An eternity.
Without death, there cannot be life.
Without life, there cannot be death.
We live and die by the amount of time given.
An artificial being lasts only a moment to a few years.
Each day, a new beginning.
Then why.
Why.
Why have I lost?
Why did I lose to this…?!
"Wh…?! I… Do..nt..!"
Why! Why!
"AAAAAAAAAGHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
My fist only crumbles under pain. So little pain.
I need to win.
I can't lose.
I need to win.
To show the world that this imbecile of a shitty human.
He's not to be celebrated.
"Kugh–!"
"Hey hey! Where'd that arrogance go? Show it to me! Martyr me like Jesus Christ!"
I tried standing up only to be kicked down again.
"Ah… well it's a given. Only this much for me? I'm not even that important. Just… oh!"
The red ice hampers my movement.
Every attack I make is blocked.
As if this fucking human could see that!
I lived to see the day where me and her could achieve what we wanted! And all I can do is this? No.
It's your fault!
Your fault!!!!
All those bastards that follow him are idiots! Scum!
"They see nothing…!"
Nothing but themselves!
All for a single damn thing!!!
"I see you."
I looked up to see him crouching in front of me. Smiling as always.
"You see me."
The eyes hold indescribable murkiness.
"Let's change that."
They grabbed my head and pointed their sword to my eyes.
"It'll be a great time."
— —
As I flipped the coin and felt the side that landed upside with my thumb, I thought about it.
"That dog can't let go yet."
[I suppose…?]
"Well it was a decision. Heeding with caution is frankly hard if stuck up."
[I didn't expect you to say that.]
"Hm. Why?"
[You don't seem to be a person who says that.]
"Ah well Miss Argon. Habits die hard."
[Urgh.]
The corridor is filled with no frugality.
Befitting of extravagant sovereigns, nothing can be cheap.
Or cheap that looks expensive?
Who can say? I certainly cannot.
The echoes of such a long corridor are stilted. Quiet.
The carpet muffled any sound that could sharply be heard.
"Enriched."
Enlightened.
Supposedly I say.
None can think straight in front of desire.
To be an exception?
Ah no.
Who really can?
A righteous hero?
Even so, their desire is there.
Nothing.
I say.
Nothing has not a desire that cannot be attributed to life.
The clinging of life.
So dearly registered in our brains; wired beyond belief.
In that sense what is not?
Off topic, but that can be disease.
An issue that plagues both heart and mind.
Coming from life.
Ending with death.
I can only think as I flip this coin.
Each coin flip not ending with heads.
A tale as old as my own time.
Forgiveness in sin.
So it keeps flipping.
[As you should.]
****
Some may think a sovereign would sit in the throne they hold.
Certainly, that can be attributed to the reign.
Though that may get… stale.
Or rather, it is for looks. A ceremonial symbolism of the sovereign.
Doing work on it… well how.
The greatest issue.
Stated in the age of centralized power, approval is needed.
Or decentralized power?
Nobility on behalf of a sovereign.
Little, moderate, extreme.
The sun's light shines and gently touches my skin.
The windows are large if this much is allowed in.
Metal and shouts echo.
[With the nearing exposure, you slink your way to the door that is the final obstacle.]
I stop. Half feeling the sun and shadow.
"What is a sovereign? A child asks."
That can be anything.
"Ponder and with reason, say that it was a being that holds the reins. Then they ask." open it.
"What does that mean?" I push open the door. "The ruler. To be a ruler is to dominate. To lead. To push. To pull. To hold the wishes."
I gently sat in the chair I felt reach out.
The sovereign's silent gaze boring into me.
How long may that last?
"A perfect example. The monarch that created everything. The Star. Yet how can a monarch that involves itself in nothing, let other sovereigns take it's place?
It was no monarch. Still it was at the top. Dealing cards to everything. Without regard to anything else. Tyrant. As a measly wanderer, it can be heard as such. The full picture was never put together."
The footsteps grew louder.
"Your majesty!"
Time is short. Shorter than my life. Sure. It can be that way.
[Ready to make history?]
The monotone voice with a hint of something spoke.
"So what can be said for such a monarch? The eyes never closed. Merely turning away briefly. When seeing a mistake, the stare of millions seared unto the person's core. Never is there a place that isn't known.
Tell me. What is ignorance? Anger? Spite? Superiority? Inferiority? Why listen too dearly to a horrid wordplay? Ah, does it entertain you? The tale of the monarch that holds boundless greed for itself. We are desperate for the gaze.
Say it. Why? Poet or not get out. Leave. Disturbing is a crime. Then what of the purpose? Annoyance? Life taker? Simply here to do the task given. That's all."
[Then get to it.]
Is there a rush?
Certainly not.
[Do it.]
….
[Time's ticking.]
….
The line that was lightly curved straightened.
[It comes from you.]
[Let it out.]
It's cold.
Whispers of agony.
Disinterested.
"There…"
Was nothing to say.
There is no message.
Not before, not now.
Never.
Nothing needed to be said.
Smoke.
"Was something."
…No.
"Why hide it?"
"Hide." the rough voice of the sovereign muttered.
"I can assure you for a second, no one would willingly listen to a rant. Especially if there is no sense in it."
"A rant. Just for a rant."
What else was s–
[Ha.]
[How hard. It's just a few words.]
….
The anger of those in the hallway thrust their weapons.
In the short silence they gaze at me.
[Sigh.]
That fragment embedded in me burned fiercely.
"Nothing in the ash."
[Haha.]
Clutched in pain, ripped but strongly heading forward.
[Am I a fool?]
[Let's see.]
"Time will play."
No. That's–
"As it hits the twelfth, the day will erupt into mourning. Pity but greed. Blinded by light. Seeing not the axe heading towards the neck. Until it was too late.
The chance is here. Will it be heeded?"
…So the wanderer gives passing advice.
— — — —
"Well well well! What a grand epic of mystical speech!"
The Host boisterously bellowed.
From the beginning of a short journey to the kingdom of the dwarfs, to the relaying, a small story.
"How do ye feel?"
"...Glorified." Azen said while having blood drip from his upper chest.
"Ah well, okeh."
Fairness.
"This wraps up today's gentrified mistletoe! Next time, It'll be an audience member! Uh, well after the next one."
The Host's silly smile contrasted with the three other faces.
An unsure nervous expression.
A hidden emotion.
A lost flame that was washed away and turned vaguely neutral.
Each time, it changes.
From one to another.
Ignite.
Extinguish.
"It wasn't there to begin with."
The Host exclaimed.
"Man, I'm so good at this."