Chapter 10: Moon
With the giant’s might backing its actions, the foot smashed into the ground, demolishing everything in its path.
Thundering noise plunged into the arena in bellows as the ground shook. Effluvia, debris, wreckage, or whatever you might call it, were the only things that remained. No trace of the clock-face remained after the brief onslaught.
Despite the destruction, the boy still lived.
‘A world covered in numbers... Big, colorful numbers merging with the surroundings... The colors of my vision seem mixed up... Sounds seem to coat the skies in vivid hues... It’s like, I’m in a fairytale...’
For some unknown reason, his perception of the world expanded in their imagery.
If then, he saw the world as canvas dotted in black and white, now it was a full-scale painting complete with depth and perception, where the colors and lines would form meaningful images.
[Which would mean that- Ah, I see- Wait, that’s not right-] The sound of a boy murmuring came from a strange youth, a chain of nonsensical words scarcely audible as a whisper.
From an observer’s perspective, he had gone mad.
[Hmm, how about this?]
The golem found it strange. It could not determine the boy’s presence beneath the rubble. It expected to find the boy crushed beneath it, lifeless and dead, but it felt no trace of him.
Instead, it discerned vague noises coming from beneath; the sounds originating from its appendage. Seeking to find the source of the faint clamor, it lightly raised its leg, seeking a closer look.
As for what the robot saw, a most unexpected sight greeted it.
The figure of a shadowy creature, the person who it’d been looking for, sat on the bridge of its foot, mumbling words to himself.
Bereft of any wounds and injuries was its enemy, preoccupied by his own thoughts. The boy cheerfully talked to itself, its manner of speech similar to that of a curious child discovering new things.
The golem, flabbergasted at the boy’s survival, could not form a proper conjecture on how to deal with the situation.
While the golem remained stunned, the boy continued to be absorbed in his own world, unaware of the surrounding reality.
[Oh...] [It's happening again...]
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Guardian Automata [Guardian]
The (Guardian Automata) is a semi-functional humanoid comprising mechanical clockwork.
Said clockwork includes the following: gears, bolts, pulleys, levers, springs, glass beads, and other mechanisms -- with a tallied sum of over four-hundred million parts, notwithstanding the mass that it lost due to its deterioration.
The mechanical being has a height of ninety feet, with its physicality based vaguely on a human's anatomical structure. A majority of its bulk is in a state of decay brought out by the natural elements, with some areas already oxidized by rust and corrosion.
Extensive damage via physical impact is also present in its entire form, most notably on its limbs and head.
Both arms are capable of mainting basic movement despite missing a majority of its significant parts, though they can only exert a fraction of its former strength. The legs, however, are in a worse state.
Its left leg has multiple gaps, fragmented by its shattered appearance with a fifth of its mass gone. The right leg has a sizable cavity with broken machinery protruding from it, as a third of its original parts remain.
Its head has suffers from a diagonal cut, with half of its entire segment gone. This leaves a single functional eye to it, as the right side of its face has already been destroyed.
The total amount of damage, if tallied, equates to ninety-three percentage, as only seven percenth of its previous strength remains.
The (Guardian Automata) only retains a fraction of its former strength; for if it was fought in its prime, then this entire battle would not have lasted for long.
It is a guardian personally constructed by the [Storyteller], conceived with the duty to guard the [Akashic Records] in his absence.
This colossus will continue its duty, until it has fallen.
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Excerpt from; [Library of Ruin - Archived]
[Modifiers]
+ Its real name is [REDACTED]
+ It is one of the worldly guardians
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[Should I try it...] After muttering those words, he dropped to the ground, brandishing the argent blade: his only weapon against the automaton. [Maybe I should...]
Having noticed his sudden change in demeanor, the golem elected for another attack, hoping to finish the boy with one last strike. The robot clenched its left fist, opting to crush the boy with it.
Like a meteor’s descent, its fist raced through the air, aeolian wind marking its journey. The golem desired to crush the youth once and for all, as it had failed to do so before.
[Might as well do so then...] The boy laid his gaze on the descending pillar of metal and glass, heaven’s hell-sent gift that aimed for him.
The golem missed, a few meters shy from its intended mark. Its target had eluded its grasp, turning up a short distance away from its aim. As it pulled out its fist, the boy moved.
Barely visible as a shadow, his presence flickered, emerging behind the extremity.
[Prevent the automaton from maintaining its balance by thrusting its fist further into the ground, making it plummet...]
Continuing his monologue, the boy darted towards his prey, as his knife glowed once more.
[Your right arm should be next...]
The familiar green haze made manifest, clinging onto his blade as an emanation. And then, with no warning, the blade struck, rooting the golem’s fist in place.
With its fist entrenched beneath, the golem fell to its knees with its right arm the only limb propping itself up, preventing itself from falling further into the ground.
Before it could act, however, the boy disappeared yet again, heading for its right arm this time.
[The right arm is still being used as a crutch, so drag it down...]
Instead of a sprint, the boy merely walked towards his next destination, with his foe powerless to stop him.
[Once that’s done, I should have some leeway in stripping the automaton of its mobility...]
As he neared the stationary limb, malachite fog emerged from the silver knife, glazing the blade with a tinge of green.
The boy raised his blade, a weapon gleaming emerald under the shadow of the colossus. And then it descended, tilting from his left.
A brief flash of green confirmed his momentary onslaught, severing the outstretched arm, causing it to plunge. The golem’s body had fallen, its right arm parted from it.
[Then I need to eliminate its legs next, in case they still act up...]
He did not run nor sprint, only walking towards his target at a turtle’s pace. He headed for its
[After that, I’m done... I think?]
His shambling form drew near the immobile legs, the knife he held glowing brighter with every step he took. With the passing of seconds, he found himself in front of them, their appearance overshadowing him. The blade’s glow seemed like an imprisoned sun, gleaming under the metal. He steadied it above his head as he began his last strike.
[Forgive me for this...] He leapt into the sky, hovering above the broken limbs. And with a single stroke, his bladed edge cut through.
Like the setting of the sun, his sterling knife fell down.
A sea of emerald flames chased the blade of ruination, engulfing the arena in viridian hues. The beryl blaze rose into the heavens, painting the sky in verdant green. And from it, a piercing arc that cleaved into the ground, slicing it open with unmade strength.
Aureate pillars of light, aquamarine towers that shone in lustrous green, gently dissipated into nothingness with the aftermath of his attack making itself known.
He landed after completing his attack, the flickering of his visor now gone. Instead, his lone eye receded from the screen, leaving it barren.
His opponent, the automaton, remained motionless after the onfall, its arms and legs already destroyed. The arena they stood on, the clock face once decorated with intricacies, wholly fractured with not a single trace of its previous beauty left.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The black fog which once surrounded the arena dispersed, leaving only a black space that contained nothing but the empty air.
And the blackened sky, heretofore a blank canvas, had the moon staring from above. The timer had disappeared.
[I knew it...] He glared at the celestial sphere, enmity present in his angered gaze. [You were watching me, weren’t you?]
‘The moon, is it even alive?’ He brooded over the source of his anger, finding it irrational. 'It's not, so I shouldn't bother with it.
[Not like it matters...] Having understood the absurdity of his thoughts, he brought his gaze downwards, no longer focusing on the heavenly body [Once I escape, I won’t see you again...]
[Hey automaton...] He turned to the broken golem, noticing slight movement from its exposed gears, [You’re still alive, aren’t you?]
The fallen body trembled, a reply coming from the mechanical giant. It had no arms to hold him, nor legs to approach him with. The most it could do was swivel its head and cause its body to gyrate, a poor way of communication.
[I’d like to ask three questions… if possible…] The golem no longer posed any danger to him, so asking for a few questions shouldn’t compromise his safety [Is that all right?]
The automaton feebly nodded in response. If answering a few questions was enough to earn it peace, then it would do its best to offer its knowledge.
[Nod if it’s yes, and shake your head if it’s a no...] The boy hastily explained the rules to the golem, hoping to ask his questions as soon as possible
[All right, so, first question...] He began his queries to the robot [Is this the fallen king’s domain?]
For his first question, the golem shook its head. If this place didn’t belong to the fallen king, whose name appeared countless times during his trials, then to whom did this place belong to?
Countless possibilities raced in its head, none of which had a good lead. Or perhaps there were leads he could follow, and only his incompetence prevented him from pursuing them.
[Okay, second question...] He moved onto his next inquiry [I saw the statue of a young boy which had the words 'Storyteller' inscribed in it so, is that who I am?]
The golem also shook its head at this. He wasn’t the Storyteller, that much was obvious. The poems and excerpts he saw all referred to him as the fallen king, yet he hoped this one would be true.
If he were the fallen king, then what sin did he commit to deserve such a title?
[So last question...] He was already at his last inquiry, he only needed a confirmation now [I’m already sure about this one since you said I'm not the Storyteller but uh, am I the fallen king?]
At this, the golem nodded. It confirmed his suspicions about himself. From the poems, until the paintings, they were all referring to a single individual called the fallen King. And through the golem’s answer, he found out that it was him.
He was the source of his own problems.
With this revelation, his thoughts became much clearer. Green vertical slits, now known to be his eyes, exposed themselves again, manifesting at his visor. And with their return came an extremely painful headache. A headache that kept pounding at him, making him kneel in response.
He remained prostrated to the ground, his hands clawing at his unreachable head. This continued for a minute until the pain eventually died down.
[Ow...] With the pain finally gone, the boy stood up. [Where the hell did that come from?]
He mulled his thoughts over, only to realize that the headache began when he confirmed his identity. That he was the fallen king.
And having realized how it happened pissed him off... greatly.
[What kind of crap did I pull that made me deserve to go through all those stupid trials HUH!] He yelled out, affronted at his plight. [I CAN’T EVEN FUCKING REMEMBER WHO I AM!]
For the next few seconds, he swore like a sailor. A sailor in a drunken rage, that is. Through cursing and indecency via a colorful application of the language he knew, his words became emboldened by the flame of defamation.
And then, when all was eventually well, he reviewed his situation.
[Ah, forget it.] Despite his firm contemplation, no new information came to light. [This is driving me nuts!]
He then faced the golem, realizing that it remained on the ground, waiting for him.
[Oh uh, sorry for forgetting about you.] He apologized, as he felt guilty about his actions. He exposed the golem to his vulgarities, and his guilt was sensible.
[Say, are you the Guardian Automata?]
His question surprised the automaton. It was the least that it expected to hear from the boy. Then, after pondering for a bit, it shook its head as a response to him.
[Oh, I see...] Somewhat disappointed; he offered a retort to his unarmed companion. [I'll still call you that though since I don't know your name, so do forgive me for my manners.]
The golem could only tremble at his response. It was as if the golem felt joy from the faint camaraderie it had experienced. The faint whispers of wind that came from its rusty pipes and gears produced a sound he found to be quite pleasing.
It was laughter.
[You’re laughing aren’t you?] He hit the mark, as that was indeed what the golem was enacting. Its laughter came in the form of whispered wind. [That’s your way of laughing, isn’t it?]
The golem nodded again, its body still trembling with delight. Through simple gestures, the pair understood each their acquaintances without the need for words. Both of them felt satisfaction from their brief exposure to each other.
Despite their deadly fight, no one held any grudges. Neither malice nor animosity came from both sides.
[Well then...] With the moment of respite coming to a close, he approached the automaton’s head. [I shall do as you asked.]
[Guardian Automata, I know not who you are, nor what your real name is.] His steps echoed throughout the ruins of their battle. [Your identity eludes me, and it might remain so.]
This moment may be the last time he might ever hear of the golem, as the responsibility of slaying the creature of metal fell upon his slight shoulders.
It was a burden far too heavy for him to carry, though he proceeded his approach, as he held his blade tight.
[And yet, from the bottom of my heart...] He voiced his sincerity to the fallen creature [I thank you... Thank you for agreeing to my foolish request.]
[And for that...] His drew his steps to a halt, the automaton’s single red eye gazing at him. Its gaze sought comfort from the blade he held. [Let me carry out your will.]
[We had one hell of a fight so...] A knife of auric gold and argent silver, raised into the sky by a single arm
A curved line formed on his visor portraying a grin, his smile. [Thank you very much!]
The golem accepted its fate, its mechanical eye losing its glow. The executioner’s blade fell, and a head was severed. A head that bore scars from many battles, of a single eye that gleamed red, was no more.
His former opponent, the Guardian Automata, has stopped moving.
[...] The boy only offered his silence, paying respects to the fallen foe.
For minutes, he fell silent at the mechanical golem's remains. He could not call it a corpse, as it was too horrible of a word to use upon the friend he recently met, only to perish by his hand.
‘I feel sad...’ His thoughts reflected the state of his mind.
He fulfilled his promise to the mechanical giant. A strange request that he agreed on a whim. He’d done as asked and yet he felt empty. As if he was-
[Grieving, was it?] The conclusion he’d fallen to felt absurd to him [I’m the one who claimed their life, and yet here I grieve...]
Realizing the source of his sadness, he contemplated further on his state.
He killed someone, whether they were human did not matter to him. He killed the very first person he met.
For the clothed figure, whose memories were still hazy and vague, he commited grave sin. The golem's demise, though under its request, wracked him with guilt.
A penitent individual was he, who killed the one he first met.
[I k-killed someone.] As though the world crumbled beneath, his mind shattered with the realization. [I-It's not my fault!]
Despite the lack of words between them, he felt kinship to it. A responsibility towards his ill-fated encounter with the guardian.
He killed it.
[The g-golem asked for it!] His excuses were poorly made, nothing more than an attempt to grasp at straws. To save himself from the guilt he obtained. [I-It wasn't me!]
The celestial sphere, who gazed upon the foolish boy; he who blamed itself for the Guardian Automata's demise, even as it begged him to end its suffering.
He wasn't to blame for the world he found himself in, for he knew nothing about himself.
[It wasn't...] His mindless thoughts grew to a halt, as he realized what chained his mind. His words nearly slurred, with his realization of the matter. [It wasn't?]
Espied by the foggy moon, he followed the silver orb with animated eyes. He saw the lunar sphere for what it was, an object far beyond his ebony grasp, and his hands would never reach it. Try as he might, nothing would allow him to do so.
Nothing, not even a miracle, would permit him to stain the orb of night with tainted hands.
[I see...] He found peace with himself, as he stood beneath the moon. The golem asked to be killed, and he was not guilty for enacting its wish. [It's not my fault.]
He fell victim to the cruelty of his own mind, seemingly brought out by the moon that gazed upon him.
[Well?] Aware that moping around wouldn’t help, he gestured to the sky. [I’m waiting.]
The moon remained, a spherical heavenly body that continued to impart its moonlight on the shattered stadium. Radio silence permeating the place. An arena devoid of life, except for him.
He was the sole person who stood there now.
[Still nothing, huh?] No response came from his surroundings [I’ll just sit here until things change?]
He turned to his hands, only to see their evanescent form. Faltering, altering specks of light that seemed to fade into the darkened sky, like fireflies. Like smoldering embers that gradually lost their blaze, only to fade to black.
An enchanted sight of flickering sparks.
[I’m fading!] He laughed at his own fate, knowing the cruel irony of his situation. [How poetic indeed!]
The motes of light began their lengthy voyage towards the lunar orb of night. They were heading towards the moon. As his consciousness faltered, he stared at his fading form, momentary spite aimed at himself.
[I guess this is a part of the game?] He sneered at his imaginary companion, to whom he talked with. [Now then, care to enlighten me?]
He turned his gaze to the sky, towards the heavenly sphere that remained on the horizon. In a place where no stars shone, and the sun did not exist, a solitary moon lingered, its color of argent silver and auric gold.
[My aberrant revulsion for you is irrational but...] His visor flickered, static noise filling it. [How I wish to see you fall.]
With what remained of his body, he turned towards his spectator, scorning at its existence. His vanishing self only fueled his anger more.
[All this time, you were watching me... right?]
Throughout his entire journey, an observer’s glare persisted. And, with a single gaze at the moon, the boy confirmed its presence for the first time.
[Was I entertaining enough?]
He came closer, his body transient in its appearance. With each step he took, the moon grew bigger. Its size increasing until eventually, he was opposite to it.
He came to face the lunar crescent, a place untouched by mortal hands. And yet, if he reached out, he felt the distance shorten.
The moon’s presence was realistic. Its details were complete. Unknown were the craters names, yet they felt familiar to him. As if he had seen them before.
He also recognized the name of one place, Mare Tranquillitatis. The Sea of Tranquility greeted him, an ocean of stone that lay before his very eyes.
And while he thought it odd, another familiar sight greeted him.
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☽[You are a lapdog of reality.]
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[It was real...] The first words he ever read since waking made manifest before him, shimmering in twilight dust. [There is someone after all...]
An ephemeral sight before his very eyes, his own figure a symbol of impermanence as he turned further into dancing lights. When he began to fade more, he returned a look to the moon one and said-
[My dearest stalker...]
Whilst he spoke these words, his blade gleamed. Furor seeping from its silver-tinged steel. His voice contained raw, unfiltered fury.
[From your lofty seat of stars, I shall drag you down with the heavens...]
With what remained of his hands, he aimed the knife at the golden-silver backdrop, hoping to cleave the skies. Before he could bring harm the heavens, his body lost their material form.
A lone blade, trying to grasp beyond the stars, only for it to fade like mist. An unreachable dream, immortal smoke that reached for the moon, an imperishable night.
[As heaven's hell-sent gift-]
He yearned his reach to grasp far, further than what he could reach, as if his hands drew close to engulf the moon.
[I promise...]
Unable to deny fate, his body turned to dust. He melted into the distant sky; the boy vanishing without a trace.
It was as if he never existed. A state of nil.
And all that remained was a tower of sunken rock, its edges an empty abyss.
His form no longer visible, the broken grounds illuminated by pale moonlight, a soliloquy under the blackened skies. As for the moon, it seemed to be sneering at the boy’s words. A taunt to seem oh-so shide.
By some illogical manner, it looked down on him.
On the world that never was.
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☽
[The colossus has fallen, Storyteller.]
[Akasha failed his duty, to protect your precious world.]
[And now, the fallen king walks the realm of Imaginary Numbers.]
[You only have yourself to blame, don't you think Novenary?]
☽
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