"So this is the situation where one would say 'Fucking Bastard', is it? How troublesome."
While the floating mouth muttered, the eyes squinted in displeasure as they stared into distant space. There lies a throne all eyes fell on, even all that had always continued to pester their 'Dream' without stopping.
"What an idea, truly. Giving us trouble even at last. A preposterous gift...Is this your answer?"
The mouth curved into a wide smirk, seemingly amused. It was indeed a full package present, where the good and bad mingled together.
"Fickle. Indeed. Truly a human."
Instead of initiating a Succession, he had left the [Throne] empty for just about any to attempt. A chance that just about any [God] would love to take.
'The pursuit isn't just ours after all.'
A goal once believed unattainable by all.
A goal thought possible when even the insignificant could.
"At least with this, the rats are gone. Our 'Dream' shall proceed smoothly for a while."
Something capable of surpassing the ***, even if momentarily.
The final piece to guarantee their ascension, even if they weren't "loved"...
"O Jun Kether, let's start anew, shall we?"
The help we were promised, don't let us down.
The human who carried his last will...
"In exchange for your wish…No matter how many repetitions...Won't you give us a...spectacular ending, our unexpected extra?"
***
He was falling. Through a colorless void, he drifted—not plunging, but gliding, slow and aimless, like an autumn leaf spiraling toward the ground.
The air was unnaturally thick, unreal, clinging to his limbs like molasses.
What was this strange, dreamlike sensation?
Was he even breathing?
His senses twisted, his thoughts scattered —it felt less like falling and more like sinking into a memory, a descent into the depths of some forgotten abyss.
Puff!
Suddenly, his back felt a soft yet firm surface. White cloud filled his vision, and a cough forcibly came out as his body slowly sank into the powdery surface.
This sensation—he knew it. He shouldn't jump to conclusions, and yet his mind couldn't shake off the answer he came to.
An outcome of an end is its proof.
It was all that was left of his childhood, of his revenge, of the world that he destroyed only to protect in the end.
A memory that should have long faded into oblivion, yet persists in strange ways.
The inception of a long, dragging, and meaningless journey that is Jun Kether's.
"Ash?"
"Indeed."
Unexpectedly, a tired voice replied to his mumble. It was technically his voice, yet he couldn't ever get used to it.
Light, muffled steps can be heard closing in—until they stop right above his head.
"So this is the last stop…Nice to meet you."
A man whose face resembled an older him. A weathered body riddled with scars.
Clothes that seemed like rags were put together in a hurry.
'What empty eyes. I wonder if I look like that too'
It felt like one of those days when he stared into the mirror.
"What is your wish, child?"
His wish? He once had a wish, a goal to strive for. Something he was willing to trade centuries looking for. But now…
"I don't know…I don't know anymore."
He wasn't one to blabber about his wish everywhere. Nor does he hide it from those he inquires. He told them just enough, because deep inside, he wasn't sure. Sure whether his wish was really a wish at all.
Now that things have turned out like this…that his wish was never his…that he was chasing a lie, an impossible goal…that he was but a copy…
"Heh. Better than us at least."
The man scoffed, his eyes fixed on Jun.
"You're now but a smeared slate, just as you always were, a colored slate that you can slowly peel away the layers to see its true form—a blank slate disguising itself."
A living mannequin wearing human skin.
An alien pretending to be human.
"You're someone bound by memories both belonging and unbelonging to the current you. The hundreds you actually lived were you pretending to be 'human', 'adopting' characteristics close to the 'Jun' in your memories to chase after fragments of a past self, or rather, past selves."
Fragments flickered in his mind, guiding his whims so naturally as if they were his choices, his thoughts.
"Until now, you were a white rat raised in a controlled environment, an experimental medium that would slowly accumulate experience and reintroduce specific elements to align and 'merge' with those selves. But, that is still much a gamble—a gamble that costs much time. But if time is not a problem, what is the problem? Can you guess?"
"…[Humanity]."
"Correct." The man nodded, his expression unchanging. "As stubborn as they are, they are also prone to changes just as much. Humans build and define themselves in a social construct, where ideas formed by the majority become parts of one's identity, which closes them off to others, outside ideas, while making them susceptible to the inner shifts. This also applies to someone like you, especially the latter part. 'Adopting' forces you to constantly adapt and change, so any changes, big or small, would affect you much more than anyone else. Control is thus needed. Well, I don't need to tell you what happened after, yes?"
It was obvious.
"This is the answer to the journey with no end in sight."
A futile journey. A journey meant to fail from its inception.
Stories of god wanting to be human exist. Successes, failures, tragedies, bittersweet, the endings don't lack variety.
However, they were all imagined by men, thus bound by their limited perception and understanding.
Perhaps that could be reality, but such truth is not known nor spread.
One thing is clear, however.
The alignment of a solution and a wish in this path has given birth to something unwanted.
To attach, to control, to connect, to feel.
That [God]...that man...
The true last iteration of [Jun Kether].
The culmination that lost everything but his will.
He too must have been chasing those fragments, wishing to grasp them, even if just a little bit.
"No need to empathize. We're just a bunch of miserable strangers who swam against the tides and drowned. We even forced you to be something you weren't, so it's better to stay far away from us, hate us. Not that you're much better or interesting a person or personality, but not being one of us is a first step."
As if it were no big deal, the man continued monotonously.
"He should have told you enough about what will happen between you and us. In the end, it's undeniable that we're integral to each other's existence for now, that you're not yet free. As such, as the first among us, I would like to start our relations off with a bit of 'sincerity' before things get rough. If you wish to survive, listen carefully..."
***
Thump
Before June knew it, he found himself blinded by light. Eyes opened, he found himself staring upwards, where an abundance of Memoria and Ether seemed to mix seamlessly together.
White curtains obstruct his vision of his surroundings.
'A treatment facility?'
Remembering his conditions, it certainly wasn't surprising if he ended up in such a place, if not an emergency room. But that wasn't the important thing.
"...until my soul 'solidifies'...if 'I' wish to survive, huh?"
Just then, a dominant aura hit him as the curtain to his right was pulled.
"Greetings, student June Normaris. Apologies if I startled you."
Sporting a slightly formal look with a dress shirt and casual denim jeans, she handed June a business card with a somewhat friendly smile.
"Camerone, head of Astrea Security Department, a pleasure to meet you. Would you be willing to answer some questions?"