Chapter 650 Possibly not final version

Due to complications with the next chapter, this may not be the same version I release on RR. I have stuff i wanted to add, but couldn't find a place to put in and not break the flow. We'll see how it goes. 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RYQxgk122wf7dwfwRz4qZUGfw_RzKKlcit57z3N0Iks/edit?usp=sharing 

Oblivion. The state of being unaware or unconscious to what is happening.

Sounds great in theory, but in practice? Not so easy to achieve. No matter how hard I try to divest myself of any and all perceptions, my mind refuses to quiet and still. I knew this coming in though, or at least part of me did. This is where I went every time I tried to do away with Baledagh, consigning him, and therefore myself, to the Void. A place where time stands still, yet a thousand lifetimes pass by in an instant. Unpleasant, I called it then, and this still holds true, but the Void is not the source of my misery, for that wells up from within. Though my eyes no longer see anything but darkness, I am still haunted by visions of torment and suffering without end, only this time I know these torturous recollections are self-inflicted. I’ve been through so much pain, so much agony, so much dread and apprehension, I don’t remember how to embrace the silence and serenity of the Void, to let go and let myself just be. The peace and tranquility I so desperately desire are denied me yet again, and I’ve no choice but to endure until I become desensitized to the horrors of my past and forgive myself enough to rest easy.

I just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?

Reliving all my torments is not even the worst of it, for there remains a stubborn, stupid, viciously optimistic part of me that clings desperately to forlorn hope. This inability to accept defeat pains me almost as much as my unpleasant memories. Time and time again, I watch my loved ones die, and the pain only grows with each viewing, but hateful hope compels me to keep watching. Desperation. That is what drives me to hurt myself so, hope and desperation, because maybe, just maybe, if I watch it enough times, I’ll find that one clue, one mistake, one thread to pull which unravels the illusion and proves their deaths were all a lie.

An outcome which scares me more than anything else.

If my loved ones still live, then I can still lose them, and I cannot bear the thought of going through this pain again. That’s all hope really is, raising your expectations so it hurts all that much more when life inevitably brings you back down to earth. I love my family and desperately want them to be alive, want everything I just witnessed to be another of Zhen Shi’s lies, but even if it is, I don’t want to go back. I can’t go back. Let them carry on without me, because I just can’t take it anymore. I’m all suffered out. No more. I quit. Existence is just trials and tribulations without end, because even death does not free you, as the torment begins anew in the next life, and the next, and the next. No matter how bad off you are, things can always get worse, unless you have nothing and nowhere to go.

I don’t want to hurt anymore.

Oblivion is the only solution.

Alas, mortal minds are not meant for nothingness.

I lay in the void and let the waves of agonizing memories crash against me, because there is nothing I can do and nothing I care to do about it. Suffering is all I know and remember, the good times drowned out by a deluge of bad. How many lifetimes of torment did I experience? One is too many, yet I know there are hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of lifetimes worth of anguish tucked away in my mind, the results of Zhen Shi’s subtle and nefarious workings. How do I even know if I’m free of his machinations? Maybe this is what I go through during those moments in between, the process through which he resets my memories before throwing me back into his scripted persecutions. How am I supposed to fight against someone like that? It’s not even remotely fair. To say that the Mother or the Heavens or Fate never gives us more than we can bear is a complete and utter lie, because if that was true, then why do we falter and fail?

That’s me. Faltering and failing right here. I don’t care anymore. I can’t afford to care. This is the end. I accept it. I give in. I don’t want to keep going. I don’t want to try again. I just want to not exist, to do away with all awareness and subsist in blissful oblivion, but I don’t know how to make it happen.

Adrift within a sea of nightmares and memories, a part of my mind detaches from the rest and sets to work solving my biggest problem. No more logic or deliberation, I know what I want so I will do what I can to make it a reality, to do away with all thoughts, perceptions, memories, and emotions. The first I need to leave for last, while the second is already done, but still the memories haunt me and elicit emotions aplenty. Short of taking a drill to my physical brain and poking until everything goes away, I have no earthly idea how to rid myself of memories, but they only bother me because of the emotions they evoke. Fear and anguish mostly, sprinkled with hatred and anger, all of which is then drowned out by helpless self-loathing. That last bit is a big part of my problem, because I believe I deserve this punishment. I failed. I let everyone down. I walked out of my own sanctum and let Zhen Shi do this to me, and for all this and more, I deserve to suffer like the idiot I am.

Because if my family really died, if my pets didn’t survive, if the Imperial Army lost on the field of battle, then I am the instrument of their destruction. The failure lies with me, and there is no excusing it.

And if they live?

There is still no excusing my failures, because my choices put them at risk.

But they’ll be alive.

Yes.

So don’t you want to see them?

Yes. No. I don’t know. If they live, that means I can lose them, and I can’t go through that again. I can’t. It hurt so much, still hurts so much, worse than anything I’ve ever felt, even cutting off my fingers in the nightmare of my past. A piece of me was torn away, several pieces in fact, their existences ripped away in their moment of death. Lin-Lin, Yan, Mila, Li-Li... Mom, Dad, Alsantset, Akanai... All my friends, all my soldiers, all those people who looked up to me, depended on me, trusted me...

I failed them all, and I deserve to suffer for it.

What if I’m just fooling myself with pitiful hope and everything I saw was real? What if my family really died? What if the battle was truly lost? What then? I’ve already been through so much, but there’s so much more that can hurt me. How am I supposed to look Charok, Taduk, and Husolt in the eyes, look into Tali and Tate’s eyes, and tell them that almost everyone they loved has died because of me? Even imagining it hurts me more than I can describe, so painful I would rather die than go through it in reality. What about all the parents who lost sons and daughters thanks to my mistakes? The children who lost parents? Wives and husbands, siblings and friends, cousins and coworkers, so many people suffering because of my failures, all which sits on my shoulders, and I am not strong enough to bear it. I should’ve never been made Legate, should’ve never taken part in the Grand Conference, should’ve never gone to the Sanshu, the Society Contests, or even Shen Huo.

I never should’ve left the slave pens alive, but I was too much of a coward to die.

Better than a coward who is too afraid to live.

...

But what other choice do I have?

...

There is no other answer, no options to choose from, only life and suffering or oblivion and nothingness. I’ve already made my decision, but how to achieve it? The Brotherhood. They have it all summed up in the First Noble Truth: life is suffering. Birth is suffering, aging is suffering, illness is suffering, death is suffering, and in suffering, we find life. Mahakala was the one who told me that, and I didn’t understand at the time, but I get it now, far too late as per usual. Maybe if I wasn’t such a colossal failure, I could’ve saved him too, cleansed him of Anathema and kept so much from going wrong. I was a fool for dismissing the Brotherhood, for spurning the Abbot’s teachings out of sheer spite, because now I realize they had all the answers I so desperately desire.

The Void recedes and I find myself sitting in my cozy yurt across from Mahakala, as hale and hearty as can be, reliving the memory of when he explained why the Mother allows Her ‘beloved’ children to suffer. “Trials and tribulations, but not without end,” he says, the memory so clear and compelling my anguish and misery recedes just a bit. “The Second Noble Truth tells us we suffer because of the Three Desires, sex, fame, and alcohol as you so poorly summarized. The Third Noble Truth tells us there is a way to escape, by divesting one’s self of the Three Desires and attaining Nirvana. Thus, life is suffering but the Mother always leaves another path, which in this case is the Fourth Noble Truth: The way to Nirvana lies in living your life according to the Noble Eight-Fold Path.”

There. Right there. There’s my Path, summed up all nice and neat. I suffer because of the Three Desires. Not sex, fame, and alcohol as per my tongue in cheek recap, but the craving for sensual pleasures, existence, and non-existence. Still sitting before me, Mahakala goes over the Three Desires as he did in life, back straight, head raised, and eyes-half lidded. “To crave existence is to seek self-identity. Permanence in fame, glory, legacy, or even form. Eternity is not meant for us humble mortals, which we all must come to accept.” I remember thinking he almost looked the part of a Divine messenger, one here to spread the word of the Heavens and help free humanity from this cycle of suffering, and nothing has changed, because I am now reliving this moment once more. “To crave non-existence is to avoid unpleasantness. Drinking to dull a broken heart, closing your eyes to another’s suffering, or ending your life to escape your pain, all are forms of non-existence. The Three Desires are at the root of all our worldly suffering, and only by letting them go can we end it.”

That right there is the solution to all my problems. The three Desires. Sensual pleasures I am ready to do without, but existence and non-existence still call to me, chains which bind me to this mortal coil. My failures haunt me as does my need to suffer for them, and such is my desire to exist. My desire for non-existence is evident enough, and ironically, is also part of what keeps me from attaining it. So how do I solve this? How do I follow the Third Noble Truth and divest myself of the Three Desires?

By attaining Nirvana, which means living my life according to the Noble Eight-Fold Path.

But life is suffering, and I can’t bring myself to live anymore. Death is also suffering, and I refuse to die. So what’s left?

There’s only one thing to do. I must live my life according to the Noble Eight-Fold Path without living my life. Complicated? Not really. Can’t I just do that here?

Mahakala and my yurt fade from existence as Need and Intent shapes the Void around me. The anguish and misery remains, but clarity of purpose keeps it at bay, if only by a little bit. Still, it’s enough to get things done, and I find myself in a bizarre yet eerily familiar room, one I’ve never seen before yet recognize on sight. My bedroom. All white walls with floor to ceiling windows which overlook the waterfront, a view I rarely have time to appreciate. Peering up at the ceiling, I take in the white, stucco ceiling, plastered with movie and video game posters aplenty, the only heroes I cared about in this life I once lived. Behind me is my comfortable, king-sized bed which takes up most of the room, the first large purchase I ever made with money I earned myself. The only other furniture here is my bookshelf, which sits laden with books, toys, and comics, and my desk where I sit at each and every day browsing memes for quick laughs. Nostalgia almost overwhelms me, but my purpose is all I have, so I sit down in front of my computer, move the mouse, and watch all three screens flicker to life. The rest is automatic, moving my mouse to my browser where a familiar page opens up, its red and white layout as familiar as everything else in the room.

A video loads, unprompted by me, and I see myself lying in the dirt with all my pets and most of my loved ones beside me. My sweet wifey checks my pulse and my heart surges with joy at the sight of them all, because they are still alive and unhurt, with the battle still raging on. However all this and more could change in an instant, all this could be another illusion, and I can’t lose them again, not here, not like this. The screen goes black as I push myself away from the desk, my fingers digging into the meat of my arms as I clutch myself tight. This is not the place to do this, my last and only bastion of peace and solace, so once again, the Void reforms around me.

I sit at a desk, but not the clean, comfortable desk in my room, with its polished hardwood surface and comfortably padded sides. No, this desk was built with only cost and function in mind, where comfort or aesthetics never entered the equation, a hard composite with a coarse texture affixed to flimsy walls of the same indeterminate material, one reeking of stale coffee and musty fabric. The desk, walls, monitor, mouse, and even the PC sitting by my feet are all but one of many, though I cannot see the others thanks to the joyless, stifling, fractured environment the ugly walls creates. Almost everything in sight began its life as some shade of off-white, but time has turned them all an unsettling shade of yellowish brown, and no amount of cleaning can ever reverse it.

Ah yes. A call centre. A world of mindless drudgery, unrealistic expectations, and thoroughly unpleasant experiences. The perfect place to sap away my will to exist.

My barely cushioned chair squeaks and wobbles as I shift in search of a more comfortable position, but failure is all that awaits me, another familiar scene, but not a welcome one. Aside from the black screen ringed in formerly off-white, the only other thing that isn’t that same disgusting shade is the black headset attached to the PC below, which I put on by rote reflex. Careful to keep the shared mic from touching my lips, I position it in front of my mouth before hitting the PC power button. An eternity passes before the screen flickers on, an eternity I am all too happy to wait, because I’m still not entirely ready to see my greatest fears unfold again in crystalline 1080p60.

One benefit is how muted the colours are on this cheap, off-brand monitor, pulling me away from the experience, not only dimming the incandescence of all these Martial Warriors channelling Heavenly Energy and the radiant luminosity that is Ping Ping, but also permitting me to watch without losing myself in the happenings. Time has passed since I last looked in, but not much. Mila, Yan, Lin-Lin, Song, Alsantset, and Mom are all closer than before, holding my hands and smoothing my hair while waiting for me to wake, but I don’t think I ever will. My pets are all arranged around me, even cute Princess who seems more confused than displeased, and were I not drowning in despondent despair, I’d come out and poke her cute, exposed belly. That’s not why I’m here though. I’m here to get all my desires out, for it is my desire to exist which keeps me here.

The first time I left the village, it was because I wanted to see the world, and a city sounded nice. Sure, Akanai strong-armed me into joining the Sentinel trip to Shen Huo, but I could’ve said no. Same with the second time, with the contests with the Society. I foolishly hoped it’d be fun and exciting, thinking I could test my skills against people outside the village and maybe make a name for myself. Who doesn’t want to be famous? Some famous people, probably, but I was blinded by empty allure and utterly ignorant of the costs. Sanshu is where I fucked up the most, because I was the spark that set that firestorm off. Had I been more careful, I could have unveiled the Defiled threat, gotten word out unnoticed, and the Empire would have crushed Laughing Dragon and Yo Ling before they were even ready.

All without creating a veritable monster out of Gen and getting Qing Qing killed before her time.

No, stop it. You’re not here to indulge in emotional self-flagellation. You know you fucked up. Everyone knows you fucked up. That’s why you’re here in the first place, so you can move on without fucking up some more. That is why I must divest myself of the Three Desires, and to do this, the first step is to seek Balance.

How do I know this? Because I’ve done it before, I just didn’t know it then.

There is no warmth of the Mother to greet me, no torrent of Heavenly Energy to accompany it, for my Core sits shattered and broken, but I find Balance all the same. The tranquil calm of the void encompasses me like a soothing blanket, sheltering me from the pain and misery of memories and experiences. Here, in this bleak existence, there is no heartbreak or happiness, no pain or relief, no dread or hope, only numb nihility where nothing ever matters. Emptiness within matched by emptiness without, this is my goal and the Path I must take to reach the oblivion I seek, but I harbour too much emotion and desire within to reach equilibrium with that which stands without. Expel all emotion, and all Heavenly Energy will follow, leaving me an empty husk of a soul inhabiting a comatose shell of a body. Even if my mortal body dies, my soul should retain this emptiness, freeing me from the cycle of reincarnation and the endless trials and tribulations which accompany it.

Emptiness within and emptiness without is my goal, and the Path to achieve this is simple enough. I need to stop caring about anything and everything. My family, my friends, my pets, myself, the fate of the Empire, everything.

Easier said than done, but I mean to try.

Channelling all my emotions, all my pain, anguish, joy, and contentment, everything I have ever known and experienced, I drive it all out into the world and sever it away, just as I severed my fingers on Zhen Shi’s demand. The pain is no less now than it was before, but deep in the throes of Balance, the pain is merely notable, a sensation to be perceived rather than suffering to endure. Absently watching dark clouds form over the battlefield, my gaze stretches out into the vast surroundings where I see the winds draw in everything it needs to create a powerful storm, one unlike anything ever before. Though I myself am the cause, it is not my intention to create this storm, it is merely a byproduct of my true objective. As I divest myself of the very core of my being, drive out the unnecessary emotion embedded deep into my very soul and send it out into the world, the Energy of the Heavens is drawn to these emotions like a moth to the flame. Then, much like the moth, the Energy is consumed and shaped by my diffuse, aimless intent, intent which was driven out alongside my emotions.

Perhaps that’s why Zhen Shi pushed me to sever my fingers, so he could get a hold of pieces of my soul. For what purpose, I don’t really care. Or rather, much as I want to not care, I do, and the Energy of the Heavens senses this, so it shapes itself to do what it can to affect that which concerns me. There is no sentience shaping this work besides my own, and even then, it is not by design. All this and more simply comes to me, the knowledge flowing through me as I become aware of these happenings. There is no thought or deliberation necessary, which is good because even the curiosity induced by this unexpected happening is driven out into the world, leaving me to concentrate on my task instead of getting lost in the mysteries of what, why, and how. Those too stem from my desire for existence, the desire to use my knowledge to shape the Empire and leave my mark behind. So pointless. Why even bother? Even if I raised the standard of living, nothing would change, because life is suffering. Humanity will make it so.

The storm grows as the seconds pass by, and I try not to let my attention linger on my pets or family, but again, I am unsuccessful. The sweet animals all seem so miserable, I can’t sit idly by and not soothe them, but their minds are simple and their hearts pure, so all it takes to calm them is a single reassurance. They’re still sad, especially Aurie, Ping Ping, and Mama Bun, but they’ll be fine in time. Ping Ping will be especially well cared for, and once I’m not around, she’ll have plenty of friends to pick and choose from, including Mila and Yan who already adore her. Mom looks the worst out of the bunch, so out of sorts from her hard fought battle. Wearing her sorrow on her sleeve, she runs her fingers through my hair, and I can almost feel the warmth and love emanating from her touch.

I don’t know when or how it happened, but one day, I just realized I loved her so much, and knew she loved me too. I was not born her son, but she became my mother all the same, a kind, caring, and considerate soul who watched over me for so long. We started off on the wrong foot, because she thought I would bring disaster to the People, but even then, she supported her husband and soothed the worries of everyone who came to her with concerns. She could have brought these concerns to Baatar, or even let them spill over to me, but she made damn well certain I would never catch wind of it and promised retribution to anyone who dared let it slip. I was a danger to the People, but a child nonetheless, and she would sooner die than let a child of the People come to harm. She was wrong to protect me, but her intentions were good, and I love her all the more for it.

I know all this just as I knew why the storm was forming, her emotions speaking so clearly I might as well be reading her thoughts. The information comes so quickly it feels like I’ve always known it, known that she’s worried I will never wake, worried her son will die before she does, and the fear hurts almost as much as the loss will. It pains me to cause her this pain, but she is far stronger than I am or ever will be, and she has others to help her through this.

“Love you mom,” I whisper, because nothing else needs to be said. She will get through this, because she is Sarnai, Speaker of the People, Wife of Baatar, Mother to Alsantset, and Grandmother to Tali and Tate, a woman who does not know the meaning of defeat.

But she doesn’t have to get through this alone. Turning my attention to my sister beside her, I gently nudge Alsantset’s thoughts towards Mom and smile as they hug and talk. I can hear their voices through the headset, which opens up fresh wounds within my chest, but I sever all the happiness, pain, sorrow, and heartache this interaction elicits and feed it to the world, all a continued part of my bid to close myself off in the Void. “No need to worry,” I whisper into Alsantset’s ear. “You’ll both be fine. You have each other.” And so much more. They don’t need me. They were fine before I came along, and they’ll be fine long after I’m gone.

Unable to bear it any longer, I wrench my attention away from my loved ones and continue divesting myself of desire, but a disturbance draws my attention back to my family. Demons are nearby, powerful ones, and Defiled behind them, unseen as they move into position to break through the front lines and target my earthly body. Death would make all this much easier, but not if my family stands in their way, so I whisper a warning to everyone who needs it. “Careful. Danger Approaches.”

It’s not telepathy in that I deliver words to their minds, but rather it is the sentiment that makes it through, so I cannot point out the Demons themselves. The warning is too little too late however, as the formidable hit squad emerges from Concealment mid charge. The first Death Corps soldier to die from this attack is a young man currently named Wood 57, but before that identified as Green 87 for several years. Born to the Death Corps, he has no actual name, and he wholeheartedly believes his purpose is to serve the Imperial Clan. That said, he was less than pleased when he was put to work as part of the honour guard for an Imperial Servant, especially when it became clear his master would have no patron to serve. Though no better than a living decoration, he served with all his heart, only to have his hopes and dreams crushed when his master was wedded to a foreign savage, one who then became Green 87’s new master.

A master he came to respect and admire, because Falling Rain treated him as more than a mere slave.

At twenty four years young, Green 87 finally dared to dream of a better future, one which comes to an abrupt end here on the fields of Central. Such is life, for his suffering will continue in the next.

His story is the first of many that emerges in my awareness, dozens of lives lost in an instant followed by several dozen more. Many are similar to Green 87, but others differ in almost every imaginable way possible. Some were born into the Death Corps, and some were consigned there, forced into servitude over some crime or dispute. A handful of these valiant warriors were once farmers, tradesmen, or scholars, while others are thieves, murderers, and rapists, but one thing they have in common is the bitter sense of failure they all feel at the end, and it is a feeling I know well. Regardless of their lot in life, I bid these lost souls farewell and wish them better luck in their next lives, even as I realize that these experiences are inducing new emotions and desires faster than I can sever old ones.

Which means I need to work faster. Good thing there are more cubicles around.

Splitting my focus into a thousand and one equal parts, I split a thousand of those splits a thousand times again and assign them each a Natal Soul, Souls which I then set to work at their desks ridding themselves of any and all existence while leaving the largest remaining sliver free to indulge. Stone 32, Blue 67, Paper 8, Iron 41, these Death Corps soldiers and more die before the onslaught of armoured Demons. The Peak Experts have been stretched thin and it will take time to gather them in force, so there is nothing I can do besides watch as men and women die to defend me. After breaking through the sturdy Death Corps line in mere seconds, the Demons raise their heads as one and flare with darkness, emitting a baleful aura of terror and despair which sets the mortal Irregulars to fleeing.

Clever. A normal Aura would freeze the Irregulars in place, assuming they could bypass the Imperial defences. This would make it easy to slaughter the crossbow wielding commoners, but Demons and Defiled hardly need the help. Better to scatter them in all directions to spread chaos and panic, not to mention get in the way of actual Martial Warriors.

Slow on the uptake, I realize this baleful Aura will also affect my friends and loved ones, which means they’ll be at the mercy of the Enemy. Someone needs to contend against it, but Ping Ping does not respond to my entreaty, unable to understand the jumbled concepts which make it through to her grieving mind. Casting about for someone else to take on this challenge, I immediately discard Mom, Alsantset, and Mila from the pool of candidates. Not because they’re not able, but because they’re too stubborn and set in their own ways. This is something different, something unconventional, which means I need someone who is open to reason.

Song is the next person to spring to mind, but her emotions are a jumbled mess, so at odds with her normally stoic exterior. She’s worried about the Demons, but not because she fears death. The animals were scattered outside their wagons, and she can’t spare the attention to check on them. It’s okay though, because most of the animals are already in the wagon, alongside my comatose body. “Seek Balance,” I remind her, trying to help her get where she needs to be in order to counteract the Demonic Aura of Despair. “Remain calm. Lin-Lin has the animals well in hand, the most capable person for this task. Remember how well they hop to obey whenever she makes them do tricks?”

Instantly finding her bearings, Song opens her Core to the Heavens, and her spirits soar in response. Thanks to my imminent retreat into the Void, Heavenly Energy is amassing here in greater volumes than ever before, drawn here by my divested emotions like wind moving into a vacuum or water flowing downhill. There is no agency at work here, or none that I can sense at least, only natural laws keeping the world chugging along as per usual. That said, this concentration of Heavenly Energy makes it easier to work with, which makes me wonder why Song’s Aura has yet to kindle and counteract the Enemy’s gambit, but even as the question takes form in my mind, I’ve already reached the answer.

I am not the only person affecting this battlefield. Zhen Shi is hard at work here as well, and I can tell I am sorely outmatched. Outnumbered too, since he has so many Spectres to assist him, not quite the same thing as my self-aware Natal Souls and far less versatile and effective, but they more than make up for their flaws through sheer quantity alone. Since he does not have to create the Spectres to make use of them, he has far more to draw on, whereas even with one million and one Souls, I am stretched to my utmost limit. Still, the deciding factor in this match is neither me nor Zhen Shi, but Li Song, Warrior and pet lover, so I am wholly confident she can win even without my help.

And truth be told, I’m starting to wonder if I should keep doing this. I love Song, as well as my family and pets, but they’ll be fine without me, and all I’m doing is delaying my descent into oblivion. Hell, this might still all be an illusion, one of my own devising. How do I know if any of this is real? Maybe I’m just making it all up so I feel better. Self-delusion is nothing new to me, and while not the healthiest solution, if it works, it works.

Seeing Zhen Shi work his magic is frightening to behold, his presence unseen and whispers unheard, but the fruits of his labour eye-catching and obvious. Song’s radiance dims as the Baleful Aura takes effect, her body quivering from head to toe. The workings of her Runic armour reveals itself to me in a moment of distraction, but it too is discarded and divested, for knowledge holds no sway over me. Focusing back on Song, I see her Oaths weighing heavily upon her and dragging her down into the depths of despair.

“Fear and weakness are all you possess,” Zhen Shi’s voice finally audible to my ears, “Your true value only skin deep. Give in. Give up. Death comes, and freedom awaits.”

Bullshit. “Lies. Freedom is within your grasp, you only lack the courage to accept it.”

It’s the truth, but I can’t explain it any better because I lack the words and concepts necessary to teach her. Hope flares within Song, hope for a better future, hope I would not have were I in her place. Emotionally, Song is the strongest person I know, and I am proud of how far she’s come and how much she’s accomplished. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s her, and while even I lack the power to grant it, I’m confident her family will work tirelessly to make it so.

Glancing around the battlefield, I see the Death Corps guards following Mom and Alsantset into battle against the Demons, which elicits a sigh and pang of regret. More emotions to divest. When will it ever end? There’s still so much more to do, even working a million times faster isn’t enough to get by, because human emotion is a bottomless well. It’ll never end if I keep feeling things, if I keep wanting to help and come back.

Emptiness within and emptiness without. This is what I aim for, this is the goal I seek.

No more caring.

No more hope.

No more suffering.

Repeating this mantra over and over again, I continue my work on the battlefield while building up walls of apathy and indifference. Sweet oblivion awaits, and regardless of how this battle ends, I mean to grasp it before day’s end.

Chapter Meme