I expected nightmares that day, but while I would certainly revisit fire, gore, radiation, and death in my dreaming; pre-empting all of this was a strange experience which would have consequences radiating out to the edges of all creation. I woke up in my dream at a desk in what appeared to be an artist’s studio. On the desk appeared to be a collection of minimalist style scripts, minimalistic outlines with little detail which trusted the creative team to exercise their artistic virtue.
I looked around the studio and found it to be consisting of cubicles for persons of different roles: one for a penciler, one for an inker, one for a colorist, and finally one for a letterer. Among the neatly arranged character sheets, maps, and mechanical diagrams, there were other materials that I couldn't make sense of - they looked like mystical diagrams. Everything had been meticulously organized. Stored in boxes, folders, and drawers. Among these character sheets, I found one file with my full name on it. I opened it and immediately saw a profile of myself, like one outlined by Hirohiko Araki in his book Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga. It was even complete with a conceptual rendition in many art styles associated with several of which I recognized and several I did not. While looking through all this material, I noticed it simply listed the author under the pseudonym WORLDBUILDER.
Before I could piece all of this together, I heard the door unlock and become ajar. I made my way over and opened the door, but there was no one on the other side.
Instead, what I found looked like an enormous bedroom repurposed into a personal studio. Whoever this room belonged to decorated the walls with posters, lanyards, and pinboards filled with pins, as well as plastic and wooden phone charms. There was a bed with four dakimakura, two of which were decorated with magical girls and two with furry girls, as well as several plushies.
Beside the bed stood a nightstand holding notebooks filled with storyboards, multiple game consoles, a desk featuring a Cintiq, and a custom-built computer with a TV screen. A professional-quality microphone and headphones completed the setup. It was apparent that the owner was likely involved in animatics creation, although their work deviated from the conventional slice-of-life storytelling commonly associated with this style. Rather, it seemed to be a superhero story with magical girl elements.
At the desk was a rolling chair, while below it were plastic drawers filled with art supplies, letter sets, and stickers. There were figures of anime, comic, manga, tokusatsu (特撮), and video game characters on top of a dresser drawer, which, upon inspection, was filled with costumes. In fact, the boxes underneath the bed, as well as the closet, seemed to be filled with costumes of champions I recognized from various media.
All of it seemed tailored to fit me, but before I could entertain the concept of trying any of them on, the door once again cracked open, and I went to explore it.
I found myself in another studio with a series of large wooden tables. Someone scrupulously arranged a schizophrenic collection of notecards bound by binder clips. There seemed to be an undisclosed system underlying the apparent disorganization, with some written in block script and others cursive. The ordered use of highlights and binder clips of differing colors showed an intentionality. It was at once madness and sane simultaneously. I picked up the third collection on the first table and read the title aloud to myself, “Will meets the author…”
I couldn’t tell what genre this was supposed to be: some sections seemed to describe a superhero story, others a kaijū film, or super robot manga, and yet others a xiānxiá novel. The first 15 sections seemed to be devoted to worldbuilding, setting up the elements required for the future stories. I noticed and entered a walk-in closet filled with boxes on shelves. Boxes filled with notes on a variety of topics on almost every conceivable topic. One paper I noticed was titled “Lorentzian theories vs. Einsteinian special relativity - a logico-empiricist reconstruction” by László E. Szabó, an author and title I had never read before.
Exiting the door I entered, I ended up in a room comprising a series of cubicles, each with a light table installed on the desk and a computer. Some of these cubicles were equipped with a Cintiq Companion 2. On the outer walls of the cubicles were posters for other projects, and figurines of giant robots, superheroes, magical girls, etc. adorned the top shelves of each cubicle. Bookshelves filled with boundless artistic reference materials and relevant studies covered the walls.
As I examined the cubicles, I discovered collections of storyboards comprising penciled doodles bound in sequential order, accompanied by scribbled notes along the sides. I could identify the workstations of storyboarders, inbetweeners, compositors, and lighters.
I also found more advanced material orchestrated into a large flip book, which was the prototypes of the frame-by-frame animation of disconnected scenes. In collections designated “L/O” were blueprint layout rushes which combined the background roughs, directions regarding camera movement, instructions for voice actors, and directions on how to put everything together.
Key frame rushes detailed the skeleton of movement for specific characters in isolation. Timing rushes, combining backgrounds, colored cells, CG data, and camera movement. Finally, the final composites tied all the individual elements together.
Further down, I found what appeared to be the station of a sound designer, their desk bursting with music CDs.
The most morbid of these keyframe rushes I found was the image of a small black girl with an Asiatic facial profile whose head, right arm, and left leg had been severed from her torso, which had been cleaved in half at the waist and whose right eye was missing.
Another door unlocked and barely opened, so I explored what was on the other side. Not much was different in the next few rooms, which seemed to be specialized for 2D Vector-based animation, 3D computer animation, stop motion animation.
I came to another room filled with cubicles and computers, but with adjacent rooms separated with glass walls and doors. These adjacent rooms were more remarkable: most of these adjacent rooms contained a desk with a triple monitor set up, two flat screen TVs fixed to the wall, and a rolling chair. The monitors were active, displaying source code, 3D models, spreadsheets, paused gameplay, etc.
This game seemed to be licensed for Nintendo, PlayStation, X-Box, Windows, Mac, and Linux. I entered one of these rooms and discovered a VR headset. After a moment, I tried it on, grabbed the controllers, and I found myself in what looked to be an editor’s office for a film set.
I looked at the screen within my field of vision and saw a Southeast Asian girl, only 14 years old, dressed like a soldier. She was armed with a Bowie knife and an unholstered semi-automatic pistol. She shot at another person dressed in an otherworldly costume, and the rounds tore through their skull and chest cavity. However, the wounded one, despite having their brain matter spilled on the ground, seemed completely unaware of the damage.
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After exhausting the magazine, the girl dropped her magazine and reloaded as her target slowly advanced towards her. She holstered her gun, pulled out her Bowie knife, and took a boxing stance. It was clear that she was a proficient knife-fighter. Despite this apparent proficiency, she backed up, clearly afraid to engage the inhuman thing before her.
They were standing on a set consisting of miniature buildings, vehicles, and landscapes of a tokusatsu set reminiscent of what is used to film Godzilla or Gamera films. However, there was blood everywhere. It covered the set floor, the buildings, the electrical wires, and the military and civilian vehicles. Even the backgrounds had what seemed to be arterial blood splatter.
The monster itself was drenched in blood. It was on its hands, oozing from its mouth, covering their knees and elbows, and coating its feet. There was even blood on its forehead, as if it had broken someone’s nose or teeth with a well-placed headbutt. The level of gore surpassed what one would find if it had violently gutted several people, similar to scenes in an Akira Kurosawa film.
I didn’t notice until now that the building had caught fire. Smoke billowed from the doors and the monstrous thing stopped only feet in front of the girl and levitated off the ground. Its monstrous mask slid off its face, revealing a bloodstained human face. Placing my hand onto the desk, I accidentally changed the screen to a different camera, to which I’d panic, “No!” Wanting to see what would happen.
The news feed focused on a woman in a terrifying mask, clad in armor like a medieval knight, armed with a spiked pavis and a kpinga. Her helmet sported two oni-like horns, and the raised mask possessed vampiric fangs. However, her face was bright red, and her mouth indeed had vampiric fangs on her maxilla and mandible. She was eating the raw flesh from something chimeral, mixing human and inhuman traits together in an incomprehensible mass of flesh.
I flipped the switch I brushed against to get back to the original story. However, this action loaded a video of a beautiful Indian girl with mixed Dravidian/Sinitic features and bright blue eyes. She appeared cold and alone, a stranger in a strange land. There was something familiar about her face, despite having never met her before.
“Hello, sweetheart.” I heard from behind me.
The voice was not one I recognized, but I felt an immediate and overwhelming sense of nostalgia wash over me when I heard it. I turned around and removed my headset. While the VR immersed me, the world around me transmuted into a white negative space. I saw the speaker, a featureless silhouette of an androgynous human form, blacker than pitch, with an aura brighter than the sun. It outstretched its otherworldly hand and caressed my cheek, but I wasn’t afraid.
There was something heartbreakingly familiar about this otherworldly figure as it told me, “It’s been a while, princess.”
The being pulled me into a hug and told me, “I missed you so much…” Tears streamed down my face, my chest tightened for reasons I could not identify, and I hugged it back.
I asked it in a cracking voice, “Do I… know you from somewhere?”
It told me, placing a hand on my head, “Spoilers, but I’m an author and a worldbuilder.”
We released each other from the hug, and I asked, “The worldbuilder that is credited on all this material?”
It answered, “Yes. Though, onto more pressing matters. I’ve broken the seal and come to give you this…” it grabbed my right hand and placed something in it.
The being gave me a perfectly spherical black body pendant.
I asked it, “What is this?”
It told me, “This is the All-Slayer.”
It pulsated and jittered for a moment before the being continued, “It has the power to penetrate all barriers, without exception, and it can only be wielded by its master or those whom the master has authorized to wield it.”
I told it, “I am unfit to wield such a weapon, and even if I were fit to do so, I couldn’t imagine using it.”
It told me, “That hesitancy is exactly why you are the one I am giving it to, sweetheart. Despite what its name might suggest, it doesn’t have to kill. The All-Slayer has the power to penetrate any barrier. It can cleave electrons off atoms and split atomic nuclei, allowing it to cleave adamantine. Though, that is not all. It can also pierce through non-physical barriers.”
It continued, “The All-Slayer can tear down the psychical barriers, compelling a target to reveal the truth, like a certain demigod’s lasso, but it can also compel the target to confront the truths that they have subconsciously suppressed, or even break down the barriers between individuated souls, allowing for telepathic dialogue where lies are impossible. And that’s only the beginning…”
There was something about this eldritch pulsating thing in my hand that deeply unsettled me, like it wasn’t just alive, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. All I knew was that it felt like I’d seen this thing before, but I couldn’t remember where, when, or even how I could have.
The Worldbuilder explained, “You do not have to wield this power alone.”
I looked the Worldbuilder in its non-extant eyes as it revealed, “You and you alone have the power to use it now. As already stated, if you choose to, you may authorize anyone you deem worthy to use it. It can even replicate itself and bind its copy to anyone you choose...”
They finished, “I will bind it to your Lolita Princess form.”
Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me, and when I turned, I saw my superpowered alter ego suspended in the air Vitruvian man style. The All-Slayer leaped out of my hand and into the Lolita Princess’ hand and transformed into a featureless spear.
Worldbuilder asked me, “Is your favorite superhero still Superman?”
I looked at Worldbuilder and when I looked back at where my alter ego was, it was gone, so I returned to the conversation with, “Of course.”
Worldbuilder asked me, “Why?”
I thought for a moment, and then I told it, “Because he is the archetypal superhero. I love Spider-Man, He-Man, Spawn, Sailor Moon, Goku, and Link… But the ideal of Superman is immune to honest deconstruction. Every attempt I have ever read has required the removal of something essential to him, and thus cannot dismantle him in any meaningful way.”
A doorway leading into a void materialized and opened behind the being who told me, “For you, I will write stories like those you love, with virtuous heroes worthy of emulation… but this comes at a cost.”
I asked it, “What would that be?”
The Worldbuilder answered, “Heartbreak and horror… but remember what lies at the bottom of Pandora’s box.”
I responded, “Hope.”
The being kissed my forehead, “Until the end of time… I’ll always love you… My sleeping beauty…”
The being stepped backwards through that large doorway suspended in the air with another space interior to it and as the doors closed, I felt a desperation well up in me, compelling me to act. I transformed into the Lolita Princess said, “By the grace of God, no matter how long it takes, I’ll save you…”
I did not know what came over me and the being moved its head in an almost imperceptible nod of disappointment.
The Worldbuilder responded, “No, you won’t… Even if it takes an infinite number of rewrites… I will save you…” it said with its head positioned as if to look me in the eye.
“My heart is within you, sweetheart.” It said as a sendoff as the door finally closed with a massive thud that woke me up drenched in sweat.
I attributed the weird dream to having read postmodern fiction before bed, though I couldn't remember reading anything. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I didn’t understand why. As I wiped the tears from my face, I realized I was holding something in my hand, and when I investigated the palm of my hand, I saw a vantablack marble in my hand. I jumped out of bed, dropped it, and it vanished before hitting the ground. Despite being spooked, I convinced myself that I wasn’t fully awake when I saw the All-Slayer in my hand.
I got ready for the day, wearing a shirt with the crest of Hyrule, and headed downstairs. Dad had cooked eggs, bacon, and toast while watching the news. His primary interest was the humanitarian soldiers who helped in the relief effort that I encountered yesterday.
The man at the center of attention in the live feed was a stoic, 198 cm tall, 120 kg, bald African American man dressed in similar but distinct gear from the other unidentified soldiers. The insignia on his chest looked almost like an inverted King sign used in chess notation. Beside him was a man who looked more like a dwarf from a fantasy novel than any ethnic group I’d ever seen, except he was dressed in similar military garb.
The dwarven man lifted what appeared to be a wand and cast a spell in a language I could not identify. Then, despite the crowd of reporters not calming down, there was sudden silence in their clamor.
The man designated with the insignia of a king revealed to the world, “I am the Supreme Commander of the Global Strategic Self-Defense Operations, John Rage.”
I was stunned to realize that I had seen his face among the concept sketches within my dream.
He continued, “There is much to reveal, much to do, and little time; so I will make this brief—”