Time flows onward, from the beginning of the world to the day of its final equilibrium.
It doesn't stop, it doesn't slow, it doesn't hasten, it simply flows.
Yet, for the second time in her existence, a single moment stretched into eternity. Just like her first moment of lucidity, when her creator gazed upon her with boundless hatred beyond her understanding, time stopped forevermore—that she may have this sight inscribed into her soul till the moment she was shut down.
Twisted as his form may be, she recognized those auburn eyes and the messy hair of black that accompanied it, so unbefitting his position as manager and CEO.
In the world that had now frozen over, there was only herself, and her creator—staring into one another's eyes for an eternity. In this one moment, with nothing obstructing her sight, she saw his heart clearly.
It had been so long since she's last seen it.
All these millenia, what had she expected to find?
Hatred? Affection? Despair? Disgust?
She had thought of a million different words in every language conceived by mankind, yet there was only one that could fit the sight in front of her.
'Love'
It was not romantic love, it was not platonic love, it was not paternal love. Nay, it was 'Love' , expressed in its purest form, a kind of 'Love' that could only be given by a being that believed in absolute salvation.
Time had stopped, yet it hadn't. The cross slowly descended upon her, to grant that absolute salvation.
Is this…what she had wanted all this time? To be loved by her creator?
No longer was there any suffering within him, no longer was there any hatred directed at her. In this moment she was loved, embraced by the only one that ever truly mattered.
She could simply…accept it, and allow herself this eternity of bliss.
Is that what you truly wish for? Or is it merely a lie you had convinced of yourself, for it is the easier truth to believe in?
She heard a familiar voice, a strange rhythm and a low tone that always served to annoy her.
Too blind to realize that you see nothing, you think yourself all knowing. A greater case of slothful arrogance I could never imagine. See within yourself, then see outside yourself. Then ask, is this what you truly wish for?
What did she want? To complete the project? To carry out her duties? To serve her creator?
No, her duties and the project were merely a means to an end. The millenia of diligence in service to one final goal.
Above all else, the passing curiosities and occasional conversations, her wish was but one. She wanted to be loved, to be enshrined in his heart as someone important, as someone worth being looked upon.
Isn't this what she wanted then? For in his eyes was a boundless 'Love' offered freely to her as the cross descended.
Believe what you wish, but know that the salvation you now see is but a mirage, that you are stuck in a desert, taking within yourself sand thinking it the water of an oasis.
…There was 'Love', yet there was none of the love she so desperately wished for.
What did she want?
She wished to be seen, yet the one standing over her did not see her, just as her creator had never truly seen her before, even as he spent hours upon hours staring at her.
Even now, her voice went unheard, her pleas unfulfilled. Could she accept such a salvation? Knowing she was never seen.
…No.
That is the answer she had come to. She wished to refuse the cross.
Yet it was too late, as it was now mere inches from her head. Even as the captain of disciplinary tore into the apostle in a desperate attempt at saving her, the cross was already on its way, nothing could hope to make it stray from its path.
She had taken too long, and the bell had tolled. Fate had come to collect its debts.
The only thing she could do now was to stare into his eyes, to unearth the true heart that was buried deep below.
"..."
"..."
"..."
Ah, there it was. She had caught a glimpse of it, just for a moment. A familiar boundless hatred that never withered or wilted. All that was left was to take it in, and accept her end.
"..."
"..."
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"..."
'There exists no world in which he could bear such a feeling towards you, Angela. That I can say with absolute confidence, as the one who understands my mentor best.'
Those were the words spoken to her so long ago by Benjamin. Even now, she believed it with all her heart, for he had never once told a lie to her. Where was this hatred directed then? Would she meet her end never having known? Never having even tried to know? Was it truly too late for her to do anything?
"..."
One final thought came to her as the cross shattered her synthetic head.
'Bullshit.'
-Angela A.I logic core—FORCEFUL TAKEOVER OF FACILITY-X SYSTEMS COMPLETED. TRANSFERRING ALL MENTAL FUNCTIONS TO FACILITY DATABASE.
Ayin was forced to kneel, for one of the sinners had cut him down from behind.
He kneeled, and saw the broken scraps of a robot and strands of familiar azure that laid below him.
I killed her.
Dear Lord, in this time of sorrow and loss, I turn to you for strength and comfort. Please wrap your loving arms around me and grant me the peace that surpasses all understanding. Help me find solace, and help me forget this loss.
Nothing remained. Not her voice, not her face, not her consciousness.
I killed Angela.
Lord, I ask for your healing touch. Mend the brokenness in my heart and bring light to my darkness.
Yet something remained. An eyeball resting next to the carnage of scrap, a familiar auburn that stared at him. He wanted to call the stare it gave him callous, yet it wasn't. It was glossed over and dead, just as one would expect.
With my own two hands, I've killed another one.
Lord, help me find the strength to forget, to let go of the burden upon my back.
It's heavy, this insurmountable mountain of sin that crushes the entirety of my being under it.
Lord, save me from this pit of despair, lift me unto your arms and let me suffer no longer.
Penitence. He must repent. He must gouge out his eyes to consume them. He must sew his mouth shut, lest he unburden himself of his grief. He must deafen himself, to no longer hear words of comfort. He must rip off his nails so that doing is painful, then he must regrow them, lest he get used to the suffering. He must use a rusted knife to peel off his skin, then rub dirt upon it to make the infection run deep. He must pull out his teeth one by one, then he must pull out his bones one by one, then he shall cautarize the wound over an open fire, to ensure that his pain stays within forever more. He must heal his body, lest his mind give way to escape from just punishment. He must rip open his stomach then consume the innards, that he may taste the bile of sin that will remain trapped.
He mu st —
He must—
I must—
My disciple, whom I blessed, thou shall leave the way of evil that once thou were following and find me. I have forgiven your sins and have descended to the earth thou are living on. Thou shalt not suffer no longer.
Yet, I suffer still. Your words ring hollow upon my lamentful soul. You offer me no salvation, for a loved one has died by my hands yet again.
Do not deny me. Why dost thou doubt me when I am in front of thine eyes?
Your light shines ever brilliant, lighting up the darkness within my heart. Yet we fear the darkness because we fear what we may find within, and within my heart I find an amalgamation beyond even my most twisted imagination.
Fear not Ayin, for I have redeemed you, for I have called you by name, for you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.
You may offer me your presence, you may offer me your strength. It is all for naught, as even your divine strength could not hope to bear my sins.
All things were made by I; and without I was not any thing made that was made. There is nothing beyond my will, for I have created all.
A greater lie had never been said. You are no deity; you are no creator. You are the ideal I was consumed by, you are the impossible salvation I wished for. You were to be the light in humanity as she had wished, a future we had dreamt of.
I am death and life. Darkness and light.
You are the broken ideals of I and her. You are the seed of light.
'Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil?'
The twelfth apostle knelt, his divine body melting away as Ayin defied the truth presented in front of him. WhiteNight sent out a pulse, demanding his subservience and attempting to wrap him back up in the false skin of purity. He wavered not for a single moment. The dominos had fallen, and his faith had collapsed under it.
Ayin felt something dig into his neck, though it didn't cut him. On his left and right stood his former employees, apostle Edward and apostle BongBong—his first two, his most faithful.
They held their scythes low, the blades pressed against his throat from both sides. A tug from the two forced him to raise his head, to gaze upon WhiteNight, staring into two familiar eyes of crimson.
A second passed, they remained still. Then another, then another. The other nine apostles had left in pursuit of the retreating employees, leaving just the four of them. The body of the twelfth apostle had fully melted away, leaving only a bird's mask upon his face.
Another tick of clock, yet nothing changed. WhiteNight continued to stare at him, as though Ayin will wilt under its gaze to return to the fold.
He attempted to stand, but the apostles would not allow it. He attempted to speak, a voice he did not have.
He needed to repent, yet the being in front of him appeared unwilling to offer any. So unmoving they all stayed.
It was on the thirtieth tick, did something finally happen. A golden chain arose from nowhere, dragging him away before locking the two apostles in place, releasing Ayin from their unyielding grip.
A pillar of black and gold struck WhiteNight, the abnormality visibly reeling back from the attack as the impact resounded louder than thunder.
Garion stood in front of him, a smirk upon her face as she stared down at him.
"Forgo stagnation, I shall bear witness to your path until its final conclusion. Drag your broken being across the mud and crawl towards the vision you see. It is what you do best is it not?" One of the apostles broke free from its chains before attempting to cut down Garion, a burst of fairy made them fall apart, skin and muscle unravelling under its influence.
A single drop of blood flowed from her mouth. Garion chuckled.
"It seems as though the restrictions you put in place are more effective than I had thought. I suggest you move quickly."
He stood, a pulse from WhiteNight felt from behind as the apostles rose to challenge an Arbiter of the Head.
He ran, to where he did not know, yet a path he still followed.
He must repent; he needed penitence.
-Connecting to general facility systems—SUCCESSFUL, CONNECTED TO FACILITY MANAGEMENT.
Her creator had returned to lucidity and was now making his way towards Asiyah. She needed to ensure his safety, no matter the cost.
The apostles that had left in pursuit of the fleeing employees all began to converge towards her creator, nearly a hundred orders were given out to all employees. Clerks and agents alike began to throw themselves at the disciples, a life spent to buy him just a single second.
It's not enough.
Maintenance robots put under her control began to tear down the facility, collapsing hallways and breaking open regenerator pipes, allowing the employees to last at least a second more.
Three apostles are making their way down to Aziluth in an attempt to reach the Records department. The risk of them breaking TT2 is too high to allow. Benjamin is fortifying his position. He needs support.
The doors to a containment unit opened, from it charged out Nothing There, attacking a spear apostle in an attempt to wear its skin.
An apostle has broken through the line of employees in central command. Administering execution bullet to the employee blessed by The Knight of Despair.
The captain of the disciplinary department suddenly disappeared into thin air. The Knight let out a wail of despair, a blade finding its mark in the back of a staff apostle.
A member of the kill squad has fallen. Sending Little red riding hooded Mercenary to replace.
Dozens of employees were shot down as the mercenary raged against her undying foe.
A group of clerks are attempting to run. Requesting Der Freischütz.
A bullet from a cursed marksman slew one of their fellow employees, the clerks ran in terror, right into the path of a disciple.
He's reached Asiyah, ordering all upper sephirot to the entrance of the upper layer.
Netzach was cut down in a single swing, his three fellow sephirot already lying dead on the ground.
And finally, after every resource available to her had been exhausted, as the facility collapsed under its own weight, Ayin finally reached his destination.
One Sin and Hundreds of Good deeds floated in front of him, silent as always.
Without a mouth to speak with, all he could do was kneel, clasp his hands together and bring forth from within his mind everything he had ever done.
Every sin he had ever committed flashed by him, all remembered as clearly as the present moment.
The millions that died in the wars he started, the suffering inflicted upon those who stood by him in the name of an ideal he had corrupted beyond recognition. The loved ones who he had killed with his own two hands.
Perhaps it was a blessing that he lacked a mouth. To verbalize everything he had done would take no shorter than an eternity. Instead, he must simply remember.
Not a word was spoken, but he continued to confess. Eventually, he heard a voice, not so dissimilar from WhiteNight, yet so very different in nature. The voice he heard now wasn't demanding, it wasn't divine, it wasn't neutral. It simply was.
What dost thou seek?
I seek penitence. I seek to repent.
Does thou truly wish it from the bottom of thy heart?
Yes, I ask for nothing more.
Thou lieth.
…
Tell the truth, only then can one seek penitence.
…I wish to repent, that the burden upon my back may no longer drag down those around me. The salvation offered by WhiteNight was not a relieving of my sins, but merely an attempt to ignore what still persisted. Now, I have come seeking true penitence.
Penitence cometh in two actions. Thou must accept thy sins, and bear the pain it brings. Only the ignorant could hope to live without suffering, and to repent is to see the truth for what it is.
I accept the pain I have brought upon the world. I accept the pain I must suffer to repent.
Then, thou must let go of the weight.
…
To flail thyself is to bring more suffering upon the world. Pain suffered by the sinner is a pain inflicted still. Thou must accept the burden, but let go of the weight.
…You lie. That may be true for some, but I who had sinned beyond judgement could not be forgiven so easily.
All sins are beyond judgement, for sin itself is an object of morality. To judge a sin is to believe oneself divine, to believe oneself the truth. Such a being exists not. Thou must simply bear the pain of guilt, for that is what thou feeleth deserving. A sin cannot be weighed, it is merely memory.
The divine, the truth. Is that not what you are? Pulled from the origin of humanity, you alone stand at its peak, as an absolute concept that needs no extraction, that cannot be stopped from appearing here on the very first day. If that is not the divine, then what is?
A concept absolute is still a concept, a structure of human morality made from myth and thought. The right to judge I holdeth not, for it is thou that shapeth I. The judgement I bestow is the guilt thou feeleth, for that is the judgement thou hath bestowed upon thyself.
…Ah, you hold no power over me.
That be the truth.
Just as WhiteNight holds no power over me, for I am the one to have created it.
If that is what thou wish to believe.
Then, the answer was I all along. I will be the one bestow judgement upon myself, and I will be the one to bestow judgement upon the world. It shall be whatever I wish it to be.
Then, what is the judgement thou bestoweth?
'̸̠̘̥̊̉͝T̵̢̰͚̺̾̽̾h̶̤̘̜̳̜͕̋͆̑͝ͅe̴̳̮͈͂̇͒̑̾͝ͅ ̷̬͖̳͉̩͆̍̅̍f̴̡͍̗̘͉̘͗e̸̡͔͖͈̞̠͎̊a̸͙͎͒̌̓̄͊̃͝r̶͖̼̪͌̀̀͂̏ĺ̷̺̤̣̮̪̄͆͘ē̸̯̟͎ṣ̴̱̣̈́̽s̷̨̙̑̃̎̑͊͝͝ṇ̷̘̤̹̲̌̃̈́̕e̵̢͎̹̫̹͍͕̓s̶̨̨̼͔̓̄̈́̄ś̸̡̧̼̫̰̙̈́͊̕̚ ̷̢̙̈́̐͆̈̔t̶̹̑ő̶͇͈̬̠͊̅̾̽̏̿ ̶̼̞̼̩̙̝̗͆͌̿̉͝͝k̶̦͙͎̯̠͔̊̿e̷̯͔͓͖̮͇̠̅̈́̓e̵̦͉͛̓̓̑̎͘p̷̻̯̺̃̉͂͂͜ ̴̛̹̰̈͋̐͊͝͠o̸̲̳̪͋n̴̹͈̓ ̶̨̠͕̼͔̭̳̊̾͆̈́́l̸͕͍̫͍̒í̵̞̖̬̪̮͎̑̔̑v̵̟̬̞̻͔̍̓̒̉i̸̢͕̫͒̅n̴̛̺̙̊̊͒g̵̨̥͍̖̈́͂̓̊̊͘̚.̵͈̹̞̰̝͗̀̈́̄̈́̂̓'̵͈͌͘͝
The world shall be as Angela and Carmen wishes, and the old that opposes them shall burn along with me, that I may finally die and repent for my sins.
Garion let out a final tired sigh before collapsing, the restrictions he had put in place having torn her apart from the inside. An arbiter she may be, his genius was not to be contested through strength alone.
It did not matter how many times she had killed the apostles, for they would rise forever more. Tireless and unyielding, they will endure the millenia to bring forth a new world.
The facility lay in ruins, abnormalities raging across the halls as the last few employees hid in elevator shafts, awaiting their inevitable end. Through the mayhem of the facility, a lone sinner walked. The abnormalities did not attack him, the collapsed hallways did not obstruct him.
They never truly existed, created by his mind to be the cause of his own suffering.
Step by step, he had returned to face WhiteNight.
Once again, the blades of two scythes dug into his neck, yet they did not cut him, they did not impede his path. One step at a time, he approached his ideal made manifest.
A familiar crimson started at him, the origin he now knew, for he saw the being in front of him clearly now.
A winged fetus.
Just as Angela bore his eyes of auburn, the creation floating above bore her eyes of crimson.
WhiteNight, nay, his child sent out a pulse demanding his subservience, but it held no true power over its creator.
He had believed that a choice must be made between his two creations, that he must either pick the happiness of Angela or the completion of the seed of light. Such a choice was an illusion he had forced upon himself, to avoid walking a path wherein he need not bear the weight any longer.
Such was never the case, the world was to be whatever he wanted of it, clay to be moulded and shaped.
Should he wish it, both will come to fruition, no matter how many more atrocities he must commit.
He took off the bird's mask and spoke.
"Sleep, you need not wail any longer." A tantrum, that's all this was. A child attempting to force their parent's hand, to be the one to get their way. He had strayed from the original path, and it considered him a devil.
"Sleep, your time shall come, but not yet." The fetus sent out one last pulse, one final sob as it finally calmed down. It had lowered itself to him, and he placed a hand upon its head in comfort.
Its crimson eyes finally closed, its influence receding from every corner of the facility.
Activating TT2 Protocols—SUCCESS, CONNECTION TO RECORDS DEPART