The machine had taken its threat seriously to honor its fight, but perhaps that was not the mercy it thought it was.

As such, the monster found itself being dragged across shattered mountain ranges, face first, and being tossed, rocks flew in from all directions piercing its flesh.

It tried to recalibrate, but a fist would send it flying through an old cabin. It would be caught by a wall of a person, a woman.

“Hello… Madness…” She smiled at him as she lowered him to the floor, her empty eyes wandering elsewhere.

“Run… you have to run!” The monster tried to plead.

“Too late…” The woman went to sit at her table, even as the place turned upside down.

The monster would turn to the machine hovering just outside. It would enter soon enough, the monster of madness frozen stiff.

“Hello Greed. How has it been?” August would walk past the petrified monster and sit at the table.

“Good… I suppose. You want to ask me if I regret it? My decision to betray you…? No. I do not.” The woman would continue her lonely tea party.

“I figured as much. But I actually had another question. Why are you still here? You could escape this place by your very nature… even now.” The machine was curios.

“There’s no point, and… tired… I’m tired… of it all… monster, Idea, god, demi-god, human, sin, animal… all of it… I’m tired of all of it… maybe with this… I’ll finally die.” She’d take a sip of her tea.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will kill you… all of you. But back to what you were saying. How many times did you try…?” The machine leaned in over the table.

“… 100, 873 times… I avoided methods I knew would be pointless after a while… so, that’s all.” She sipped her tea.

“Ah... Good talk.” The machine patted the woman on the shoulder, leaving the table.

“Hm…” Her only retort.

A change of scenery perhaps, a view from outside the quiet hut. The rumbling of doom above, the scream of passing deviants, the breaking of rocks, all interesting sounds.

It’d explode from the inside, a twisted mass growing like smog yet sagging like the rotten flesh it was. Its faces spawning in every rotten and bloody wound and gash, reaching for August with its expansive hands.

He’d spring up above the appendage, landing on it as it passed him. He ran for her, but he would never reach, rocks raining down on him. He’d choose a retreat, but distancing himself from the monsters, the woman shot out a growing bulbous mass that grew a new bump every time it popped, heading for August.

She’d grab him, and whipping her twisted hand like a thunderbolt, she aimed for the mountain Madness threw. It’d collide, but instead of only the rocks breaking, everything did, including the monsters.

The rifts ran through them as if they were mineral, breaking them, their blood leaking, the pain of the flesh they stole setting in. As for the machine, he shot out the debris in all directions, pelting them with it like bullets.

There was no rest still, as more disgruntled ideas came a calling, the florists seeking their revenge, clinging to him one after the other, trapping him in a ball of bodies. Their greatest weapon was useless against a husk still. Thus, even as the ball sought to grow, it popped, like a bubble, but with the sound of crashing tide and raging thunder.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The unexpected would occur still as the falling of all things into the black chasm above slowed to a halt. It was that same Idea with dominion over tides and gravity, god of the moon, that had been burnt to a crisp, its injuries unhealed. A charred skeleton with hands raised to the sky, shaking.

He’d reach for it, all the way off on the ground, and pull it towards him. Yet it did not stop its attack, so much so that things began falling back to the ground.

The machine would not be allowed its desire still, as all manner of idea tossed themselves in front of his vision. Even as he popped them all like bubbles one after the other, they refused to stop.

He’d widen his eyes, and for him, time seemed to stop, and so he went down personally, resuming time so that they could watch their failure. Yet, as he got close, thunder rolled and lightning crackled as a bolt of electricity hit him in the face.

It was yet another god, hiding in the shadow of the moon. It was nothing to him still, or it shouldn’t have been, but his body was made of metals. Thus, he was rendered immobile for a bit. They’d hold him out to dry, one bolt after the other striking him like a lightning rod. Yet his expression remained emotionless.

Eventually, after a few too many, those gathered around him, and those nearby would be pulled in to block the bolts. They’d explode and frizzle out like fireworks, he found it, entertaining. Thus, with every bolt of lightning tossed, he threw a body at it, staining the sky in red with his escapades.

Their assault would slow still, the body of the moon goddess finally breaking under the weight, the despair resuming. He wouldn’t follow them up. He’d allow them to pass him, even toss things at him, hit him even, but they would all still be consumed by the void eventually.

“Why?!” Greed’s many voices bleeding together. “If you knew! Then why?!”

“You’re asking the wrong person… your destinies were always in your own hands, you chose this.” August gave her the decency of eye contact.

The mountain of rotten flesh would swell and explode, sending out comets of smoking flesh, a closer look revealing faces with only mouths. They’d hone in and attach themselves to the machine, swarming him, and just like before, he popped them.

It was different that time though, he had been covered with sludge that ate away at even his perfect body. He’d stall for a moment, looking at the woman in human form.

That time was precious still, and bolts of lightning would coverage on his person, helping to tear him apart.

“Hubris… your hubris will be your undoing!” She screamed, eliciting a response, and she’d get one, but perhaps not the one she wanted.

He looked at his body, its parts slowly melting away into nothing, and a sound escaped his person. It even surprised him, a chuckle.

The Ideas present would feel something crawl down their spines at the sight of it, a smile on his face, eyes as wide as the sky, mouth pinned up from ear to ear.

“So… haha… is this what it means to be human! Ahhhahahahahaaa! This feeling! This feeling! Fear!? No… excitement…” He’d lock eyes with Greed.

The woman would attempt to flee, all ideas in the area would, seeing the battle lost, yet, there was nowhere to go. They’d all stop, realizing it was over, realizing that it was all for naught.

His body wouldn’t put itself back together. As for his goal with the whole thing, he’d say it himself.

“All I had to do was get hit a couple of times… and that made you think you had a chance… how pathetic… ha… and now you’re all here… in one place.” He’d stretch out both hands, a sphere manifesting in each, a silver one and a golden one.

He’d look at all of them, the smile still present, the chuckling filling the dead silence against the churning sounds of void above. Then another sound rung, metal scraping against metal. There was a sword in his chest, unseen, but the hole was there. In fact, there was nothing to see.

“Ahhh… always present, ever hiding the hearts and minds of man, but always unseen, Wrath…? You’ve come, all of you have… and of course you would… without this place… you have no power to draw upon… ha…” Even with a blade through his being, his smile persisted.

“Are you mad?! I understand your distain for us… but what will this mean for the people you are trying to protect?! What of humanity?!” The burly voice of an older man, Wrath.

“You think I’m some hero…? Some savior…? No… the only people this body was meant to protect were those dear to me, and I’m sure I won’t have to worry about those two. They’ll be fine.” He’d glance the two trapped in the cube, time almost ripe enough to send them away.

“You’d doom humanity…? For them…? Sacrifice an already dying world… for two people!?” Wrath sunk his sword deeper.

“Silence…” The abstract would lose all sound at the machines behest.

His body would begin to reconstitute, and he’d remove himself from the sword, his face having gone back to no expression.

“Three people… it was meant to be three people… four actually, until one of you killed them… his love and its manifestation… and so his mercy died with them… It’s not like most that are left are perfectly sane anyway. But it worked… now you’re all here… even if hiding, so let’s get this done.” The machine would bring the two spheres close to their respective hands, so close they were melding with them.