligently overseeing his three new avatars, or me, focused on bringing the matters of this scroll to an end.

    While I stood in silence, anticipating the beep that would confirm our drop-off, the pair behind me engaged in a small gab.

    "Um, Senior... Box, sticky thing? I want... also... The glue! Tak(Yes)! Where, I buy...?"

    "Wha' glue?"

    A soft beep marked the end of their conversation, as well as the incredulity that surged through me, mingled with a sense of revulsion.

    The brick door crumbled, awaiting our exit, but what passed through it was not us.

    My eyes, yes, my ghostly, non-existent glass eyes, rolled out effortlessly and were quickly crushed by someone amidst the frenzy of the control center.

    The atmosphere was described as chaotic, but it's not because of the confusion, but rather because of the hectic activities.

    Everyone, from the most junior to the most senior, was busy in their responsibilities, fixated on dealing with the situation, even if it meant forcing unrelated people to help.

    Oh, hold on a moment. This room isn't all futuristic as you are imagining.

    However, if you've managed to render it as a gothic sanctuary—with dim colored stained glass windows, soaring vaulted ceilings adorned with massive chandeliers, and watched over by eerie gargoyles in a candlelit grand hall—then good job.

    Except, that much of its splendor has been marred.

    "Ah, Sen! A little help here... Ple~ase," a workmate called out to me as she struggled to stabilize the teetering rack, her voice laced with amorousness.

    Giving my greetings to Natalia, I waft in to assist, pushing the rack as far as possible.

    "Appreciate the help... Want me to repay you in any way?" leaning over to me, murmured the tall, gorgeous–

    Wait. I will not share the secrets of this enchantress. Her beauty is a treasure meant only for me alone to savor. If you are still curious to know, let me narrate her as... Unnarratable.

    "Ooo... No one's ever called me that before~" she said with her beautiful voi–

    Wait? What?

    "Oh, he'z been doin' that a lot toda'! He call me namez too..."

    "Och! Ja, ja! Nazwał mnie „piece-of-amber”! Jeśli to się liczy…"

    (Oh! Me, me! He called me a 'piece of amber'! If that counts…)

    A lot today? No, yours doesn't count, Amber. What do you mean by a lot, Miocenese?

    Instead of an explanation, the heap of ancient fur jumped over and over. Even now. And now. And again. And–

    Stop it, dammit! That's unsightly! Explain, right now!

    "You really are quite chatty today, and I'm liking it... But I can't go on without knowing if you truly called me that... Or if it was just another name in the mix...? Mmm..." Natalia inquired, her curiosity piqued.

    Ah! How can I possibly overlook the fact that I'm constantly speaking into void, every day, to everyone around me? Let's shut the narration to just my consciousness then.

    I shoved the scroll into Amber's hands, pulled her closer and moved my collectives as if I wanted to flash a bright grin.

    You wanted to pay me back, right NatNat?! Here, take this oblivious pile of amber and teach her– him your work. I will request Sir Parch Ment to move her to your area since her– his current zone doesn't need any additional help or BOXES! …So, I think she– he could be of some help. I mean, you know, learning from the best.

    "Oh... 'kay..."

    This wasn't on my checklist, but here's a life lesson.

    Never debate a woman in doubt, skip to her second best quality——Sen Daikei.

    While I'm at it, should I request Natalia for one more thing? You know what, let's just make it happen for the benefit of everyone involved.

    Um, Nattie… Could you find me a dimension made of clusters of supernovas? One substantial enough to disintegrate this embodiment of evil's irrevocable sins.

    Also, while it may seem like I'm just a lowly employee overstepping my bounds by requesting numerous favors, that's not the case. I've intentionally opted to work for a lower wage, all while maintaining my seniority.

    I prioritize a peaceful sleep over the bountiful pockets.

    Haa… As I stare at the alluring Nat, who likely did not listen to my previous request, walking away with her new Junior, a mammoth looms in my direction.

    "I wouldn' mind goin' to the place tha' you asked her to find. If Amber comez along..."

    What? Are you really that clueless? I thought you were playing nice and hiding evidence all along. Still, you are going to Event–

    Wait... but you were keen on your nicknames?

    The trunk moved slowly, trying to take my shoulder as he winked at me. There was no way I was going to let it get any closer. Trying to avoid it, I bumped into someone I failed to notice, someone I should never mess with.

    Oh sh...! Fauler Anführer! But what is he doing with all that luggage? ...No way!

    Realization slowly dawned on me, as he slammed his foot down in frustration because of the luggage that toppled over from my bump.

    "Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein! Was schaut ihr da, ihr KBOs?! Es ist nicht schwer herauszufinden, dass jemand versucht, aus diesem beschissenen Loch herauszukommen!" Anführer exclaimed.

    (No, no, no, no, no! What are you looking at, you KBOs?! It's not hard to figure out that someone's trying to get out of this shithole!)

    Should I ask him to speak in English? ...Better not.

    No, Anführer, you have no reason to do this. You are the next best employee after Sir Parch Ment. I know things look dire, but you will not feel the burden with all of us here... And you are being paid handsomely too…

    There was no apology or excuse from me, just some sweet talk, trying to bring this man to his senses.

    Meanwhile, as I was busy with Anführer, his 2.59 inch black minions—or what he affectionately calls them as younglings—were busy tidying up his messy luggage.

    Brushing his hair away from his left eye, "Aber nicht hübsch genug, um…" he expressed as he leaned in closer, his hand hinting to the disarray around us.

    (But not handsome enough to...)

    Ahh... I can't stand him to begin with, and I don't even want to continue. Sure, his absence might bring some misfortune, but that in itself is a fortune in disguise.

    My silence seemed to signal that I wasn't interested in continuing the conversation.

    Straightening his uniform and pulling up his belt, "Kommt schon, Jungs. Überlassen Sie diese Quasare ihrem eigenen Untergang!" he commands his minions, as he contemptuously spat on the ground.

    (Come on, younglings. Leave these quasars to their own demise!)

    Following their leader, all of the marching dainties spat on the ground in unison.

    Well, I don't mind it. The sound they made was quite amusing. But, I… Oh, no!

    Unannounced, the roof caved in, pierced by a small turret of the fortress that came crashing down, impaling the puny gang and painting the ground black.

    ......Anyways.

    With mixed thoughts as to whether or not to persuade the bigot nearing the elevator, I was left to choose the path that would be best for the situation.

    Come on, Anführer! The next scroll might really need a great figure like you! What are you gonna do after walking away, anyway?

    Without glancing back, he raises his fist and declares, "Backen Sie einen Kuchen in meinem vorgeheizten Ofen oder knallen Sie etwas Mais hinein und genießen Sie sie, während ich zusehe, wie diese staubige Festung zu Asche zerfällt!"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    (Bake a cake in my preheated oven or pop some corn, and enjoy them as I watch this irredeemable dusty fortress crumble to ashes!)

    The turret should have appeared a little earlier. It doesn't matter now anyway.

    Hmm... I'm not sure if giving away the scroll was the best choice? Hmm... The folded piece of paper didn't provide any specifics, did it? Or am I just overthinking things?

    Should I help out or skip work? I hate working, so it's wiser to opt for something satisfying.

    Are my words that hard to make sense of? How about looking at it this way? Whether to make an ice cream or to savor one. I would definitely just relish the treat.

    What? You would rather create your own and then enjoy it?

    Well then, be sure you make a delicious batch that truly makes the effort worthwhile.

    …As I wandered through the hall, thinking about my options, I spotted Clark, buzzing around all excited.

    Well, why don't I just ask him for his take on things? Can kill time, skip work and get paid. The ultimate form of goldbricker.

    As I curled my existence towards the man in the opulent white EMU, I took a snail's pace before extending my greetings, savoring the gentle melody of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 in C sharp minor, Op. 27 No. 2 filling the surroundings.

    "So, what is your take on things, Sen?" the psychic questioned, his voice filled with amusement.

    Firstly, did you just hear me use those words, or am I that predictable? Secondly, it looks like a paid holiday for the next few minutes.

    "Phahehe... Hard to say, as things stand. But let me ask you something, again: what do you believe is truly going on?" he asked, the gold-coated glass of his helmet reflecting me, and with probably a grin on him that I can't see.

    If I factor...

    It wasn't something as trivial as a pulsar.

    Nothing surpasses the speed of light.

    You did not alert anyone about any anomalies.

    If I have to conclude it along the lines of unpredictability, then...

    Schrödinger's cat?

    "Barely debatable, and I hate cats being used like that. However, if we use that as an example, we're basically experiencing one of those events in this box. An event where no one knows if the result is a demise or a nascence until the box is opened," the man declared, holding a slightly opened box.

    His explanation could point to something uncertain, but the wall that had collapsed right after his remark seemed to make me understand what he meant.

    Throughout the decades of my weary life, have I never witnessed a scenery like this.

    The vast cosmos, which had always played a dark and lifeless refrain, began to burn brighter than ever, as if it was acknowledging our presence. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the entire symphony of stars was warming us with its radiance.

    A warmth sufficient to soothe this cold life.

    Even if it's not possible to see the emotions hidden behind the reflective frame, even if it's not possible to see the emotions of a being of unknown constitution, it is certainly possible to understand the fascination they felt.

    ......So, are you telling me that something so beautiful is here to destroy us?

    "Or perhaps something so beautiful is here to discover…"

    That could also be... So, is this how your kind met its end? With the collision of the Milky Way and Andromeda? Or something else?

    "Nah, they killed themselves."

    Just like every other race out there, ehh... Wait! It totally slipped my mind, but are you sure it's okay with being out in the open like this?!

    With a casual double pat on his grandiose suit, he responded indifferently.

    We gradually returned inside, shifting our gazes away from the bright panorama that had been burned into our memories.

    "Want to throw any guesses about what the cat is doing in the box?" he questioned, trying to continue the talk about the strange situation.

    Only if it was an asteroid could we have focused on finding Bruce and be done with it.

    "Phahahahaha! Well, that's not it– Phaha, so... it wasn't a flash of light or a rush of waves—which we could have obviously noticed first hand—but... the whole box, the whole existence was shaken to its very last string. The cat is doing nothing! He is also wondering what the hell is happening to the box!"

    That sounds a bit ominous and–

    "Hat'dam'! Tha' very zcary!"

    Kyaah! *Adjusting the voice* How long have you been standing there?! More like, seriously, where did you even pop up from?!

    "Hehe... I waz hidin' and checkin' out if buddy could catch me doin' tha' thing, you know, the one you been doin' toda'," said a being that can't be reasoned with, holding an antique vinyl record.

    Woah... Careful with that. Why is that in–

    "Oh! I waz bored of hidin' and tried to get attention, like movin' the box, ztealin' this unusual origami, breakin' the wall, and az nothin' worked, I wanted to play different music!" he replied joyfully as he put the vinyl on the gramophone.

    Don't damage company property just for your own amusement, and you really are quite contradictory, but at least better than some politicians I know.

    What is he doing? Where's the music? How hard is it to put a needle on a record?

    "Push them!"

    "We all are risking our lives here!"

    "Scared because you are new to the job, you pathetic avatars?!"

    The shouts from the members of Conc. Management caught my attention. As I gazed down, I saw a group of avatars, each with unique shapes and sizes, being thrust into a furnace ablaze with green and gold flames.

    Despite how it looks, they're merely being sent into the Macrocosm.

    About time the new blood stepped away from the dictionary and learned the meaning of capitalism through sweat and blood. Push them, pu~sh them.

    Heh. It would have been a magnificent sight if the scroll with Amber had asked for more avatars.

    Gazing down from such a lofty vantage point... It would have been delightful to enjoy a glass of wine accompanied by a beautiful melody. And as if the very air around me was listening to my thoughts, a melody soared forth from the vinyl.

    When I heard the enchanting melodies filling the air, it became clear to me that someone had succeeded in getting the record started.

    The shimmering glass fragments on the arched ceiling had no connection to the music, yet the soft crackling of vintage glass harmonized with the music, slowly casting its dim glow into every corner of the hall.

    Isn't that Mozart's Symphony no. 25 in G Minor, K. 183? Such a masterpiece. 

    And yet… and yet…

    What is it?

    What is it that I am feeling?

    Why does this simple melody seem so foreboding?

    "With such a beautiful melody being played, it makes me feel like I should not be worried about the safety of you all," a voice echoed from above.

    No, that's not the one. That's the voice of Sir Parch Ment, the only manly man who is tackling the turmoil head-on in Macrocosm while we remain sheltered here.

    Why do I keep hearing the same part? Is the record broken?

    Should I have held onto the scroll till the end, is that it?

    But it seems alright... I'm fulfilling my duties as instructed–

    Wait! Folded paper! Di-Di-Didn't that manic say something about an unusual origami?

    My cluster of polygons began to twitch like never before. Some changed color, some rotated oddly, and some crumbled and fell off. It was obvious that I was getting stressed.

    Disregarding all the murmurs or thoughts, Sir Parch Ment pressed on, "I'll cut to the chase. Don't run any scrolls through... Yes, neither I nor did any of my ancestors anticipated this day would arrive. So, stop running any scrolls. I repeat..."

    My worries deepened when I realized that the crucial piece of paper was missing—and, to make matters worse, the new scroll rule was now firmly in effect.

    No scrolls?! Why are all these never-before-happened events happening at once? Amber! I need to–! Wait, calm down! Even if she can't understand English completely, Natalia is with her. I should rather focus on the paper that contains the secrets that forced me into this unpaid job.

    "Hat'dam'!"

    Just as I was about to swiftly steal the paper that rightfully belonged to me, I was met with the last person I ever wanted to see holding it with his eyes wide open.

    "Wha'z thiz? It'z a white paper..."

    Wondering about the comment, I stopped in my tracks. However, getting closer made me realize that he was looking at the reverse side of the note.

    Warning Mammutidae to never try any funny business again, I snatched the piece of paper from his hand.

    Everything's fine now–

    "Hat'dam'!" he exclaimed, looking at another similar piece of paper.

    Why do you have another piece of paper, dammit?!

    "I made a copy, juz in caze"

    What kind of idiot are you to mess up reading the first time?! Also, don't just casually pry into others' private lives!

    "But what am I even readin'! Oh, ohhh! Ooooo!"—No! Don't!—"Wha'z thi' language?"

    I stumbled forward as if someone had yanked my foot(?), recalling that he only speaks English.

    I picked up that piece as well and was on my way to Amber, but I stopped when I noticed a face beaming at me, despite the fact that something he had worked so hard for had been taken away from him.

    You... Are you hiding something from me?

    The tusked being remained silent, swaying ghastly, his hands clasped behind him.

    If you guessed he was hiding just another piece of paper, you couldn't be more wrong. Not one, not ten, but the waistband, the pockets, the sleeves, the socks, and—just then, the culprit sneezed, sending all the evidence flying into the air—in his nose too(?!).

    W-Wh-What is all this…?

    In response to my shaky inquiry, he exclaimed, "Oh! I wanted otherz help decipher it'!" with a hint of enthusiasm.

    There was no reason for second thought. With a blow to a rack near me shattered an 11.5 liter carboy of HCN (Hydrogen Cyanide), which spilled onto the madman.

    A chemical not so often used in chemical warfare, but commonly used in pesticides. The conditions around him were enough to dissolve every piece of paper—including the ones that I threw in the mix—but not enough to kill this gigantic rodent.

    "Ooo... What's with this heat?" a lovely voice asked us.

    Just give me a break! Why are you here, Natalia?! What about Amber?!

    "I came to let you know about that… She's a quick learner"

    No, Natalia! I don't want to hear what you say to your every other new junior!

    "She also needs some help…?"

    Aaand? ......Come on, aand...?

    "Aaand... I can't–"

    And where is she?!!! Why is she not with you?!!!

    "Oh my, tone it down. She left before the announcement. She will be back."

    Denial. That feeling alone was enough to make me stop listening and look around for Amber. It didn't take long because I already knew where she– he was heading.

    I better–

"Hello there! Nice to meet you! 

In the hope that you will be in good health, as soon as you've finished reading this note, I urge you to begin narrating your life, 

unless you'd prefer I reveal your little secret. There's no trick here, just be yourself.

And, if you're wondering whether or not I truly know your secret, let me jog your memory: 

You, Sen Daikei, have a penchant for–"

    A sharp ripping sound pierced the air, accompanied by a "He~y!" from a sweet tone.

    As I tugged at the note that the devil shared with the beauty to decipher, my parts began to shimmer in a new light. The note with a message, bright and lively on the surface, but concealing a dark history best left unspoken.

    Looks like I managed to cleanly rip off the part with my secret.

    "Hehe! He'z doin' it! He'z doin' it!" a buffoon jumped up and down while pointing.

    The taunts from the soon-to-be-dead stale meat and the piercing, worried inquiries from the charming woman never stopped.

    Enough already!!! Neither the pirate sites nor the single mothers got me this annoyed!

    "Umm..."

    Umm, what?! Um, what, you mother's disappointment?! You wear shorts to fool the kids, and long socks to make it seem like pants to fool their parents! If that's not evident enough to show that you should be the one that needs to be haunted and not me, I don't know what is!

    "Is this a skit or one of your friendly rants?"

    F you, Nat!

    "Excuse me!"

    Uh--!

    "What w–?"—F me, Nat—"Huh?!"—I mean, can you F me—"Woo–!"—Ugh! Will you marry me, NatNat?—"I have no plans... yet..."—That's good enough! Think about it!

    As I was about to give chase to Amber, "Wait, Sen! I think the management would stop her," said the honeyed tone, pointing to the flock of five pigeons (or sorts).

    They are not a reliable help, but let's try anyway.

    Hey! You bread bandits! Stop her– him!

    With a powerful scream I was able to attract the gaze of all the five skyrats. One bobbing his head, one pecking at the feathers of the bobbing head, one with a half-metal head, one with a tie and name tag, and one in a supposed cop costume.

    "Do you know him?" the bobbing head inquired.

    "No, should I?" the pecking head murmured, averting his gaze.

    "Maintain the order! Do only what you are taught!" the cop-igeon squawked.

    "But_wasInvented_override_directive," red-eyed expressed with an automated tone.

    "Thanks to you guys, my supervenience is on full display," said one, adjusting his tie.

    "Even though it's only been a year, I've completely outranked you all," he continued.

    "Leader, Seri!" the bop-igeon and the pecp-igeon exclaimed.

    "Leader_I_oppose_butNot_time," the cyborg whirred, eyeing Amber with his red ball.

    "You're no sport spy-mod, I just thrive from these dumb heads," Leader replied.

    "Look at my statue!" he went on, naughtily curling the saluting cop-igeon's feathers.

    "S-Sir! We... Ahh... W-We are to help s-someone–" the cop-igeon stammered.

    "Shh shh shh... Statues don't move even when told to," Seri said salaciously.

    "Leader_can'tUnderstand._I_oppose_?" the synth-voice questioned.

    Even at the display of insubordination Seri's smug smile did not fade. He slowly walked to the front and stood in the line of eye sight of the walking tanned doll.

    "Oppose? Huh. Watch me. As I stop her with no assistance," the leader declared.

    With a firm stance, "Unlike you beings of unknown origin, I was born with a purpose."

    Seri explains, "I was teleported to a random location as a part of an experiment."

    Spreading his wings, "My crew could be plucking feathers and lactating milk."

    Pushing back his butt, "Trying to find me without any clue as to my cosmic position!"

    "But I hope they fail," his voice raised in intensity, "Cause I found my purpose here that would never be fulfilled there!" he yelled as if it were a war cry, "And that purpose being my cloaca on all your fath–" only for him to be cut off by a small blue light accompanied by a warping sound.

    Ignoring the inappreciable glow, the golden sculpture sauntered past.

    "Do you know her?" the bobbing head inquired.

    "No, should I?" the pecking head uttered, averting his gaze.

    "!" the cop-igeon statue glared at the yellowish flash that passed it.

    "No_oppose_Leader!_No__assistance!" the cyp-igeon muttered.

    If it was any other time, I would have really appreciated this truly unappealing 'Five Shades of Seri' sketch. However, given the situation... I should not have relied on uncertainty.

    But even if they didn't stop her, what could be worse? It will be the avatars who end up being enslaved... Am I worrying for nothi–

    "With no work left, all the avatars ran away! Shall we shut down the furnace?!" shouted a member from below.

    Come on, what are the odds?! Hey, Amber! Stop!

    Contrary to my word, he began to run at full speed. It can't be the language barrier.

    Looks like a chase. Hey, creep! Take care of that broken record, while I take care of that broken rock! And Nattie, *changes tone* Amber's a he and him, not a she and her.

    With a smooth leap, I glided down to Amber's level and rushed to stop the impending disaster. Once I got close, I thought about using force, but settled for the use of words.

    Hey, it's only one word! If it's that challenging to understand, should I say 'zatrzymywać się' (Stop) or should I remind you that it's the same word your father used when you tried to hug him?! Huh?!

    "Wiem, że Sen jest po prostu zazdrosny o to, jak szybko łapię wszystko! Osiągnę swoje cele, zanim Sen w ogóle zda sobie z tego sprawę! Hahaha!" said the cheerful doll, increasing the distance.

    (I know Sen is just jealous of how quickly I pick things up! I'll reach my goals before Sen can even realize it! Hahaha!)

    Honestly, even if there's no downside, I don't want to be treated like your buddy. And when it comes to jealousy, your lucky guess should be that I wish I was dead! As dead as your conscience!

    As if running away wasn't enough, he shouted for help in cosmically scattered English to everyone nearby. There was a moment of relief when no one noticed him, but it was ruined by a mechanical voice.

    "Can't_Leader!_New_heard!_MakingRationalDecision._Initiating_action!"

    The cyp-igeon turned with a whir and proceeded to run to the cop-igeon statue. It landed with a clatter on the statue's head, flaring its wings to signal me to halt immediately.

    Seeing no threat that could physically harm me, I dove straight ahead. The reaction of the reddish-black head was obvious. A vibrant black and red sphere began to take shape—not from its unopened beak but from the heart-shaped cere.

    As I mentioned, I saw no threat that could harm me. The rough concave shape I took was enough to redirect the beam to the bop-igeon's left half, pecp-igeon's family jewels and cop-igeon's torso.

    The bobber began to bang its head on the ground. The pecker began to bang its head on the bobber. The guard... He could only utter muffled screams—still saluting.

    How undeniably classic. The meant-to-be savior brutally castigating his own kin.

    "Must_revenge!" cried the pseudo savior, bleeding from his red eye.

    I have things prior to your self-indulgent crime. I could care less about– Huh?!

    Wha–?! W-What is this black goo? Why is it making me stick to the ground? When did this happen? I sensed no one around me. I felt no one ambushing me. Then what's–

    "_Murderer"

    I killed no one. I literally mean it. Look at them. They are simply screaming in agony.

    "Wondering_thatBlackGoo_is?"

    Tch! I'm a fool not to expect the wall treatment from a programme.

    "FoolOthers_directive._SprayBeam_heat_withMucus_nostrils!"

    That's unnecessarily disgusting!

    "And_foolCaught_trap!_Now_meEndThis–"

    No! Not that thing again! St-Stop!!! I will buy you a new mecha-di**, so–!

    As the red and black ball began to take shape again, the disgust I subconsciously felt made me attempt to reason with a conventional robot in an unconventional way. After a few seconds of feeling absolutely nothing, I decided to take a peek. To my surprise, the next scene confounded my expectations

    The mechanical parking lot chicken looked below as he felt a tug on his foot and realized that his semi-metallic feet were now embedded in the half-molten flesh of the cop. The tugging continued and the more he struggled to free himself, the louder the muffled screams became.

    A tense stalemate.

    Perhaps, following his directive he tried one option after another—a non-functioning mini saw, a needle tongue, a fake laser eye, and now he proceeded to open his mouth wide and put it around cop-igeon.

    Please stop it! The genocide demo you presented was more than sufficient, I really don't want to witness cannibalism as well! So, just allow me to help you instead...

    The confused head of flesh and wires twisted several turns and looked at me intently.

    Your boss is not coming back until he hires the devil's advocate's advocate, until then I will act as your new boss. So…?

    "Registered._Level_loyalty_beDisplay?"

    That's all of a sudden, but display it to everyone. Like, all should understand in a jiffy.

    "Level_affirmative._NewOrder?"

    Tip to get rid of this black goo right away! Fast, I have no time to lose!

    "I_eatThat_"

    Something that would not harm me psychologically?

    "None_"

    The dialogue exchange has become dull and lifeless, leaving me in a situation completely against my favor. And perhaps I shouldn't have naively believed that things couldn't get any worse.

    Suddenly, the feeble furnace roared to life, blazing with fierce vigor.

    Nooooo, you ambers for brains!!!

    The scroll settles into position and waits for the inked quill to permit the start.

    Ignoring the immovable scrap, I tried to stretch as far as I could. But it was not as if I could divide myself for a longer time or longer distances, which resulted in me being unable to stop the impractical sculpture.

    The management, who had just left, were not quick enough to react, even when I shouted to them to stop him.

    Standing in front of a massive wall of enthralling gothic art, adorned with an ocean of candles—each one having melted and pooled at its base—Amber paused to ink the scroll and then stepped back.

    Calmly, three candles began to light themselves—a meager trio in a sea of darkened wicks.

    All eyes in the hall were glued to the spectacle. An event so small, something everyone has seen every day for decades, and yet, it left everyone mystified.

    I couldn't care less about the reason for everyone's behavior, because even I didn't realize that my collectives were completely free of any stickiness.

    A brief moment of silence enveloped the hall. Breaths were held, tremors were absent, and the tranquility remained unbroken, except for the gentle flicker of dim light, accompanied by the crackling of the glass on the vaulted ceilings.

    "Can someone tell me what is going on? Why do I see candles being lit?"

    Sir Parch Ment, who had been giving instructions, turned his attention to the light of the premonition. Our leader, who has always watched over us, could understand that something like this might happen.

    "......Are ...Are you all..."

    The sound, now stripped of its stoicism, made me realize that skipping all the job titles was a mistake on my part. And when it comes to Sir Parch Ment... I really shouldn't have downgraded his title to leader. Instead, I should have mentioned him as...

    "Are you all lunatics really that stupid?!!!"

    Dictator Sir Papyrus S Parch Ment. The man above existence.

    "Who do you think has been paying you all?! Who do you think has been running this place without trouble since the beginning of time?! Who do you think is taking care of you all?! Who do you think you should all follow?!"

    Each frustrated word he spoke sent shivers through the fortress, causing it to quake in fear. The floor caved in, drawing everyone toward the center as if to throw us all in front of the martinet himself.

    "Who?!!!"

    A parasitic capitalist. A man who is a real piece of work.

    "Who was that?!"

    Oh-!

    "I just can't– Here's a verdict! This mistake has cost you all a decade of paid holidays!"—Hm? That's only ten days—"No transportation costs"—Hm. I sleep in the office—"No bonuses"—You never gave any—"And no more free coffee thrice a day!"

    Noooo!!! Not my grande white chocolate, mocha frappuccino, with caramel sauce, chocolate chip, hazelnut syrup, and extra-whip espresso!!! Ambeeer!!!

    Even with the hall packed with lunatics and dim surroundings, it was easy to find the yellow turd. I grabbed him by the shoulders and leaned on his face.

    You essence of idiocy, all this–! How do you plan to satisfy me with my tedious work?!

    "But, Sen expectations... No one ask Amber for nothing*sniff*... Amber want to*sniff*"

    Don't try to guilt trip me, Amber! I eat the kingyo sukui (goldfish scoops) on the way back, not because I am hungry or bored, but just because I feel like it!

    "With...poop...?"

    Yes. With the poop.

    "Now then, let us hurry and send the avatars into the Macrocosm," said the Dictator.

    Ahhh! I hate this! I hate this job! I hate this life!

    "Since the Avatars are absent, I will force the perpetrators to take responsibility."

    I shake Amber in horror, trying to get her to say something.

    "O-only three..."

    Only three? So what? I was the first one to hold that and–

    "But..."

    Please, Amber, don't utter a word! If you did I'll make you wish–

    "Wish!"

    Yes, I'll make you wish I hadn't etched some disgusting design on your plain, smooth, conical head.

    "No! Wish! Backside!"

    Wish! He came! And that too with the required number of slav– avatars!

    "Hmmm... I will see to it that those responsible are dealt with later. For now, these three should do it," said our leader before he left the hall.

    The three naive sla– members were led into the furnace.

    Haa... and with that, everything should be settled.

    The glass ceiling became lifeless, the furnace extinguished, and in an instant the silence was restored. There were no sighs or whispers, the only sound was the soft flicker of three candles, indicating the number of avatars requested.

    Peace. Unrequested, yet essential.

    I surrendered to relaxation, my gaze wandering over the captivating gothic artwork as the weight of all the premonitions that had driven me to the brink of baldness from anxiety had finally come to an end.

    Ah... I can finally– Wait, why... Why won't the candles go off...?!

    *A click*

    F*******!!!!!!

    What I felt was like a snap of a finger. Just as the snap of a finger demands attention, things begin to fall into place.

    The broken record began to play the Mozart melody once more, as the ocean of dark wicks lit up one after another with a soft woosh of a wind, illuminating the astonished expressions of everyone in the ruined hall.

    The arched ceiling began to glow once again, and the voice declared, "No time to horse around. If you want to volunteer, just raise your hand. Whoever is willing will have their next month's salary doubled!"

    A few hands (or sorts) were visible over the horizon of the line of sight, and in an instant they began to burn in green and gold flames.

    Extra pay? Seriously? ……Stop pretending to help us get gold or floating gold! Forget about the sperm whale shit (floating gold), it can't even get goat shit!

    "And as the situation stands, I will let you all use [: Base Limited] instead of [: Set Limited]. But be careful to use it only when unnatural forces force you to!"

    'Base' instead of 'Set'?! When has that ever happened?! Never! This is too good to be true. I know this system was invented for times like this, and even with restrictions, we can run amok! But... But... But, even 'Unlimited' will not get me motivated right now.

    "The numbers are insufficient. I will resort to using force without hesitation."

    Then don't ask in the first place, stupid-ictator!

    Prompted, nearly everyone in the hall, likely throughout the entire nexus, was engulfed in vibrant green and gold flames.

    The screams that filled the hall didn't care about anyone's plight. Chaos and stampede needed less of a reason to take birth.

    For once I feel lucky today! I must hurry before I get caught up in this mess!

    That was the thought that clouded my reasoning when I was spared from the barbaric natural selection. I glided as recklessly as I could, with the sole intention of reaching an uncertain safe haven.

    The atmosphere was dreadful enough to remind me of my forgotten, hateful days as an avatar.

    The flames of sanctification wasted no midnight oil, as if every ember burned with purpose, reshaping the very essence of those engulfed. Like a pipe organ diffusing varied melodies in different keys, each individual was bellowing and transmogrifying at a dizzying pace.

    One coughed up black widows, which in turn proceeded to skin him.

    One had festering slugs dangling from every orifice, including the ones on his skin.

    One rose from the ashes, only to be reignited and reduced to cinders once more, each cycle altering his appearance.

    One was crushed by unseen forces, spilling his neon blue blood on another one nearby, who feasted on the ever-growing malformed eyes that appeared on his body.

    One developed a massive bubbling abscess on his back, which gradually consumed him, expanding beyond imaginable limits before erupting in a grotesque torrent of viscous fluid.

    A few recognizable scorched faces came my way, mingled with haunting cries of anguish from strangers. I steered clear of them, continuing on my path, but I couldn't help but stop for a brief moment when one familiar figure caught my eye.

    Clark! Good to see you unharmed! Let's get out of here!

    "I finally understand..."

    I wrapped some clusters around his hand in an attempt to drag him out, but hearing such a strange remark put a halt to my efforts.

    "I think I might have an idea of what's going on..." he said softly, gently easing my grip and stepping back.

    "What's unfolding and what's about to unfold is neither as trivial as the creation or destruction of a trillion stars that occurs daily, nor is it as monumental as the big bang."

    His voice grew with curiosity, laced with a touch of excitement.

    "Can you understand what I'm trying to say? Th-This particular thing, phenomenon, event, this event... it's beyond the realm of what we can predict! This is not something that will happen once in a lifetime."

    As much as I would like to flee, I found myself unable to do so. Hearing his voice was calm enough to make me stand tall, not out of obligation, but out of sheer curiosity. No amount of interruptions from the surroundings was enough to break this trance.

    "This is something that will happen once in a... never. Never," he concluded.

    Or so I thought.

    With no hesitation, I leapt forward as fast as I could when I saw him gripping the base of his helmet, but a powerful force yanked me back.

    "The reasoning of predictability is being toyed with.

     The testament of existence is being rewritten.

     The boundaries of purpose are being fractured intentionally," Clark went on.

    Trying to break free of the tug, I looked behind me, only to be met by a heavy, brightly burning mammal asking, "Buddy, iz tha' you?". Ignoring it, I reached out my collectives, engulfed in green and gold flames, to stop Clark.

    "Change…

     Change is being forced.

     Change is being demanded," he declared, slowly turning the helmet, which reflected a sinewy red hand, covered in blood, reaching out to him.

    No amount of screaming from bloodied, salivating jaws was enough to stop his madness. His voice grew louder, not because of the movement of the helmet, but because of the slowly dwindling crowd in the hall.

    "Don't miss this change.

     Don't miss what's about to unfold.

     Don't let go of this blessed happening."

    It felt as if I was the last soul to be spirited away, as if fate had destined me to be the final witness.

    "Make sure to witness... this beautiful miracle."