Indeed. If for the sake of emancipation,
May thou perform even the highest sacrilege.
///
12 / 26 / 2015
The second we arrive back in the real world I chuck the cat into a pile of garbage cans right outside my house.
"Ow! You shouldn't throw animals, dammit!"
I admit, I should be crying and wailing and wanting to die all over again. But right now I'm too pissed off and too confused and hoping for too many things to not be true.
"What the hell was that?"
"I-I'm sorry. I just--I get very excited whenever I see Treasure, especially if it's right there in front of me--"
"Why the hell does it have my face, on all seven of its heads!?"
"Wh-what?"
"The monster! Why does it have my face!?"
"That's...," it winces in pain, getting up and facing me directly, "It's what she must--think of you. It's not a Shadow. It's a--a being of her own cognition. Her perceptions surrounding you are so warped...that that's what she perceives you to be, in her own mind."
"That can't be!" I kick the garbage cans away from it and it shrinks from me, as I put my hands to my head and my back against the wall and sink to the ground and lose all my composure. "That--that can't be how she...!"
"I'm afraid it is. I'm sorry."
And all of a sudden I think about just everything she's told me, everything she's felt, the way she looked at me then, the way she must see me now--
I can't help myself from crying again like some stupid goddamned asshole and as the tears pour out I laugh, I start laughing at myself because of all the things that I could have possibly taken away from all this it's that my Dad was right after all.
And I let it happen, I let myself just expel everything I've kept built up inside, and by the time it's all over I don't even know for how long I let myself go. The cat doesn't leave my side once. Whether out of some sense that it owes me or if it just wants to ensure its ticket into the Palace doesn't completely lose it, I don't know.
"I didn't care," is the first thing I manage to say once I bring myself back to reality. "I didn't care that she had her own kid. I didn't care about if Dad would've liked her or not. I liked her. I suppose I liked her too much, though."
"What...," the cat scratches its head, "what happened between the two of you?"
"A year ago...," I seethe, digging my nails into my head, "December 2014. I was about to pick her up and go to an amusement park. She and her mom were being harassed by some drunk asshole on the side of the road and nobody would help. So I...I dunno, I just, I lost it. Right in front of her, her and her mother and I--the things I did to him, I, she...she never looked at me the same way again."
Cat actually looks mournful for a second there, "I see."
"She was shaking the whole time she was on trial. Even when she was willing to take the stand for me she couldn't hide how terrified she was. She didn't visit me once throughout my entire stint in jail. And God, I needed her, I needed to see her because I--everything I saw, everything I felt, I wanted to see her at least once, and by the time I finally got out she'd look at me like I was a monster. She said--she said that she thought I was--that I--"
"She's been blaming herself likely all her life," sighs the cat. "After what you did to that man, she must have blamed herself for getting you thrown in jail. I suppose maybe that's when the distortion really took root. What happened with her mother...must have further driven her to hate herself."
"And now she sees me as a seven-headed beast."
"She can't help this. She's not in control over her cognitions. All of that, what you saw then, is what she's keeping from herself and the rest of the world."
"I feel like such a stupid asshole."
"You couldn't have known."
"I've been with her for so long without even knowing her."
"In all fairness, she doesn't even know herself. She's hurtling towards her own self-destruction. With what's happened to her Treasure, she's ready and willing and able to just end it all. If she can't have her Treasure, then she might as well not have anything. Once she reaches a breaking point everything she's pushing down will erupt in ways she won't be able to control, and then--"
"And then she'll be gone."
"...yes."
"Isn't there anything I can do that doesn't involve the Palace?"
"No. At this point...I think it's only a matter of time before--"
"You just had to leap right at the Treasure, huh?" I growl at it. "What the hell were you thinking? You likely exacerbated her instabilities--!"
"Her Treasure is ripe for the plundering."
"What?"
"Usually what would need to happen is some...event in the real world which triggers the manifestation of her Treasure in the cognitive world. She needs to know that her deepest desires can be taken away from her, is the idea. But because of what happened to her mother and her daughter, her Treasure's manifested all the time. She's now always aware of how easily her desires can be stolen away from her, and because of that her Palace is now completely unstable and in an exceptionally precarious position. I'm positive that stealing her desires will give her the best possible chance at healing from all this trauma."
"What if we make a mistake? What if--what if because everything's so out of control stealing the Treasure ends up killing her or something--?"
"No matter which way you look at it, she's already dead."
"Don't say that!"
"You can't afford to be indecisive now!" the cat shouts. "She's at a tipping point. Either you change her heart or her heart stops beating. Damned if you do, damned if you don't!"
I can say nothing because all I feel is afraid, angry, emotionally ravaged and thinking Every choice I've made up to this point has been wrong.
"Worst case scenario is she kills herself even if we steal the Treasure," I shudder, if only to myself.
"But best case scenario is she realizes how self-destructive she's been. How her obsessions have done nothing for her or those around her. And then, maybe, just maybe, she'll find it in herself to change for the better. Trust me, if we had left her to her own devices, she'd have fallen down this hole sooner or later."
That world is her distortions come alive. If I destroy it, perhaps she will be safe. The curse will be lifted, and she will be herself once more. She will be able to move on. Move on from her past, from the horrors that have happened here, and she'll be able to find happiness once more. Perhaps she'll find hope in the future, once more.
And she'll be able to do so without me.
"Dear God, what kind of person am I?" I laugh a little, shaking my head. "She said she pushed Masako into garbage bins and tried to leave her there. I didn't know her at all."
"You've done everything you possibly could."
Her emotions are hers, but they are vile. Her perceptions of reality are hers, but they will destroy her. Cripple her. They already have. If I do not save her, then how can she save herself? Words can't heal her, I can't save her, and she'll be isolated from me, the only person she knows the way she does and has left.
But. Supposing I do decide to go for it. "How are you and I supposed to stand up against that monster?"
The cat smiles. It smiles wider than it ever had, and its eyes bloom bright enough to gleam almost like the sun. "I can show you."
I narrow my eyes at it. "Can you show me now?"
"Are you sure?" it asks. "I absolutely can. But are you sure?"
"What are you going to do to me?"
"Hopefully, set you free. There's another place we can go. There, we can train. You can exercise your power and ensure you've got what it takes to save her. It's a den full of Shadows, big and small, and all of them hate your guts and wanna eat 'em right outta ya. As far as I'm concerned, Kana Kohaku's Palace is a bit too much for us as it stands. Might as well increase our chances every way we can."
"A den full of Shadows."
"One wrong move and you're dead. You still wanna go for it?"
"How are you so sure I actually have this power?"
"Everyone has this power. Deep in themselves. You entered the Vortex World, which means you almost certainly can harness it. If you want this power, I can show you how to get it. I can help you develop it. I can help you channel your very soul. Do you want it?"
It takes me so much longer than it ought to, to say, "Yes."
"Alright. Get out your phone."
Phone in hand. App open.
Palace Ruler:
Palace Location:
Palace Distortion:
"Not here," it says, looking at the screen. "Lemme see...scroll down."
Two folders emerge once my thumb scrolls downward:
「ENTER KINGDOM」
「ENTER MEMENTOS」
Cat smirks. "Had a feeling."
"What?"
"Hit the second folder."
"Wait, what the hell is Mementos?"
"You're so overly cautious," the cat sighs. "I'll explain once we get there."
"What is it?" I insist.
"It's everyone's Palace. The collective unconscious of the general public. Of everyone in all the world. Happy now?"
I can say nothing to that, absolutely nothing.
Would you like to enter MEMENTOS?
Y/N
For the past year and a half I've only been making one mistake after another.
Maybe the only way I can actually fix anything is by taking a chance and praying it works.
So I do.
「ENTERING MEMENTOS」
-ENTERING REGION OF QIMRANUT-
Lightning flashes and burns and flourishes as the skies turn black and empty, bereft of stars or snowflakes or raindrops. The sounds crackle and thrash and roar as the ground shakes violently, as though someone's grabbed the whole planet itself and decided to jostle it about in the solar system.
Soon I see everything around me shift and change beyond anything I could have ever dreamed. A harsh black light erupts into existence a thousand miles up above. The world bends itself in the form of a sphere and I see the buildings in the furthest horizons being pulled upward and curled like a rug-I see all corners of the city rise and merge into this indescribable mass of buildings, many of which grind and crash and crumble into each other. As if the whole of the city was a piece of paper, now being crumpled into a ball by cosmic, unseen hands. And as the thunder rages on, as the lightning flashes, a voice I recognize as my own screams and whispers into my bones at the same time.
There are words that I never want to repeat being rammed into my ears, and unrelenting sensations that cause my heart to pound through my ribs and my insides to freeze over. I am trembling now, and I am on my knees, and I'm covering my head with my hands and closing my eyes because I don't wanna see it I don't wanna hear it I don't wanna know it even exists but I do and I do and I never can stop knowing it exists. I'm holding myself and I'm shuddering and I'm scared and I don't want to see it, I don't want to describe it, I don't even want to hear it because being just in proximity to it, just knowing it's there makes me feel as though I'm slowly going to go mad, madder than I've already gone. I fall to the ground, like my arms and kneecaps suddenly weigh a thousand pounds. I cannot get up, I haven't even the strength to move.
Soon enough the lightning turns into screams and the thunder sounds like weeping. By the time I regain the courage to open my eyes, I find I've crumpled my body up into a ball and I see what has become of the city. Patches of buildings, roads, and general signs of civilization have survived, if only barely. Most of the world is coated in mountains of rubble, or pale-white desert sands that to the untrained eye would resemble snow or ash. There is no sun, only a black star at the core of distorted, warped, inverted world.
The cat turns to me, and says, "Welcome to Mementos."
It's returned to its bizarre cartoon form and its got its little paw-hands folded like it's trynna be some kinda cool superhero.
Slowly I manage to rise to my feet and decide to make myself feel no such thing as fear. So all the terror and disgust and nightmares I push to the back of my mind, and even as my legs shake and my eyes twitch and my left hand jitters I make myself take everything in.
"Everyone's...Palace, huh?"
"Individuals aren't the only ones who possess Palaces, because there isn't just an individual consciousness. All humanity's minds are part of a grand sea. Therefore, it follows that all humanity's collective consciousness can itself form a Palace, if the people collectively have a distorted desire."
I very nearly break out into laughter then, because everything I've determined about us as a species from history books has been proven right after all. But instead I ask, "So what's this place's distortion?"
"Honestly? Dunno."
"You don't know?"
"Easy to tell what kind of distortion swallows up an individual. Not the same with millions, if not billions. The closest thing I can think to a source is that thing, right there."
And he points to the black sun at the core of this inverted world. Impossibly, despite its darkness it emanates a bizarre type of light, and shines upon the world almost like how a moon would project its glow from a dark night sky. As terrifying as it sounds it is the only light that lies within this bleak world.
"If we get to it," he continues, "I've a good feeling we'll be able to determine what's wrong with everyone."
Something's off, though. "You said this is humanity's Palace. If so, it should be bigger."
"Bigger?"
"From what buildings are left...I can only recognize ones from Tokyo. Why's the distortion all concentrated here?"
It shrugs. "I don't know the reason for that, either."
I groan, "Why'd you bring me here? What could I possibly--?"
"You need to awaken within yourself a will of rebellion."
"Could you use simple words for just once? Vortex World, Mementos, Palaces, Kingdoms, I've been thrown terminologies I don't understand for the past forty-eight hours--"
And it just interrupts me! "A Shadow is born when someone rejects a part of themselves. For as much as they'd like, the parts of themselves they hate will never go away. They'll fester and thrash around and ravage their insides. It rears its ugly head in ways they couldn't have possibly imagined. But if you get the courage and the will to face those aspects of yourself, your Shadow will become a mask that can conquer whole worlds. Your very self made into power."
"You think throwing me in here'll help me manifest that power?"
"I think you need to vent out everything that you've got boiling inside you. And this might be the best way to do it. So." It leaps up into the air, and comes back down a bus. "Care to go on a ride?"
...what the hell.
I get into the front seat and turn on the ignition.
.
.
.
The Nav reads -REGION OF QIMRANUT-
We drive for what feels like hours. Though screams and roars and inhuman noises bellow in the distance we encounter nothing yet, nothing like the beast in Kana's Palace.
It's cold. Cold enough for my breath to be visible, for my fingers to tremble, for my teeth to chatter.
"You're sure being here'll get me the power I need to save Kana?" I ask the catbus.
"No. But can't hurt to give it a shot, right?"
"You said this place was a den of Shadows, but...so far nothing's really come by as of yet."
"Honestly yeah, it's kinda weird. Usually they're roaming around the place a lot more...maybe the December weather's pressuring 'em to stay out of the light."
"What can we expect?"
"Shadows take the form of mythological creatures. You can expect all manner of weird abominations, generally speaking."
What? "Mythological creatures? Why?"
"Look at it this way: humans make up these fantastical beasts and heroes and legends, and use them to tell stories, teach lessons, entertain others, or even have them be the central figures of their religion. The thing is all these creatures are still aspects of humanity. They're as much a part of the human consciousness as they are their own entities, brought to life by human belief. Gods and demons and angels and spirits, all of them are themselves, as well as a part of you."
Honestly accepting all this insanity seems like the best route for me right now. "So you've thrown me in a field of gods?"
"No. We're in a smaller region of Mementos. Only weak Shadows move around here. Weak enough for you to fight."
Fight. Okay.
God damn it. I expected something like this.
It's settling in now. "I...have no combat training or anything of the sort."
"I know."
"So what do you expect me to do?"
"Get roughed up a bit until you awaken to your power."
"What if they kill me?"
"These guys might wound you, but I can heal you up well enough."
"Didn't answer my question. What if they kill me?"
"They won't kill you."
"And you're so sure how?"
"Because you're a man on a mission, and if there's anyone that can summon a--"
In the span of a second, a blur rushes in.
BOOM
By the time my eyes are able to open, I'm prying my face up off the white sand, my clothes and hair coated in particles and mess; the cat remains a bus, but it's lying on its side as if it were dead. Its windows and doors have been smashed open and its side has been dented, and the only sound it can produce is a grating MrrRrROwWwWW.
"Are--are you okay!?"
In a cloud of smoke the bus reverts back into a semi-humanoid cat form and its bulbous head bleeds out black. It groans as I run right towards it and try to tend to its wounds, but I see its eyes flare and pupils shrink into shards-- "Who...?"it mutters, glaring and snarling and seething, "WHO!?"
But even as it seethes and rages, it's far too weak and broken to keep itself conscious, and soon enough it closes its eyes--and the second I blink, I see it's reverted back into the body of an actual cat.
Meaning that I am stuck in the middle of a barren wasteland, practically alone, to face a creature beyond my imagining.
And I wonder just what could have attacked the bus so suddenly? What could have sent it flying, crashing down?
Then, I hear laughter--bellowing, loud and proud, with a distinct European accent...
Spanish?
O wandering soul, lost in these desert wastes in search of a challenge... The flames of thy Candelabrum beckon me to the battlefield!
The voice I hear having come directly behind me and I see--
A skeleton, wearing a green bullfighter's suit with golden patterns lining the sleeves. He bears a montera atop his head, and a white scarf around his neck. Though he may be a walking pile of bones he stands tall and proud, with a red capote in one hand and a silver scimitar in the other. His skull is hollow yet even in the dark holes of his eyes he's able to glare deep into the well of my soul.
Little boy, art thou lost? Have you come to this barren waste in search of glory or war or riches?
And I cannot answer. For I am scared to death. So scared I can't even move.
I do not know who you are. But if you have a Candelabrum, then it is our destiny to fight.
Candelabrum rings in my ears, and for a second I don't understand what he's saying in the face of all the heart-stopping fear I feel raging inside me--but I remember. I remember a man in my dreams in a purple suit, his hand bearing a multi-armed candle-holder that held flames which could consume whole worlds--
You bear a Candelabrum in thy heart of hearts. The will to power has been imparted unto thee, and therefore you are a man who may yet change the world itself.
"What the hell even are you...?" is all I can mutter, slowly rising to my feet and clenching my fists.
Only those whose hearts are overwhelmed by desire can bear such impressive fruit. The distortion in thy heart has been accepted as thy own... Impressive. Yet only the greatest warriors are worthy of such potential. The Morning Star has seen in you something of supreme value. Yet in you I find nothing more than a grain of sand in a desert; a speck that lacks merit or strength. Intelligence thrives in you but not experience--only fear, unstoppably crippling. In you I see a grotesque vermin unworthy of the Candelabrum.
I growl at it because I'm so goddamn sick of being confused all the time, "I never asked for the Candelabrum--"
Oh you did, yes you did. You recognized thy heart's desire and accepted it as thine own, yet you still stand at the crossroads of restraint. For you fear hypocrisy, you fear destruction, you fear being imprisoned in unending misery. Your cowardice is irreconcilable with the heart of one who bears a Candelabrum!
He raises his blade and his blood-red cloth and gets into a battle stance, his black eyes seeming to drain the light out of everything around him.
I challenge you to a duel, to see if you are truly worthy of the Candelabrum. I swear, by my sword and my capote, that I will emerge victorious!
"Now wait just a second--!"
Game-- a flurry of slashes cuts up my arms and my legs and kills vital nerves and causes blood to pour everywhere --Set-- and as the red floods out of me I feel a thousand stabs piercing my guts and my spine and my torso and my lungs --Match!
By the time I realize what's happened my whole body pours out unconscionable amounts of blood from every limb and my whole torso is on fire. The gaping wounds expose bone and muscle and gristle and my stomach has burst open to let out my intestines upon the sand. The tendons of my ankles have been cut open, as have the joints in my knees, my wrists, my shoulders, my elbows, and thus I can do nothing but crumple into my agonized self as I let out blood all over.
I haven't the strength to scream.
I haven't the strength to cry.
I can only think of Kana and how I've failed her once again.
.
.
.
The world turns black, like an endless void.
I see a man in a purple suit, standing off in the distance. There is a woman beside him; a young woman in black mourner's garb, whose face is obscured by a veil.
"Poor human. It is my honor to tell you that my master has shown quite an interest in you. As such, he seeks to grant you a gift; it is vital you receive it, if you wish to survive."
I blink then, but the second I reopen my eyes I find I'm lying flat on my back, staring up at the woman and the man in the suit.
"Please hold still," she says, stretching her arms to hold me down. "It will hurt only for a moment."
The man holds up what looks like a mask; a blank, white mask.
"The distortion in your heart has reached a boiling point. Do you dare shirk from your desire now?"
Desire?
"Remember what I had told you. In your youth you'd called to me and I came. I've remained dormant inside you for all your life, and now you are at a point where the one you cherish is to be trapped. Trapped in an unending spiral of torment and grief and where the only freedom can be found at the end of her life. But is that the freedom you seek for her?"
No.
"Is that the freedom you seek for yourself?"
No.
"Do you seek the power to save the one you love?"
Yes.
"Do you believe in God?"
No.
"Do you believe in justice and injustice? Good and evil?"
No.
"Then what do you believe in?"
I believe...
...that all men ought to be free.
Free to form their own code and live their lives the way they wish, with no oppression from the world beyond. Free to embrace their desire and exercise their will upon a chaotic world. Free to grapple existence by the horns and challenge whatever they wish to challenge, achieve what they wish to achieve, and believe whatever they wish to believe in.
"And yet you seek to free her heart of its darkness, regardless of her desires or wishes."
Yes.
God help me, yes.
Because even that hypocrisy is of my free will.
"What a paradox. Indeed, you are like myself in every single way. If the preservation of order necessitates horrors unimaginable, then it is karma that man pursue emancipation by embracing chaos. Do you accept the power I offer?"
Yes.
Let us make a pact.
"Very well, Emancipator. I bestow upon you, the power of the Wild Card."
The mask is forced upon my eyes and my brain starts snapping, there's an unquenchable noise rummaging around in the corners of my mind. The noise is loud and it's making my head shake and I don't want it to stop. I don't want it to stop because it feels good, too good, too unbearable to reject or ignore or cover my ears at.
It becomes a void instantaneously, giving me no time to process what is happening, what kind of deal I have just struck. And I feel nothing. I should feel something, but I feel nothing. I do not know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I want more.
The noise rises louder and louder and my body grows blacker and blacker, as my face deforms and conforms and cracks the bone of my skull yet not letting me feel pain at all, a steel mask cups my face. Allowing only my eyes to shine through.
And then a black shadow rises up from behind me, rises from my back and the pain is excruciating but I remain still. My spine is being torn, my shoulder blades splitting apart down their middles and it hurts it hurts so much it's bleeding it's bleeding out red and bleeding out black and I can't make it stop, I can't make it stop, I don't want it to ever stop, I want it to keep on bleeding and hurting.
I want this pain to rip me to shreds.
There is a great beast rising up from the bowels of my own iniquity. The beast glares at me with bright red eyes, furious and proud and tall, and it bears six wings that span the darkness surrounding me.
When I ask him his name, he says
Thou art I. I am thou.
.
.
.
And as I rise from the bloodied sands a cloak forms around me, a black cloak ornamented with silver accents that all resemble spirals. The hem of the cloak then ties itself into my skin, into my muscles, into my nerves. I should be feeling pain, I should be screaming out in abject agony as I feel an abomination seep into my veins, but I feel nothing. I can feel the tendrils sinking into my skin, into my pores, into my ears, into my nostrils, into my nails, into every orifice of my body except for my eyes.
Damnation is thy fate and agony thy triumph.
The Matador rears back, bringing its capote up to its face as the red stops dripping and the pain dies out entirely. I let myself smile, I let myself laugh in exactly the manner I had when I brutalized Shido into the dirt, and I glare at the skeleton bullfighter as my eyes scream at me to rip them out of their sockets.
Forever thou shalt be cast into Hell for thy blasphemous hypocrisy.
The mask on my face takes all my strength to pry off and when I do I feel the skin tear away, and I scream I laugh I sob at all the rapturous pain and I let out a smile wider than any I've made in the past year alone.
The cat, awakened from its slumber, can only watch as the chains fly from my feet and hover 'round my body. "Wh-what the--!?"
Walking on air and breathing fire from my lungs I shout "Come to me! Persona!"
Indeed. If for the sake of emancipation,
May thou perform even the highest sacrilege.
He bears six wings that are thrice the size of his body. A three-foot long silver rifle in his left hand and a five-foot long black sword in his right. Through his golden horned helm he glares at The Matador with blood-red eyes and a scowl. He wears the black suit of an admiral, with golden tassels decorating the hems and edges and a red sash worn over his left shoulder.
I am Satanael, the Emancipator of Man.
And The Matador laughs, he laughs and laughs and laughs as pillars of flame erupt from every which way. He laughs as I send nuclear hell raining down upon him from the heavens, and he dances and dashes and frolics like a child in a field, and I decide to howl out my own laughter right back at him.
And the world trembles and thrashes around and the sensation is glorious, absolutely glorious as I unleash the elements and the fury and the madness, I've never felt more alive, more at peace, more pleased with myself and more powerful and as I laugh and keep laughing I hear the cat and it tells me "STOP!!!"
And I return to my senses.
The next three miles of desert field are coated in craters, burns, and pillars of ice.
Yet The Matador stands proud and unharmed at the center of it all.
Clumsy, it chuckles. Reckless. But undeniably powerful.
And then he laughs again. He laughs very loudly, as though desiring nothing more than to spear me a million times, and bleed me a billion more.
Very well! it declares, twirling around in a flurry of red, vanishing into darkness.
"Hey, w-wait!" the cat cries out.
Until next time, Emancipator! Allow your newfound strength to flourish and blossom into marvellous violence! 'Til then I shall await you in the dark. Pursue power and freedom, and I shall challenge thee once again in due time.
The cat, still wounded, can do nothing but stare up at me. Up at the six-winged demon lord at my back. In awe and horror he stands in stunned silence, not even bothering to heal.
But all I can think of is how I feel like I'm truly living for the first time, while simultaneously asking over and over again what have I done?
The cat heals itself and we get back to the real world and it chats a ton about how awesome my Persona is and how it's glad I've attained my will of rebellion and how with my powers I'll definitely be able to challenge Kana's Shadow and get her Treasure the hell outta there but I don't listen.
I don't listen because The Matador's words bug the hell out of me.
So as it chatters on and as it gets annoyed with my half-responses I pull up my new phone and tap at one of the folders in the app--
And I realize.
.
.
.
「 What is a KINGDOM?」
→ When the human heart is DISTORTED, a PALACE is formed in the VORTEX WORLD.
→ But if a man with a DISTORTED heart becomes aware of the DISTORTION, he may accept it as his own.
→ At that point, a PALACE becomes a KINGDOM, and his SHADOW becomes a PERSONA.
→ The TREASURE, which had once taken the form of one's unconscious desires, physically manifests in the form of a CANDELABRUM.
→ For in one's acceptance of obsession, their heart burns a thousand fold with determination.
.
.
.
I realize that Kana's not the only one with a distorted heart after all.
.
.
.
.
.
.
NoRoleModelz Chapter Notes: NEXT CHAPTER IS THE FINAL ONE FOR THIS ARC
RULES GONNA BE ESTABLISHED FINALLY NEXT CHAPTER
HOPE YA'LL READY
LLLLLLETS GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEEE