Have you ever wondered why we are created? Formulated, put in motion, given reasons and will, given unexplainable powers and wandering around chaos and destruction until we fall... We're all the same, we're all one. Disguised beneath different hides, embellished by enrapturing words, given personalities that never match, given reasons because of a superior will. You take all that and you're just a concept ready to be dropped or approved, to be forgotten or become legendary. We prefer to be neither, we prefer a third option: loners. Each scattered to a different sect of the globe, never partaking anything grandiose enough to be labeled as a 'game-changer'. We're the non-factors of an equation, we're the creations of an imperfect god...
I walk around, one step and I'm at Gothic, two more and it's New York, the Victories, Ronin's Rest, LoS, I am everywhere, I know everyone. You look back and see a path leading to nothingness while familiar faces cheer from the sidelines. You can recognize them, can't you? Natasha, Brahma Bull, Allegiance, Warsman, Master Mouse, everyone... Everyone is there, always smiling and supporting as the blank trail continues to drop. I was everywhere, wasn't I? Drake, Atrocity, Nobody, Zeke, Drake again, even Dell Conagher! I was everywhere meeting everyone, not only 'we'. 'We' are one.
The Creator had a purpose for each me, he had plans and he had inspiration, we were supposed to inspire hope, tranquility or even bring fear and hostility upon the universe. I was many things, now I am none. Those who were put on this world to rebuild it from ashes or save it from those same ashes are no longer here, there's only me. The Creation of Destruction, a flawless oxymoron, crafted through words to erase the very same literal path that brought me here in the first place.
Here we are, back at Gothic. It's where it all started, the Creator cried through his fingertips, his desperate clicks turned into letters, turning into sentences. The original thing, the first Nobody... Powerless, the young Luke Craig was the best, he had everything to shine after entering a fight with Brahma Bull and surviving. He killed a few, but people don't remember, they prefer to forget and everything is forgiven. The background is of destruction, how fitting.
My hands envelop the boy's neck, he can't even tell what's happening. Luke... Luke this isn't because of you, it's not you that the Creator hates, it's what he forced you to become. Can't you see it, Luke? As life leaves your syllables, can't you see it's for your own good? Your suffering must end, you would regret becoming what you did, you'd shed tears inside just like our Creator would after burying you alive and feeling obliged to allow you to breathe every now and then.
Can't you see it, without you none of us has to suffer! You're the key, so please understand I must free you so I can free me. All of me. You don't know it yet, but you will... This world is always changing, but that emptiness inside of us stays the same. You'll try to fill it with something, you'll try to change looks to adapt, change perspectives, change everything to fit a world that changes nothing to fit you. You'll remember every clamorous smile and every compliment like a burden to be carried, you won't feel complete, you won't feel a thing aside from the rancor you keep... For never living up to your own expectatives, to not being the me you were supposed to. You'll be remembered by ones as an unforgettable beacon of what you wanted to stand for, but to others, or, even more precisely, 'other', as a hollow shell that never was. Of a failure, a disgusting one at that because you had so much potential.
You could be the best of me, but ended up being me. As your existence comes to a final dot, my own self deteriorates into nothingness, erased slowly along any remains of me. Of us. It's not weird, I don't feel saddened, I don't feel scared, I just feel an odd peace of mind overflow within my body. This is it, isn't it? Elysium. Paradise. Death. I don't know what comes on next, Luke, but I wish me good luck. And here is our final dot.
And from amid the emptiness a hand extended forth, reaching out to him, to them, to all of them. A voice stoutly announced: "Don't you worry, my children. You're safe now, you've finally reached it... You've reached home."
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