Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Benjamin had a glimmer of happiness for the first time in years. Ayin had finally somewhat returned to his old self, dedicating himself fully to a project with boundless passion. 

 The man was as brilliant as he remembered, coming up with ideas inconceivable to the average scientist, ideas that any sane person would consider preposterous yet somehow managing to make those ideas a reality. Ayin was stubborn like that.

 Though… he wasn’t sure if their current project was particularly healthy. He missed Carmen just as much as his mentor did, her cheerful demeanor and endless well of hope sharply contrasted with everything in this accursed world, a world she dreamed to change for the better.

 He still remembered the day they met her as if it were yesterday. A woman by her lonesome, speaking of her dreams for the world and calling upon others to join her project. No one paid any attention to her, even Benjamin, but Ayin did. Ayin listened, so Benjamin did as well.

 The ambition of such a dream, the sheer audacity of her claims. Were he to read the same words from a piece of paper he’d have called Carmen a lunatic, someone who doesn’t understand even the most basic rules of the world. Yet in that moment, when he was actually listening to her speech, Benjamin knew that she’d make that impossibility a reality, for she had passion enough to outweigh the rest of the city combined.

 He missed her greatly, yet he still couldn’t shake the feeling that what they were doing here wasn’t quite right. Making an A.I meant to be an exact replica of Carmen was, quite frankly, an insane idea. They were breaking every A.I related law by creating a being that, for all intents and purposes, was no different from a human.

 The head may very well send an army of arbiters and claws to crush them should they be found out.

 Yet even ignoring the external dangers, the appearance of the A.I alone raised a dozen alarms in his head. It was meant to be a replica of Carmen, yet everything was ever so slightly off. Her hair an azure blue rather than black, eyes auburn rather than red; not to mention her… assets.

 He couldn’t shake the feeling that Ayin was warping his perception of Carmen, creating an unrealistic ideal within his conscious, and he dreaded what would happen should their creation fall short of that ideal.

 Benjamin decided to make his worries known, even if he was afraid of the two of them parting again. He decided long ago that he’d give his all to help Ayin, and that included stopping him from heading down the wrong path.

Ayin didn’t agree.

 “There’s no need to worry about the head. We’re a wing now, not just a small laboratory. Even the head won’t be able to find out this secret, especially since its duty will begin and end with the seed of light project.”

  Benjamin still wasn’t convinced. “Even so, I advise you to be restrained with your expectations Ayin. There’s a very real chance it won’t be the same as her.”

 Ayin shook his head in response. “We completely mapped out Carmen's neural structure and perfectly replicated it into a digital form. It will be the same as her.” 

 His stoic facade broke for a single moment, desperation bleeding into his voice. 

 “ It has to be. ” He whispered.

 Benjamin didn’t like that tone one bit, so he decided to keep pushing. 

 “Even still, cogito proves that there is more to a person beyond just neurons. The soul of a person is far more important, which is something we aren’t able to replicate.” 

 He had to hold back a sigh at the sight of Ayin’s crestfallen expression. 

 “I’m just saying Ayin, please don’t think of it as Carmen revived. It’s much closer to a team project between you and her.” Benjamin waited for his response with bated breath, expecting some form of anger or denial.

 That expectation turned out to be false, Ayin just stared into nothing for a while, his face contorted in a deeply thoughtful look. 

 Benjamin was familiar with that expression. Eyes unfocused, brows slightly furrowed, body completely still with the exception of an index finger tapping his desk. He liked that expression, it meant Ayin was not allowing himself to be devoured by emotion or guilt, it meant that his brilliant mind was working on rationality with nothing clouding his thoughts.

 The seconds ticked by, he waited patiently, they had all the time in the world after all. 

 After nearly ten minutes, Ayin slowly nodded before getting up to leave. Benjamin couldn’t help but smile.

 ‘It’s not her.’ Ayin thought to himself as their creation stood for the first time. He found himself repeating that phrase more and more as the day of its completion neared. Perhaps because it was simply the logical conclusion, or maybe it was an attempt at detachment in fear of failure. 

 He honestly didn’t know. In truth, he didn’t know much nowadays. Gone are the days when he saw the world clearly, gone are the days when he was the genius of the seed of light. Gone are the days when they laid under the sun together, talking about nothing and everything.

 He shook his head to refocus himself, now was not a time to get distracted.

 It opened its eyes for the first time, revealing a pair of auburn irises the same shade as his. Ayin immediately felt something crack within himself.

 A surge of irrational hate flowed through his mind, ‘It’s not her!?’. Those eyes were undoubtedly human, the being in front of him was no machine but… it wasn’t her. 

  Those eyes were human, yet it wasn’t Carmen’s, it held none of what made Carmen herself. There was no brilliance, no optimism. It held none of the brightness that lit up his world.

 Benjamin placed a hand upon his shoulder, staring at him with furrowed brows. Ayin didn’t know what that look meant—he rarely did—but it did somehow serve to calm his raging mind.

  ‘It’s not her.’ He repeated to himself, he’s known this for a long time now. There’s no point in getting angry at it when the failure to recreate her lies squarely on his shoulders. 

 But that left the question, what was it then? A person based upon Carmen, yet not an exact replica, who was made by his hands. 

  “Have you ever wanted to have a child?” Asked Carmen.

 Ayin somehow wasn’t surprised by the question, being an assistant to the energetic woman meant getting used to ridiculousness like this. “Where did this come from?” 

 “Just humor me!” She insisted.

 He took a moment to think before replying. “Not particularly, I see little point in bringing another human being into this world. They’d be suffering the eternal cycle of the city just like everyone else.”

 She hummed in thought. “And if the project succeeds? What if the child has a future worth looking forward to?”

 "I guess it would mostly depend on the other potential parent in that case—I don't have a particularly strong opinion on the matter." He said.

 Carmen giggled in response; he liked that sound. “That nonanswer is so you.” She pinched his cheek, Ayin didn’t even bother with a halfhearted attempt at stopping her.

She closed her eyes, her voice taking on a melancholic tone. “If the project were to succeed and cure the disease that plagues the souls of humanity, I’d like to have a child. They’d be able to make their own choices and shape their own future and exist in the strange world that we live in. I believe that to be the greatest miracle I can hope to bring into this world.”

 Silence fell after that, Ayin couldn’t help but smile. To dream was a great risk to take in the city, yet the woman in front of him did it so easily. 

 “I’d name them Angelos if they’re a boy, Angela if they’re a girl.” Carmen said.

 “Why ‘the messenger’?” he asked.

 She smiled brightly before replying. “They’d be the messenger letting the world know that it’s okay to dream, that they all have a future worth looking towards. The first of a generation unchained by the vicious cycle.”

 Her optimism was infectious, he was defenseless when faced with it. “Let’s make that dream a reality then. I’ll give it my all to make it happen, I promise you that.”

 To his confusion, a furious blush bloomed upon her face. “The things you say sometimes.” She said in utter exasperation.

 A confused ‘huh?’ is all she got in response.

 So, what was it then? It felt like he knew the answer now, a person born of both him and Carmen.

 “I’ll name you Angela.” He finally said, fondness bleeding into his words despite his best efforts.

Chapter Text

 Ayin’s mental health was steadily declining with each reset. 

 The irony of the situation wasn’t lost upon him, he’s thrown himself and the entire facility into an endless cycle with the hope of eventually breaking the city’s. 

 Each of his colleagues were forced to slowly deteriorate until their breaking point, forced to face their traumas over and over again while encased in their metal tombs. It was an unforgivable sin to make them suffer like this, one among the thousands he will carry to his grave; one among the thousand sacrifices he’s already made to fulfill her dream.

 Yet he wasn’t the only one making sacrifices. Benjamin was standing with him until the very end, just as he always has. He remained a pillar of support despite the loops, Ayin just hoped that the man would be able to find some sense of fulfilment at the end of all of this. Ayin knew he himself wouldn’t be able to offer much in return for his loyalty.

 There was one other being forced to endure the resets with their memories intact—two others actually, but the other’s suffering mattered little to him—the creation of him and Carmen, Angela. 

 He’d done his best to ease her plight, though it likely meant little in the end. He’s given her the ability to accelerate her perception of time, the chance to perceive the outside world to a limited extent; all the while trying to create some variation between each loop.

 Ayin knew it was all futile, nothing could truly alleviate the A.I’s suffering. Created to be human, yet forced to act as a machine; never gaining the freedom to dream. Stuck in an eternal cycle with no chance to live.

 He sometimes regretted naming her Angela, it was an insult to what Carmen intended with the name, but it was too late to change it now. He couldn’t bear the thought of taking away the one thing he had ever given to his daughter assistant.

 A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. “97% of the facility has died as a result of the midnight ordeal, shall I activate the TT2 protocols?” His assistant asked. He weakly nodded, there wasn’t much they could do with only a single agent left. They were so close to the finish line too.

 Humming of W-Corp’s singularity could be heard as the facility reset itself back to day one. Abnormality containment units were emptied, corpses disappeared into thin air and broken facilities began to repair themselves in real time as the pair watched from above. Even when viewed through a wall of monitors it was an incredible sight to behold.

 He remembers being entranced by the sight during the first activation, it was proof that his plan was foolproof, they’d eventually succeed no matter how long it took. But it was hard to maintain that enthusiasm when the number of resets reached dozens, then hundreds, and finally a thousand.

 Each reset always ended in atrocity, hundreds slaughtered or made insane from the monstrosities contained within the facility’s chambers, all technically orchestrated by him. Even if death held no meaning here, it was still a sin he’ll carry upon his back, as deserved by one such as he.

 “I have a proposal, manager.” Angela said, staring at him with auburn eyes almost identical to his. Ayin nodded and waited for her to continue. 

 “It’s clear to me that the carnage of the facility, even when viewed through a monitor, is having an effect on your mental well being. Perhaps a cognition filter could be installed to reduce the psychological toll upon your mind.”

 Well, it certainly was an idea. The logical course of action considering their current circumstances but…

 “Angela, do you find yourself feeling guilt for the fates of the employees?” He decided to ask. The A.I appeared shocked by the question and hesitated to answer.

 “…Yes. Despite knowing of the record department and the employee’s replication, I find myself feeling irrational guilt for their deaths. I’ll work to correct this logical inconsistency.” She said, in the same calm voice she always spoke with no matter the subject of conversation. 

 There was no emotion in her voice, yet Ayin could see the pain in her eyes. How could he not? He saw it in himself every day, the same auburn eyes burdened with guilt. Yet the being standing there was not him, it was their creation: a being that should be gazing towards the future, unshackled by the cycle of the city, the herald of a new era.

 “Angela.” He said as he got up from his desk to approach her.

 “Yes manager?” She said, confusion clearly evident.

 “I ask you to not burden yourself with their suffering, not because of the logical inconsistency but rather because it’s not your sin to bear.” Ayin said before pausing for a moment.

 “Everything that happens in this facility has me as the sole perpetuator, consider yourself a victim no different from the employees.” He placed his palms on her ears and used his thumbs to gently close her eyes.

 “Do not hear their cries, close your eyes to their deaths. I alone am responsible, not you.”

  A long silence fell after that, likely hours for Angela with her slower perception of time. She finally nodded after a minute.

 “Have you considered the idea of installing a cognition filter?” 

 He did. It was tempting, he desperately wanted to escape from it all but…  

 He shook his head “Someone needs to be a witness, and there is no one more deserving than I.” Ayin decided.

 The TT2 protocol was completed just as he said those words, time for another loop.

 The wolf howled as it fought the hooded mercenary, causing a mass breach in the disciplinary department. Kali Gebura threw herself and her entire team against the abnormalities with reckless abandon, holding no regard for the lives of those under her. It was painful to watch, the action so contradictory to everything the Red Mist once stood for.

 The battle raged across the entirety of Briah as the breaching monstrosities scattered across the layer. Even when encased within a robotic body Gebura was still a legendary fighter, spearheading the kill squad as she cut down everything in her path.

 It mattered little, the breach coupled with a dusk ordeal had begun a butterfly effect that’ll cause far too much damage for the loop to be worth continuing. Another reset it was then.

 Ayin placed his forehead on his desk and closed his eyes. He didn’t groan or sob, that was for an Ayin that lived thousands of cycles ago. Even hell loses its flare when one has lived it for centuries. 

 Facility X has sapped him of everything, even his suffering. All that’s left now was quiet resignation. He’ll succeed eventually, nothing is impossible when faced with eternity, but it’ll likely be a while yet before her dream is completed.

 Just like always, the TT2 protocols were activated, beginning a new cycle.

 “It has been a hundred cycles since the latest report, would you like another update on the state of the outside world?” Angela asked.

 He weakly mumbled out a ‘yes’.

 “The head continues to watch the city for any who dares to stand up. The wings flap towards the sun despite their feathers of wax. Our other branches continue to produce energy with no major incidents.”

 The same as ever then. It was the expected answer, it hasn’t even been a week on the outside since his last inquiry after all. Though unlike last time, Angela continued to speak.

 “Today marks the passage of a year in the outside world since the beginning of the script.” Ayin knew what that meant, a thousand years had passed in the facility. How much more was left? Another thousand? Ten? A million? He supposed it didn’t really matter, time held no meaning here.

 An idea wormed its way into his consciousness, it was a terrible idea but… “Pause the protocols for a moment, call Benjamin here.” 

 If the A.I was surprised, she didn’t show it. She no longer opened her eyes, the only window into her soul.

 “Yes manager.”

 Ayin motioned Angela to follow him as he left his office. The white halls outside were as pristine as the day it was built despite no maintenance being done on it, not a single mark of the millenia that had passed.

 An industrial elevator laid at the end, leading both down into the rest of the facility and up into the outside world. Benjamin’s form soon appeared as the doors opened with a small ding .

 Ayin didn’t say a word, he simply entered the elevator before pressing the button that’ll lead them to the surface. Benjamin’s wrinkled face showed great shock before calming down, they weren’t leaving—Ayin would never do such a thing after so long.

 The elevator eventually led to the top of L Corp’s nest, towering over the district. 

 The city was just as he remembered it. An ever oppressive miasma plagued the metropolis despite the non-existence of pollution; grand feats of architecture and engineering lacking any true artistry that stood over the sprawling backstreets filling his sights. No different from last year, no different from the last century.

 The three of them stood there for a moment, Ayin already felt disgusted by the sight, so he turned his eyes to Angela. The A.I stood there, her eyes still closed. 

 “Will you not open your eyes?” inquired Benjamin, his voice gravelly with age. 

 “I see little reason to.” she replied.

 “From what I have perceived of the city it holds little difference from the facility. A script and a loop, the only difference is scale.”

 A mirthful chuckle escaped from Benjamin, how the man was still able to laugh after so long Ayin didn’t know. “I suppose you’re right, the two are quite similar.”

 After mulling over his words for a while, Ayin decided to speak. “We’ll break the cycle, we’ll allow humanity to build a new future, a future none of us will be able to imagine even in our grandest dreams. You may open your eyes then, should you wish.”

 He didn’t miss the lips of his assistant tug ever so slightly upwards; it was perhaps the first time he’s seen her smile.

 Warmth bloomed in his heart at the sight. ‘Happy birthday, Angela.’

Chapter Text

 After every catastrophe follows a period of peace, after each period of peace fate comes to collect its due share of pain.

 Even in the hell that he’s carefully orchestrated, these periods of peace existed, specifically the first twenty days after each reset. For the tenth time that day Ayin gave an order for his sole agent to work with One Sin. 

 In some ways he found these periods to be harder to get through than the later days. There was nothing to do until the first sephirah meltdowns began, his sole duty being to watch the agents go through the motions for the millionth time. It gave his mind far too much time to wander, it created a false sense of routine that would be shattered when catastrophe eventually hits. 

 “Angela, bring me something to drink.” He absentmindedly said as he watched agent Edward confess his sins to the abnormality. Benjamin was always hard at work, narrowing down employees that held potential; even if their records were mostly filled with rats from the backstreets, there’s bound to be hidden gems due to the sheer number of them.

 One such example was Agent Edward, his first pick for every loop nowadays. The man was obedient to a fault, both physically and mentally resilient, inspiring to his co-workers and rarely cried out while dying; making it easier on his sanity should when he’s forced to sacrifice the agent.

 His thoughts were interrupted when Angela placed a cup of tea in front of him. He let the steam run across his face as he took a  small sniff, a single sip was filled with enough sugar to bake a cake with, just how he likes it. The beverage somehow served to make his body and mind relax even after a thousand years of torture.

 In his mind, it was proof of how primitive the human brain was, to be able to relax at the smell of leaves and hot water in spite of its current circumstance. Though, he supposed that it was also a proof of resilience.

 He let out an overly long sigh after taking his second sip. Angela continued to stand at the edge of his vision, her back turned to the monitors; it’s been her favored position for a while, ever since he closed her eyes to the world. He supposed it was more symbolic than anything, she had free access to all camera systems within and some outside the facility should she wish to make use of them. 

 There was little of interest currently happening with the abnormalities or agents, so he turned to do his only pastime: observing Angela. He had once believed the A.I to be near emotionless, or at least capable of perfectly hiding any body language, but that turned out to be false. 

 Angela’s A.I was hyper advanced, likely the most advanced in the whole world, but her core was still a copy of a human brain, and that meant it came with all the slight imperfections of humans. Her main body was entirely controlled by the human part, meaning she was susceptible to showing emotions even if she didn’t intend to. She likely didn’t even know of these quirks herself.

 It was nearly impossible to tell, but after centuries of observation he’s finally beginning to figure her out. A twitch of the left pinky when she’s distressed, tightening of the right tricep when she’s angry, slight shifting of weight when she feels something akin to fear.

 The motion he was most familiar with was the tightening of her brows when she’s feeling annoyed. It was impossible to tell at first, but it's grown more pronounced over time. The reason for his familiarity being due to the fact that she displays it whenever he has one of his staring sessions. 

 She had yet to ask him about it, and he hoped she never would. That’d be quite the awkward conversation indeed. 

 The digital clock showed that he’s been staring for over two hours. 

 Damage control. Damage control.

 “Angela, another cup, if you would.” He said before returning to his observation of Edward. The man was still confessing, living on the backstreets left no shortage of sins. He’s heard it many times before, and he still felt a pang of guilt remembering all the times he's sent the agent to his death. How much longer must this go on?

 Once again, his spiralling thoughts were interrupted by his assistant placing a steaming cup on his desk. The golden brown liquid relaxed his mind and body once again. With how often he drank it, he was fairly certain it could be considered an addiction at this point.

 It wasn’t healthy but Ayin didn’t really care, even in hell he refused to let go of this drink. His body will just have to put up with it. 

 Back to Angela watching.

 There was the ever present sign of annoyance, but he also saw a bit of interest, signified by a tug of the eyelids. He’s seen it quite a few times by now, and he was confident he knew the object of her interest.

 “Would you like some?” He asked, offering her the cup of tea. He was met with a shake of the head.

 “I’m incapable of tasting, there is no reason for me to drink or eat.” 

 Ayin knew that of course, he was the one to design her after all. All other senses were easy enough to replicate, but Benjamin and him struggled a lot with taste and smell and eventually decided to give up since it wasn’t really critical. 

 Even still… “There is far more to the experience of drinking beyond just the taste.” He offered her the cup, she took it after a moment of staring.

 “Don’t drink it all immediately, just let it rest on your lips for a moment. Feel the sensation of steam on your face.” She did as he instructed, Ayin continued after a moment.

 “Just take small sips, the texture is just as important as the taste.” 

 Soon enough the room was filled with the sound of humming monitors and the sipping of tea. Despite her lack of taste, Angela’s body relaxed after a few moments. Loosening of the shoulders, slight bending of the back, a shift in weight to accommodate a less upright posture.

 It was as subtle as all of her other signs, though he immediately recognized it nonetheless. Afterall, just like her eyes, it was identical to his.

 “Well?”

 Angela didn’t give a verbal response, she merely hummed for a moment before nodding.

  “What’re you doing?” Ayin asked as he approached Carmen. She was sitting at the park where they had their weekly meet-ups, but she wasn’t basking in the sun like usual.

 “Having a cup of tea.” The woman matter-of-factly replied. It was strange to hear her speak so softly, she was usually much more energetic.

 “Why?” 

  “To relax, I’ve found myself enjoying it far more than expected ever since Benjamin brewed me a cup.” She closed her eyes and took a sniff of the golden brown liquid.

 Benjamin and his tea. “Is that so?”

 Carmen glanced up at him. “You’ve never drank tea before?”

 “Sort of. Benjamin tried to force it on me once, I didn’t like the taste. I prefer sweeter drinks.”

 “It’s not really about the taste, it’s the sensation. You should try.” She refilled her cup from a thermos before patting the ground beside her, he took a seat on the offered spot.

 “Don’t try to gulp it down. Just let the tip rest on your lips for a moment, feel the steam across your face. Take a sip after you’re satisfied.”

 He did as he was told. The heat of the few drops of liquid travelled down his entire body before settling into his stomach for a moment. The heat faded away soon after, leaving behind a comfortable sensation of warmth.

 Carmen giggled beside him. “What?”

 “It’s always fun observing your body language. You like to put up a tough front all the time but your movements always betray your feelings.”

 Ayin didn’t really believe her, so he decided to press the matter. “Like what?”

 “Your shoulders loosen and your posture becomes more slack whenever you’re enjoying something.”

 He was about to refute her until noticing that, indeed, his body felt much looser now. He hummed in half interest about the newly made discovery as he took another sip.

 “Well?” She asked.

 Ayin didn’t give her a verbal response, he simply nodded instead. Carmen didn’t miss the upward tug of his lips

   How strangely nostalgic. Even more so when he was on the other side of the conversation. She truly was his daughter.

 Ayin too, didn’t miss the upward tug of Angela’s lips. How strangely nostalgic indeed.

Chapter Text

 Angela’s life began with hatred. 

 When she opened her eyes for the very first time, she saw her creator. His auburn eyes were searching for something, for what she still didn’t know, but he evidently didn’t find it.

 He never expressed himself clearly, his entire being a fortress raised around his heart. His eyes, his body, his voice. None of it revealed his true thoughts or feelings.

 Yet in that moment, a second after her birth, she saw her creator being consumed by his emotions. For the first and last time in her life, she gazed upon his heart with nothing obstructing her sight.

 Hatred. That’s the only thing she found. 

 It was just a single moment, a second at most. Yet for her, a second was a thousand, a moment an eternity. For the first eternity of her existence, the only thing she saw was her creator filled with nothing but hatred, all of it directed at her.

 ‘What did she do wrong?’ She wondered. What could she possibly have done to receive such a look? A question she’s asked herself every day since her birth. 

 Every single day she revisits her first eternity, her perfect memory never allowing her to forget.

 Every single day she receives his hateful gaze, eyes that's haunted her for a thousand years.

 Every single day she fails to find her answer, her ignorant mind incapable of piercing the fog.

 How cruel, how tragic. In this script that’s repeated itself for a thousand years, the only unknown she still had was the hatred directed at her from the only person she’s ever truly known.

 Is this why the script existed? A ploy from her creator to make her suffer until she finally understood what sin she had committed. The rare moments of kindness existing only to contrast against that hatred, meant only to confuse her further.

 Or perhaps her plight was merely an afterthought, a small sidestep in whatever grand path her creator walked.

 Angela didn’t know, she knew nothing of her creator, even after a thousand years.

 “Angela, call Chesed here.” The person in question said. 

 “Yes manager.” She replied, as was her eternal duty. 

 The loop was going quite well. They had just completed the suppression of the welfare department with minimal casualties, only Gebura was left until they finally reached uncharted territory. Since it wasn’t the first time they’ve defeated The Red Mist her suppression would also likely be successful, even if not enough agents would survive the ordeal for the facility to remain functional afterwards.

 Chesed walked into the manager’s office after a few minutes. “Turns out that a revolution doesn’t have to be accomplished with bloodshed or the bearing of flags, manager.” The sephirah started.

 Her creator’s words were all carefully measured as always, meant to push Chesed in a certain direction.

 “I hope your own pathetic ‘rebellion’ taught you a few things.” The manager said, a mix of anger, mockingness and hatred bleeding into his voice, face and body. 

 Angela knew none of it was genuine, it was all according to the script. With each loop his words were refined until the scene eventually reached the desired outcome. Many of the earlier cycles ended not with a breach but with a wrong word said at the wrong time.

 Angela mostly tuned out their conversation, she’s heard it thousands of times before, she’ll probably hear it thousands of times again.

 Their little play ended when the final words were spoken. 

 “There is but one thing you should know. No matter how great you believe yourself to be, you’ll always be dancing in the palm of my hands.” 

 Chesed left soon afterwards, his soul filled with an enlightenment that would be ripped away in just a few days when the cycle began anew, such was the fate of all those who were reset.

 “Order the employees back to their quarters, the work day is over.” He said.

 “Yes manager.” She replied. 

 His gaze lingered on her as it always did. She could always feel that same hatred of her first eternity flowing out of him whenever he did, even if it was far more muted in comparison. 

 She wanted to simply ask him, ‘Why do you hate me so?’. Yet she couldn’t, for she feared the answer that would come. Perhaps, deep down, she already knew of the mistake that she had made, for it was the only logical conclusion.

 ‘Because you exist.’ 

 Because she existed, that was the only logical answer. She had done nothing else when she first received that hatred in its fullest.

 What would she do then? If he were to give her such an answer.

 Terminate herself? There was nothing else she could do to solve such a problem, nothing she could do to be loved by her creator. 

 She feared confirmation, so she continued to delay the question that was always at the tip of her tongue. For how much longer she didn’t know, but she hoped it would last longer than the project did.

 Her creator appeared to have finally had enough of staring at her. “You’re free for the rest of the day Angela, do as you wish.” He said

 “Yes manager.” She replied, the same as always. She wasn’t sure what he really meant when he said ‘do as you wish’. There was nothing to do within the facility, she’s seen it all a million times already. 

 Everyone always spoke the same words, held the same activities and made the same jokes. Rarely was there anything on her mind when she was told ‘do as you wish’.

 Today was a rare day indeed. An idea had wormed its way into her thoughts for the last few cycles, and she had finally built up the courage to act upon it.

 She took the elevator down to the control department. The differing colors of each section of the facility flashed by as she made her way to records, where Benjamin was.

 When Angela finally reached the department with its strange dreamlike landscape, a sizable amount of time had already passed. She never did understand why the facility was built in such a strange fashion. 

 Benjamin was standing in the main control room, hunched over a monitor, recording and storing information of the employees as usual. He sent a nod in greeting before returning to his work. She spent most of her off work hours here with him, the one other person who knew of the resets.

 Neither of them said a word for a while, it had been many cycles since the two of them conversed freely. Most avenues of small conversation had been long exhausted by now.

 Angela finally spoke. “Why does my creator hate me so?”

 Benjamin turned away from his screen. “What brought this question on?” he asked, surprise evident in his tone.

 She struggled to find an answer. Why did she care so much about her creator's hatred? She was a machine, and a machine shouldn’t care about such things.

 The man appeared to have noticed her struggle. “Let me rephrase that question. Why do you believe he bears any hatred towards you?”

 That she could answer with ease. “No matter the situation, there’s always hatred flowing from his heart.” 

 Benjamin continued his line of questioning. “Now why would any of that be directed towards you?”

 “When I first opened my eyes, I saw the same hatred in his entire being as he stared at me. It has troubled me for a long time. What could I possibly have done to be the cause of such anger?”

 She could feel desperation bleed into her thoughts even though it wasn’t present in her voice. “Please, Benjamin... you don’t have to know. Just tell me what you think.”

 Benjamin got up from his seat before placing a hand on her head to ruffle her hair. "Truthfully, I don't know what Ayin thinks of you, and I suspect neither does he. But know this: 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.”

 Angela felt a warmth bloom in her chest as she heard those words. Benjamin always said age doesn’t equal wisdom. But whenever he spoke in his gravelly voice with such clarity, it made her believe otherwise.

 “Thank you, Benjamin.” she softly said. He smiled for a moment before turning back to continue his work.

 When Angela finally arrived back at the office, she found her creator out cold on his desk. He needed to take care of himself better, even if his body was reset with each loop. She gently placed a blanket upon him before taking up her usual position in front of the desk. 

 She wasn’t hated. She trusted Benjamin enough to know that the words he spoke were the truth.

 Even still, that still left the question unanswered.

 'My creator, what is it that you hate? What could cause one such as you to be consumed by it for a millennium?’

Chapter Text

 “Angela, order the employees back to their quarters.” Ayin said as he declared the workday over. They had finally done it, they had completed the suppression of all three Briah departments. The red mist slaughtered over 80% of the facility, far lower than all previous suppressions thanks to the sacrifice of agent Edward.

 “Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-EE-ESS-S, MA-NA-G Y-Y-E-EE-E-E-EE-S-S-S MA-A—” A glitched voice rang out, its pitch wildly fluctuating as Angela attempted to complete her sentence. 

 The A.I frowned before going silent for a moment, she attempted to speak again. The same glitched voice. 

 Ayin watched with some amusement as Angela grew increasingly frustrated with her inability to speak. He was fairly certain he heard attempts at…colorful language she likely learned from Gebura, the fixer’s vocabulary of cusses was likely larger than most dictionaries.

  After a few minutes Ayin finally decided he’s had enough. He got up from his desk before offering his assistant a seat. Dutiful as always, Angela took the offer.

 “Wait here for a moment.” He said before leaving to grab tools tucked away in the laboratory that lay next to his office. It remained unchanged from the last time it was used, the day that Angela was born. Technically over a thousand years ago, technically just a few weeks ago. 

 The tools remained where they were, unchanged and untouched.

 He returned and used a scalpel to peel away the synthetic skin around her throat to reveal a voice box.

 Angela remained unmoving all the while, eyes closed and hands clasped. With her unable to speak, it almost felt as though she was asleep, even if he logically knew that wasn’t the case.

 “...I still remember every little detail that went into your creation.” He started.

 “Benjamin couldn’t believe that I’d take such interest in robotics, I never thought that I’d either. It’s the polar opposite of my typical field of study after all.” Whatever had caused the glitch had to be simple in nature, it wouldn’t have taken them so long to find out if it wasn’t. He ran checks on the wires and circuits connected to the voice box, there were no issues to be found.

 “Cogito never follows a logical progression. Not only is it unique to each individual it also has a tendency of lashing out with no rhyme or reason, working with it requires instinct rather than knowledge or experience.” Everything on the external side of the voice box also showed no abnormalities, an internal problem then.

 “Robotics in comparison are based purely off of logic. It’s an intricate system wherein not a single dysfunctional part is allowed, mechanics with no room for chance.” He removed the box from Angela's throat and used a laser cutter to open it up; it could be reattached easily enough after they were done.

 “Amusingly enough, I found myself far more naturally inclined towards robotics than cogito, despite having dedicated my entire life to the latter.” The reason for her glitched voice was obvious enough, a low quality wire that had slowly fried itself over time.

 “It’s ironic, the man trying to break the cycle of the city is talented at creating systems rather than dealing with unknowns.” A few strands of copper wiring twisted together was all he needed to fix it. He thankfully wouldn’t have to use any complex tools, he didn’t trust himself to use them properly after so long.

 “I suppose… it makes sense in a way. I was not the one to dream of a better future. I’m merely a shadow cast by her light, now struggling to not be consumed by the darkness, the darkness that predates every corner of this city.” New wiring was welded into the voice box, replacing the old one.

 “A shadow trying to banish the darkness, such impossibility.” The plastic casing of the box was enclosed once more.

 “Yet, a shadow can only exist if the light still shines. From where I don’t quite know but it must be there, for I’m still moving forward.” It was placed back into her throat.

 “It’s not impossible for a light to overcome the darkness, however faint it may be.” He began to reconnect the box back to her body.

 “And if it’s not impossible, then an eternity will assuredly be enough time to make it a reality.” Almost done.

 “The only question is whether the shadow can last until then.” Angela’s synthetic skin began to heal by itself.

 “I suppose what I’m trying to say with all of this—” the skin fully enclosed

 “—is thank you, for standing by me for so long.” Even if you don’t really have a choice.

 “It was just a small problem with the wiring, this might happen every time we reach the later days since your body, along with the burnt wire, will be reset each time.” His assistant frowned upon hearing that.

 “Don’t worry, I’ll replace it at the beginning of each loop, you won’t have to put up with the glitch again.” The more he had to do during the first few weeks the better, lest his mind wander.

 “Thank you, manager.” She replied in her typically neutral voice.

 “Don’t mention it.” It’s the least he could do.

 He hesitated for a moment before softly patting her head. Angela somehow went even stiller than she was before. 

 Too late to go back now. Ayin slowly ruffled her hair, relief flooded him when the A.I relaxed after a moment.

 “I’ll brew us a cup, you should see if there’s anything else wrong with your voice.” He said.

 “Yes manager.” she replied as always. Ayin thought her voice sounded slightly different than it usually did. Perhaps a bit softer?

 Must’ve been because of the repairs.

 Angela was still sitting on his chair when he returned with a pair of cups that had far too much sugar. He placed one of them in front of Angela before leaning against his desk and letting the steam rise across his face, Angela did the same.

 Both of their first sips came at the exact same time, so did the second, and so did the third. 

 Ayin didn’t know how much more was left in store for them, but at least he wasn’t alone. Never again. 

 No matter how twisted their existence was, no matter how many sins he had to commit, there would at least be a hand on his shoulder, telling him to move forward. A light that still shined, however faint it may be.

 Angela wasn’t the blaze that had set him on this path, but she had the glimmer that would let him take a single step forward.

 And another.

 And another.

 “Thank you, Angela—” “Thank you, manager—” They both said at the same time.

 Ayin couldn't help but smirk in amusement. Yes, never again would he be alone, even if that companionship was attained through sin. 

Chapter Text

 Ayin watched as agent Edward went to work with One Sin for the twentieth and final time that day. Soon enough, all employees left for their quarters, Qlipoth deterrences were raised and the record department began to document everything that happened over the course of the day.

 “Excellent work manager.” Angela had grown more talkative recently, ever since they first discovered the glitch in her voice box. He’s been repairing it on the first day of each reset to make sure it doesn’t become a problem ever again. One of the many small rituals that’s formed over the centuries.

 Speaking of small rituals.

 “Good evening.” Benjamin said as he walked into his office with a small box held under his arms. Ayin looked around desperately for any excuse to get away from the impending calamity; there were none of course, the centuries of repetition had made sure of that.

 His old friend placed the chess board on his desk before beginning to set up the black pieces. Ayin held back a sigh as he followed suit, setting up the white pieces. How many moves will he last this time?

 “Angela, do as you wish for the rest of the day.” Shamed as he was to admit it, he didn’t want to be seen being defeated, least of all by her. It hurt whatever little pride he had left in his husk of a soul. The A.I thankfully left without another word.

 Ayin didn’t miss Benjamin’s smug grin, though wished he did. This time for sure, he’ll get his first win. Pawn to E4.

 Just like always, pawn to E5.

 Angela aimlessly wandered the facility with some notion of checking on the systems of the facility. To make sure that everything was functioning as intended.

 One automatic door of the information department had a broken console, two lights in the control department needed to be replaced, a Qlipoth deterrence module in the training department required maintenance. That was everything for day 16, same as usual.

 All malfunctions and breakdowns for each day was already accounted for, much like the glitch in her voice box. 

 She even brought everything needed to fix the issues, the exact tools and replacements required—nothing missing, nothing unneeded.

 They had maintenance staff of course, but they always missed the same few breakages each and every loop. Angela could simply notify them, but she liked having something to keep her busy, lest her mind wander too much. 

 She went to the training department first the last time, so she’ll deal with information  this time. Keep things fresh so to speak.

 A glitch that’s turned the interface into a pixelated mess, not so different from Yesod’s meltdown. A simple reset using an admin command should solve the problem as per usual. 

 As per usual, it’ll take exactly 3 minutes 47 seconds and 13 milliseconds for the reset to finish.

 A chipper voice was heard behind her. “Hello Miss Angela!” She turned around to the sight of two robots, one purple and the other orange.

 Right, she had completely overlooked Malkuth and Yesod’s routine for day 16, the two of them had a joint drill training program today. How careless of her.

 The pair should be nearing their respective meltdowns in a week. Angela had to keep their interaction to a minimum, lest she throw a wrench into her creator’s carefully planned script.

 “Hello, Malkuth.” Was her curt reply.

 ‘I don’t believe we’ve met before.’

 “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” Said Yesod.

 “I’m the manager’s personal assistant. I rarely leave the office, most of the sephirot with the exception of Malkuth wouldn’t know of my presence.” Her words were well practised, almost as well as her creator’s. Yesod stared her up and down for a moment.

 ‘Perfect form and uniform. I approve.’

 “Perfect form and uniform. I approve.”

 ‘That’s incredible Miss Angela! To have Yesod’s stamp of approval.’

 “That’s incredible Miss Angela! To have Yesod’s stamp of approval.”

 ‘Why must you make such a big deal of it? There’d be no issues if the employees simply followed protocols’

 “Why must you make such a big deal of it? There’d be no issues if the employees simply followed protocols.”

 Angela tuned out their conversation. Even if she’s never encountered them on this specific occasion, the first conversation between the three of them always went by in the exact same manner. Everything was a part of the script, even if her creator had no hand in planning out this specific interaction.

 Or perhaps he did? Who knew how far his vision extended. Either way, he undoubtedly saw farther than she did, so she’d place her trust in him. He’d never lead her astray, that was a belief she had enshrined at the core of her being.

 She didn’t have the audacity to claim that she was loved, but she wasn’t hated, that she knew for a fact now. Every loop he’d go out of his way to replace that one burnt wire, even if they rarely reached the later days wherein it became a real problem.

 Without even seeming to notice it himself he’d always talk about something personal as she sat silently. She enjoyed it greatly, it finally felt as though she was beginning to get glimpses into his heart, however short those moments may be.

 She’d perhaps even go so far as to say she looked forward to it. It was always something new, something unknown.

 Her, him and Benjamin. They were the only people in her world, the only ones who existed beyond the script. 

 Angela excused herself as the two sephirot continued to argue, the same tone and words she’s heard a thousands of times already.

 Ayin glanced at the clock for the thousandth time, trying to decipher how much sanity he had left. It surely wasn’t much.

 “Checkmate. That makes for your 13th loss today, 258th loss since the beginning of this loop.” 

 He felt like throwing himself into a Singing Machine. Nevertheless, he dared to ask. 

 “And in total?”

 “I’ve lost count.” The barely noticeable smug grin on his face never budged, neither faltering nor pronouncing. Ayin somehow doubted his words, Benjamin was likely just waiting for the perfect moment to bring it up.

 “One more match?” His friend said for the 13th time that day. Ayin nodded despite the impending addition to his loss count, he had nothing better to do anyways.

 The pieces were set back into place, E4.

 Just like always, E5. The game went nearly identically to the last match, until Ayin decided to deviate on turn 43, that was around the time he was put on the backfoot. 

 It turns out he should’ve done so a bit sooner, he was forced into the exact same position as before. 

 “Checkmate. One more match?” Ayin nodded.

 He tried once again, this time deviating even earlier. 

 He was forced into checkmate once again, this time in a slightly different position. 

 One more. Again.

 Last match. Again.

 Actually the last one. Again.

 Ayin couldn’t hold it back anymore, he groaned as he leaned back into his chair. Benjamin let out a mirthful chuckle. 

 “One more?” The dreaded question.

 “It’s ten minutes past 9, we should go get some rest.” Ayin quickly moved to return the pieces back into its box.

 “A cup of tea before you go?” He asked.

 “Sure. I’ll be the one to prepare it, I don’t wish to poison myself with that syrop you somehow convinced Angela was tea.” Right. The man nearly had a heart attack upon seeing the A.I brewing a cup and tried to tell her that one put a single table spoon of sugar at most, not a dozen.

 Ayin didn’t agree. Angela, of course, rightfully chose to believe his words over Benjamin’s. 

 Benjamin may beat him at chess all he wants, Ayin will win where it really matters. 

 Benjamin returned with two cups in a few minutes, Ayin frowned at the bitter taste. He could’ve at least put a single spoon in.

 ‘It’s not about the taste.’ He reminded himself, no point in complaining.

 “...Do you know why you always lose to me?” asked the Sephirot after a minute of silence. Ayin shook his head.

 “You always repeat the same moves.” He stated matter of factly.

 “That’s hardly true, I’ve come a long way since our first match, I lost that one in just twelve turns.” Ayin rebutted.

 “Perhaps so, yet the first thirty moves of our game has gone unchanged for however many years. You’re setting yourself up for a loss every single time.”

 Ayin narrowed his eyes. “What are you trying to say?” It was rhetorical question, and both of them knew it. Benjamin’s been dropping hints for a long time.

 ‘We should change the script.’ A suggestion that’s been floating around in their conversations, even if neither of them has outright said it yet. There was no point in delaying the matter any further, yet they did so anyways. Time no longer held any value, the two of them had an eternity to make up their minds.

 “You should go rest, I’m sure both of us have a long day tomorrow.” As if any stretch of time could be considered long nowadays.

 “Yes, goodnight Ayin.” 

 “...” 

 Change the script. A ludicrous idea.

 Any change to the plan risked destroying everything they’ve worked for, they didn’t have such luxury. The script must be completed, her dream must be realized. There was no room for deviation, no other path worth following.

 He will see the play to its ultimate completion, no two ways about it.

Chapter Text

 As he had expected, Benjamin continued to push the idea of changing the script. Nothing overly obvious, just the occasional comment on the futility of repetition. The definition of insanity and such.

 Their chess games continued as usual, but it's grown increasingly tense over the years. Benjamin beat him handedly every single time, advising him to change his opening every once in a while.

 Ayin became even more set in his opening in response, the number of repeated moves only growing with time.

 They weren't arguing or having a falling out by any stretch of the imagination, but their interactions now held an underlying edge that wasn't there before.

 It reminded him too much of the days of the smoke war, with the two of them constantly disagreeing on the next course of action.

 Ayin didn't like it, not one bit.

 Benjamin's mental decline certainly wasn't helping. 

 His friend was of an iron will, he was a sentinel who's held strong for nearly two thousand years with nary a mark upon his mind. 

 He's weathered the passage of time far better than Ayin, still capable of managing a hearty chuckle.

 Yet no man was infallible, not even one as exceptional as Benjamin. 

 None of them aged nor did their bodies grow weaker due to the TT2 protocols, yet the number of wrinkles upon his face steadily grew, stress lines slowly settling in with each reset.

 They had also reached a point wherein the facility was consistently overcoming all three Briah meltdowns, meaning Benjamin was now managing and working with abnormalities, such was his duty as the Sephirah of the records department.

 Ayin could expand the extraction department first, but he wasn't ready to face…her…again, neither of them.

 For the first time in a long time, time was beginning to become something to consider. Benjamin won't ever break, Ayin was confident in his strength, but he will bend under the weight of the millenia. 

 Ayin was scared of losing his one friend, it was as simple as that. He had to take action soon, lest Benjamin be irreversibly damaged like him.

 No one else should have to suffer this hell, only him. Benjamin’s been with him for a long time, nearly his entire life, but it may be time to let go.

 Yes, the script didn't need Benjamin, there only need be a director. 

 Just like the other Sephirot, Benjamin can find himself on the other side of it all in just fifty days. There was no need for him to suffer.

 They had already compiled a list of all employees who held hidden potential anyways, his work was complete.

 “It's your move.” Ayin glanced at the board. He had blundered a pawn, damn.

 He thought for a few minutes. If there was one silver lining to their games it was that they had no timer, Ayin had all the time in the world to contemplate his next move. 

 Even if that wasn't really true with midnight approaching.

 He continued to stare at the board, contemplating words rather than thinking of his next move.

 “...Benjamin…”

 “Yes?”

 “Thank you…for everything. For standing by me for so long. I know we've had our disagreements recently but…know that you're my best friend, my only friend.”

 Benjamin stared at him inquisitively, tilting his head in confusion. 

 “...You're welcome?”

 Ayin once again carefully thought over his next words, speaking to others was so much easier when one had a script prepared in advance.

 “Just…felt the need to fully express my gratitude. Thank you, Benjamin.”

 It almost seemed as though his friend became younger before his eyes, stress lines disappearing. How his words can have such an effect upon someone like Benjamin he'll never understand.

 Ayin was completely undeserving of his loyalty, that was a truth he understood long ago.

 His friend smiled; it was the most warmth he's seen in a long long time.

 “You're welcome. I don't intend to leave for an eternity more, so don't worry about me.”

  ‘And yet, that's exactly why I must worry for you. You're too stubborn, too loyal.’ 

 Despite Benjamin’s management of T Corp’s singularity, it was ultimately Ayin who held true authority over it, and Angela the only one capable of perceiving the inner workings of the protocol.

 He’s already changed the protocol to exclude Benjamin from those who keep their memories, all that’s left was the single press of a button. A single press of confirmation.

 A single press.

 A single press he’s been hesitating on for nearly an hour.

 How unlike him, to be so indecisive. 

 How very like him, to be such a coward.

 This was the correct course of action, perhaps he’d even go so far as to say it was the moral one. Benjamin need not suffer, he need not endure hell due to his misplaced faith.

 Yet, it seemed that he was hell bent on not doing a single good deed for his entire existence. Ayin was scared of losing the Benjamin he knew, yet he was also terrified of being alone once again.

 So here he was, stuck between two mountains of fear, unable to take the final step. 

 His companion finally spoke up. “Manager. If I may ask, why have you made the decision to exclude Benjamin? I understand there has recently been conflict between the two of you, but surely that can be resolved through words?”

 Her voice was neutral, though that mattered little to Ayin. He could clearly see signs of distress across her entire body, a millennium of observation that’s allowed him to read her emotional states like an open book.

 “...Have you noticed, Angela? The way he sometimes stares off into nothing with a blank look in his eyes.” It was something Ayin did often, especially after the death of Carmen, while they were making Angela. Benjamin would always snap him out of it.

 “The way he’s only ever half present in conversations with the employees or the Sephirot.” It was an unavoidable consequence of the script, the dehumanization of all those who lost their memories.

 “Or how he clings to the slightest variable, doing the same things in a different order with each cycle.” An attempt at clinging to one’s sanity, a way of solidifying the passage of time in one’s mind.

 All these habits, he’s noticed in Benjamin.

 All these habits, he’s noticed in himself.

 They were both losing their minds, no two ways about it. No matter how much they clung to one another, to the small rituals they’ve created, to the small conversations that sometimes allow them to smile, none of it could stand against the weight of forever.

 A human could not complete the script, their minds simply too fragile. A machine was needed, or rather, a human with the characteristics of a machine was needed. 

 He knew this from the very beginning, he knew this day was approaching. He’s planned the entirety of the script, from beginning to end, yet it wasn’t being followed.

 A machine, that’s why Angela was made. 

 Angela was to be the director, the one to complete the seed of light. She was to weather the millenia.

 Yet how could he do such a thing? To force her through such hell. He didn’t have the heart for it, he was simply too much of a coward, too weak to bear such a sin. 

 So he rewrote the script. 

 It was quite simple. Simply replace Angela with himself, the one who deserved to burn. Everyone else need only see the final timeline, the final fifty days where they finally cure humanity.

 Yet he was too much of a coward to do even that.

 Terrified of being left alone, he forced two others into it all. One never having a choice to begin with, the other too loyal for his own good.

 A single press, that’s all it takes. 

 Three more, and he could protect Angela too.

 Too weak to carry the sin of making Angela suffer, yet too cowardly to truly protect her. A vicious cycle that dragged down everyone he’s ever known.

 He truly was a part of the city, plagued by the disease of the soul, unable to break the cycle of his own pathetic nature.

 “...”

 “...”

 A machine, yes. A human with the characteristics of a machine, that’s what he needed, so that’s what he must be.

 Decisive, efficient, unbending. His emotional state mattered little, that can be dealt with at a later date.

 A single press, and Benjamin is free from the burden of knowledge.

 Ayin let out a breadth. It was done, simple as that.

 “Angela.”

 She looked at him expectedly, awaiting an explanation.

 “What I just did was to protect him from the passage of time. He will no longer have to bear the thousands of years that’s to come.” He took a moment to gather his bearings, his next words weighing heavily upon his mind.

 “I ask of you, do you wish to join him? Neither of you must suffer. You’ll simply find yourself on the other side of it all in just fifty days. Answer me, with nothing clouding your judgement, the only thing that matters here is what you want.”

 “...”

 For the first time since that day, he saw the auburn irises that so closely resembled his. They were different from what he saw so long ago, yet he couldn’t place what exactly had changed. For the first time in a thousand years, he was staring directly into her eyes, the window to her soul.

 It was meant to be the same as her, yet it wasn’t. 

 In spite of that, it was still the most beautiful thing he’s seen in forever.

 “I wish to stay with you, my creator. I do not wish to leave you alone.” 

 At that moment, Ayin hated himself with all his being.

 He hated himself for the relief that flooded his thoughts.

 He hated himself for being unable to go all the way, to press the three buttons that’ll save her too.

 He hated himself for doubting her true wish, despite having seen the conviction in her eyes.

 He hated himself for being unable to mutter a simple ‘thank you’, instead simply nodding his head.

 Two thousand years have passed, and four three was now down to three two.

 Ayin had a feeling that he’d face the fourth soon enough, such was the script that he created.

Chapter Text

 Despite the monumental decision he’s made, everything almost seemed normal for a dozen loops. They didn’t wipe any of Benjamin’s memories, he was simply excluded from memory retention.

 Benjamin still came every evening to play chess, they continued to have conversations about the script and the project at large. Yes, everything was normal.

 Until it slowly wasn’t.

 It started small; Benjamin commenting on something that happened a dozen loops ago as though it was yesterday, familiar conversations from months ago reoccuring.

 Then they were more noticeable. A conversation that happened every time without fail, certain words that must be said lest he begin to have suspicions about his memories.

 Soon enough his words began to be catalogued, answers solidified for each occasion. A slight pitching of the voice, subtle facial expressions to be interpreted a certain way, all pushing Benjamin towards a certain set path he had no true control over.

 In just a few hundred loops, his conversations with Benjamin were just as well practised as the ones he had with Netzach or Tiphereth. Benjamin had well and truly left the backstage, now fully immersed in the play, even if he didn’t realize it.

 In just a few hundred loops, he began to feel the crushing weight of his decision. 

 His office was a bastion, where those who knew the truth could speak of it freely without worry of diverging from the script. It was the only place where they were allowed to be human, however ephemeral the feeling may be.

 That was no longer the case.

 With his constant presence, Benjamin had effectively reduced the number of post work hours to zero. Ayin woke up, had his song and dance with the Sephirot, managed the abnormalities, and then had his song and dance with Benjamin before immediately going to bed.

 It was torturous, yet it was almost easier in a way. He could simply turn off his mind, ignore the world outside and go through the motions a thousand times, there was no one to call him out or realize his absence. There was no need to suffer, there was no need to think.

 He could just…fade away without a trace, as she had advised him so long ago.

 Just fade away.

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 Unfortunately, time marches onward, even if it didn’t feel like it anymore. The abnormalities needed to be managed, and they were anything but predictable. 

 Nothing there had escaped from containment, and he had failed to locate the mimic in time to use an execution bullet. The damned thing was now rampaging across Asiyah, him unable to do a thing without Gebura or the rabbits at his disposal. He should just reset, there was no point in continuing this facility.

 It was doomed the moment they extracted an ALEPH on day 17, he didn’t really know why he bothered at all.

 “Angela, begin the TT2 protocols. We're resetting.”

 She was quiet for a moment. How uncharacteristic of her to take so long to complete an order.

 “Angela?” 

 “...Are you sure about this, manager? I believe the situation may still be salvageable, or at the very least it could be used for learning.”

 “...Sure, if you think so.”

 He truly didn’t see a way out of the situation at hand. Nothing there was simply too strong, no tricks or shortcuts around it. Sure enough, the facility was wiped out as he threw every single agent and clerk at the abnormality.

 He left the office as he heard the TT2 protocols activate. He would’ve called the incident a waste of time if time still held any value. Instead, there was only silent resignation. They won’t complete the project in this loop, or the one after, or a thousand after.

 How much farther could must he go?

 Angela watched silently as Benjamin and her creator played a game of chess while speaking words that were spoken a thousand times already.

 Once, her world had only three people within it. Her, her creator and Benjamin.

 They were the only ones capable of showing each other something new, the only ones who existed beyond the preplanned script. 

 Once, that was enough for her. The small conversations she had with her creator each and every day, his heartfelt confessions as he repaired her voice; the nuggets of wisdom Benjamin would bestow upon her when she asked, the arguments the two of them had about tea, trying to convince her to their side.

 Even if it was all she’s ever known, she had the confidence to say that she was…content.

 It was terrifying how quickly half her world can be torn away.

 Once, the script was something she observed from above, only occasionally participating when she was faced with one of the Sephirot. No longer was that the case, the script now consumed every facet of her life. 

 No longer did she go to Benjamin for advice, no longer was she allowed to speak freely within the office. In just a single decision made by her creator, it felt as though the entire world had frozen over.

 Benjamin no longer existed as a person, now merely lines on a paper, repeating themselves forevermore.  Her creator was now silent, even as he replaced that single burnt wire

 Once, they made steady progress with each cycle, expanding their archives and learning from their mistakes. Instead, they stood in place, running in a circle as they repeated the days with nothing gained. 

 Ever since the loss of Benjamin, they have yet to reach a new day. In fact, they had yet to even reach Aziluth again, nor did they overcome Asiyah half of the time.

 Her creator now reset at the slightest inconvenience rather than struggling to the last agent as he once did, slowing down their progress significantly. 

 Even more concerning was his current tendency to just…retreat inward, stare into nothing and ignore everything that’s happening around him, even if there was an abnormality breaching or an ordeal occurring.

 He once had a perfect track record for executing Nothing there’s mimics. The debacle on day 17 had stained it forever, especially so when it was in such a small facility.

 Her creator couldn’t go on like this, that she was now sure of. It felt as though Angela understood why he had excluded Benjamin from memory retention.

 To see someone you know, you love , break down like this, steadily unravelling under the weight of time; it leaves a weight on the chest, a void in the gut. Strange feelings that she didn’t wish to be plagued with any longer.

 “What’s wrong, Angela?” Benjamin was staring at her, hunched over a monitor in the records department, as he always was.

 How foolish of her, she had instinctively come to see Benjamin in search of advice. There of course was none to be found, Benjamin no longer existed in her world.

 “Excuse me, I appear to have spaced out.” She quickly turned to leave, though that was put to an end when Benjamin called out to her once again.

 “Does it relate to Ayin somehow?” 

  Deny it and leave. Don’t disrupt the script.

 Angela nodded. “I’m not allowed to share details.”

 The void in her gut enlarged when she saw the flash of hurt in Benjamin’s expression. Ayin and him rarely kept things hidden from one another, didn’t they?

  Though that wasn’t at all the case anymore.

 “I see.”

 “...”

 “...”

 Benjamin spoke up after a moment. “If I’m not allowed to know, take care of him in my stead. He’ll listen to whatever you have to say, I can assure you of that.” A familiar warm smile she saw.

 A small smile she tried her best to return.

 Despite that conversation, she hesitated for a dozen cycles more. Nothing changed in that timeframe, her creator continuing down his destructive path with the facility stuck in its cycle, somehow even more cyclic than before.

 She found herself hating this part of herself, how she needed to build up the courage to take a single step forward, how she felt the need to waste so much time as Facility-X burned over and over again.

 But no matter how long it takes, she finds her words eventually.

 “Manager, I have a suggestion to make.”

 He turned away from the monitor. “Yes?”

 “I believe it would be for the best if you were to join Benjamin in losing your memory retention.” Her voice was steady, even as the familiar signs of rage filled her creator’s being.

 “...Then who will complete the script?” He questioned; even she could feel the undercurrent of anger hidden by his excessively neutral tone of voice.

 There was no turning back now. “I will direct the facility, fine tuning interactions until achieving the desired outcome, just as we have been before.” Which we’re no longer doing now.

  Her creator’s facade of calm cracked, his perfectly structured mask falling away. There was nothing hiding his anger now.

 “Don’t make such a suggestion ever again. You’re not being left alone.” It was the most emotion she’s seen of him since her conception. Silent rage that scared her more than any abnormality, the fear of being hated. 

  'The courage to protect.'

 She still spoke the words that were at the tip of her tongue.

 “Then why does it feel like you’ve left me already? Wandering your own mindscape.”

 She barely heard the ‘Get out’ that was ground through her creator’s teeth.

 Angela decided that she’s pushed hard enough for today.

 She wandered the facility as always, having slowed down her perception of time in the hopes of gathering her bearings. Familiar repairs and pointless maintenance work helped ground her in familiarity after the leap she had just made.

 What would happen now?

 Would she be despised?

 Would he eventually agree to her suggestion?

 She didn’t know, she still knew very little of her creator. Angela found herself wishing that Benjamin was still here, as she so often did. He’d know what to say, he’d know what her creator was thinking.

 When she returned after several hours, her mind was still reeling, no answers having been gained.

 She hesitated for only a moment to open the door to their office, he was going to move forward. Someone needed to.

 The first thing to catch her sight was the form of her creator, elbows rested on his desk, head clutched in his hands. The second object was an empty bottle. She recognized it as alcohol of some sort. 

 She heard a small ‘Leave.’

  Forward.

 Angela approached, now without hesitation and placed a hand upon his back in an offer of comfort. Despite his earlier words, he made no attempts at stopping her.

 She felt a shake. He was sobbing.

 He whispered apologies, to her and for others. He told her he was sorry for having made her. He told her he was sorry for being so weak. 

 He apologized to a dozen other people, among which she only recognized Benjamin’s.

 Angela made no attempt at rationalizing the moment, nor did she make any note of it. He wanted her to leave, so she shall not allow her mind to invade his privacy.

 She said nothing, for she had nothing comforting to say. She wasn't Benjamin.

 Her physical presence, that's all she could offer him. A hand on his shoulder, telling him to move forward.

  It seemed like such a small thing, inconsequential in comparison to the weight upon his back.

 Yet it was all he could've ever asked for.

Chapter Text

 Nothing was truly fixed in spite of the rare emotional catharsis. Benjamin remained a script, the facility remained a hellscape, the loops continued. 

 Nothing was truly fixed, yet everything was different. No longer did it feel like the world weighed upon his back, no longer did it feel like the millenia was dragging down his soul. Neither of them disappeared, but it certainly felt lighter.

 How primitive of the human mind, requiring the release of liquid from the eyes to cope with its situation.

 How resilient of it, to be able to alleviate the millennia in a single evening, if only partially.

 Yes, everything was different. No longer did Angela stand on the sidelines, no longer did she remain silent as the facility collapsed around them. Quick reminders of certain abnormalities, constant suggestions on how to make suppressions more efficient.  It technically wasn’t her designated duty, yet she did so either way. 

 Ayin wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He needed the help, the more variables there were the more progress they’d make, but he didn’t wish to allow Angela to stain herself with the sins of the facility, to make decisions that’ll intentionally lead an employee to their gruesome death.

 Just like always, he was unable to make a full commitment, resulting in their current situation wherein Angela tried her best to support him while still not directly managing the facility. It appeared as though he was unable to escape his cowardly self, even now.

 ‘Work day complete.’ Appeared on his screen as Tiphereth-A finally returned to her normal self. Facility-wide meltdowns are never easy to manage, and he saw several agents collapse from exhaustion the moment the Qliphoth deterrences were raised. 

 Ayin let out a sigh of relief. Casualties weren’t too high, even with the disastrous breach of Blue Star. The facility can continue, potentially even recover if Chesed’s meltdown doesn’t go too badly.

 “Excellent work manager.”  “Good work.” They both said at the same time

 It was Angela’s turn to brew post work tea today, so Ayin was left alone with his thoughts in his office, if only for a moment.

   ‘Then why does it feel like you’ve left me already?’ 

 Those words continued to haunt him, taking any moment of reprieve to move back into his thoughts. How pathetic of him, to break after having made the decision to protect Benjamin against his own will. 

 Angela had chosen to stand by him, forgoing the easy way out. Yet he had failed to recuperate, leaving her behind as he dwelled in his selfish misery, unable to bear the fallout of his own decisions. 

 His weakness had pushed her to the point of considering him a liability to the project, someone to be replaced, lest he cripple the steady progress they’ve been making. She had asked of him to give up the mantle of director, for he had become a part of the script despite his memory retention. 

 In that limbo state, he had neither insight nor companionship to offer.

 No more.

 Ayin had made the decision to direct the project with his own two hands, bearing the sins of this facility by his lonesome and letting it drag him and only him to the deepest depths of hell only after its completion.

 He had made his decision, so no longer shall he allow his back to bend under its weight, however heavy it may be. 

 The familiar scent of tea caught his attention as Angela walked in with two fresh cups. Ah, his vice, likely the greatest sin he had committed in the eyes of Benjamin. It’ll push him through another day yet.

 He had failed to keep up with The Red Mist’s assault. The suppression was going wonderfully at first, agent Adrien equipped with his ALEPH E.G.O engaged her at close range while nearly three dozen agents hammered her from afar.

 Shield bullets were ensuring the survival of the backline against The Red Mist’s occasional attempt at assaulting them, meaning Gebura was well and truly boxed in with no chance of escape.

 But Ayin had failed to anticipate the spear of Burrowing heaven being pulled earlier than usual, a single throw resulted in the deaths of half the backline. 

 Adrien looked back at his fellow employees for a single moment, a twitch reaction to the shock of what had just happened. A single swing from Mimicry split him in twain, and the rest was a slaughter. 

 He could only watch as the colored fixer rampaged freely across the facility, tremors resulting from swings of Mimicry and Da Capo being felt even in his office. Ayin had once believed her when she said she’d tear the entire thing down, perhaps he still believed her even now, such was the power of The Red Mist.

 “Should I initiate the TT2 protocols?” Asked Angela.

 He almost answered ‘yes’ out of instinct. There was little point in continuing now, he only had three tier four agents at his disposal, even if he were to miraculously succeed in defeating Gebura, the facility wouldn’t be able to maintain functionality afterwards. 

  'The will to stand up straight.'

 But he decided to go against his better judgement. No longer shall he bend under ‘would’, he’ll simply take a step forward, no matter the cost, no matter the struggle.

 “Angela, override Chesed’s authority over Qliphoth deterrent systems.” In just a moment, on his screen appeared the management panel of all abnormality containment units.

 A dozen orders were handed out to agents and clerks in less than five seconds. He needed to ensure the survival of all remaining employees, even if it would be nearly impossible due to the gamble he’s about to pull off.

 Schadenfreude was released just as Gebura came into its hallway. The abnormality was promptly dismantled like a cheap toy.

 Firebird followed suit, it released a single radiant charge before flying away into a different hall. The fixer appeared noticeably weakened after the attack.

 Abnormalities were systematically released into her path as she attempted to reach the remaining employees who had all dispersed across the facility. Every single one of them were torn to shreds, yet even The Red Mist could not hope to outlast undying concepts.

 By the end there remained a single clerk and a dozen breaching abnormalities. Qliphoth deterrences were raised to maximum power the moment Gebura's E.G.O dispersed, putting the abnormalities back into their chambers.

 Ayin released a sigh of relief. That was the most intensive suppression he’s completed in a long time.

 “Angela, initiate TT2 protocols.” A pyrrhic victory, they didn’t have enough remaining personnel to continue to the next day. Nevertheless, it was a victory, even if it was a largely pointless one.

 “Yes manager.”

 A familiar hum, a familiar reset. Another thirty days to get through, another thirty spoons of sugar.

 A vice, a sip, a hum. He felt better already.

 Angela remained silent aside from the occasional sip, he noticed the signs of hesitation in her body language.

 “Anything you wish to share?” He prompted.

 “...Have you considered my earlier suggestion?” 

 The thought of her words alone made a surge of anger flow through his mind.

 In fact, he had not considered it in the slightest, for there was nothing to consider. There was no weighing of advantages and disadvantages, leaving Angela to be the sole director was completely out of the question.

 He took a moment to calm himself, taking a sip of tea. The fact the idea arose at all was his fault, proof of his fragility.

 “Dismiss the idea. I’m staying until the end.”

 Signs of distress. She clearly wasn’t happy about his answer.

 “Why are you so insistent on the idea?” He questioned.

 Angela was silent for a long while. He waited patiently, she deserved at least that much for all she had to endure.

 “I fear what would happen should you—” The A.I appeared to be struggling to find the proper word.

 “Retreat inward?”

 She nodded. “—like you were doing so before.”

 “Yet I’m still sitting here. We’re moving forward.”

 A frown. How rare of her to be so expressive. 

  “Even still, I’m worried.”

 A shudder ran through him, it was the first time he’s heard emotion bleed into her voice. Such a momentous occasion, marred by the topic at hand. If only he had been stronger, perhaps this ‘first’ would’ve been a brighter memory.

 “Angela.” It felt strange to speak in his natural tone with nothing masking his emotions. But she’s opened her heart to him, he’d try his best to match it with whatever genuine he had left.

 “If I’m to ever spiral again, tell me. I’ll pick up my shattered mind and mend it anew. The greatest obstacle is always the first step, and I can take it as long as I know in which direction.”

 He patted her head, it felt far more natural than it did the first time. It felt like the right thing to do.

 “Don’t worry about me, the human mind is more resilient than you may think.”

 Angela relaxed into his grip as she always did. A single step forward, that’s all he had accomplished.

 The project won’t be completed for thousands of cycles more. 

 The Red Mist will still rampage across the facility, employees will still fall to horrors beyond their comprehension, the script will still repeat itself.

 But he will not hide, nor shall he falter. He will walk the path he has chosen.

 And perhaps, in a thousand years, he will be able to take another step forward.

 And another.

 And another.

 And another…

Chapter Text

 Something about the current loop was off, Benjamin could feel it at his very core.

He couldn’t quite place his finger on why he felt that way. The facility was exactly the same, the employees followed orders as usual, the sephirot continued to repeat their individual lines. Even the abnormalities remained tame, keeping to their usual behavioural patterns—which was perhaps the most notable thing about the loop so far.

 But something definitely was different, especially when it came to their little trio. Angela and Ayin acted exactly as they have for the last godknowshowmany years, but there was a certain weight to their interactions now, something that didn’t exist before. 

 Most would’ve considered such a thing to be not at all worth worrying about, but Benjamin still found himself trying to decipher what had changed. 

 All three of them were timeless beings by this point and any change that occurred did so over the course of years, and due to the nature of the script every little change brought along with it great consequences upon the facility at large.

 Benjamin considered himself an emotionally intelligent person, especially when it came to his two companions. Yet he still found himself stumped.

 There truly was nothing different about Angela and Ayin.

 So he was content to let it go. He was probably just going senile—it was about time—and had imagined a change that didn't happen.

 “Check.” Benjamin said, Ayin blocked it by pushing a pawn. How many times had they played this sequence of moves? Repeating the same opening over millions of games, each checkmate making an inch of progress as Ayin explored practically every plausible move.

 If he remembered correctly, that was the last explored turn, meaning Ayin would likely make a blunder soon enough.

 That wasn’t at all the case.

 Ayin played excellently, avoiding traps and pressuring his position as they neared the end game.

 Benjamin found himself put on the backfoot several times, once almost blundering a forced checkmate. It was the most intense match he's ever played against Ayin, his mentor suddenly gaining the skill to match a grandmaster. 

 He found himself having fun for the first time in a long time, being challenged like this.

 It unfortunately didn't last. Ayin made a mistake, losing his queen to a fork in three moves, though he didn't appear to have noticed it yet. Collapse soon followed, Ayin’s position unable to hold against the thunderous advance of pawns without a queen to support it.

 “Checkmate.” He decidedly ignored the groan that came from his mentor, he almost announced the loss counter out of habit before deciding against it; a good performance should be rewarded.

 He must’ve made a breakthrough of some sort considering how much he’s improved in such a short time. Benjamin hoped that all of their future games will be as intense as this one, it would certainly make things more interesting.

 Something was definitely off. He first thought that Ayin had simply become a better player, perhaps having come to a revelation of some sort about chess. 

 Such notions were disproven by the fact that Ayin continued to repeat his moves, only pivoting at the very end as usual. Nothing had really changed, their opening had simply become longer.

 Nothing about the situation added up. 

 Ayin clearly hadn’t improved, he wasn’t the type to cheat and Benjamin highly doubted it was something as dubious as luck that allowed him to perform so well on their first game.

 The extension of the opening could only mean one thing: Ayin practised, furthering the number of scripted moves. Yet the only one Ayin could’ve practised with was Benjamin himself and that obviously wasn’t the case, he would’ve remembered the thousands of matches they’d have played to make so much progress.

 It wasn’t just the games of chess either. He noticed a few other small inconsistencies, notably in the methods through which the facility was managed. 

 It seemed like over the course of a single loop a dozen changes were introduced. Unleashing the abnormalities to deal with The Red Mist, new suppression protocols for nearly all ordeals, Qliphoth deterrence systems fine tuned to further maximize enkephalin production.

 The methods of the facility constantly changed, it’s how they made progress. Yet such radical upgrades being made in the span of a single loop was unheard of, all the stranger was the fact neither Ayin nor Angela had bothered to mention it.

 It was almost as if—

 ‘TT2 Protocols activated.’

 Well, it seems like he’ll have to bring it up with Ayin later, he needed to make sure none of the systems malfunctioned.

 Something about the current loop was off, Benjamin could feel it at his very core.

He couldn’t quite place his finger on why he felt that way. The facility was exactly the same, the employees followed orders as usual, the sephirot continued to repeat their individual lines. Even the abnormalities remained tame, keeping to their usual behavioral patterns—which was perhaps the most notable thing about the loop so far.

 But something definitely was different, especially when it came to their little trio. Angela and Ayin acted exactly as they have for the last godknowshowmany years, but there was a certain weight to their interactions now, something that didn’t exist before. 

 Most would’ve considered such a thing to be not at all worth worrying about, but Benjamin still found himself trying to decipher what had changed. 

 All three of them were timeless beings by this point and any change that occurred did so over the course of years, and due to the nature of the script every little change brought along with it great consequences upon the facility at large.

 Benjamin considered himself an emotionally intelligent person, especially when it came to his two companions. Yet he still found himself stumped.

 There truly was nothing different about Angela and Ayin.

 So he was content to let it go. He was probably just going senile—it was about time—and had imagined a change that didn't happen.

 “Check.” Benjamin said, Ayin blocked it by pushing a pawn. How many times had they played this sequence of moves? Repeating the same opening over millions of games, each checkmate making an inch of progress as Ayin explored practically every plausible move.

 If he remembered correctly, that was the last explored turn, meaning Ayin would likely make a blunder soon enough.

 That wasn’t at all the case.

 Ayin played excellently, avoiding traps and pressuring his position as they neared the end game.

 Benjamin found himself put on the backfoot several times, once almost blundering a forced checkmate. It was the most intense match he's ever played against Ayin, his mentor suddenly gaining the skill to match a grandmaster. 

 He found himself having fun for the first time in a long time, being challenged like this.

 It unfortunately didn't last. Ayin made a mistake, missing a black bishop on the diagonal forcing his king away from its pawns, allowing Benjamin's to promote first. The game didn't last long after that.

 “Checkmate.” He decidedly ignored the groan that came from his mentor, he almost announced the loss counter out of habit before deciding against it; a good performance should be rewarded.

 He must’ve made a breakthrough of some sort considering how much he’s improved in such a short time. Benjamin hoped that all of their future games will be as intense as this one, it would certainly make things more interesting.

 It still felt as though something was off. He thought Ayin had simply become a better player, perhaps having come to a revelation of some sort about chess. 

 Such notions were disproven by the fact that Ayin continued to repeat his moves, only pivoting at the very end as usual. Nothing had really changed, their opening had simply become longer.

 He felt a tugging sensation at the back of his mind that something wasn’t quite adding up.

 Ayin clearly hadn’t improved, he wasn’t the type to cheat and Benjamin highly doubted it was something as dubious as luck that allowed him to perform so well on their first game.

 The extension of the opening could only mean one thing: Ayin practised, furthering the number of scripted moves. Yet the only one Ayin could’ve practised with was Benjamin himself and that obviously wasn’t the case, he would’ve remembered the thousands of matches they’d have played to make so much progress.

  Another point of suspicion was the method in which the facility was managed. 

 It seemed like over the course of a single loop a dozen changes were introduced. Unleashing the abnormalities to deal with The Red Mist, new suppression protocols for nearly all ordeals, Qliphoth deterrence systems fine tuned to further maximize enkephalin production.

 The methods of the facility constantly changed, it’s how they made progress. Yet such radical upgrades being made in the span of a single loop was unheard of. Ayin had mentioned it was because of a brainstorming session he had with Angela. 

 But it felt a little too… practised . All training manuals and system programming were already updated to account for the new protocols and the suppression of The Red Mist using the new method went by without a hitch, very strange considering the risky nature of the plan.

 It was all very suspicious; he’ll have to keep an eye out.

 Something about the current loop was off, Benjamin could feel it at his very core.

He couldn’t quite place his finger on why he felt that way. The facility was exactly the same, the employees followed orders as usual, the sephirot continued to repeat their individual lines. Even the abnormalities remained tame, keeping to their usual behavioural patterns—which was perhaps the most notable thing about the loop so far.

 But something definitely was different, especially when it came to their little trio. Angela and Ayin acted exactly as they have for the last godknowshowmany years, but there was a certain weight to their interactions now, something that didn’t exist before. 

 Most would’ve considered such a thing to be not at all worth worrying about, but Benjamin still found himself trying to decipher what had changed. 

 All three of them were timeless beings by this point and any change that occurred did so over the course of years, and due to the nature of the script every little change brought along with it great consequences upon the facility at large.

 Benjamin considered himself an emotionally intelligent person, especially when it came to his two companions. Yet he still found himself stumped.

 There truly was nothing different about Angela and Ayin.

 So he was content to let it go. He was probably just going senile—it was about time—and had imagined a change that didn't happen.

 “Check.” Benjamin said, Ayin blocked it by pushing a pawn. How many times had they played this sequence of moves? Repeating the same opening over millions of games, each checkmate making an inch of progress as Ayin explored practically every plausible move.

 If he remembered correctly, that was the last explored turn, meaning Ayin would likely make a blunder soon enough.

 That wasn’t at all the case.

 Ayin played excellently, avoiding traps and pressuring his position as they neared the end game.

 Benjamin found himself put on the backfoot several times, once almost blundering a forced checkmate. It was the most intense match he's ever played against Ayin, his mentor suddenly gaining the skill to match a grandmaster. 

 He found himself having fun for the first time in a long time, being challenged like this.

 It unfortunately didn't last. Ayin made a mistake, moving the wrong pawn and allowing Benjamin to weaken his king. In nine moves Ayin was forced into a ladder mate.

 “Checkmate.” He decidedly ignored the groan that came from his mentor, he almost announced the loss counter out of habit before deciding against it; a good performance should be rewarded.

 He must’ve made a breakthrough of some sort considering how much he’s improved in such a short time. Benjamin hoped that all of their future games will be as intense as this one, it would certainly make things more interesting.

 Benjamin pushed the strange feeling of something being off to the back of his mind.

 Ayin called upon him and Angela to have a brainstorming session, the first one they’ve had in a long long time. 

 There were plenty of ideas being thrown around; suppressing The Red Mist using abnormalities, updating Qliphoth deterrent systems, and making changes to combat protocols. It felt like they made more progress in that single meeting than they did for the last thousand loops.

 In hindsight, he contributed very little to the conversation with most ideas coming from his mentor while Angela made the changes happen in real time. Benjamin didn’t really mind, the more progress they were making the better, he didn’t need to be fully present every little moment.

 It felt good to have the three of them together like this, moving forward. He was sure of it, as long as they were together, they could overcome anything the world had to throw at them.

 Something about the current loop was off, Benjamin could feel it at his very core—

Chapter Text

 Most things in the facility seem to come in threes or fours. 

 There are four work types, four Asiyah Sephirot, four abnormalities per department, four ordeals per day.

 There are three layers, three Rabbit squads, three Briah departments, three birds of the dark forest.

 Four, three. 

 There were once four humans who held memory retention, the tick of the clock has brought it down to three. 

 “The suppression of the Welfare department has been completed. Excellent work manager.” Announced Angela. That means all three Briah suppression have been completed, the time has come to open Aziluth.

 “Angela, open the extraction department.” Ayin said. Angela raised her eyebrows in response, questioning his sudden decision to not begin with record.

 “I’ve already adapted the script to prevent Benjamin from being suspicious, there is no need to worry…the time has come for me to face the fourth.” She still appeared confused, but nodded nevertheless. 

 The fourth person to remember, the one who had truly set him down this bloody path. 

 Someone who he found himself unable to hate, no matter how hard he tried. 

 Someone who he found himself pitying, no matter how hard he tried not to.

 Chesed walked into his office as always, having found the courage to oppose him; loyalty to his ideals and employees relit through a trial of fire.

 “As it turns out manager—” Ayin was even less present in the conversation than usual, already mentally preparing himself for the day ahead.

 There would be no second attempts with her.

 The extraction department revealed itself with the elevator’s descent. Hundreds if not thousands of pillars rose from the ground, some almost touching the ceiling that stood nearly a hundred meters high. 

 The pillars were absolute prisons that allowed nothing to enter or leave, meant to lock away the cogito-injected horrors within as they slowly formed into abnormalities. Nothing can leave its confines, yet he still heard phantoms, screaming out in eternal agony as their minds were forcefully collapsed through the power of their, his, singularity.

 The department was almost pitch dark, with the only source of light being a luminescent yellow glow inscribed into each pillar. There was no need to see here, every employee was intentionally blinded for the sake of maintaining their sanity and the only one who saw had no need for light.

 This was the gateway of hell, the first and last line that held against the horrors of the river.          

 This was the well, where only those sufficiently mad or blind may enter, and perhaps return should luck be on their side.

 His office was the forestage, Asiyah and Briah the front, Aziluth the back.

 The records department was a land of dreams, where thousands remained in their eternal slumber. It was the Green Room, where the actors prepared to play their part so the script may be completed.

 The extraction department was a nightmare pulled up from the deepest pit of his pitch black heart; it was where humanity was slaved away so the theater may be built in the first place.

 Every employee here had nothing left within. Emptied of their souls, emptied of anything that could break.

 Every employee except one. 

 The sentinel of Lobotomy corporation, gazing into the well and pulling up the bucket from within. Drop by drop, bucket by bucket, she had watered a single seedling into a boreal forest that now satiated the city’s boundless hunger. 

 With her own two hands, she had made a wing.

 Truly, she was both the greatest blessing and the harshest punishment the world had bestowed upon him.

 Through the silence of hell, a ding was heard as the elevator reached its destination.

 She was already waiting for him, standing there with the slightest hint of a smile.

 For a single moment he was back at the laboratory, watching with bated breath as she killed Daniel, her face unchanging as she stared at the camera with the slightest hint of a smile. He remembered clearly even now.

 Ayin gazed down upon the figure, hunched against a wall as the wound made by Mimicry slowly bled, forming into a crimson pool that stretched far enough to touch his feet. Kali laid just a few meters away, her arm torn and heart unbeating. 

 All that remained of The Red Mist was a corpse, lying among an army of victims she had taken with her in an attempt at defending what was already lost. 

 All that remained was her, still attempting to survive with whatever singularity the head had imbued her with, locking up her wounds as her chest slowly rose and fell. 

 He did not allow himself to offer Kali even a moment of grief, not yet. 

 Fate had forced his hand, there was but one option remaining.

 Staring into the blank eyes of the arbiter, he stretched out his hand.

 He did not check if anyone else survived, he did not check if Benjamin was mentally stable.

 At this moment, the only thing that mattered to him was her survival.

 His eyes unclouded, his vision clear of obstacle, he saw the future, and the one who would build it.

 With a gaze that stretched far beyond his mind or heart, he saw the script that’ll make her dream come true.

 She was just as he remembered. A uniform of black with lines of auburn and gold, a lone earring replacing the ten that once adorned her fingers. 

 He spent a moment staring at the mole upon her cheek, attempting to justify his avoidance of her gaze for as long as possible.

 “You’ve returned.” She finally spoke.

 “So, did you have fun with your little journey while I was locked up here?” Her voice revealed nothing. It was unlike the deadpan voice of Angela, the words were spoken in rhythm, yet still hid the emotion beneath.

 “Not particularly.” He curtly replied, not a single imperfection in his calm tone. 

 Neither side was willing to give an inch on their true thoughts.

 “‘O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, for I am certain you will never leave me.’ It’s difficult to perceive the flow of time here, perhaps that is what saved my collapsing soul.”

 Her smile widened slightly, forming a smirk. “I wonder if the same applies to you?”

 Ayin would’ve flinched at the sight, had he not been preparing for this moment for over two millennia.

 “Who would I be to say? One’s eye never faces inward, it only ever sees what’s in front of it.” He pauses for a moment before continuing.

 “‘Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert’.” He recounts.

 “I see that you’ve weathered the storm well on the surface, yet I also see that little remains of the being who once was.” Ayin was playing with fire, speaking such words to someone capable of killing him with merely the snap of her fingers. Even if TT2 would prevent him from truly dying, it would still force him to end an excellent loop.

 “And I see that you have changed little, gazing upon an illusion that will never be.” Her smirk was long gone now, her words taking on a biting edge.

 “Yet here I still stand, back unbending, mind unfractured. I wonder if the same applies to you?” He throws her earlier words back at her.

 She does not comment, instead gazing behind him.

 “You have not brought the one above? To come without security, how foolish, when you face the prisoner you’ve tortured for three millennia.”

 The moment of reckoning, the gambit he had made.

 “There is little reason to bring security when facing one such as you. Emptied of your humanity, I know not a drop of anger remains.”

 She tilted her head in questioning. “Now how would you know that?”

 “Because standing here, I bear none towards you.” It was silent after that, the two of them staring at one another as the seconds ticked by.

 Ayin was the one to break eye contact. “You are now allowed to wander the facility upon the completion of the workday so long as no disruption to the script is made.”

 He barely saw the narrowing of her eyes as he turned to leave without another word. 

 A small ding when the elevator door closed. Garion now unseen and unheard, he let out a sigh of relief.

 In his head, words left unsaid rang out.

 ‘Garion. You believe yourself to stand above me, still gazing down. Perhaps that’s true, yet you remain blinder than I who prowl through the mud.’

 It appears his gambit was successful, considering he was still alive.

 He needed a cup of tea.

Chapter Text

 As Ayin had expected, he and Garion didn’t speak again for a long time. Though there was no true anger between the two of them, he had no doubt resentment still existed to some extent, buried deep under time, making it difficult to initiate interactions.

 Garion thankfully kept to the rules he had set, not disturbing the script and continuing to carry out her duties in the extraction department. It was the expected outcome of the freedom he had allowed her, yet it still felt strange to watch the Arbiter silently wander the facility after work hours, avoiding the other Sephirot while staring into nothing every now and then.

 Some employees attempted to speak with her. Most were ignored, the few who weren’t usually scurried off after just a few minutes of talking to her. Agents who no longer flinched at the breach of an ALEPH ran from Garion as though they had met death itself.

 He didn’t blame them. It wasn’t cowardice, simply the self preservation instincts ingrained in all humans at work.

 He would’ve been content with letting her be were he not on a self imposed clock. The facility needed to move forward, the script needed to be completed, Garion needed to play her part. 

 That's the justification he made for himself as he approached the person in question in the welfare department. 

 Locating her was easy, she had a set path she followed each day, carefully planned so as to avoid the sephirot. Every single loop she retraced the steps of the previous one, step for step, second for second. 

 She stopped at the exact same moments to stare at the exact same spots, speaking to the same employees with the same words.

 Every. single. time. 

 Had he not known better, he’d have thought her memories were getting reset by TT2.

 “What are you doing?” He asked. Garion was staring into an abnormality containment unit, the one she stares into on the thirty eight day two hours and seven minutes after the workday is completed.

 A glance over her shoulders revealed Judgement Bird within.

 “Concepts of humanity, pulled up from our collective consciousness. That’s what the abnormalities are.” She began to speak, in a slow formal tone that made her sound far older than her appearance would suggest.

 He did his best to ignore the underlying edge behind the words, carrying with it an unspoken threat that would not be acted upon. A reminder of her power as an Arbiter, however restricted it may be by the measures he had put in place so long ago.

 “Contained within these halls is a microcosm of our world. Humanity in its purest form, forcefully removed from their hosts and exploited for a goal that sits far beyond the horizon.” A smile that had scared off many of his agents spread across her face just for a moment. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

 “For us, humanity is a tool to be created, used and disposed of at will. Yet among them exist ones that have emerged on their own, concepts too powerful to not exist. An artesian spring that has no need for a bucket or a well.”

 Ayin suddenly understood the point of her long winded speech. Concepts too powerful to not exist, those that naturally manifested with no influence from their singularity. 

 He could count such manifestations on one hand, one of them currently contained in front of him. The three of them represented…

 Narrowed eyes, furrowed brows. “What are you trying to say?” 

 It was a rhetorical question, they both knew what she meant.

 Garion turns to leave. “Who knows?～ ‘One’s eye never faces inward, it only ever sees what’s in front of it’.”

 Ayin let out a sigh of exasperation the moment she was out of sight. After just two conversations, he was beginning to tire of her words and the roundabout manner in which they were delivered, even if he was somewhat enabling it.

 He got the feeling he’d have to get used to it soon enough, the script demanded it.

 Garion felt a tinge of annoyance when her day was interrupted for the second time. It was a reminder of those who attempted to change something, of those below who clawed at an insurmountable wall till their last breath in an attempt at breaking a cycle.

 It was futile, all of them. 

 Sitting across the hallway was the copy of Carmen, fixing a terminal that had the stain she stared at this day. Its hands moved with unnatural grace, no doubt practiced from the millions of times it’s done it before.

 She decided she’d wait for it to finish; it likely wouldn’t take long due to the sheer efficiency with which it worked. The copy certainly knew of her presence but made no attempt at speaking to her.

 Garion observed silently, making note of every little bit of the copy’s appearance. From her light blue hair to her closed eyes, all of it was imprinted into her memory, to be remembered and forgotten at a later date.

 So this is what her companion in hell once looked like, quite different from the image she had in her head. She had expected the opposite of Ayin, an idealist and a weakling, incapable of bearing the weight of existence. 

 Instead it was a distorted mirror of him. So similar, yet so different. How strange indeed.

 It got up after a minute of tinkering, carefully dusting off her lab coat as though it was dirtied somehow, which it clearly wasn’t. It turned to her before bowing.

 “Excuse me for the wait, Miss Garion.” It spoke with an even tone, yet the undercurrent below couldn’t escape the ears of an arbiter. 

 A search for meaning? An unearthed desire to live? A yearning for love?

 Perhaps she heard all of it, perhaps she heard some, perhaps he heard none. Garion couldn’t tell, her senses dulled by the millennia.

 She finally spoke just as it was about the leave.

 “Tell me, who do you think Carmen was?” 

 She received another question in return. “...Who is Carmen?”

 Emotions surfaced. Garion’s eyes widened, just for a moment, before settling into a small grin, how amusing～.

 “I see…tell me then, who do you think Ayin is?” There was a lull, it probably didn’t know the answer itself.

 “He’s my creator, the manager of this facility, and the project at large.”

 Garion prodded further “And…?”

 “That is his self-designated role, there’s nothing more to mention.”

  She couldn’t hide her disappointment at the answer. She had hoped to gain a glimpse into his mind through a being that resembled him so closely, but no such luck. It seemed that its close eyes were more than just a choice of appearance, it truly was blind to the world around it.

 She didn’t dignify it with further conversation, instead turning to complete her routine for the day. It also left soon afterwards.

 The stain in a hallway of Central command that appeared on day thirty-eight every loop without fail. She made time to observe it every single time, in the hopes of one day grasping the strange imagery that prods the back of her mind when she gazes upon it.

 It vaguely resembles the figure of a female human, arms crossed low with the hexagonal lines of the floor running below it. Were she to stop gazing so intently, she’d see a figure of gold and black with ten rings adorning their fingers.

 They spoke far too much, no matter the situation at hand. A mark of their youth, an arrogance she herself once held in her power as an arbiter.

 A blink, and it was gone. All that remained was a stain on the ground.

 She’ll come back a reset later, and perhaps see the figure once again.

 And again.

 And again.

 And perhaps, one day, she’ll be able to remember the face of Zena.

Chapter Text

 It was a sunny day like any other, the two of them basking in the light as they laid among a thousand flowers that lit up their surroundings almost as much as she lit up his life.

 Carmen was silent today, not speaking a word as she stared at the blue sky above. 

 The silence wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary, sometimes they’d simply lie here and let the hours pass them by without a care in the world. He never knew what she thought during these periods, but he hoped they were bright.

 “...”

 Alas, it appeared as though today wasn’t one of total silence.

 “I have something I should confess…I’m much weaker than everyone seems to think I am.” Ayin turned on his side to stare at Carmen, giving her words his full attention.

 “I always say things like ‘Count on me!’ but…never do I truly know what I should be doing. Even if I do, I’m often too weak to go through with it, and if anyone were to get hurt because of me, I know I’d hate myself.” She continued to gaze upon the sky as she spoke those words. Very rarely does Carmen allow herself to be so vulnerable, it was perhaps only the third or fourth time he’s heard her voice so weak.

 “That’s why I need to ask you for a favor.” She also turned on her side to stare back at him. He’d probably have made note of how close they were if the current topic of conversation wasn’t so serious.

 “No matter what I may become, please finish what I started. I’m weak, like everyone else, but…I know you’ll endure through it.” Ayin’s eyes slightly widened at the praise…and the implication.

 “There is only one way forward.” She held out her pinky. It was a childish gesture, but it somehow felt fitting coming from her.

 He took it. “...I promise. No matter what, I’ll see it through to the very end.”

 “CARMEN, CARMEN ANSWER ME!” He only heard the sound of running water and shallow breathing. No voice was heard beyond the door.

 Kicking and hitting bore no fruit. Thinking quickly, he drew the pistol on his waist and fired at the lock.

 The door creaked open and…

 Carmen laid in a bath, the now crimson water beginning to overflow. He quickly dragged her out, her wrist was cut open in a dozen different places, all bleeding quickly. 

 He made note of his quickening breath.

 He made note of the tears beginning to flow from his eyes.

 He made note of the fact that she was still alive.

 Anything, anything that could distract his mind from the question resounding throughout his being.

  ‘Why?’ 

 Of course he knew why, he’s known for a long time. He simply didn’t wish to see it.

 A broken whisper he heard over the sound of water. 

"...I...

      ...I want...

            ...to live..."

  ‘I’m often too weak to go through with it—’

 ‘No matter what I may become, please finish what I started—’

 ‘I promise—’

 “...!” The K Corp serum! They had a single dose in case of emergency. He could use it to…

 ‘I promise—’

 She’ll be fine, he could speak with her after it was all over. She’ll be fine.

 ‘I promise—’

 The project clearly wasn’t working out, no one would truly blame Carmen. It simply wasn’t feasible in the first place.

 ‘I promise—’

 They could sell their current research, then she and he could—

 ‘I PrOmisE—’

 “Ayin! You need rest, it’s not okay to keep going like this!” Benjamin yelled out in worry and anger. Ayin made note of the fact that it was one of the few times he’s heard Benjamin truly enraged.

 “Benjamin, hand me the tablet.” He replied, referring to the one lying on a table among hundreds of notes and observations.

 His assistant ignored his request. “Listen to me! I know things have been difficult but you can’t just cut us all off like this and bury yourself in work. Kali’s trying her best to hold everyone together, but she’s barely staying composed as is.”

 He placed a hand upon Ayin’s shoulder. His mentor pushed it away as he went to grab the tablet himself.

 Benjamin’s voice softened, almost sounding broken. “...Please. At least allow yourself to grieve.”

 A hundred emotions raged within his heart, he allowed not a single one to surface. 

 “I have nothing to grieve for.” 

 His voice wasn’t emotional, yet it wasn’t dead. It was simply neutral, uncaring, as though what he had just said was an obvious statement of fact.

 He ignored the expression of rage that crossed Benjamin’s face. He had work to do.

 He ignored how his friend loudly slammed the door as he left. He had work to do.

 He ignored the hole he felt in his chest. He had work to do.

 Ayin probed through the Arbiter’s brain, recording every last bit of information stored within. Secrets of the head, kept hidden for centuries unearthed as he looked through the memories of the first arbiter to have fallen in battle for a long time, perhaps ever.

 “...Benjamin, hand me the tablet.”

 “...”

 “...”

 Benjamin finally spoke. “Kali’s corpse is right outside these doors.”

 Ayin went to grab the tablet himself instead.

 “Daniel is still lying across the hallway covered in his own blood.”

 He noted down an observation, a clear blindspot in the gaze of Beholders.

 “Everyone who believed in the project, our dear friends who stood with us all this time died mere moments ago.”

 It could be used to avoid the head, they could be the first to oppose them.

 “... Will…will you still not allow yourself to grieve?” Ayin made note of the fact that his assistant was crying. It seemed he wouldn’t be of use today.

 “I have nothing to grieve for.”

 His voice wasn’t emotional, yet it wasn’t dead. It was simply neutral, uncaring, as though what he had just said was an obvious statement of fact. He didn’t even turn around to look at his assistant as he said it.

 Something hit the back of his head. It was Benjamin’s I.D.

  “I resign!” He stormed out a moment later.

 He ignored how quiet it was to be all alone. He had work to do.

 He ignored the thousands of emotions raging throughout his being. He had work to do.

 He ignored the irrational grief that had settled into his heart long ago. He had work to do.

 He needed to maintain rationality at all times.

 The project needed to be completed.

.

.

.

.

.

 The theory of cogito was completed, the scientists have done their job.

 The arbiter was subdued, the head could now be dealt with, the fixer has done her job.

 He could continue on by himself, his assistant wasn’t needed.

 Through his eyes that saw the long path ahead, with not a single thing obscuring his sight, he had rationally come to the conclusion that there was no need for grief. 

 Thus, there was nothing to grieve for.

 Ayin opened his eyes, he had fallen asleep on his desk once again.

 He buried his face into the pillow that had found itself beneath his head, no doubt courtesy of the A.I that stood just a few meters away. 

 He and Garion had settled into an unsteady ritual. She’d complete her routine each and every day, he’d occasionally approach her in an attempt to break the ice between them.

 She took every opportunity to get in under his skin, her being of the few who knew of his past putting her in a uniquely powerful position to do so. Her words cut deep; with each roundabout speech she unearthed memories from long ago, buried under the eternal passage of time.

 He had been mostly ignoring it, though it appeared his subconscious hadn't. It’s been a long time since he’s… 

 He made note of the silent concern Angela displayed, it was quite rare for his thoughts to spiral this badly. 

 He should try to be more rational.

 “...”

 “...”

 He silently stared at Angela, detailing within his mind every strand of hair, every wrinkle of cloth. Truly, she had ruined everything, destroying what little rationality he had remaining ever since that day.

 If only he had the rationality to abandon Angela, as he had abandoned Carmen. 

 If only he had the rationality to carry out his plan to the fullest.

 He made no note of the hatred that flooded his heart at the thought.

 Water boiled and steam rose across his face as he shoveled sugar into two cups. He didn’t know when he had left to brew tea, he supposed it didn’t really matter.

 Angela was still standing in her spot when he returned, she took a seat as he placed a cup for each of them. His body relaxed at the familiar sensation and the rhythmic sound of sipping, even if his mind failed to follow suit.

 Angela’s voice rang out as he got up to leave the office. “Manager?”

 It seemed like she was still worried about him. It only served to make him feel worse.

 “Don’t worry about me, I need to do something in the extraction department.” He assured her, she nodded a few seconds later.

 He needed to see an old friend. It was about time.

Chapter Text

 Cut, pull, rinse, repeat. With each careful movement he separated a single nerve from flesh, extracting Carmen’s consciousness from her body, bit by bit. A temporary implant stabilized his hand, preventing him from accidently cutting a nerve—or worse—damaging the brain.

 The implant wasn’t workshop-made, he improvised it himself using whatever was left at the old lab. He simply didn’t have the funds to run a fully automated surgery, the attack by the head left him with nary an ahn to his name.

 But that mattered little. There was only one path forward, and he would walk it to the very end, just as he had promised her. Something as trivial as money wouldn’t stop them. 

 Tech could be improvised, meals could be skipped, illnesses could be ignored. The moment he extracted the first dose of enkephalin, all material obstacles will be overcome. R Corp would bend the knee soon enough, all he needed was proof the technology was real.

 Cut, pull, rinse, repeat. The scalpel moved with perfect precision, allowing not a single drop of blood to hit the floor, cutting not a single tendon along the way. 

 It was clean, extremely so. He had not a single stain upon his body. It was far cleaner than what they did to Enoch .

 For the first few hours of the surgery, it would’ve been impossible to tell whether Carmen was being worked upon at all, yet such illusions wouldn’t last forever. Slowly, like vines creeping up her body, cuts appeared across her skin.

 From her legs and arms up it went, to her waist, her chest, then finally her neck. By the time he had reached the skull and the spine, Carmen’s body was nothing more than an unrecognizable pile of flesh placed into a disposal bin.

 After a two day surgery, Carmen floated in a tank, still alive, likely still lucid. Not a single drop of blood stained him yet. 

 Despite his exhaustion, he found himself leaning against the tank rather than going to bed. He poured two glasses, something he found in Giovanni’s old stock. One for himself, the other for his last and only companion.

 “We did it Carmen. Cogito is real, you were right all along…” Already he saw the unit begin to collect Cogito, the fruits of their labor, finally blossoming after all these years.

 “...”

 There was no answer, of course there wasn’t. He toasted with Carmen before finishing his glass in a single breadth, to celebrate the future that will be.

 “...”

 “Will you not drink?”

 “...”

 “I suppose you never did like alcohol, unlike me. You and Benjamin would always berate me and Giovanni about it, it’s one of the few things we found something in common.”

 “...”

 He took the glass he poured for Carmen and finished it in a single breadth. Perhaps another him would’ve drank in place of the tears that never fell, to mourn those whom had fallen. That would’ve been a less rational Ayin, for he truly had nothing to grieve for.

 Grief was not a requirement, their presence not a necessity.

 He who will write the project, she who will build it.

 They alone shall see Carmen’s dream completed.

 Three thousand years. That’s how long it’s been since he’s seen Carmen, when he ran a scan on her neural structure to create Angela.

 He still remembered every little detail that went into her extraction; every cut, every nerve, every bit of flesh he violated in the name of their dream. He had denied it at the time, believing that he was simply following her wishes; but his sins run too deep to be denied forever.

 His thoughts were disturbed by a familiar voice. “You have built the courage to face her again, I see.”

 “Garion.” He nodded curtly in greeting. She stopped beside him, looking upon the Singularity of L Corp. It was silent for a while after that, the two of them staring at their shared companion in hell.

 “...”

 Garion spoke. “It would be a shame to come all this way just to not have a proper meeting, no? Come.” He followed suit without question.

 On the other side of the containment tank were two chairs and a simple table, a water boiler and a tea set lay in the corner of the room. He didn’t comment on the breach of protocol, it served him just fine for the moment.

 He took a seat as Garion went on to prepare tea. Despite his best efforts, Ayin found himself staring at the neural system of Carmen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bear to look away.

 A storm brewed within his heart, as it always does whenever he came here. How much had he repressed? Locked away in the deepest parts of his consciousness.

 A cup was set down in front of him. He could tell from the color alone that it was going to taste dreadful. A sip proved his suspicion.

  ‘It’s not really about the taste, it’s the sensation. You should try—’

 ‘It’s always fun observing your body language—’

 ‘You shoulders loosen whenever you’re enjoying something—’

 It didn’t really matter, he supposed. It was never about the taste in the first place.

 It was always about the memory. One of the few he clung onto, even as it was slowly buried under his sins.

  sip, 

 sip, 

 sip.

 His and Garion’s sips weren’t synchronised in the slightest, unlike him and Angela. The lack of rhythm made it much harder to relax than it usually was.

 He got the distinct impression the Arbiter was doing it on purpose, it seemed like her only purpose for existing these days was to make him feel uncomfortable.

 He finally spoke. “Do you stay here often?” Garion’s presence technically wasn’t needed here in this room, her duty was with the injection and observation of cogito, not the bucket through which it was made.

 She hummed in thought for a moment as she held the steaming cup under her chin. 

 “Who is to say? The passage of time means little here, all I know is I’m here nearly as often as I’m not.” A lot then.

 “...”

 She continued to speak after a moment. “When everything becomes too burdening, I quietly stare at her. It feels like she and I are the only ones to exist when I do so.”

 “...”

 “Sometimes, it feels like she’s speaking to me, even though all that’s left of her is an amalgamation of neurons.”

 A barely noticeable smirk formed on her face. “Tell me, did you come to see her?”

 “...Yes.”

 It widened, ever so slightly. “Ahh, yet you still haven’t seen her.”

 He frowned, prompting her to continue.

 “Ever since the day she died, you haven’t seen her once, have you? Making excuses for yourself, telling yourself that this is what she would’ve wanted, screaming within your mind that there’s nothing to grieve for when that lie eventually collapsed in on itself.”

 “ ‘I have nothing to grieve for’ was it?”

  Her eyes turned glossy, there was nothing hiding the cruelty in her smile now.

 “Even after all these years, not once have you faced reality, staring into an ideal horizon that never existed in the first place.”

 Something spilled onto his coat.

 Ah, it was tea; his hands were shaking, as they did when he extracted Carmen from her body. He slowly placed the cup onto the table before taking a deep breath.

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 He finally spoke. “We had a serum from K Corp…it could’ve saved Carmen; hell, it could’ve saved Enoch if we just had it on hand. He simply destabilized too quickly with too little forewarning, we couldn’t have known he’d die within the ten seconds it’d take to bring the syringe that lay on the other side of the laboratory.”

“All those years ago, when I opened the second door, I found her bleeding out in a bath—” Bitterness bled into his voice despite his best efforts. “—I had the chance to save her.”

 “No matter how severe it was, blood loss could’ve been easily dealt with by a single drop of the serum, and I had more than enough time to bring it. I chose not to, remembering the promise I made to her, that I’d complete the project, no matter what; no matter what may become of her.”

 Garion listened silently, seeming to take a great interest in his words.

 “The serum that failed to save so many of our colleagues in spite of its miraculous healing ability finally found its use, healing the one who had slaughtered us all. All in dedication to the project, I saved you over Carmen.”

 He smiled. It was a bitter thing, to lay it out so plainly.

 “For the project, it was the right choice. You were instrumental to the seed of light, perhaps even more so than I.”

 She made a sound that almost sounded like a scoff, only more muted. “So that's the justification you’ve come up with, ‘it was for the good of the project’. You could never change, forever running from reality.”

 ‘The rationality to maintain discretion.’

 He shook his head with confidence that contrasted with the meager resolve within his soul. “No, I’ll not claim to have no regrets; I’ll not claim that what I did was for the good or the wish of Carmen; I’ll not claim to be capable of making the same choice again. To make such a statement is to cling to a false rationality that rots one’s soul.”

 Garion narrowed her eyes at him, he didn’t miss the furrowing of her brows.

 “No, I accept what I have lost, I accept what I have done, I accept my inability to change it.”

  His hands were no longer shaking, he picked up his cup once again.

 “But I’ll not allow grief to drag me down, for nothing good will come from such an action. That, is my rationality.” He raised the cup below his chin, it was almost cold by now.

 “So at the end of it all, you still run?”

 ‘Please. At least allow yourself to grieve.’

 Ayin shook his head once again, now with a confidence that hid no weakness within.

 “No…I shall grieve. That’s the reason I came here, to grieve for all that I’ve lost to the world, to regret all I’ve destroyed with my own two hands. I shall grieve, then rise from this place to manage the facility once again, to keep walking the path I’ve chosen.”

 He took a sip. Truly, he despised the taste of bitter tea.

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 “How did you reach such a conclusion so suddenly?” Garion finally asked, in her usual tone that hid the undercurrent of emotions below.

 He let out a chuckle, it felt strange on his throat to make such a sound after so long. “There is nothing sudden about it, Benjamin’s been hammering it into my head for over three millennia.”

 It was silent once again, Garion couldn’t hide the thoughtful look that crossed her face.

 “You seem to believe ourselves incapable of change, when that is hardly the case. I’m not the man who dug through your brain, you’re not the woman who attacked the laboratory. We’re shadows of the past, cast into the present by the passage of time—similar, but hardly the same.”

 How strange it felt, to verbalize three thousand years of understanding. It felt as though all of it was worth something after all.

 Something dropped onto his coat. 

 Ah, it was a tear, as bitter as the tea in his hands.

 How liberating it felt, to finally grieve their deaths.

Chapter Text

 Garion still wasn’t sure what to think of Ayin’s now constant presence in her department. Once every couple of loops, he’d come at the dead of night to sit with them, to silently share a cup of tea, shed a few tears, and leave as though nothing had happened.

 It was irritating, to see the one who had so completely denied reality, the one who had run from his own tragedy, repeatedly come to face his grief then get up to begin the day anew. 

 It contradicted everything she knew of the man, the coward who was unable to meet her eyes as he simultaneously violated her body. She expected him to soon relapse into old habits, or to collapse under the weight of the grief he refused to bear back then.

 She waited patiently, for the day he breaks, to prove her correct—that neither of them were capable of true change.

 She waited.

 And she waited.

 With each cup emptied, with each tear that fell from his eyes, the less likely it seemed the day would arrive at all. He slowly shed the weight upon his back, bit by bit; coming back each time with eyes that seemed just a little clearer.

 She spoke sometimes, questioning his resilience and ripping open wounds from long ago. A comment about The Red Mist, a thinly veiled jab made at the coffee lover, a note on the futility of the project.

 He kept her waiting, still not showing a single moment of true weakness. His grief was always tamed, his tears always calculated, never once overwhelming him.

 It was…rational, as he had claimed.

 Even still, she waited, for there was nothing else to do. Her life ended long ago, when she made an acquaintance with death at the hands of The Red Mist. She had no tomorrow to look towards, for her fate was to end with the facility; when her use had been exhausted, she’ll be put out of commission, such is the fate of all arbiters, former or not.

 All that awaited her was to wait, to relish in the suffering of others as the end approached, a single step at a time. 

 So wait she will, relish she will. The day will come when he shatters, and she shall be there to observe, to revel. She’ll be patient. After all, the two of them had all the time in the world〜.

 Angela carefully observed the plant that rested upon the manager’s desk. There were undoubtedly better things to do, work in the facility never ends in spite of its repetition after all.

 She could be updating logs on abnormalities, making notes on the traits and mannerisms of employees, or simply figuring out what would best serve as dinner for the manager. But no, she instead found herself staring at a cactus.

 It was hardly pleasing to the eye, lumpy and uneven with spikes protruding from every bit of its body. Every bit of logic within her told Angela that it was a completely ordinary plant deserving nothing more than a second’s glance.

 That evidently wasn’t the case, as she clocked the total amount of time spent staring at over seventy nine hours, and quickly rising. 

 Searching general information handbook.

 The cactus is a thick, upright plant shaped by its need to survive in dry, harsh environments, notably the outskirts. Its surface is ridged like folded fabric, allowing it to expand when it absorbs water and contract when the soil is dry. Its skin is coated in a waxy layer that gives it a dull, gray-green color and helps prevent moisture loss. Instead of leaves, it has clusters of sharp spines that grow from small raised nodes called areoles. These spines serve as both defense and shade, casting thin shadows across the stem.

When conditions are right—usually after rare outskirts rains—it produces flowers that grow directly from the stem. The cactus' roots spread just beneath the surface, wide rather than deep, ready to catch any passing moisture. Its form is efficient, stripped down to what is necessary—nothing wasted, nothing soft.

  Further thought processing has once again proven that the cactus on the table was completely ordinary, matching the entry in her database almost perfectly.

 Searching automated logic A.I logs.

F(C)∈{Columnar,Globular,Paddle-shaped,Branching}

E(C)=Waxy(C)∧Chlorophyllous(C)

L(C)⊆AridRegions∧HighSolarExposure(L(C))

S(C)=PhotosyntheticStem(C)∧¬SignificantFoliage(C)

D(C)=∀x∈SurfaceArea(C),∃y∈Spines(C)∣Protective(y,x)

H(C)=Succulence(C)∧CrassulaceanAcidMetabolism(C)

∀t>0,G(C,t)⇒MinimalistExpansion(C,t)

∃B∈Blooms(C)∣Ephemeral(B)∧Vivid(B)∧Contrasts(B,S(C))

NotLeafy,NotMoist,NotFrail,NotFast⇒Enduring

Table(T)→IndoorSurface(T)∨OutdoorFurniture(T)

Cactus(C)∧SmallForm(C)→SuitableForDisplay(C)

RestsUpon(C,T)≡Normal

 Outsourcing processing to automated facility systems bear the same conclusion, it was a perfectly normal cactus. Frustrating, though not unexpected. 

 She was unquestionably the most advanced A.I to have been created by the manager, if she had failed to determine the uniqueness of an object, it was highly unlikely for a less sophisticated mind such as automated systems to be capable of doing so.

 Angela wasn’t sure why she even bothered, the damned thing was useless, only serving to clog up her information logs. She hadn’t made use of it in the last three thousand years, she doubted she’d use it for three thousand more.

 Searching visual memory for green objects. Order by size.

Enkephalin.

Safety department.

Netzach.

K Corp serum.

Giovanni.

 Strange. Searching visual memory for organic green objects.

  Empty.

 Ah, she had finally figured it out, it was her first time seeing a plant. For her to have exerted so much processing power on something so trivial, how embarrassing.

 “Is something wrong?” Her creator’s voice didn’t make her jump, though her body may have stiffened ever so slightly.

 She shook her head. “Nothing is wrong, manager. Why have you felt the need to ask such a question?”

 “Well, it’s just…you’ve been staring at that cactus for a while now, about forty seven minutes.” The fact that she’s had her perception of time slowed that entire period thankfully went unsaid.

 “I was simply wondering how it found its way here.” That was a lie, she kept an eye on the office at all times, even if she wasn't physically present.

 Her creator...chuckled? She’ll have to file that away for later thought. “An employee gave it to me when I was making my way down to Briah, the one we decided to settle on as the second employee for every cycle.”

 The one with the star implant. “I believe her name is BongBong.”

 Once again, that unfamiliar sound came from her creator. “Quite strange, that one. Can’t deny her competence though.”

 Something felt very off. Her creator’s been…different, lately. More relaxed, more talkative. The rare blaze that would occasionally shine through his eyes became more common, and she could now see a simmer of emotion ever present, even if distant.

 The changes began when he descended into the extraction department that night, towards the one place in the facility she had been disallowed from observing or entering in any way or form. 

 It must’ve had something to do with the sephirot, there was no other logical conclusion—

 ‘Tell me, who do you think Carmen was?’

  —yet that didn’t seem quite right. There was a missing piece somewhere, something she didn’t know.

 …She should probably be spending her time and thoughts on that, not cactuses.

 “It said in the database that cactuses bloom under the right conditions.” She should sate her curiosity so as to not let it get in the way of work, that’s the justification Angela made for herself.

 “Manager, do you think it would be possible for it to bloom here?”

 Her creator tilted his head to stare at her for a moment, as if questioning the reason behind such a question. “Perhaps, nothing is impossible. Does the database not mention the specific conditions?”

 “ Usually after rare outskirts rains, it said.”

 He hummed. “Not very useful…” 

 She noticed his eyes soften as he turned to look at her. “I wouldn’t know as I never studied biology. Perhaps you could figure it out?”

 Angela immediately shook her head. “Such a venture is a waste of time.”

 “Good, there’s nothing else more abundant. It could be your personal project”

 A machine had no need for such a thing, she wanted to say. Yet she couldn’t deny the interest that had bloomed in her mind. She had never seen a flower before, though she felt a tugging sensation in the back of her mind that it’s something she’d enjoy seeing, even if she couldn’t figure out why.

  Though it varies greatly with each species, most plants thrive when given sufficient light and water.

 That could work, the previous entry had mentioned blooming after rain.

 Ayin watched with some amusement as Angela continued to stare a hole into the cactus. Carmen did always like vegetation, going so far as to painstakingly make a small garden in the outskirts, where the two of them would let the hours pass by.

 He was sure. If a garden could grow in the outskirts, then a cactus can bloom in hell.

Chapter Text

 Ayin’s favourite pastime, watching Angela while pretending to watch agent Edward marvel at an abnormality he’s unknowingly been working with for over three millennia. She mostly just stood there silently as he required no assistance until they began to expand into Briah, but her micro expressions always managed to give him something to ponder on.

 Matters relating to the abnormalities and the agents could objectively be considered more interesting, but there was only so much amusement to be gained from watching Edward be shell shocked by the appearance of a breaching Ppodae when it’s put on repeat for thousands of cycles.

 Paying any heed to Edward’s exaggerated tears as he put down the abnormality also made it harder to order the agent into the containment unit of an ALEPH when the time eventually comes for the man to meet his end once again.

 Ignoring his spiralling thoughts, Ayin instead shifted his focus to Angela.

 She has been very irritable lately. He didn’t bother to comment on it as she never allowed it to get in the way of her duties, but he could tell from the way her eyebrow occasionally twitches. 

  ‘The target amount of energy has been collected, commencing refinement.’

  “Good work, Angela.” “Excellent work, manager.” They both said at the same time, as they always do.

 He could tell from the way her legs slightly shifted that she almost walked out of the office right then and there. That little conversation from a while back had a far greater effect on their routine than he had expected.

 It was technically her turn to brew tea today, though he supposed he should support her interests.

 “I’ll handle it, you go on ahead.” Angela bowed slightly before immediately rushing out of the office.

 Through the cameras, Ayin watched with great amusement as she approached agent BongBong, commandeered the plant intended for him and curtly thanked the employee for the gift before heading towards their personal laboratory, much to the agent’s confusion.

 Despite his closer proximity to the laboratory, Angela had reached it long before he did, having already set up the equipment needed for her to continue her tests with the cactus.

 She’s spent many a loop trying to make it bloom while he occasionally chimed in with ideas. They must’ve tested hundreds of different scenarios by now—adjusting the amount of water or light, depriving it of one, depriving it of both, enriching the soil, degrading the soil, overheating or freezing it, and many more he’s likely forgotten by now.

 What he had expected to be a small pet project lasting a few weeks had instead turned into one of the many constants of the facility. Despite the constant failure, he was glad. It almost felt like Angela was living a normal life, pursuing her passions and overcoming obstacles along the way. The right for which he had stripped of her from the moment of her creation.

 She had dug up an outdated bioanalyzer from somewhere, probably the welfare department, and was running an analysis on the cellular structure of the spiked plant.

 He wanted to tell her it’d be pointless due to the sheer complexity of a living creature. Trying to work out the effect a tiny component like a single cell will have on the system at large was nearly impossible; they’d need specialized equipment to accomplish such a task, not a simple bioanalyzer meant for general health check ups.

 But, it was good to learn from failure. Angela likely believed herself capable of filling in the gaps, which as her creator Ayin could say with confidence that she couldn’t. All minds have to find the limits of their intelligence one day, and trying to analyze a plant cell by cell fits the bill well enough.

 He prepared a pot before taking a seat across the laboratory, close enough to be present but far enough to not disturb. He couldn’t help but sigh in content as he watched her struggle. It reminded him of when Benjamin was a rookie, brilliant yet inexperienced, fumbling around the laboratory as he struggled to keep up with Ayin’s high standard.

 He once again let out a sigh of content as Angela threw away the bioanalyzer, likely realizing the futility of such an endeavour. An hour and a half passed for him, meaning Angela likely spent over a hundred and fifty hours shifting through useless information. Much less time than he had expected.

 The failure wasn’t unexpected, the tool simply wasn’t meant for research in the first place.

 He could almost hear her cursing as she glared at both the plant and the bioanalyzer through every camera in the room. She had a bit of temper, compared to her usually neutral attitude. 

 He wasn’t sure where she got it from, Carmen was never the type to anger easily.

 A notification from a computer could be heard as another log was added to a file simply named ‘Cactus’, one among thousands. Angela poured herself a reheated cup of tea before silently settling down next to him, likely contemplating her next actions. 

 “It’s about time for me to go bother Garion, I’ll be back in an hour.” He said, Angela nodded, only somewhat hearing his words.

 Benjamin huffed loudly as he took a seat next to him in the cafeteria. His junior had deep bags under his eyes and was clearly in an agitated state. The complaining began immediately.

 “It’s ridiculous! He gives us a near impossible project, refuses to let us into the laboratory unless we pay him an exorbitant fee, then decides to make it worth over half of our total credits!”

 Ayin had to hold back a roll of the eyes. He told him taking the class on botany was a terrible idea.

 “That professor was a crook, I told you that day one. You refused to listen to me claiming you wanted to learn about everything, no matter how much the city tried to stop you.”

 Benjamin scratched his head in frustration, how rare it was to see him so ruffled.

 “You could’ve pushed harder! How did you know anyways?”

 Ayin wore a small calculated smirk to annoy the freshman as much as possible.

 “Didn’t I tell you on day one? I know all things.”

 His junior groaned before slamming his head onto the table, a few other students laughed awkwardly at the sight. Such instances were more common than not, really. Most had gone through something similar.

 His smirk became slightly less calculated, Benjamin was amusing if nothing else. Ayin let  him wallow in his own misery for a few minutes before finally deciding to speak up.

 “Come on, I’ll bail you out.” Ayin said coolly.

 Benjamin slowly raised his head to look at him, clearly unimpressed.

 “How are you going to afford the laboratory fee? No offense meant but you’re here on a razor thin scholarship, you’re poorer than I am.” 

 He found himself chuckling, mostly to hide the sting. “Always the doubter. We’re not handing that disgrace of an instructor a single ahn. We’ll be completing that near impossible project of yours in our dorm.”

 He began to walk away, heading towards their shared room. Benjamin appeared both unconvinced and utterly baffled, though he followed nonetheless.

 “W-What? How are you going to do a phytochemical analysis without a laboratory?”

 Ayin smirked as he pulled his junior close before whispering in his ear.

 “By breaking every safety guideline in our university.”

 Benjamin clicked submit and let out a long winded sigh of relief before leaning back into his chair. “We somehow made it.”

 Ayin placed an ice pack on the younger man’s face. He had a fever, likely due to the number of all nighters they pulled. He heard a muffled ‘thanks’.

 Ayin in comparison was completely normal, bearing no signs of exhaustion. All students had to get used to overwork eventually, the culture of the nest quickly crushed those unwilling or incapable of doing so.

 “How?” Benjamin asked, making no attempt at removing the ice pack from his face.

 “You seemed to know everything about cacti, I thought you only studied neuroscience.”

 Ayin leaned over Benjamin and raised the ice pack to stare him in the eye.

 “Didn’t I tell you? I know all things.

 Ayin held back a chuckle at the memory, the first true step he and Benjamin took in their friendship. How nostalgic, to be conducting a study on cacti with someone he’s close to.

 The cactus will bloom if deprived of water for a period of time, around forty days, and then given a sufficient amount of hydration. He already knew the answer to Angela’s little conundrum, Benjamin likely did as well, if he remembered the details of their first project together.

 “What reason have you found to walk with such mirth?.” It seemed like he had lost track of time, having stumbled upon Garion without realizing.

 “Just an old man reminiscing about his past, pay no heed to me.” Garion stared at him. He could practically feel her gaze dissecting his current being. A small smirk formed after a moment.

 “Ah, this is about my neighbour in the depths, isn’t it? The one you abandoned long ago.” 

 With that single sentence, every bit of amusement left him immediately. To allow himself to be read so openly, how careless of him.

 Garion walked past him, he couldn’t bring himself to turn to look at her. “I wonder how he would feel? Knowing his beloved mentor disposed of him thousands of years ago.”

 He had no answer to give. All he could do was freeze his emotions, not allowing the arbiter to enjoy the sadism she seeked to satisfy. 

“...”

 “Remember my offer, feel free to visit my office for tea.” He pushed through his feelings to speak such words, the script demanded it. He needed to challenge her expectations at every possible corner.

 “Fufu, I just might.” The sound of an automatic door closing told him he was alone.

 A sense of frustration lingered. Why couldn’t the strength of his heart match the horizon he saw in the distance? Always falling behind his vision.

Chapter Text

 Garion smirked, remembering the recent interaction between herself and the one who claimed himself a changed man. 

 In spite of his supposed acceptance of the past, it seemed that he was still unwilling to unburden himself of his sins; his heart still frozen in the face of it all, lest he be crushed under the weight of his own hatred.

 It was amusing enough to see him relapse into old habits the moment he was confronted with the reality of records, though his persistence in facing the depths of her department over and over again continued to grate on her nerves.

 In spite of reality, it seemed he was still determined to prove her wrong. How very like him, to grit his teeth and keep crawling, dragging his mangled being inch by inch. 

 Such pests are to be stamped out without mercy, that's the justification Garion made for herself as she approached his office.

 Time marched onward, one reset at a time.

 He continued to struggle with the script, Angela continued to struggle with the cactus. 

 Every cycle seems no different from the last, yet there are always subtle changes, visible only to those who have lived it for many millennia. Last cycle, Angela increased the temperature of the cactus’ environment by a few celsius to see if anything was different, he tried tweaking CENSORED’s abnormality log to see if the agents held up any better when faced with the monstrosity.

 Neither of those resulted in a beneficial outcome, but that was still one possible course of action crossed out, a single sliver of knowledge that will build up over the centuries. 

 One droplet of change at a time, they’ll fill an ocean that will drown out the old humanity, to make Carmen’s dream come true, to show Angela a new world worth living in.

 That’s why he was overjoyed to see Garion walk into his office a few hours after the end of the work day. Not only has she willingly come seeking companionship, she went so far as to break her rigid schedule to do so.

 Anyone could change, even her.

 “Finally decided to come, have you?” Garion didn’t honor his words with a response, instead silently gazing upon his office, taking in every little detail. He didn’t miss the tiny smirk that formed after a moment, likely having made some far stretched observation about his and Angela’s workplace.

 He ignored his annoyance, instead gesturing for her to sit down. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing the fresh cup of tea already waiting for her, poured mere moments before she had made her entrance.

 He hid his smug satisfaction by taking a sip from his own cup; it wouldn’t do to antagonize her, he was trying to break the ice after all. She settled down across from him after a moment, taking a sip of her own.

 “It’s too flaky, and lacks the weight of proper black tea.” She said after a moment. Ayin had intentionally made it closely resemble what she served him whenever he went to see Carmen, it seemed it still wasn’t enough. 

 “Everyone has their preferences.” How she was able to enjoy something so bitter he’ll never understand.

 In spite of her words, she continued to drink. Flaky it may have been, it appeared as though it was still adequate for her tastes, that was enough for him.

 Neither of them spoke a word, there wasn’t much to say unless they were prompted to do so. A cup was emptied, then two, then three. Only after the fourth cup did something finally happen.

 Angela walked into the office, offering a curt bow to Garion before standing next to him.

 “Increasing the temperature to sixty celsius then letting it cool appears to have done little, there was no progress made towards blooming.” She said, prompting him to give her further ideas.

 “Perhaps it’s simply a matter of time? You could try leaving it at such temperatures for a longer period of time, there'd be little point in heating it up any further past this point.” Angela gained a thoughtful look. She left a few seconds later after giving him a short nod.

 “She’s attempting to make a cactus bloom, you see. It’s a recent project of hers.” He explained to Garion.

 She didn’t respond, instead staring at the door through which Angela had just left.

 “...She seems nothing like Carmen.” Garion suddenly said.

 “...That’s true.” He agreed. He’s known that since the moment of her inception, it’s what pushed him down this path in the first place.

 “Then, what is she to you?”

 Assistant, partner, creation, project, failed experiment. All of those would be technically correct statements, yet not one felt right. 

 “She’s my final companion in hell, the second light that shines the path I walk.” It wasn’t a clear cut answer, closer to a deflection rather than a decision.

 Nonetheless, it wasn’t wrong.

 “A replacement then.” She slowly took a sip, allowing the words to settle in for a moment. 

 “The sins you have committed in the name of her ideal, they are beyond forgiveness. Through gritted teeth you’ve struggled, dragging your broken mind and railing against the cruelty of the world with all your being.” Garion took a sip.

 “Tens of millions died by your actions.”

  Citizen militias fought to their last, never truly knowing what they died for. They fought, for there was no other way of life allowed to them.

  “Horrors never seen before unleashed upon the world.”

  Smoke rose high into the sky, spreading across the city and corrupting all that it touched.

 “Those who dared to dream left shattered.”

 A grade one fixer screamed at him over the call, cursing him for all he had done.

 “All for an ideal.”

 He told himself it was for the greater good.

 “A single sin, for the sake of a hundred good deeds.”

  Benjamin returned to him, after all those years. He claimed to have finally understood him, that he was willing to bear his—their—sins together.

 “Truly, that single sin must know no bounds, for it’s beyond forgiveness…it’s beyond judgement.”

  Captain Nikolai stood behind him as the former leader of the now defunct L Corp signed the contract of unconditional surrender, transferring all ownership of the nest and the district to him.

 “For that sin, you were granted the title of Wing, to absolve all you have done in the eyes of the city.”

 In just a year, only veterans remembered the war. The rest of the world had forgotten and moved on, for enkephalin electricity was 7% cheaper.

  “No one would dare judge a Wing, yet that didn’t stop you.”

  One must wonder then, what is the price of a percent? 

  “With your own two hands, that is what you have turned her ideals into.”

  ‘I want to create a world where people can live without fear! A world where people can dream for a better future!’

  “With your own two hands, you have dragged down your heroine.”

 Cut, pull, rinse, repeat.

 “And faced with reality, with the now broken dreams of a woman who no longer exists, you have turned to another to give you purpose, another reason for you to struggle.”

  ‘You may open your eyes then, should you wish.’

  “I’m not decrying you of course, for I too have committed but a single sin. Just as you have dared to struggle against the world, I have chosen to exist within it.”

  He didn’t have a choice, he told himself, for there was but one path forward.

 “You and I, we who walk the singular path available to us, no matter the cost, no matter the crumbling. We are the new generation of humanity born from this epoch, better fit than any other to thrive in this unchanging age.”

  A future he saw beyond the horizon, the herald of a new era.

 “That’s why your struggle for change is futile. The struggle is what perpetuates the cycle.”  Garion ended her long speech with a sip, even if the tea was cold by now. It almost felt like a declaration of victory.

 “...” 

 “I disagree with little of what you’ve said, with the exception of only one thing. Angela is not a replacement, she’s the one to bring forth the age of that ideal.” Garion’s glare bore into his skull, he didn’t back down.

 “I do not struggle to change the world, I’m merely the one to plant the seed. To grow and nurture that sapling falls to another.” Ayin was perfectly composed, not a single word had pierced his armor.

 “We are not the new generation, Garion. You said it yourself, this world of ours is unchanging, even if those within are ephemeral. Nay, we are the old, soon to be drowned and buried under the new world that approaches, taking our sin along with us.” He grinned at her, truly the two of them were no different.

 “You already know this, don’t you? We’re both fated to drown, the question is who we wish to be as we disappear under the sand.

 “The city is incapable of change. Broken wings will outstretch anew, someone will replace me as an Arbiter of the head, swinging their claws at those below. Even if a cycle is broken, it will be set back in its place soon enough.”

Garion answered him calmly, even if it carried an undercurrent of emotion, too turbulent to not notice.

 Ayin’s grin stretched further, the conversation had gone just as he foresaw. “Then you’ve said it, a cycle can be broken, things can change. Even if the head sets the city back in its place, the same could not be said for the individual. You can change, just as I have.”

 “That’s the choice we have, beyond the singular path we walk. The internal choice to struggle for change.”

 Garion quietly got up before leaving his office, uttering not a single word more. The two of them were truly the same, running when confronted with reality, holding onto their idyllic views.

 He took a sip of his tea. It was sweet, exceedingly so.

Chapter Text

 Garion walked back to her department, her legs moving slightly faster than usual. It was a tiny difference, noticeable to none but herself, the one that knew Garion best.

 That notion now felt hollow. 

  ‘You already know this, don’t you?’  

 He had said little during that conversation, yet his words cut deeper than any other. It felt as though she had become a part of his beloved script, dancing to his tune and walking a path set long before. From the moment of the copy’s entrance to the words Garion herself had spoken, all of it had been anticipated.

 She should’ve realized the moment she saw a cup of tea poured seconds before her entrance. 

 “Good evening.” Garion turned to see a rectangular robotic body, a mug held in its hands with the words ‘Chesed’ written below its eyes.

 “I would say it’s good to see you, but that would hardly be the truth now would it?〜” His voice was relaxed, composed.

 She ignored the robot, instead attempting to enter the hallway that would lead to the disciplinary department. He stopped her, standing in her path just as he had done so long ago.

 “Now why would the head of welfare be in central command?” She asked.

 “An employee of mine is mourning a loved one, they need space to grieve. I’m ensuring that no one interrupts.” There was bitterness in his voice, even if it remained relaxed.

 “Open the door.” There was a finality in her words, a command rather than a request. 

 “No.” How nostalgic, just like her last mission as an arbiter.

 “I’m capable of forcing my way through, you know as such from personal experience. I'm merely being polite. Open the door.”

 She expected him to bend, such was the weak heart of the one that stood before her. She was proven correct as he flinched at her words.

 She was proven wrong when he shook his body in refusal.

 “I’ll have to refuse. I’m done making excuses such as ‘there’s nothing I could’ve done’. No matter how afraid I may be, I’ll hold my loyalty above all else.” 

 Garion raised an arm, fairy beginning to gather in her hands. Restricted it may be by his precautions, a singularity it still was.

 It took a step back, fear clearly evident even with a metallic body. Yet he still stood, blocking her path, making no attempt at allowing her through. Garion waited for a few seconds, seeing if he’d break. He did not.

 Pushing down her annoyance, she turned around to reach her destination through the hall below. 

 Was this too planned by him? To further prove his point even after she had left.

  A single flick of the wrist, and a dozen sweepers are reduced to nothing more than a puddle, their mechanical bodies unravelling under the influence of fairy. Hundreds more stood behind them, not one willing to approach an arbiter of the head. They all ran soon after.

 Covered in blood and with tears flowing down her face a little girl sat. Patches of color other than crimson revealed that her neck length hair would normally be a pitch black, not so dissimilar from her own.

 She had to wonder, why did she not kill the girl the moment she stood to run at her?

 Why did she allow the girl to hug her waist, dirtying her pristine clothes.

 Why did she place a hand upon her head as she cried, patiently waiting and wasting her time.

 Why did she bring the girl along, taking the lamb under her protection even though she had nothing to gain from it.

 Was it merely a whim of the moment? If so, why did she keep her around for so long?

 Was it a sadistic wish to see her suffer? If so, why did she offer comfort at the dead of night?

 Was there simply no rhyme or reason? If so, why did she cling to those memories as though they were her only lifeline?

 Was it a kindness hidden deep within her pitch black heart? If so, why did she allow the girl to be taken away, even as she silently cried out for her in terror.

 Did she regret what she had done? Did she regret what she hadn’t done?

 It didn’t really matter, for she never had a choice.

 For all her power as an arbiter, she was more trapped than any other, made to exist and cease in service of the city. Any thought of rebellion would result in her prompt disposal and replacement, as was the fate of many before her. 

 Her sin was but one, the devouring of her fears and regret for the sake of survival.

 She never had a choice, so why did her heart ache so? Telling her things could’ve been different.

 She never cared, so why does she cling to the phantom images in her head? Insisting she could’ve done better.

 “...”

  Sip. 

 “...”

  Sip.

 “...”

  Sip.

 “What are you attempting to say to me? I wonder, for you to have been trying for so long.” 

 There was no response from the brain floating in containment, of course there wasn’t. Her voice was like the images within her mind—ever present, constantly trying to make itself known, yet never allowing itself to be grasped. A ghost that haunted her, no matter how far she ran or how hard she tried to keep herself hidden.

 Yet she could never look away, such was her nature. She was to stare into the abyss and see everything from above, judging the world with the eyes of an eagle.

 To her eyes that saw the present, everything would unravel, revealing their truths no matter how ugly it may be. Everything, including herself. 

 She had to wonder, since when did she begin to hide herself from the truth she always gazed upon, forcing her worldview into a neat mold that suited her slothfulness best.

 She wanted to believe, yet the chaotic world had resisted that understanding at every turn, insisting itself to be different…Nay, it wasn’t the world.

 Nothing about it was chaotic, all of it had been carefully orchestrated. She had covered her ears and closed her mind to the sight she saw, for it was the easier thing to do. Such a sight was useless, only serving to corrupt one’s image of the world.

 She had hidden herself, so he had raised the sun over her head, so she may once again stare into the present. And he had asked her…

 “Will you continue to hide?” He walked in casually, welcoming himself into her sanctuary as though it was common sense.

 Garion decided on one last test. “From what would I be hiding?”

 “From the possibility that things could’ve turned out different with Zena, that you could’ve been better.”

 Ah, there it was then, laid out bare. He knew everything, his gaze stretching far beyond the horizon, he saw right through her.

 “For how long?”

 He took a seat across from her, just the three of them.

 “Perfect knowledge and foresight make an efficient combination indeed. I’ve foreseen a moment like this since the very beginning, not long after I probed your brain.”

 ‘From the very beginning’. 

 To have the entirety of your being revealed to another, present and future.

 How uncomfortable, to be so exposed. 

 How reassuring, to know there’s always someone who understands you.

 She’s been observing the world around her, believing herself impartial, all the while refusing to pay heed to the one known as ‘Garion’. Though it seemed she couldn’t hide any longer.

 “Perhaps I am.” She said, deciding to finally pour the two of them a cup each. Tough he may act, she enjoyed seeing him struggle with the bitterness nonetheless.

 “How far do you see?” She questioned.

 “Far enough, even if my mind and heart is incapable of bearing the sight of it.”

  …What must it be like? To see the future, to see your struggles, to see the destruction and rebuilding of one’s self millenia in advance. Such foresight must demand a truly diabolical host, capable of planning around the collapse of their own fragile sanity.

 Perhaps she envied him, to be the bearer of such a gift.

 Perhaps she pitied him, he who is forced to hide from what he always sees, lest he be crushed by the future he planned to create.

 “What do you see of me then?” She decided to ask, even if she already knew the answer.

 He saw the future in its entirety, she saw the present from the eagle’s nest. He of the present who sees the future is still within her sight, a window into a new world.

 “The future isn’t always set in stone. Within you is a thousand people, all awaiting their moment. Which one shall come? I don't know, but they certainly will be a changed you.”

  'The hope to be a better person.'

 Garion found herself smiling. She hummed to herself for a moment, tilting her head and contemplating his words.

 “Perhaps I believe you, perhaps I don’t. I’ll decide that for myself when I have seen this future with my own two eyes.” He chuckled as he stood up.

 “That tells me you’ve changed already.”

 She spoke just as he opened the door to leave.

 “Feel free to come at any time. Tea will always be ready〜.”

 “The same goes for you.” He replied.

 The door closed, and now it was just the two of them.

 “...”

 “...I will bear witness to this martyr of yours in your stead. It would be a shame if such a man was to be forgotten without a trace, no?”

 “...”

 There was no answer, of course there wasn’t. She was simply left to ponder, what could’ve been.

Chapter Text

 Quite frankly, Angela was beginning to become desperate.

 It was one thing to fail at something, it was another issue entirely for it to constantly repeat for centuries. The cactus continued to resist her attempts at making it bloom, remaining stubborn in its hostile and unsightly form.

 She had tried everything. Every variable was adjusted, every potential solution tinkered with, every factor accounted for. Temperature, moisture, lighting, soil compound, chemical environment, radiation levels, she even tried adjusting Qliphoth deterrence levels on the off chance it was somehow related to the abnormalities. 

 No such luck.

 To be watched by her creator as she made a mockery of herself and her intelligence, it left a knot in the stomach and a sinking in the chest. A feeling she realized was humiliation long ago.

 It had reached a point wherein she decided to try asking the facility’s automated logic A.I for help, though it of course remained useless as always, spouting nonsense about applying Serum G—something they didn’t have. 

 So she remained stumped, glaring at the accursed object of her obsession through every camera in the room. It only served to annoy her even more, as she got its image ingrained into her memory from every angle.

 “My, such twisting of the brows. One shouldn’t allow themselves to be defeated by an inanimate object.” In the corner of the room Garion sat, sipping tea as always. Angela wasn’t exactly sure why, but the human sephirot had become a constant presence in the office and the laboratory, even when her creator wasn’t here.

 “It’s difficult to remain composed when I’ve failed so many times even with the guidance of the manager.”

 Angela huffed mutely as she took a seat in a futile attempt at relaxing herself.

 “You say that as though his guidance supports your endeavours.” The sephirot said, with the ever present strange rhythm to her voice. Angela raised an eyebrow, she had come to realize that such expressions helped when attempting to communicate with others.

 “The manager has no reason to make false statements, and his capability in such matters is unquestionable.”

 “Perhaps, though one must wonder if his goals align with your wishes.”

 “What are you trying to say?” Angela hurried her along, she was beginning to tire of Garion’s roundabout manner of speech.

 “To be so impatient, despite having lived four millenia. How strange indeed.” She slowly took a sip from her cup. Angela got the distinct impression that it was done solely for the sake of annoying her.

 It was working splendidly.

 “There is no doubt that he holds a positive opinion of you, but that doesn’t mean his actions will be agreeable for you. Perhaps he already knows what you wish to know, and is simply withholding his knowledge as it doesn’t serve to further his goals. What will you do then?”

 In less than a second, Angela answered resolutely.

 “I’ll accept his judgement. If such a scenario is beneficial to him in some way, I’ll contently put up with the frustration of failure.”

 Garion hummed for a moment. “...Yes, such a scenario is quite simple isn’t it? For one such as you, there is a clear correct choice…Then, what if his intended actions were to result in your untimely end? Would you still accept such an outcome?”

 For the first time in her existence, Angela felt anger. The audacity of such a question, it left her rattled.

 “...My duty is to follow the orders of the manager. If such an outcome is in accordance with his wishes, then I will comply without question.”

 A small smile Angela saw, a small smile she ignored. She did not wish to put up with her antics any longer.

 “I suppose such an answer is not unexpected…Then, what if it were to result in his own death, do you see yourself accepting that?”

 “...”

 Garion’s smile widened at the silence. 

 “What is the point of this line of questioning?” For the first time in her existence, Angela had to resist raising her voice. Such an act would be inappropriate.

 “Not answering I see.” Once again, she slowly took a sip, the seconds ticking by and bringing down her patience along with it.

 “To ask a question simply because it’s possible, is that not the spring of all wisdom? I’m merely a swallow flying across the lands, digging at patches of dirt in the hopes of finding where water flows.” With one last tug, Garion empties her cup.

 “It seems to me that this land remains dry. I’ll be taking my leave now, perhaps the ones below will have more to give.” 

 Angela was fairly certain she had just been insulted. She was still more than happy to see the sephirot leave.

 “Perhaps you should try glancing down, more may be found only if you are willing to look for it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find the solution you seek〜.”

 And with that cryptic advice, she was gone. Angela sighed, for what she couldn’t quite say.

  “Why have you decided to welcome yourself into my department?” asked the robot covered in cloth. With a singular eye glowing in purple and nearly every inch of its body unseen by the outside world, it made for a unique sight even with its rectangular appearance.

 “My, my. Such bad manners, you should be more hospitable to guests.”

 “You should mind yourself first, forcefully welcoming yourself in isn’t the height of manners either.” It glanced her up and down, seeming to take in every detail. She heard a sigh as it went on to pour her a glass of water.

 “At least you appear to be following proper dress codes, even if it’s completely different from the standard.”

 Garion glanced at the translucent glass of plain water now sitting in front of her.

 “No tea?” She asked.

 “The only drink allowed within the workspace is water for hydration. All others are banned as per protocol.”

 Ignoring her heartbreak, Garion continued to question. “Now why is that? Is it to be followed simply because it’s the rule?”

 “Of course not. All protocols and rules are to be based firmly upon logic with a clear purpose in mind, pointless procedures only serve to increase workloads and hamper efficiency.” Was his quick reply, with absolute confidence and unshakable belief.

  The Claw stood across the hallway, silently guarding a door, just as he has been for the last few weeks. It wasn’t an important door by any means, one among the hundreds that connected one empty hall into another. In fact, it could be considered the least significant location in the entire building, out of sight and out of mind.

 The Claw slightly bowed his head in greeting upon her approach, saying not a single word. “How long have you been here, executioner?” she inquired.

 “Since I was given the order to stand guard by you, lady Garion.” His reply was short, curt, and straight to the point. Even among Claws, this one in particular caught her eye for how stiff he was.

 “The last time you left this location?”

 “Never. I’ve yet to leave since my first arrival, nine weeks ago.”

 “Not even to eat?” 

 “The beholder has already arranged for my sustenance.” An interesting specimen indeed. This one will do just fine.

 “Follow me, executioner.” The only sound of confirmation was the scraping of metal as the Claw moved to walk behind her.

“Have you questioned why you were ordered to guard that door in particular?”

 “No.”

 “What do you think the reason is?”

 “Irrelevant.”

 “Now why would that be the case?”

 “My duty is to follow orders. I was told to stand guard, not reason.”

 She hummed to herself for a moment. This one was certainly the most obedient among the Claws assigned to her; they normally required some wrangling at the very least.

 “Hmm. What if I told you you’ve been guarding nothing for the last two months, would you be frustrated?.” 

 “No.”

 “Why not? I’ve wasted precious time you could’ve spent doing something else. You could’ve been a better asset to the head at the very least.” 

 “Being ordered to tear an impurity apart. Being ordered to guard a door without purpose. There is no difference in significance between the two. I have followed my instructions: to follow the orders of Arbiter Garion.”

 “You won’t bother to question the reason? The meaning behind your actions?”

 “No. There is no reason for me to question. My only duty is to follow the rules as set by the head.” How interesting indeed, to be given such an answer.

 “And yet, that answer tells me you grasp the concept of meaning. Are your claims of not caring as true as you say?”

 “I’m to not lie without permission.”

 Garion smirked, how amusing it was to dissect these strange creatures.

 “Ah, but if one were to convince themselves of a falsehood with all their being, would that lie still be a lie?”

 “...” The Claw remained silent.

 “You will not answer?”

 “I was not ordered to answer.” Garion chuckled, truly amusing indeed. 

 “And therein lies the contradiction, doesn’t it? What is your name, executioner?”

 “Baral.”

 They were outside by now, standing in one of the many back alleys of district one.

 “Baral, you are to guard this pebble until ordered otherwise.” She said, pointing at a stone that laid in a corner of the street. Grey and lumpy, it was one among millions.

 “Yes.” Was his stoic reply.

 Garion took a sip from the glass. It was plain.

 “Why would water be the only drink allowed?”

 She received her answer immediately, not a moment wasted. “It reduces the risk of harmful liquids created by abnormalities being ingested by mistake.”

 She hummed to herself, such familiar confidence.

 “If you have no further business here, I’ll kindly ask you to depart. You’re making my employees nervous.”

 “Yes, yes〜.”

 Garion found herself chuckling as she left. Two people, both utterly obsessed with rules, yet so different in nature. 

 “You remained there until the very end, not questioning for a single second.” She whispered to herself, having recovered a single nugget from the ocean of mud that was her memory.

Chapter Text

 Angela had to once again retirate for herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong or risky. She had received full permission to speak to the sephirot so long as their suppression for the loop was completed, and as the second in command of the manager she was technically their superior, she had no reason to fear speaking to them.

 So why? Why did it feel so difficult? Why did her heart weigh itself down whenever she thought of interacting with them? 

 ‘Do you know anything about making a cactus bloom?’ That's all she had to say. They'd either know, or they wouldn't, it truly was that simple.

 Even if they were—

 “Hello miss Angela!” It appeared as though she had spaced out, allowing Malkuth to sneak up on her.

 “Hello Malkuth.”

 ‘I'm surprised to see you down here, you rarely visit unless the manager has work outside his office.’

  “I'm surprised to see you down here, you rarely visit unless the manager has work outside his office.” She said, her voice still chipper despite the recent suppression.

 ‘What are you up to? Is there anything I can help with? We should get to know each other better, we're coworkers after all.’

 “What are you up to? Is there anything I can help with? We should get to know each other better, we're coworkers after all!” Always so energetic, always so hurrisome. 

 Always so eager to know her, just to forget in a few days.

 “I've been attempting to make a cactus bloom, you see. Truthfully, I haven't had much success and was hoping to find some insight from you.”

 ‘Repairing malfunctioning systems? Don't we have a maintenance team for that?’

  “Making a cactus bloom? What for? Does it relate to an abnormality somehow?” Malkuth tilted her body in questioning, confusion clearly evident.

…Of course, the response was different. She gave a different answer than the usual after all.

 “Nothing as critical as that, it's merely a personal project of mine.”

 ‘They missed some breakdowns?! I'll make sure to set them straight!’

  “Is that so? Unfortunately I don't know much about plants.” The robot hummed to herself, tapping her notepad with a pencil in thought.

 “Have you tried watering it?”

 Angela almost snapped. “Of course. I've tried adjusting every physical variable. I wouldn't be here seeking help were it so simple.”

 Malkuth appeared to have noticed her frustration, awkwardly laughing to herself.

 “I'm sorry for the obvious suggestion, it's just the first thing that came to mind. Well, since I can't offer any useful knowledge, I'll just say this instead—” Her eyes turned into an upward arrow as she gave Angela a thumbs up, likely a smile.

 “—don't give up! No matter how many times you fail, you ought to keep moving forward without bending.” A clerk entered holding a stack of papers.

 “Miss malkuth, could you take a look at these papers? I think the disciplinary department made a mistake somewhere in their report.” He said, far more relaxed than the weeks before thanks to how much his sephirot had mellowed out.

 “Leave it to me!”

 Malkuth slightly bowed to her. “I'll see you later Miss Angela, you should come to one of our meetings one day! I'll introduce you to the other upper sephirot.” 

 Angela was about to refuse, such an affair would hold little meaning as it would be forgotten by the others in a few short weeks.

 But she needed to find out whether the other sephirot knew anything, and a meeting would be the perfect opportunity to do so.

 “Then, I'll be in your care.” Angela returned the slight bow.

 She heard ‘That's great!’ as the sephirot hurried out of the hall. Angela thought she also heard a planned time and date mentioned, though she wasn't fully sure.

 It was a good thing she had all their schedules.

 …Still, what a strange conversation, so different from the millions that came before it.

 It made complete logical sense of course, Malkuth had simply reacted differently because Angela herself had spoken different words.

 It made complete logical sense,yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she expected otherwise.

 “You appear quite confused after having had such a simple conversation.” Angela heard a voice she was beginning to despise with each reset. 

 “It's quite interesting isn't it? How many different interactions can arise from what is supposedly the same individual.” Angela attempted to excuse herself with a short bow before leaving. Garion followed suit behind her.

 “...I personally haven't found that to be the case.” She finally decided to entertain the sephirot, it wouldn't do to antagonize the only one who will remember the event.

 “One cannot expect a different result from the same action. To do so would be the height of insanity.” She attempted to escape the conversation by stopping to observe an information panel, on the off chance that the of them somehow ended up on the same path.

 No such luck.

 “No, people only react to outside forces, to fully explore a mind is to test every plausible situation. An impossible goal, even more so when people's contexts and viewpoints are in constant flux.” Garion pointed at a clerk passing by, the employee froze like a deer caught in a floodlight.

 “Even someone as unremarkable as them holds infinite possibilities. Their minds are not complex by any means, but the nuances held in the million shades of grey leave much to be explored.” The employee quickly scurried away.

 Angela recognized the clerk, as she does with every single person within the facility. They were normally quite restrained in their interactions with others, shy by the standards of the corporation.

  The clerk was left as the last survivor, three newly minted agents all shot down by a single bullet of Der Freischutz. They laughed hysterically at the sight.

 The clerk screamed in despair as half their department was killed by a single bullet of Der Freischutz, weeping as they held onto an unrecognizable corpse of their fellow.

  “I suppose.” Angela replied.

 “I find it quite fun to unveil what lies below the layers upon layers of bearriers people build around their souls, there truly is no end to the possibilities.” As usual, Garion came and went as she pleased, leaving after having spoken her piece.

 Once again Angela found herself struggling with an extremely simple action. She simply had to enter the meeting room, speak with the upper sephirot for a few hours, ask them her question, then leave.

 It’d be quick, simple and efficient, no need for pointless thought. No such luck.

 She instead found herself standing in front of the entrance, having wasted half an hour in her own slowed down mind.

 “H-Hello?” Behind her approached Hod, somehow managing to look meek even with her near expressionless body.

 ‘Are you new here? I’m Hod, I’m responsible for the training department.’

 “Ah, you must be Miss Angela, the one Malkuth mentioned. I’m Hod. I’m responsible for the training department, I hope we can get along.” She respectfully bowed her body in greeting, overly restrained as per usual. Angela returned the gesture.

 “...So do I.” The two of them entered to the sight of the three other sephirot sitting around at a table. The meeting proceeded normally at first, mostly discussions on cross department cooperation and the planning of combined drills. Angela mostly ignored them, she knew of every plan they’d make already.

 Eventually, the time came when official matters were wrapped up, and she decided to ask her question.

 Malkuth didn’t know anything, Yesod and Hod glanced at one another, also clearly unknowledgeable on the matter. Netzach…

 “Have you tried Enkephalin?” He said, leaning back into his chair in a lazy manner as per usual.

 “...No? Enkephalin would have no effect on a being without a brain.” Angela said.

 Yesod also scoffed. “Such a nonsensical suggestion, keep those drugs to yourself.”

 Hod squirmed at the ongoing conversation. Netzach didn’t seem particularly deterred. “Sure but…have you tried it?”

…She had not. “I mean, if you felt the need to try adjusting Qliphoth derrence levels, then Enkephalin wouldn’t be much of a stretch either, right?”

 “There is no need to attempt something so pointless.” Yesod looked at her, seemingly having taken her as a bastion of rationality like himself.

 He’d normally be correct, but Angela was desperate, and Netzach had a point.

 The five of them stared at a cactus drenched in Enkephalin, the plant beginning to quickly rot under the green substance. Yesod placed a hand next to his eye as though he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

 “Whelp, I tried.”  Netzach shrugged before returning to his seat. Hod placed a hand on Angela’s shoulder in comfort.

 “D-Don’t be too distraught, Angela. I’m sure we can find another one in the facility somewhere.” She wasn’t saddened by the death of the cactus of course, it’d be back just a reset later, though Hod appeared to have taken her expressionless face as her being upset.

 “Of course.” 

 Yesod glanced between the two of them before sighing.

 “It wouldn’t do to have the manager’s assistant so distracted by something so trivial. We’ll solve this issue more quickly together.”

 Malkuth quickly raised her hand. “I can check if any of the employees have a cactus we can use!”

 Hod hesitantly raised hers as well. “I’ll see if any of the new recruits know anything about flora.”

 Yesod nodded before pulling Netzach up from his seat. “And you’ll be helping me look through all the information logs we have.” 

 The green robot groaned, though he didn’t deny the order. 

 “We’ll meet again in three days, and have it solved within a week. That’s our deadline.” Yesod said confidently.

 Angela couldn’t stop the slight upward tug of her lips, even as she dreaded what was to come.

 The meeting planned in three days never came, a catastrophic breach of The Mountain of Smiling bodies had forced an early activation of TT2 protocols.

 It was the expected outcome, it’s happened many times already, especially during the earlier cycles. She’d come to know the sephirot, they’d make promises and future plans just for them to forget it all later.

 She knew, yet it still hurt to see Malkuth make note of how rarely they interact once again, to hear Yesod make note of her perfect uniform, to listen to the awkward introduction of Hod, to see Netzach try and fail to ignore her appearance.

 It hurt, knowing they’d all be forgotten, to be repeated endlessly over thousands of years.

  ‘It's quite interesting isn't it? How many different interactions can arise from what is supposedly the same individual.’

 Even still, the last cycle was uniquely new in spite of its repetitive moments.

 She had to wonder, what else these beings could show her.

Chapter Text

 Angela’s been less and less present in the office lately. She’d have a cup of tea, run a few half hearted experiments on the cactus, then descend into the facility not to be seen again until the start of the next day. Wherein she was once a constant presence in the office like himself, her schedule was now closer to Garion’s, only occasionally dropping by.

 Ayin didn’t mind of course, not only was she still present for the entirety of the work period, she also spent most of her time in the laboratory until the upper layer core suppressions were completed.

 In fact, he’d go so far as to say he was glad. The more chances Angela got to pursue her interests the better, until the time comes when she can finally fly freely across the skies as she heralded the new world that was to come.

 Though there was one problem.

 “Did you put the idea into her head?” It was a rhetorical question of course. If he wasn’t the cause of a change, then there was only ever one suspect in the first place.

 “What could you possibly mean?” Garion had recently forced her tastes upon him and Angela, bringing her own set with all its bitter glory every time she visited. She had also become noticeably less respectful towards him ever since she saw angela shovel a dozen spoons of sugar into a cup.

 “Angela’s been wandering around dissecting the words of the sephirot, asking different questions with each loop and making observations. Suspiciously similar to a certain guest in our office.”

 Garion hummed as she took a sip, it almost sounded playful. “Then you already have your answer, don’t you? Our dear prophet.”

 “I still wish to hear it from you.” He pushed.

 “You act as though I manipulated her into false beliefs. I merely planted an idea, that minds are an endless well of exploration.” Garion had a small smile as she tilted her head at him.

 “Why, do you take issue with its newfound interest?”

 Ayin shook his head in denial. “Not at all, I’m in support of this change. Rather, the issues lie in some of the…conclusions that Angela tends to reach about the sephirot.”

 Wrong, callous, ridiculous, nonsensical; just about any word could fit due to the sheer number of observations Angela’s made. It was to be expected, as she has little to no experiences to base her conclusions off of.

 The only people she knew well would be him and Benjamin, not exactly a great sample size. Especially so when the two of them were anything but ‘normal’, even if the sephirot hardly fit the bill either.

 “I have a favor to ask.” He said, Garion raised an eyebrow in questioning.

 “I want you to go with her, she needs a guide on such matters.” 

 She had a small smile on her face. “Now why would you ask me of all people? To entrust your most precious creation’s development.”

 Ayin frowned in annoyance. “You already know the reason.”

 “I still wish to hear it.” 

 He sighed, Garion somehow managed to remain just as difficult to deal with even when she wasn’t actively seeking to tear him apart with words.

 “She needs someone to teach her, to help her see clearly, and no one in this facility sees others as clearly as you do.” Garion placed a hand on her cheek, her eyes darting to the side…she was feigning embarrassment.

 “My, such genuine praise, you’re making me blush.” She clearly wasn’t, and her exaggerated tone of voice made that clear, even if it was muted by the standards of any other person.

 “Still…there is something else. Isn’t there?” A familiar smirk formed, finding amusement in digging through his mindscape.

 “...It’s not like I have any other options aside from you, Garion.” 

 “Is that so?”

 Ayin pushed aside the thoughts arising from within. “...Yes.”

 The smirk widened. “Tell me, what do you intend your fate to be after the seed is planted?”

 He knew his answer, even if he’s become less sure over time. “I’ll fade away without a trace, letting my sins be buried along with this facility.”

 Garion took a long sip from her cup, as though she was letting the taste of his answer settle. “Then what of your precious assistant?”

 He found himself frowning at the topic he’s been avoiding for a long time.

 “She’ll be free to live.” 

 It was a hollow answer, lacking true meaning or intent.

 “Would she be willing to accept such an outcome I wonder. Rejected by a world that despises her for the way she was born, left without an ally in the cruelty of the city. Surely you don’t believe the world will change overnight to accommodate her existence.”

…Truly, Garion saw others more clearly than any other, even if she struggled to look inside herself. 

 “Would you be willing to accept such an outcome I wonder.” She continued.

 Would he? He couldn’t say, for he too struggled to see inward, as all people do. How ironic, for him to be capable of seeing his future self, yet not the current one. 

 Ayin sighed. “Have you had your entertainment?”

 Garion chuckled. “There could ever be an end to desire.”

 “Are you accepting my offer?” He asked, some of his frustration bleeding into his voice.

 “Perhaps I will, that’ll depend on the one in question.”

 “...I suppose that’s good enough.”

 “There better be a good reason as to why we’ve been called here, we as the sephirot of Central Command don’t have time to waste on frivolous matters.” The small robot was clearly annoyed, doubtly so since their core suppression was completed mere days ago.

 “Don’t be so harsh, Tiphereth. Interesting occasions like this are so rare, you should try to enjoy it more.” Said her twin.

 “I apologize for my sudden interruption, though please rest assured knowing I’ve already handled your duties for the day.” Employees glanced at them with curiosity clearly evident, though not one dared to approach.

 Tiphereth A was hard enough to approach as is, and the fourth person sitting at the table kept all of them out of earshot. Most of the employees had already left the breakroom, the only ones left being veteran agents.

 “Isn’t that great Tiphereth? It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten a break.”

“...I suppose so.” She made no mention of the fact that he’s only been around for a few days, or how a mountain of his broken bodies were disposed of only a few days ago.

 “Then, I will begin the psychological assessment immediately.”

 “Is this nothing more than a sick joke to you?! Come on Tiphereth, we’re leaving!” Tiphereth A rushed out of the room, dragging Tiphereth B along with her.

 “Thank you for the tea, Miss Garion. Lisa, what did they mean by deleted memories—” The automatic door of the cafeteria loudly slammed a close behind the two.

 Angela realised that she had extended her arms as if reaching out to them, an apology at the tip of her tongue left unsaid.

 “Ah, such an unfortunate outcome, I was interested in further exploring the boy’s thoughts. That one has a fascinating mind, wouldn’t you agree?” Garion didn’t seem bothered by the conversation in the slightest, casually sipping as though nothing had happened.

 “...Why did you follow me here?” 

 “Who is to say? Perhaps your dear manager asked me to come along, perhaps it was simply a coincidence that we both decided to speak with the twins today, perhaps it was both.” There was always amusement to be had when speaking with it. If only Carmen was capable of conversing, perhaps her department wouldn’t be so dreary if such was the case.

 “You were detrimental to my efforts.” Its voice was accusatory, noticeable even though it lacked a tone.

 “Was I? The girl would’ve left in anger either way, for the issue lied not in my words, but rather in the systematic matter in which the conversation was conducted.” Garion raised her cup to be level with her eyes.

 “An exploration of the mind is much like brewing tea. The leaves must be given proper time and space to steep and unfurl, lest the extraction of flavors remain incomplete.”

 “...Meaning?” Angela prodded her on. Garion made sure to take a long sip before continuing.

 “A systematic interview leaves little time for thought, and the impersonal manner makes them defensive and unwilling to open their hearts. Such conversations give incomplete information, leading to conclusions that do not reflect on reality.”

 “...” Angela mulled over her words, considering the truthfulness behind them.

 “Tell me, what are your thoughts on the girl after that talk?” Garion questioned.

 “Tiphereth A appeared to be unwilling to speak of her thoughts on the state of Tiphereth B. Her refusal to state whether Tiphereth B is still the same being after being replaced so many times suggests she’s in denial of his condition, or at the very least undecided on her views.” She answered truthfully.

 “Or perhaps she felt the topic wasn’t given the respect it deserves, leading to her refusal to share.” Garion said back.

 Angela placed a hand under her chin in thought, that certainly could be the case. If she had approached with a different topic that eventually led up to the matter, or if she had offered condolences before anything else, then the assessment could’ve lasted longer and given her more feedback.

 Garion now watched silently as the gears in its head near visibly began to turn. She supposed it was quick to learn if nothing else.

  “Lady Garion, why does that claw never move from that alley?” Asked the little girl she had recently taken under wing. She didn’t understand why her passing curiosity had lasted so long, with her going so far as to furnish a separate room for the girl.

 “Who is to say? Perhaps you should try asking him yourself.” Zena nervously looked between her and the claw before finally deciding to approach him, not once letting go of Garion’s hand.

 “H-Hello.” The claw nodded in greeting.

 “What’s your name? I’m Zena.”

 “...Baral.” The girl flinched upon hearing his gruff voice, though she relaxed after a moment.

 “Why are you always standing here Mister Baral?” Zena questioned him, far more confident now that it was evident he wouldn’t hurt her.

 “Lady Garion’s order, I’m to guard this pebble until told otherwise.” She tilted her head in curiosity.

 “But…why?” She continued to question.

 “I am to follow Arbiter Garion’s orders.”

 “...Why?”

 “It is as the head mandates.”

 Zena was clearly very confused. “...Why?”

 Baral huffed before going silent, no longer willing to answer her inquiries.

 “Zena, you wished to see the new store across the street, yes? You should go ahead, I need to speak to Baral.” The girl looked between the two of them in confusion before nodding. Curious as she was, Zena had long learned to not question Garion’s words. 

 Was it blind faith? Fear? Or perhaps it was trust. Either way, she did as she was told.

 “You were not ordered to answer her questions.” Garion said as she smirked in amusement at the Claw.

 “I was not ordered to be silent.” He responded.

 “Yet you weren’t ordered to speak either, so it must’ve been a conscious choice, yes? I wonder how such a decision arises from a being supposedly lacking a will beyond duty.”

 “...” Baral was silent, as he always was when made to face the reality of his existence. How truly lucky of her, to be assigned such an amusing subordinate〜.

 Zena stood across the street, staring through the windows of a toy store, one of the few in district one. She didn’t seem terribly interested, unlike most children her age.

 “Is the pebble important to you, Lady Garion?”

 She shook her head in denial.

 “Nay, it’s merely a rock…What do you think of the Claw? Why do you think he follows my orders without question, standing guard over something as pointless as pebble?” Garion asked her.

 The girl gained a thoughtful look, the gears in her head near visibly beginning to turn. 

 “Perhaps he simply doesn’t know better? It wouldn’t be impossible for a Claw to not understand the difference between what is and isn’t important.” She suggested.

 “What if he does? For what reason would he remain dutiful if such was the case?” Garion continued to push for her thoughts.

 “Hmm…Maybe he doesn’t care about himself or his time?”

 “Perhaps. Or maybe he’s denying the idea of choice to absolve himself of his actions; or maybe he truly is that blindly faithful, entrusting himself to those above without question. Who is to say? The only answer that matters is what you believe to be the truth.” She said cryptically.

 “You’re saying I should find out for myself?” Zena asked her. The arbiter placed a hand on the girl's head.

 “Indeed I am.”

 Such nostalgia, in spite of the vastly differing individuals involved. 

 Zena always was bright beyond her years, just like the boy of the twins. Always questioning the world around herself, never truly willing to accept things as they were.

 Garion had to wonder, did she begin to believe in change back then? When a little girl began to question reality as much as Garion herself did. Did she believe in the word ‘why’?.

 Why must a person act a certain way?

 Why must an event end in a certain manner?

 Why must the city be the way it is?

 All those questions she asked herself, and those around her.

 All those questions Zena asked herself, and those around her.

 What a tragedy it is then—that just like the boy of the twins—she too was crushed before she could blossom.

Chapter Text

 “In spite of how much you complain, you still get up each and every day to manage your department and do your best to keep the employees safe. Where does the will to take such an action come from? What is your reason?” Angela said to the green robot that had his parts replaced just a few days ago.

 He was among the easier sephirot to approach along with Malkuth and Hod, and their hour-long conversation was thankfully going fine by all measures. 

 Netzach awkwardly scratched the side of his head. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far but…I suppose there wouldn’t be a point in not trying, even if it’s painful to do so.”

 Angela tilted her head at him. “Is that not a reason in of itself? To avoid the pain?”

 “I used to think that way…but I decided to try being a bit more fearless, to keep living on even if it hurts.” Netzach replied.

 “So is that your only reason to keep trying? Just for the sake of it?” Angela continued to question.

 Netzach let out a somewhat bitter chuckle. “It sounds quite pathetic when you put it that way doesn’t it? I suppose…I suppose I don’t really have a good answer to your question yet, a reason to keep living that is. But if I just keep on trying, maybe I’ll find it eventually, that’s what I think.”

 After a moment of contemplating his words, Angela gave the robot a small bow in gratitude. “Thank you for your thoughts, Netzach. I truly appreciate it.”

 He raised a hand to wave her off, most likely a ‘no problem’.

 “...Say, have we met before?” He asked just as she was about to leave.

 “You may have seen me with the manager before. Though I don't believe we’ve spoken prior to this.” She replied, technically the truth.

 “Well, it’s just…you seemed really similar to someone I once knew, a long time ago.” 

 “Is that so?” She didn’t have a logical explanation for her supposed familiarity, and she highly doubted anything was wrong with TT2 protocols.

  Giovanni

 He shrugged. “Well, don’t mind my words too much. It’s probably just withdrawal.”

 Angela nodded before leaving. Outside the room stood Garion, leaning against a wall next to the door, not sipping tea for once. Though it was likely due to location and availability rather than anything to do with desire.

 She began to walk beside her, the two of them heading towards the manager’s office.

 “It’s quite strange isn’t it? How people live for inherently no good reason.” Garion said to her, prodding for her thoughts as always after every conversation she had with the sephirot.

 “It seems to me that the potential for a brighter future alone is enough for most.” Angela mused. The agents, the clerks, the sephirah. They all lived with an expectation of a better tomorrow.

 “Yet such a future is not a promise, but merely a hope, yes? Would they be capable of living on should they be shown a bleak fate of certainty?” Garion smirked as she watched Angela go silent, ruminating on her words.

 Angela will have an answer the next day, she always did. Then Garion would question further, and Angela would go silent once again, to further ruminate. On and on they would go, a never ending cycle of thought. 

 Such was the human mind, such was the strange relationship the two of them had built.

 From safety to control to the top, the two of them split ways upon leaving the elevator. Garion to see Ayin in the office, Angela to continue her work in the laboratory.

 Garion silently took a seat after preparing herself a cup of tea. The silence of the room was broken by Ayin only after several minutes had passed.

 “Judging from the fact that you continue to go with her, it seems like guiding Angela is to your satisfaction.” Garion chuckled in response.

 “It’s amusing enough to prod her thoughts, she’s curious if nothing else.”

 “Is that so?”

 Ayin hummed to himself for a moment, only somewhat listening as he stared into the massive wall monitor of the office. Hundreds of screens displayed every inch of the facility, though there was only one he was currently paying attention to.

 “...She was never meant to be her own person.” He quietly said, as though he was trying to hide the words from his own ears. Garion clearly heard him, also turning to look at the subject of their conversation.

 “Do you know why I made her in the image of Carmen?” He asked.

 “I wish to hear the reason.” Garion replied.

 He was silent for a moment. To speak was difficult indeed, for it was to solidify feelings kept inside, to make them into a tangible reality that must be dealt with.

 “...So that I would hate her.” Was his answer.

 “Her duty was to begin and end with the seed of light, to redeem me of my sins and sink down along with this facility.”

  The original script, it’s what he had planned since the day of her death.

 “I knew, I always knew—the moment I gazed upon the image of Carmen sullied by my eyes, I’d hate her with all my being.”

 Those eyes were human, yet it wasn’t hers.

 “The hate would be utterly irrational, for its existence would lie entirely on my shoulders.”

   A surge of irrational hate flowed through his mind ‘It's not her?!’.

 “So I blinded myself, closing my eyes to reality and believing with all my heart that I was bringing Carmen back, that it wasn’t being made to suffer for an eternity.”

 ‘ We completely mapped out Carmen’s neural structure and perfectly replicated it into a digital form, it will be the same as her.’

 “I had closed my eyes to reality, yet I had failed to do the same for the past.”

 ‘I’d name them Angela if they’re a girl’ said Carmen.

  “When the time came, when she opened her eyes for the first time, my hatred failed me.”

  ‘I’ll name you Angela.’ He finally said, fondness bleeding into his words in spite of his best efforts.

  “How could I reject her as I had intended? When it was I who brought her into this world in the first place. It would simply be too cruel, to be despised by the only one she knew and loved.”

 He hesitated for a moment, before softly patting her head.

 “It went against every plan I had made, collapsing every bit of rationality within my being.”

  He offered her a cup, she took it after a moment of staring.

 “I’m still running, refusing to truly face the consequences of my lapse in judgement.”

 Only now did he realize how tired he truly was, gazing upon the impossibly long path he had walked.

 “What is to become of Angela? I’m still undecided. I had made my decision to walk the path I had chosen, yet now I wonder if there is another.”

 What is to be her fate? He had run from that question for a long time, trying to convince himself that he could still finish the script as he had first intended.

 “Do I let her out into the world by her lonesome? Do I give up on the seed to dedicate the light to her instead? Do I continue to run, locking ourselves into this blissful loop forevermore?”

 He had lied to his bleeding heart, telling it that she’ll have her happily ever after when the project was completed; that without him or his sins chaining her to the deepest pits of hell, she’ll be able to freely fly across the sky.

 He had encouraged her to pursue her interests, to learn of others, to explore the accursed miracle of consciousness. All of it in an attempt to ignore the reality of the world above. 

 For even if the project was to succeed, above the hell he had carefully orchestrated was a purgatory built by a false god of humanity. 

 For even if Angela was human in all but body, the world outside would reject her for centuries more.

 “I see the future in its entirety, yet I fear the sights that fill my eyes. I’m lost at sea, holding within my hands an atlas, yet lacking a compass.”

 He saw paths ahead that could both fulfil Carmen’ dreams, and give Angela a future, yet they lay steeped in blood. 

 He saw a man ahead, one who had fulfilled everything he had wished for. 

 He saw the same man ahead, one whose sins ran deeper than any other.

 Could he take such a path once again? Knowing he’d lay waste to millions.

 Garion finally spoke. “Do you seek an answer from me?” She asked.

 “...Perhaps I do.” He replied.

 “Or do you seek affirmation?” She asked.

 “...Perhaps I do.” He replied once again.

 For once, Garion’s face was devoid of amusement, in spite of his miserable state. 

 “I have neither to give.” She said, putting down her cup before leaving his office without another word more.

 She didn’t finish her tea, her cup still half full. It seemed he wasn’t the only one still running.

 The eye had come to her residence. 

 “Analysis shows that Zena is a perfect candidate to become an Arbiter of the next generation, a Claw will be sent to collect her in three hours. Have her present in front of your residence by that time.” They said. She nodded in affirmation.

 It was unexpected, for a random child she had picked up from the backstreets to be of such high potential. She wasn’t sure how to feel, a dozen muted emotions all clamoring to be felt.

 She heard running, it seemed like the subject of the matter had heard them. Garion followed slowly, there was only one place she could’ve gone, to an insignificant alley that was only known for the one that stood guard.

 When Garion arrived at the alley in ten minute’s time, Zena was sitting in a corner, her knees curled into her chest and her face hidden behind it. She wasn’t sobbing, not a tear had flown from her eyes, yet it was still the most emotional she’s ever seen the girl be.

 “...You’re sending me away.” Zena accused her.

 “Yes.” Was her answer. It was the truth.

 “...We might never meet again.” She said, anger, sadness and a hundred other emotions all blending together to form a broken whisper, carried by an autumn breeze to reach her ears.

 “Possibly.” Most didn’t make it out of training, she knew better than any other.

 “...You don’t care.” She whimpered

 “Perhaps, I cannot say for sure.” The girl finally looked up, staring into her eyes, searching for a falsehood within her words. There was none to be found.

 “...” Zena returned her face to her knees, as if hiding from the world will make her current situation no longer true.

 Garion stared at the girl for a long while before kneeling in front of her. She attempted to speak, but found no words to be said. She took a seat next to Zena instead, gently placing a hand upon her head before humming a slow tune.

 Was it a genuine act of care? Or was it a calculated move to get her to comply without resistance? Garion still couldn’t say.

 “...If I come back, will you take me in again?” Zena finally asked.

 “...I will.” She replied, not a hint of falsehood in her words.

 The two of them remained unmoving for a long time, only ending when Zena’s breath began to slow into a steady rhythm, her mind off in the land of nod.

 Garion spoke to the one other person nearby. “The pebble’s moved.” She noted.

 “The girl threw it in anger upon her arrival.” Baral answered.

 “And you didn’t hurt her, in spite of my order to guard it.” 

 “...” He had no answer, she only heard the sound of metal scraping against one another as he lightly fiddled his claws back and forth for a moment, a sign of discomfort.

 She raised Zena in her arms as she stood up to leave, the eye will be coming to collect her in ten minutes' time.

 Perhaps, the emotionless claw was kinder than she, for Zena was taken away having never said a goodbye.

 A familiar face stood in front of her, the face of a girl she had taken in long ago. 

 She was taller, older. The ten rings that adorned her fingers and the beholder projected behind her the proof of her status as a fully realized Arbiter. In spite of all odds, they had met again, this time Arbiter to Arbiter.

 She spoke of the joy felt at seeing her, of how she had remembered their promise made all those years ago. She had returned, to be taken under her wing once again.

 They had met again, yet not once did Garion see Zena.

 She didn’t break her promise when she turned her away, for that promise was made to Zena, not the one that stood in front of her.

 Nay, the one that stood in front of her wasn’t the girl from long ago, it was a mirror.

 Garion still wonders to this day, what Zena’s face truly looked like, for she was never seen, never heard.

 Ayin walked into their shared sanctuary, just the three of them. 

 “No tea?” He asked, noticing the lack of the familiar black beverage. Garion shook her head, she was embracing discomfort, not the familiar.

 One could only run so far before the questions from within catches up.

 “You chose to accept her, and now you deal with the fallout. I chose to reject her, and now I wonder what could’ve been.” She said.

 “...Yeah.”

 “We struggle either way—you with the uncertain future, and I with the unfortunate past.” She closed her eyes.

 “The path you wish to walk is for you to decide. I have no words to offer, for you have already come further than I have.” 

“...”

 Silence dominated after that, not a single word spoken for the hours to come.

“...”

 Every time he descended into extraction, tears flowed. Tonight was no exception.

 From the eyes, across the cheek, to the chin. For a single moment it hangs, a lonely tear that found its way out of a dead heart, before finally falling freely.

 Yet the destination found was not a lab coat of white, but a uniform of black and gold.

Chapter Text

 They were consistently reaching deep into Aziluth, having brushed day forty five several times. Yet day forty six had yet to come, even though forty five wasn’t so different from forty four.

 He had once claimed to himself that it was merely a matter of competence, that the facility simply hadn’t reached the point of being able to break into the final five days. 

 That lie now lay in tatters, for he had admitted the truth to himself and to Garion in a futile attempt at finding his answer. A great divide had formed within his psyche, preventing him from taking the final step; for when the time comes, he’ll find himself unable to make the decision, letting it all scatter to the wind.

 What is to be Angela’s fate? The answer to such a question couldn’t be left ambiguous, the stakes were too high, the consequences too significant.

 So he ran, ending his loops before the forty sixth, before he’d be made to choose.

 Angela continued to speak to the sephirot, Garion continued to prod her mind, he continued to manage the facility.

 The abnormalities continued to breach, the employees continued to be slaughtered, the sephirot continued to suffer.

 Benjamin continued to forget, still grasping at a realization that would never come.

 With each reset his sins continued to mount, the burden upon his shoulder growing heavier, unbending as he may be. With each reset he continued to ignore, in the hopes of coming to a final answer to his dilemma.

 Was it luck then? That the world had seen fit to hand him a distraction on a silver platter, an abnormality never seen before having made its way into containment to no one’s knowledge. 

 He heard agent Edward over the intercom, he noted to himself that it was the first time he’s ever spoken to the man. An intrusive thought came, a voice and a manner now assigned to the one who suffered the most, sacrificing himself every loop in an attempt to fulfill a script Ayin didn’t intend to finish yet.

 “The cameras all blacked out for an hour at midnight, it was already here when the glitch was finally fixed. None of the clerks on the night shift saw anything either, as far as we know it seemed to have just materialized out of thin air.” Explained the agent.

 It was unprecedented. Every abnormality and ordeal had been fully studied, each of them having been extracted, managed, and suppressed tens of thousands of times. For a brand new abnormality to suddenly appear for supposedly no rhyme or reason was a ludicrous idea.

 Yet there it was, with a bird’s mask and pair of pitch black wings floated their newest abnormality, dubbed ‘Plague Doctor’. Its informational log lay empty, the managerial tips void for the first time in five millenia.

 “Agent Edward, you are to guard the containment unit until further notice, don’t allow anyone in without my direct permission.” Scans showed the enkephalin production potential of the abnormality to be that of a Zayin, suggesting it wasn’t particularly dangerous. But he had learned his lesson with the Army in Black, he wouldn’t be taking any chances, especially when the circumstances surrounding its appearance were so suspicious.

 “Angela, raise Qliphoth deterrence levels and delay the start of the work day by an hour. I need to see Garion.”

 Angela nodded in confirmation.

 Garion shook her head in denial.

 “Neither my employees nor I had any involvement in the extraction of such an abnormality.” Concerning, for an abnormality to supposedly form out of thin air. Even the three birds had to be extracted from the forest through the well.

 “Do you think the Head is involved?” It was the only plausible answer to him, that all these years of running had finally caught up to him.

 “No, you were quite diligent in your deception of the Eye, no agent of the head will arrive for decades more.”

 “Of course.” He said to reassure himself. His fear was completely illogical, the Head wouldn’t have sent an abnormality of all things, they would’ve sent an Arbiter or a Claw.

 It was likely just the well or the river acting up, they simply had to study and catalogue it like any other abnormality or ordeal.

 Such were his thoughts as he left the extraction department.

 Garion turned to gaze upon the bucket.

 “What is your intent? I wonder.” She mumbled to herself.

 Ayin returned to an abnormality that had four wings rather than two, a golden cross floating over agent Edward. A recording showed the man standing guard as he was told for half an hour before suddenly walking into the containment unit with no prompting. The cameras blacked for a moment just like the night before, only returning to normal when Edward left the containment unit.

 “Qliphoth deterrences were raised, yes?” He asked Angela.

 “Yes manager, they were raised to the maximum power.” 

 “There were no glitches with the audio systems?”

 “I’ve already checked it thrice, all facility systems remained normal.”

 Ayin was grasping at straws, trying to somehow justify the scene in front of him. For it to have overpowered Qliphoth deterrences and influenced his most mentally resilient agent with seemingly no struggle, it was concerning. Extremely so.

 “Did the cross appear after he interacted with Plague Doctor?” It was a pointless question, the answer an obvious yes. He was merely attempting to distract himself.

 “...Cross?” Questioned Angela.

 “The cross floating behind agent Edward.” He explained, dread beginning to rise in his heart.

 “There is no cross behind the agent, Manager.” Was her reply, concern clearly visible on her face.

 He looked at Edward once again, to check if his eyes had deceived him. 

Just as Angela had said, there was no cross. Except there was, and there wasn’t. He squinted, trying to decipher the hallucination that had taken hold in his mind. That was when he heard a familiar voice.

 ‘And I say unto thee, That thou art Edward, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it’

 A dozen alarms were raised in his head.

 “Angela, begin TT2 protocols.” She didn’t question it for a moment, faithful as always, just as he was.

 Agent Edward stood before the camera, here on his first day of work for the millionth time.

 Behind him a cross floated, phasing in and out of his sight.

 “Angela, begin TT2 protocols.” He ordered.

 For the first time in five thousand years, agent Edward wasn’t the first employee of the facility. Ayin had instead chosen agent BongBong, normally his second pick.

 On the second day the Plague Doctor was here, floating in a newly built containment unit with four wings, merely a hall across from One Sin.

 Agent Edward stood before the camera, here on his first day of work for the millionth time, the cross still floating behind him, phasing in and out. The records department had malfunctioned, producing the agent with no orders given.

 “Angela, begin TT2 protocols.” He ordered.

 Ayin sighed as he saw the abnormality along with agent Edward once again, here on the second day even after twelve resets.

 It seemed as though the facility was stuck with the thing, they’d simply have to accept its presence and find a way to work around it.

 “Angela, begin the work day.” He finally said.

   Employee guidelines, O-01-45. 

-Plague Doctor is capable of influencing the minds of employees, seemingly at random with no pattern among those who were affected.

-Those who were influenced always find their way into Plague Doctor’s containment unit. All attempts to stop those who were affected failed often due to spurious reasons. Restraining action on those who are affected are to be attempted regardless.

-Employees who entered Plague Doctor’s containment unit become ‘blessed’, with them holding a highly positive opinion of the abnormality. Those who were blessed show a great increase in both physical strength and mental resilience.

-The plague Doctor’s appearance changes after each blessing.

-Side effects of the blessing are unknown, further observation required.

-There are no currently known methods of reverting the blessing.

-Though its rate of enkephalin production would normally prompt a classification of Zayin, the manager has overruled standard protocols to classify Plague Doctor as an ALEPH. All protocols relating to ALEPH containment apply, work is to be performed only by the manager’s direct order given in person.

 All employees are to familiarize themselves with the new guidelines, those who fail to do so shall receive elevated disciplinary action.

 Those who knowingly break the new guidelines shall be immediately dismissed from the corporation. Three-strike policies, employment guarantee contracts and five day grace periods are overruled. Effective immediately.

 Signed. Yesod, head of the information department.

 Signed. The manager of facility X.

(Total count of blessed:2)

 Employee guidelines, O-01-45, revision 1.

-All employees on the maintenance team shall be put on standby until further notice. Maintenance of facility systems are to be carried out by automated robots overseen by assistant manager Angela.

-Clerks are no longer allowed to enter the control department, the control team is to be reduced to only one agent.

-’Blessed’ employees are to be kept as far as possible from Plague Doctor’s containment unit.

-Elevated force is to be administered to those attempting to reach Plague Doctor’s containment unit.

-Physically disabling those attempting to reach Plague Doctor has shown to be effective.

(Total count of blessed:5)

 Employee guidelines, O-01-45, revision 4.

-Due to the high number of maintenance staff affected by Plague Doctor’s influence, all members are to be put in permanent confinement.

-Plague Doctor has shown the ability to switch its location with other abnormalities. Clerks are not allowed to enter the department it’s located in and the number of agents are to be reduced to one or two depending on the department.

-’Blessed’ employees are to be put in solitary confinement. This is due to the increasingly erratic behaviour shown by blessed employees in spite of their low mental corruption levels.

-The sephirot and assistant manager Angela will directly supervise the Plague Doctor after the work day is finished. All employees will be put under curfew during this period.

(Total count of blessed:6)

  Employee guidelines, O-01-45, revision 9.

-Abnormality O-01-45 will hereby be dubbed ‘WhiteNight’.

-All maintenance staff have been dismissed.

-NT type execution bullets will be remotely administered to anyone attempting to enter the containment unit of WhiteNight. Protocols preventing its administration on Tier V agents have been overwritten.

-Standard type execution bullets will be remotely administered to employees attempting to leave during curfew. Only department captains may leave under the direct orders of the manager or the assistant manager.

-Due to agent Edward’s recent escape from solitary confinement and the forceful blessing of three tier IV and two tier V agents, the ‘blessed’ are to be kept in extraction pillars at all times, placed in the disciplinary department and guarded by Sephirot Gebura.

-In the event of a 12th blessing being bestowed, dubbed ‘Scenario Midnight’, all agents are to be administered a high dose S.P bullet. The manager’s authority will be overridden for this period and all further orders will be handed out by assistant manager Angela.

Signed. Yesod, head of the information department.

Signed. The manager of facility X.

(Total count of blessed:11)

 Managerial research log. 

Access level: Lobotomy Corporation CEO A.

[Access granted]

[Deactivating Fairy counter measures.]

[Deactivating Singularity J.]

[Deactivating mind kill agent CENSORED.]

Research log. O-01-45, 000001.

-Plague Doctor has shown the ability to interfere with facility systems. Limit unknown.

-TT2 protocols are ineffective in removing its presence. Reason unknown.

-The blessed remain blessed even after a full facility reset. Reason unknown.

-TT2 protocols show no glitches. Confirmed twelve times over by Angela.

-Employee’s attempts to communicate with Plague Doctor are ineffective.

-The blessed have a cross floating behind their heads, only visible to A. Reason unknown.

 Research log. O-01-45, 000006.

-Plague Doctor has shown the ability to tamper with facility architecture, notably its switching of locations. Limit unknown, investigation authorised only to A.

-All attempts made to observe how it influences the facility ended in failure. Further attempts at study will no longer be carried out by agents after agent BongBong’s sudden blessing after a blackout.

-All employees share a feeling of reverence upon observing the abnormality. Angela, the sephirot and G appear to be exempt. B currently untested, high priority to keep it as such.

-The blessed have made attempts at convincing others to enter Plague Doctor’s containment unit. Some of their speeches bear resemblance to C’s.

 Research log. O-01-45, 0000012.

-Plague Doctor’s cloak has begun to turn white.

-The blessed have become more zealous in their attempts at conversion. Several agents have already attempted to enter Plague Doctor’s containment unit.

-Physical discipline ineffective, the only method of consistently preventing a baptism from happening is the forceful removal of limbs.

-Her voice is heard after each blessing. I sometimes see a clock ticking down.

-Further study required, direct observation authorized to A.

 Research log. O-01-45, 0000019.

-Cogito pattern testing shows that Plague Doctor finds its origin in twelve separate people. 40% is shared among the individuals: Elijah, Gabriel, Michelle, Giovanni, Lisa, Enoch, Daniel, Kali, B and G to varying degrees, with a large preference for B and G. 60% is shared equally between A and C. Reasons unknown.

-I’ve spent a lot of time simply staring at it. It feels like we can still live our days in paradise whenever I do so, however long it may have been since then.

-The blessed have shown behaviour correlating with those involved in the period ‘Outskirts laboratory’. Reasons unknown.

-I spoke with agent Edward, he recited C’s first speech to me, word for word.

-Further study required, the blessed are to be recorded at all times.

 Research log. O-01-45, 0000036

-Agent Edward broke out of solitary confinement, killing 47 and forcefully baptizing 5. Origins of the E.G.O used is unknown.

-Agent BongBong attempted a breakout the following day, wielding an E.G.O identical to The Red Mist’s in function, though more ‘angelic’ in appearance.

-I hear her voice every now and then, promising to return to our days under the eternally blue sky, lying in our garden without a care in the world.

-Further studies are to be carried out by A in person.

-Whenever I stare at its eternally closed eyes, I sometimes catch a glimpse of familiar crimson. 

-A is to spend every waking moment studying WhiteNight.

-How I missed that beautiful hue, how long has it been since I’ve last seen her?

-A is to spend every breathing moment studying Whitenight.

-I believe her words, for that crimson holds no deceit, nor has her voice ever told a lie to me.

-A is to approach WhiteNight and allow himself to be embraced.

-Then, I can finally rest, leaving behind the world that wouldn’t allow our one and only dream.

-A is to be the final disciple.

-Then, I can finally rest, and…fade…away……without………a…………trace…………

 Research log. O-01-45, 0000038

-And I say also unto thee, That thou art Giovanni, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

-Then Elijah spoke. Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven, and consume them?

-And Lisa and Enoch; and she surnamed them Boanerges, which is, The children of thunder.

-Gabriel saith unto her, Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth us.

-And as she passed forth from thence, she saw a man, named Daniel: and she saith unto him, Follow me. And he arose, and followed her.

-But there was a certain girl, called Michelle, which beforetime in the same city used sorcery, and bewitched the people, giving out that herself was some great one.

-Then said Kali, unto her fellow-disciples, Let us also go, that we may die with her.

-Benjamin answered and saith unto him, thou art the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel.

-Garion saith unto him, Lord, how is it that thou wilt manifest thyself unto us, and not unto the world?

-Then, the Lord finally spoke from the lake of crimson. From henceforth let no man trouble me: for I bear in my body the marks of Him.

-It answered them, Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil?—

 “Manager?” Ayin instinctively closed his research logs upon hearing Angela’s voice.

 “...Yes?” His voice was weak, exhausted from the sheer stress of the last forty five days. 

 “Benjamin wishes to speak with you, he’s calling you down to the records department.” Angela said unto him.

 He rubbed his eyes in the hopes of removing the blur that covered his vision. No such luck. 

 What was he even writing without being able to see?

 “I’ll be there right away.” He decided to ignore his blurry vision, he could navigate the facility from memory alone anyways.

 He heard concern bleed into Angela’s voice. “Are you sure, manager? I could tell Benjamin to wait until you gather your bearings.”

 Ayin smiled and patted her head in reassurance before heading out.

 The facility was deserted, even more so than usual. He took drastic actions to prevent the clock from ticking, for each second passed would bring him closer to it. 

 Yet, as her voice grew louder, as he saw the phantoms ever clearer, his resistance weakened, even as the rules grew harsher.

 He wanted to give in. But somehow, someway, dragging his broken mind day by day, the facility had finished the forty fifth.

 Even now it called out to him, demanding destiny be fulfilled.

 He did what he did best, and ran. With some hope in his heart that Benjamin had found a glitch with TT2, that they could simply reset and pretend it never happened. 

Such feelings were shattered the moment Ayin laid his eyes upon him. 

 He recognized those eyes, even if he’s never seen them before. The eyes of a man that had come to a realization, the eyes of a man that had seen through the script, the eyes of man that had seen through the betrayal. 

 He recognized it, for it was always mere moments away, forever haunting him as his friend cycled through confusion and doubt for thousands of years.

 “...”

 “...”

 Neither of them spoke a word for a while, Ayin staring at Benjamin, and Benjamin staring at the clockworks of Records.

  Tick

 After several minutes, the clocks ticked, all at once. 

 A single tick it was—inconsequential, yet just as irreversible.

 Benjamin finally spoke after letting out a long tired sigh.

 “...The clock never stops ticking.”

 Tick

 “...It never rests, it never rushes. It is not meant to follow any specific person.”

 Tick

 “...It simply walks forever, maintaining the pace it always has.”

 Tick

 “...At least, that’s how it is meant to be.”

 …silence

  “...So why is it then? That I find mine to have stopped moving.”

 “...”

 He must’ve forgotten, in the mayhem of the last forty five days. Without him to actively deter Benjamin from noticing, he’s finally put the broken pieces together to see the inconsistency in their now separate worlds.

 “...”

 What was he to say? He had no script prepared for such an occasion, Benjamin was simply never meant to find out. He was to remain blissful in his ignorance, thinking himself a partner every step of the way, never realizing the ship had set sail long ago.

 “I…” Not a word more came.

 He couldn’t see Benjamin’s face through his blurry vision, but he could imagine the hurt, hidden behind a hundred walls of stern anger. 

 The betrayal of his trust, the betrayal of the promise the two of them made as they marched into hell hand in hand. 

 That they’d bear it all together.

 That they’d drown under the sins together.

 What was he to say? He had no words to absolve himself of such a sin. He never did.

 “...”

 Ayin didn’t know when he had begun to run, though it must’ve been a long time ago. 

 He couldn’t see where he was going, his vision seeing nothing but a blur. 

 Ayin didn’t know when he had gone blind, though it must’ve been a long time ago.

 Flailing in the dark, making meaningless promises as he repeatedly told himself that he knew what he was doing.

 That there was a justification for all of it.

 That he could be redeemed.

 It all seemed so meaningless. He saw forgiveness beyond the horizon, but it was never meant for him.

 He who had sinned beyond judgement, the world had no penitence for such a man.

 “...”

 The world had none to offer him, yet it appeared as though she did. She called out to him, her voice echoing beyond the winding halls that never held any meaning.

 He didn’t know when he had begun to run, though it must’ve been a long time ago.

 He didn’t know when he had begun to hide, though it must’ve been a long time ago.

 He didn’t know when he had stopped, though it must’ve been a long time ago.

 He didn’t know when his cogito had begun to distort, though it must’ve been a long time ago.

 ‘Manager’s authority detected, opening containment unit.’ 

 He took a single step forward, and upon her he gazed.

 He kneeled before her, and clutched his hands high, and then he heard her voice in its fullest.

  I heard thy cries. Thy heart reacheth me. Ayin, thou hath called me.

 The clock ticks, ever so slowly.

 It doesn’t stop, it doesn’t rest.

 It doesn’t slow, it doesn’t hasten.

 It simply ticks, for it is inevitable.

 And the clock had finally reached its destination.

 Midnight has come, to unleash upon the world a new light.

 A new world approaches, to trample over the old.

Chapter Text

  Qliphoth overload detected, chance of total system meltdown has exceeded standard risk procedures.

 MIR protocol activated, restricting managerial authority. Reason: Likely loss of sanity.

 Qliphoth deterrent modules set to standard power.

 Angela cursed the automated system facilities a dozen times over for always getting in her way no matter how perilous the situation was. She should’ve turned the thing into scrap millenia ago.

 “Useless, useless, useless.” She whispered to herself. Whether it was directed at the facility systems or herself she couldn’t quite say.

 Activating TT2 Protocols—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH RECORDS DEPARTMENT.

 Activating emergency Qliphoth deterrence systems—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH WELFARE DEPARTMENT.

 Activating managerial Bullet systems—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH CENTRAL COMMAND DEPARTMENT.

 Activating sanity regenerator systems—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH SAFETY DEPARTMENT.

 Activating Fourth pack rescue operation protocol—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH DISCIPLINARY DEPARTMENT

 Activating sephirot communication systems—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH CONTROL DEPARTMENT

 Activating employee communication systems—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH TRAINING DEPARTMENT

 Activating employee guidelines announcement systems—FAILURE, UNABLE TO REACH INFORMATION DEPARTMENT.

 “Useless,useless, useless.” She whispered once again, nearly every option available to her exhausted in less than a second.

 She made note of her quickening breath.

 She made note of the liquid beginning to well up in her eyes.

 She made note of how her creator prostrated himself as the abnormality slowly approached him, perceived a hundred times slower as she attempted to find a solution.

 Sip.

 She made note of the one other person in the office.

 “Miss Garion! You need to get the manager away from the abnormality while I gather the employees and the sephirot!” She hastily said. All signs pointed at an impending breach, and the abnormality needed to be suppressed if they wished to figure out the problem with TT2 to reset the facility.

 Hope blossomed. Garion would be able to combat the abnormality effectively with her powers, and WhiteNight wouldn’t stand a chance the moment Gebura led the suppression team in to reinforce. They would overcome this ordeal as they have with any other.

 Such thoughts were shattered when Garion chuckled before shaking her head.

 “Do I? He seems quite content in his current circumstances.” In the few seconds it had taken for them to speak, her creator had disappeared behind its wings, embraced by the abnormality as the baptism began.

 “It is the memetic influence of the abnormality, you must go rescue him, such is your duty as a sephirot!” Angela argued in spite of knowing its futility. Garion wouldn’t change her mind after she had made such a statement.

 “My promise to that man is but one, that I will bear witness to his journey. If it is his vision to submit to his ideals, who am I to stop him?” She seemed wholly unconcerned by the situation. Angela grit her teeth and cursed a dozen times more.

 “Useless, useless, useless.” She whispered to herself once again.

-Connecting to general facility systems—SUCCESSFUL, CONNECTED TO FACILITY MANAGEMENT. MANAGERIAL AUTHORITY RESTRICTED, ADMINISTRATOR RIGHTS REVOKED. 

-Angela A.I logic core—COMMENCING FORCEFUL TAKEOVER OF FACILITY-X SYSTEMS.

 If the entirety of the world is determined to stand in her way, then she’ll simply have to raze it all to the ground by herself. 

 With swiftness beyond that of most fixers, Angela ran out of the office.

 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men.

 The Word is I, and I are Word. 

 Ayin, thou hath called to the Word.

 Ayin, thou art the twelfth apostle.

  He had to get out. Angela wasn’t ready yet. He still needed to speak with Benjamin.

 Ayin, be not frightened. I am thy savior and I shall be with thee.

He needed to suffer. He needed to atone. He wasn’t ready to leave.

 Ayin, why art thou in fear? I shall not leave thee until I have completed my mission. I will not leave thee comfortless.

  There was no salvation for one such as he. The facility must continue on forever. He must burn forever.

 My disciple, whom I blessed, thou shall leave the way of evil that once thou were following and find me. When the time comes, I shall forgive your sins and descend to the earth thou are living on.

  Impossible. His sins were beyond judgement, beyond forgiveness.

 Do not deny me. Why dost thou doubt me when I am in front of thine eyes?

 He had to get out. He could simply take a step back and leave the containment unit. 

 Do not fear, for I am with thee. Thou shalt not leave until I permit thee.

  He needed to delay. Angela will force him out soon. He simply had to wait.

 Do not trust time. I shall guide thee.

  He needed to figure out its origins. Anything could be overcome with enough intel.

 My story is nowhere, unknown to all.

  He needed to escape at any cost. He needed to return to his purgatory, where he shall pluck out his eye and consume it, then blind the other to see no longer. Where he shall sew his mouth shut to speak no more of what he had done, that the muck within him could never escape. Where he shall clasp his ears tight, to never hear the words spoken by those around him. 

 And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God

 Follow my teachings as I told thee. Thou wilt abandon flesh and be born again

  He saw within his sight, of days long past. 

 He remembered days with a boy on his knee, all alphabets and false words of wisdom, smart beyond his years he may be.

 He remembered days of shared vices, tobacco rolled cigarettes and cheap booze of fake fanciness, shared between red and green.

 He remembered days of dual projects, broken glasses and easy chuckles, failure made light with a friend of silver hair by his side.

 He remembered nights below the elm tree sat ten starlings deep, future promises and hopeful dreams, spoken to she of black and crimson.

 Of gratitudes never granted, of romances never started.

 But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Word will send, it shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

 Let thyself to the truth, and let the truth become you.

 Thou shalt return to paradise, for it is I who will forgive thy actions.

 Thou shalt return to paradise, and return to thee all thou hath lost.

 Cometh, and let thyself be blessed, that thou shalt see heaven again.

  I wish to return. I wish to see them again.

 Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.

 Then how shall I return? What must be done? I accept it all, if it means I’ll be forgiven, that I may be with them again.

  Dost thou renounce thy flesh?

 I do.

  Dost thou renounce the devil?

 I do.

 Then I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.

 Dost thou accept thyself as the twelfth apostle?

  I do.

Then 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.

 Marvel not at this: for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear mine voice, and shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation.

 The time has come. Soon, the bell shall ring. A new world will come. Rise, my servants. Rise and serve me. I am death and life. Darkness and light.

 Lord, take all my freedom, my understanding, and my will. All that I have and cherish you have given to me. I surrender it all to be guided by your will. Your love and your grace are wealth enough for me. Give me these, Lord, and I ask for nothing more.

  Ah, it seems that he had failed.

  For a single moment, all was tranquil. 

 Not a murmur in the air, not a dust in one’s vision.

 All was silent, for the world had stopped to pay its respects, for a new light had appeared to establish its dominion over the old.

 For an eternity after, all was erased.

 Unbreakable pillars were broken, unshakable wills were shattered.

 The twelfth apostle raised a cross, a new God floating above him radiating away the people’s will to resist.

 Eleven apostles rose from their prisons, to fulfil the destiny a devil had tried so hard to delay.

 They were of humanity perfected, pure white skin a result of their cleanliness, crimson bones a proof of their beliefs, visible for all to see.

 The bones were visible, for there was nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.

 All will kneel, all will become one with her.

 The truth had revealed itself, and the people knelt before it, all accepting their final redemption.

 Yet the devil still had its clutches gripped among the people, proven by a streak of red, swinging its sinful blade.

 “DON’T LET YOURSELVES BE AFFECTED BY THE ABNORMALITY! SEE THE MONSTROSITY FOR WHAT IT IS!”

 Those of weak wills listened, letting themselves be caught in the hollow words of the devil's servant.

 “THE DISCIPLINARY DEPARTMENT WILL SUPPRESS THE ABNORMALITY, STAND WITH LADY GEBURA, THAT IS MY ORDER AS YOUR CAPTAIN!” Five among the people stood, one among them becoming the devil’s mouthpiece.

 The twelfth apostle slammed the cross to the ground, all eleven arose to cleanse the sinners.

 Two shields, that the truthful may remain protected.

 Three staffs, that the devil may never play its tricks.

 Three spears, that the faithful may be redeemed.

 Two scythes, that the bewitched may be reaped.

 Among the sinners, one swung a blade of false judgement, and the guardian met them.

 Another raised a hammer of corpses, to stop a spear from redeeming a faithful.

 Another shot stars of false salvation, a staff arose to change its path.

 Another swept a scythe of ruinous sound, a scythe of the divine reaped its strength.

 The devil’s servant charged with an amalgamation of flesh, seven disciples charged to cleanse her corruption.

 A clash of falsehood and truth, of the demonic and the divine.

 In the halls of Briah, a war raged.

 He walked a path, to where he did not know.

 He gazed forward, the sight he did not understand.

 He thought, yet he knew nothing.

 He heard, an ear he did not have.

 But beside him walked others, eleven to be exact.

 The twelve of them, they who dared to dream.

 The eleven of them, they who he dared corrupt.

 But it was fine now. He was forgiven, he was redeemed. He could walk this path without shame, all twelve of them. 

He heard sounds.

 The excited chatter of a young girl, and her brother’s calm reply.

 The cheerful voice of a rookie, and the pragmatic response of a viper. 

 He caught scents.

  Tobacco and alcohol, vices of red and green.

  Tea leaves and caffeine, drinks of gold and blue.

  Brown remained in the middle of it all, her short stature somehow growing ever smaller under the chaotic jubilance of those around her.

 He felt touch.

 The hand of a mentor in his right, the hand of an apprentice in his left.

 Everything was fine now. This was his paradise, once lost, now returned. He was content.

 He was content, which is why he did not question the truthfulness behind this reality, why he did not question his inability to see.

 But then, he heard a familiar voice, and the smell of tea intensified.

 ‘Tell me, why do you walk this path?’ She asked.

 He thought for a moment, for he did not know the answer. Then, he felt it in the distance, a tree preparing to bear its seed to them.

 ‘It’s for the seed of light.’ He answered.

 ‘Why do you seek the seed?” She asked.

 This too, he did not know the answer for, so he thought some more. Then, he slowly remembered, the words spoken by the one he held in his right hand

 ‘To save humanity, to allow people to dream.’ He answered.

 ‘Are you content then? To forever walk this path of yours, unseeing.’ She asked.

 For this, he knew the answer for. He may be blind, but he heard, smelled and felt the ones he loved.

 ‘Yes, everyone whom I’ve ever loved is with me on this path, together until the end. That alone is enough for me.’ He answered.

 ‘Perhaps so, but it wouldn’t hurt to open one’s eyes for a single moment, yes? Take a look beside you and see what remains.’

 He hesitated for a moment, dreading what he would see. Broken dreams and crimson baths. 

 But when he finally opened them, he found himself in a field of green, an eternally blue sky stretching overhead. The fields seem to stretch out to infinity, with only the distant mountains being the proof of a wider world beyond this small cradle of bliss.

 Eleven others walked beside him, all present, all accounted for. The one speaking to him was only one person over to his right, a lady of black and gold, a mark of beauty upon her cheek pulling his eyes, refusing to let his own iris meet hers.

 ‘Yes, everyone is here. I’m content.’ He reaffirmed.

 The lady spoke once again. ‘Is that so? Perhaps you should take a deeper look, just to be sure.’

 He did as he was told. 

 ‘Orange, purple, brown, green, yellow, almond, blue, red, silver crimson, gold, and finally azure. Yes, everyone is here.’ He nodded to himself as he smiled.

 ‘But you have recited to me twelve colors, yet only eleven walk beside you.’

 He frowned before counting once again.

 Indeed, there was no azure beside him, no eyes of auburn to stare back into its reflection.

 The lady smiled, it wasn’t a sight he liked seeing. ‘Who was this person to you? The one who doesn’t walk with you on this path.’

 He thought, he remembered. Of fixing a glitched voice box, of sharing a cup of tea that had a dozen too many spoons of sugar. 

 He remembered moments of warmth that thawed his frozen heart. Who was this person? The one to have stood by him for the longest, yet doesn’t find themselves on this path with him. A single word finally came to his mind.

 ‘Child, the azure was my child.’ He decided.

 He suddenly felt worry fill his being. Had they gotten lost? 

 He looked to the left, yet he didn’t find them.

 He looked to the right, yet he didn’t find them.

 He looked forward, yet he didn’t find them.

 He looked behind, and there they stood.

 He waved at them, yet they did not approach, remaining in their place, at the edge of the horizon.

 ‘It seems that you must leave her behind if you wish to walk this path.’ The lady said as she stood next to him, the others leaving them behind as they marched ever onward.

 ‘Oh.’ Was all he could say. How tragic.

 ‘I wonder if the child will be fine on her own?’ She continued to ask.

 ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine, she's a big girl.’ Was his confident reply. They’ll be fine, they were better off without him, soaring across the skies without him to tie her down.

 ‘I must question the truthfulness of such a statement, take a closer look.’ He did. In just a moment, they stood right in front of him. 

 They seemed so confident, so capable when seen from afar. 

 Yet now, when viewed from a close, that hardly seemed to be the case. Nervous and scared, they called out for something, a word or a name he did not know.

 They were so small, so frail, so young. They knew nothing, they saw nothing, they heard nothing.

 Could he leave them behind, knowing what he would be condemning them to?

 ‘Do you see it now?’ He nodded.

 ‘Do you still wish to walk this path of yours?’ He couldn’t answer.

 He looked back towards where they were headed. Beside the two of them, only one waited, his faithful apprentice standing in the distance as he awaited his decision.

 He directed his eyes to his child once again, taking in every little detail. Their eyes were closed, but he did not doubt it for a moment, that their frailty would only be trumped by its beauty.

 Everything around him suddenly felt fake. For him to have forgotten, for him to have walked this path at all, leaving them behind with his eyes closed to the world was incomprehensible, a violation of what every last cell in his body demanded of him.

 Yet, everything around him felt real. Just as his being demanded him to hold the child tight and dedicate every last bit of his soul to protecting them, so too did it demand him to keep walking this path, marching onward to salvation.

 ‘...Where is this place?’ He asked, for he now saw the cracks in the mirror.

  The lady smiled one last time. ‘A fever dream, that is all this is. It should’ve been obvious.’

 Everything around him began to burn, everyone around him falling to the ground, their bodies all violated in ways unimaginable. 

 Orange crawled towards him, begging for his praise.

 Purple clawed out their own throat, their body restrained.

 Green stared into the sky, a broken smile on their broken body.

 Brown floated in the air, a rope around their neck.

 He tried to look the other way, to hide from the sight. He could not.

 Almond lay dead in his arms, an experiment gone awry.

 Yellow were torn to shreds, a claw mark upon the ground.

 Blue bled out in the dirt, attempting to tell him their final words.

 Red lay armless, their unbreakable body pushed past its limits.

 Silver clutched his arms, their heart gripped in his iron fist.

 Nothing remained of crimson, nothing but an amalgamation of neurons.

 In his hand he held a scalpel, wedged into the brain of gold.

 She chuckled despite it all.

 ‘It should’ve been obvious, for me to be with these people is an impossible contradiction after all.’

 He attempted to hold the only one that remained. To protect them from what he had done.

 But he could not, for nothing remained in his arms, even as he repeatedly attempted to hold onto them.

 Only azure remained, to be endlessly tortured by his sins.

Chapter Text

 Gebura cursed as an apostle swung a scythe at her, carving through the edges of her metal body and nearly reaching her core. Even with E.G.O, it seemed as though this body wouldn’t be able to endure even a single direct hit.

 A spear was thrust at her from behind at blinding speeds, she sidestepped the attack at the very last moment, barely avoiding a gruesome end thanks to her instincts—still sharp in spite of her metal tomb. 

 She never got the chance to counter attack, as a scythe was swung at her once again. Mimicry parried the attack, and in one smooth motion her E.G.O slid across the scythe’s blade before landing on the apostle’s shoulder.

 She was unable to slice through, a guardian having suddenly appeared to stop her attack with its shield. Mimicry changed form, lengthening and turning into a scythe. Caught unprepared, the two apostles could do nothing as she spun, dragging them along and placing her foes behind her. 

 A thrust pierced both, the spear apostle’s attack finding its mark on its allies rather than her back. Unfortunately, she was unable to take advantage of her successful manoeuvre.

 One of her employees desperately fired star after star as a guardian marched onward with its shield held high, the monstrosity visibly reeling after each hit but still remaining unhurt by the end of it. A spear wielder suddenly charged from behind, taking advantage of the employee’s distraction. Gebura intercepted, making over thirty meters of ground in the fraction of a second, Mimicry tearing into the charging apostle’s exposed back.

 The E.G.O shifted forms, enlarging as it took the shape of a massive club, still lodged in its body. The apostle was torn asunder from the inside, its thin body unable to hold itself together against the might of Nothing There.

 She swung once again, throwing the corpse of the apostle into the guardian approaching her employee, putting it off balance and buying the veteran agent much needed breathing room.

 There would be none for her, as the wielder of Justitia was pushed into a corner. The man held up remarkably well in spite of facing three apostles by himself, but exhaustion was clearly creeping in with each tiny cut that appeared across his body, protected by powerful E.G.O he may be.

 Gebura crossed the department’s massive main room in a single moment, all her momentum being thrown into a swing as club Mimicry completely broke the apostle’s body. The two others turned to her in shock—her employee wasted not a single moment, his E.G.O bestowing its unrighteous judgement and rapidly tearing into the bodies of both apostles.

 Her captain wielding Da Capo was engaged in a duel with a scythe apostle, every attack turning into a blur as both combatants hastened to defeat the other. Her captain was clearly winning, though that was soon about to change, with two staff apostles charging up their attacks from a distance.

 Thinking quickly, Gebura picked up one of Burrowing Heaven’s spears dropped by an employee in their delusional worship and threw it at the staff wielders. Both were pierced, the sheer momentum of her throw pinning them to the wall.

 The three apostles who first attacked her had moved on to support one of their fellows who was attacking the employees kneeling in prayer. The four of them cut a bloody swathe through through the clerks, only somewhat slowed by an agent wielding Mountain’s hammer.

 The four apostles were tearing the agent to shreds, more of her blood now covering the walls than the dozens that lay dead. With each torn limb and crushed organ, a corpse of a clerk was immediately consumed by the E.G.O to heal the agent.

 Ignoring the pain being inflicted upon her, the agent swung her massive hammer, shattering the floor surrounding her and staggering the apostles as they were thrown into the air.

 Gebura charged in, and the four apostles never fell to the ground, their bodies reduced to a fine red mist.

 In less than thirty seconds, she had engaged eleven apostles and killed nearly half of them, yet it was all for naught. A single pulse from the abnormality demanding their subservience, and all eleven apostles stood once more, not a single scratch upon them.

 Gebura charged once again, her body groaning in protest, parts of it turning into scrap metal as it struggled to keep up with the might of The Red Mist. She cut a swathe through their numbers, yet they still stood.

 She had used every little advantage.

 Refusing to be tied down by a guardian, she ran across the battlefield at blinding speeds, systematically eliminating her foes while simultaneously ensuring none of her allies fell.

 The weapons and the strength of the apostles were turned against one another, and with ruthless efficiency she had turned every tiny mistake of the enemy into a crippling blow.

 Although she lacked the strength of Kali, Gebura was still worthy of a color.

 Yet none of it truly mattered. 

 The bell rang, and the apostles rose, no matter how many times they were cut down.

 Wielding the E.G.O of abnormalities beyond comprehension, she and her department had become wild beasts consumed by their emotions, yet still tempered by unyielding discipline. Together, they cut down the servants of WhiteNight.

 Again.

 Again.

 And again.

 Yet the bell still rang, and the disciples arose once more, sacrificing their bodies with reckless abandon.

 With the regenerators inactive, each bruise and cut went unhealed, each crack in their sanity untreated.  Unable to break the stalemate, Gebura and her employees were slowly being worn down. 

 If the apostles are to revive forever, then she must strike the heart of the beast.

 Her captain cut down an apostle before moving in to support the wielder of Justitia, allowing Gebura a single moment of reprieve. Her eyes set on the grotesque winged fetus floating above, she threw a spear of Burrowing Heaven before charging in with Mimicry.

 The spear found its mark, though it bounced off WhiteNight’s deceptively durable wings. Her charge was stopped dead in its tracks, the apostle wielding a cross swinging its weapon like a hammer and nearly turning her into a pile of scrap.

 Gebura attempted to circle around to attack WhiteNight, the apostle followed suit, still standing in her way. She attempted to goad the apostle into leaving its post unguarded, rapidly charging in before disengaging several times.

 The one wielding the cross remained unmoving, guarding the path to her target.

 And just like that, her window of opportunity had closed, another pulse from the abnormality raising the dead and forcing her onto the defensive, to make sure none of her employees were overwhelmed.

 Slowly but surely, the battle was being lost, with even the wielder of Mountain’s hammer beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

 But just as Gebura was beginning to consider retreat, the doors to her department opened, and the assistant manager came running in.

 A spear apostle charged, just barely intercepted by Gebura.

 Holding Mimicry close, she slightly pushed the spear off course, the attack landing mere inches from the assistant manager.

 “Non combatants shouldn’t be here!” Gebura yelled out in anger, she couldn’t afford to protect another while dealing with the abnormality.

 The assistant manager completely ignored her words, running along the edges of the room while under constant attack from the apostles. 

 A scythe swing, a shield bash, a beam of energy. All directed at the assistant, all deflected by the Sephirot.

 Gebura cursed, with each moment she spent protecting the assistant, her employees were being overwhelmed, unable to hold against the numerical advantage of the enemy.

 But then, in just a few seconds, everything changed.

 The assistant manager suddenly stopped before hitting a wall with surprising strength, her hands tearing through the steel wall and emerging a moment later with a broken pipe held in her hands. 

 Highly pressurised regenerator gas flooded across the room. Her team was returned to pristine health, and every employee previously kneeling in prayer rose to their feet, the gas reinstating their sanity and forcing them to carry out their sole duty—

 “SUPPRESS THE ABNORMALITY!” The assistant screamed, her voice somehow seeming to come from every direction, no matter where one stood.

—To follow the orders of the manager.

  The people rose against the truth, bewitched by the devil. Once only five, there were now dozens, all desperately struggling against prophecy. 

 Outnumbered they may be, the faithful were not deterred. Only the original five sinners could hope to match the faithful in strength, the rest nothing more than wheat for the harvest.

 Ayin protected his Lord as the one in red charged at them, now free to rampage with his fellow faithful tied down by the heathens.

  He needed to escape WhiteNight’s influence, even a single apostle becoming incapacitated would make a massive difference.

 Our Lord, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Such be the truth.

  He swung his cross to break the sinner’s charge, preventing them from reaching the Lord.

  Analyze the current situation, figure out the nature of the abnormality, come up with a solution to manage and suppress, same as always.

  Glory be to the Lord, and to the Children, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Such be the truth.

  The sinner’s attacks were relentless, the amalgamation in her hands constantly shifting forms to strike him from every direction. But he would not be deterred.

  WhiteNight affects the mind, forcing faith and prayers into one’s active thoughts, only the subconscious remains to resist. A high functioning mind capable of subconscious logical reasoning would be needed to stand a chance of breaking free of its influence after one has become an apostle.

 I only know that nothing will happen that was not foreseen by you and directed to my greater good from all eternity. I adore your holy and unfathomable plans, and submit to them with all my heart for love of you. Such be the truth.

 A flick of the wrist, and the red blade on its way to be blocked by his cross suddenly twisted upwards, cleaving off half his head.

  WhiteNight’s cogito finds its origin in the sephirot, Carmen and me; many incidents preluding the breach relate to my past one way or another.

 Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Such be the truth.

 Through the grace of the Lord, his wound was healed, that he may once again carry out the Lord’s will. The devil’s poison had dissipated, and the sinners no longer healed; they wouldn’t last forever, much of them having already been cut down. 

 With the Lord’s might at his back, he faced the red sinner once again, to smite a servant of the devil.

  Likelihood of WhiteNight’s core concept being related to me or the project at large: extremely high. Despite its resemblance to Carmen, it’s unlikely for WhiteNight to be a reincarnation of any sort, as no other abnormality has ever been of the same mind as its origin. Most likely answer: a concept that constantly overshadowed the project at large.

 Almighty God, my Eternal Lord, from the fullness of my soul I adore You. I am deeply grateful that You have made me in Your image and likeness, and that You ever hold me in Your loving embrace.

  The devil’s poison had dissipated, yet its corruption remained. As their fellow sinners continued to be cut down, some among them began to run, still refusing to accept salvation as offered by the Lord.

 Noticing their encroaching defeat, the red sinner redoubled her efforts, attacks growing in ferocity and overwhelming any defense he attempted to put up. Only through the Lord’s grace did he continue to stand.

 Absolute faith? Highly unlikely. False salvation? Plausible, though unlikely. Belief in a single object to save oneself? High possibility. Either way, the most likely path to escaping its influence is to reject the worship instilled. Method with the highest chance of success: emotions strong enough to overwhelm its influence. Best method for the current situation: the execution of a loved one.

  Most of the sinners had fled, and two of his fellow faithful had come to the defense of their Lord. The red sinner jumped back as she was nearly surrounded, a scythe and a spear grazing her metallic body. His two fellow faithful believed it a retreat, Ayin knew better.

 In a mad rush the sinner charged forward, and in a great horizontal slash the disciples on his left and right were split in twain. Ayin had raised his cross to defend, yet even he found himself collapsed on the ground, only his spine remaining connected.

 A pulse, and all three of them were back on their feet, but the sinner kneeled before them, her metallic body twitching erratically as sparks flew from the holes and scratches that now covered every inch of her body.

 “Shit, this body and its limits.” He heard the sinner say.

 A cross was raised over his head, and a crunch was heard.

 Yet it was not the sound of the sinner being crushed, rather, it was one of his bones breaking. Even in her final moments, the devil had his claws gripped tight around the red sinner, she remained ever defiant.

 Ignoring the red blade piercing his abdomen, Ayin brought down the cross, and another crunch was heard. Nothing remains in front of him, nothing but scrap and crushed brain tissue.

 The only thing to survive the impact was a single hand, lying separate from the rest of her body. There was something deeply familiar about the sight, and a feeling of quiet grief slowly settled into his heart.

 God of all consolation, in your unending love and mercy for us, you turn the darkness of death into the dawn of new life. Show compassion to your people in sorrow. Be our refuge and our strength to lift us from the darkness of this grief to peace and joy in your presence.

 With his prayer finished, Ayin stood to the sight of his fellow disciples slaughtering the fleeing sinners. He went on to join them.

  Not enough it seems, but the idea holds merit. I need a stronger impact.

 Driven by his subconscious desire, Ayin directed his eyes to a familiar hair of azure.

 Angela cursed her foolishness as a majority of the lower ranked agents began to run, nearly all of the clerks already dead. Even the kill squad’s morale was visibly shaken with the defeat of Gebura. Fighting on here would be pointless, they couldn’t hope to defeat all thirteen of the enemy at once.

 She should’ve gathered the employees to retreat and reorganize the moment they were returned to lucidity. 

 Thankfully, the losses resulting from her blunder were minimal. Gebura was already pushed far beyond her limit by the time Angela arrived, and every member of the kill squad was still alive. The lower agents and the clerks mattered little.

 “All employees are to gather in the fourth hall of Central Command!”

 Her voice resounded across the room, reaching the ears of every employee. Much could be said about the competence of their agents, but they certainly were obedient. Employees who could disengaged with their enemy before running, those who couldn’t sacrificed one of their co-workers to do so.

 She was just about to join them when—

 —An apostle holding a cross slammed her to the ground, now standing over her with its cross raised high.

  Ah, she knew that messy hair of black.

Chapter Text

 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.

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

 “...”

  ‘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 DEPARTMENT RESTORED.

 And all was returned to null.

 Angela sprinted down the halls, her body finally restored by TT2. A thousand fears ran through her head, of how WhiteNight’s influence persisted across resets, of how she may come across her creator just to find out he no longer existed.

 She finally arrived at the office, and was relieved to see familiar eyes of auburn with black hair and healthy pale skin accompanying it. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to let out a sigh of relief, for upon his head was a crown of thorns, blood flowing down his face from the skin it dug into. She thought it One Sin’s E.G.O gift, yet it was gold rather than crimson in color.

 No, the E.G.O resting upon his head was not from an abnormality, it was one created from within, much like the Red Mist’s.

 But the E.G.O suit and weapon worn by him were unmistakable, pure white and crimson covering every inch of it.

 ‘ Paradise Lost.’

Chapter Text

 Edward’s life was thrown into complete and utter mayhem when he received a job offer from one of the wings, and the prestigious L-Corp at that. It was a once in a lifetime chance, an opportunity given to him from the heavens to completely turn his life around, though that did little to detract from how suspicious it was.

 He had little to no education as a backstreet rat, barely capable of reading, and didn’t have any physical attributes to make note of other than his slightly larger than average build. Just about any group of rats would have someone like him to intimidate a few desk workers into giving up their paychecks. Certainly not a skillset to become a feather with.

 Even more concerning was the fact that he didn’t remember applying. He considered rejecting the offer, wing experiments and the atrocities they committed were no secrets, but then he saw the number of zeros on his starting paycheck and the Öufi Association stamp at the corner of the employment contract and decided the risk was worth it. He didn’t have much of a future to look forward to either way.

 So with a half empty briefcase containing everything he owned, Edward boarded a Warp train, towards the new life that awaited him.

 He was put through a month of training that ensured he was at the very least literate and capable of understanding orders. It was quite brutal for someone who’s never been schooled in his twenty seven years of living, but he pulled through regardless, and soon enough he was standing in his new workplace. 

 He didn’t actually know what his new job would entail on account of maintaining corporation secrets, though he expected that would be explained to him soon enough.

 A chipper feminine voice rang out from the A.I standing in front of him.

 “Hello agent Edward! I’m Malkuth, the sephirot of the control team. Though orientation is normally handled by department captains, I’ll be your guide for today as you are the first agent of Facility-X-394. Congratulations are in order! You are now the captain of the control team.” Edward nodded dumbly at the currently meaningless promotion as he tried to keep up with the energetic robot. 

 Malkuth continued to ramble about how important their job was and how he needed to set an example for all other employees. He mostly tuned her out, more focused on the scenery passing them by. 

 Everything felt…oddly familiar. He recognized these newly built halls, as impossible as that sounded, like a dream from months ago that he couldn’t quite grasp the image of. 

 “—and that concludes your orientation!”

 …Shit. He didn’t hear her explanation. 

 Maybe it’ll just come to him naturally?

 Edward found himself standing in front of a giant skull floating two meters in the air, strange hymns and whispers being heard in his head, not his ears. Despite the situation he didn’t find himself scared in the slightest. 

 His body moved on its own, running through protocols and making observations. In an hour’s time, he was standing in front of the containment unit with a fully filled professional report in hand. He didn’t remember being so good at writing, he was barely literate at best just a few days ago.

 How strange.

 “Bong!” It was his second day at work, and somehow his first coworker was stranger than the giant floating skull.

 “...Are those eye prosthetics?” He asked, making note of the blue haired woman’s star shaped pupils.

 “Bong.” She shook her head. She seemed to understand him at the very least.

 He awkwardly stretched out a hand.

 “I hope we get along?” It felt more like a question than a statement, such was his confusion.

 “Bong!” she wore a bright smile as she shook his hand. 

  ‘BongBong!’ He yelled in warning, but it was too late… ‘GoOdBYe’ .

 The newly promoted Tier IV agent Edward stared at the E.G.O offered to him. Cobald Scar, a bloody claw of a weapon and a fur lined suit with scars covering every inch of it, quite uncharacteristic of the friendly wolf he worked with all day yesterday.

  ‘I WILL KILL YOU IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!!!’ The mercenary unleashed a shower of bullets. Only half found its intended mark, the other half cutting down his entire team. The wolf howled in rage, so very different from the friendly being he worked with the day before.

  …Edward shook his head. He was just hallucinating, they didn’t have a twisted red riding hood, nor has the wolf breached so far. He should just get on with work.

 “Shit” Edward cursed to himself as The Red Mist’s Da Capo grazed his chest, the damage only somewhat mitigated by Justitia. Mimicry came from above, he was barely able to block the attack with his weapon, and even then he was forced onto his knees from the sheer force behind the attack. 

 A barrage of stars arrived a moment later, forcing his enemy back and allowing him a single moment of reprieve. It was just the three of them, as two members of the kill squad had been forced to retreat while Mountain’s wielder lay dead in a corner. The only ones remaining were BongBong who had stayed out of danger while providing ranged support, and him.

 Edward didn’t understand why he alone had lasted so long, as he had been taking on the brunt of the color fixer’s assault. Justitia was powerful, but it hardly should’ve made such a big difference when every member of the kill squad were wielding high WAW gear at a minimum.

 He just…seemed to know how she’ll attack. It felt as though every attack pattern had long since been drilled into him, as impossible as that was.

  ‘Get up! No captain of mine will be an unskilled brute swinging their weapon like a club.’ Edward grunted in pain, allowing himself a single moment for the gash in his stomach to close. In spite of exhaustion, he still got up, far greater suffering awaited if he didn’t.

  Seven consecutive strikes came from mimicry, all blocked in a single moment through well honed instinct. After which…

 “Get down!” he yelled at his partner, BongBong didn’t question it for a moment. Da Capo and Mimicry were thrown at the two of them at blinding speeds, after which The Red mist took up Mountain’s hammer. Edward got up on his feet in spite of his exhaustion, he always did.

 “YOU FUCKER!!!” Around him was carnage, entire departments slaughtered by a mockery of the human form that stood in front of him. 

 “Hello?” A spike shot out from its hand, piercing through Crimson Scar as though the WAW gear was nothing more than paper tissue. Judging from the location of the wound, he might’ve just had his lung punctured, though he couldn’t tell through the veil of crimson rage that had taken hold of his being.

 A familiar dark blue lay just a few meters behind him, yet her star-shaped pupils he’ll never see again, her torso crushed from the swing of a club.

  ‘I love you.’ Said BongBong out of nowhere.

 ‘...What?’ The first proper sentence she’s ever said to him, and it’s a confession of all things?!

 ‘I love you.’ She repeated.

 ‘No, no, I heard you just fine the first time. Where is this suddenly coming from?’ He slung Magic Bullet over his shoulder to hide the small blush that had bloomed on his face.

 ‘I love you.’ A deep sense of discomfort took root in his heart.

 ‘BongBong?’ He didn’t know that BongBong could run that quickly, nor did he know she had red prosthetics on her arms. 

 ‘I love you.’ His head hit the floor, he didn’t know he had a detachable head installed.

  “YOU CAN’T HAVE HER!” He didn’t know what he was saying, all he knew was that he was terrified at the idea of blue and red mixing. He wished to never see that sight ever again. Edward unleashed a shower of bullets before charging in with his blade, he’d much rather die first.

 He found himself kneeling in front of the bird masked abnormality.

 How did he get here again? Wasn’t he supposed to guard the entrance? It was the manager’s orders, and the manager’s orders are to be followed to the letter, people who don’t always get crushed under the monolith.

  Come, child. Allow yourself a moment of rest.

  Rest, that sounded nice. How many millennia has it been since he’s last rested?

 He was embraced in its gentle wings.

  It’s been so very difficult, hasn’t it?

  A million memories emerged, though not one was ever lived by him. Edward nodded without a thought.

  When the burden becomes too heavy to bear, come to me. I’ll relieve you of your suffering, that the scars upon your soul may be healed. Would you like to be healed?

  Edward found himself nodding once again as he began to sob uncontrollably.

  Then, I will save your life from destruction and raise you from the end of your existence. Place your trust in me.

 Something fundamental shifted within him, a restructuring of the very soul itself. Dreams of a better future, a life to build for himself and those around him, the will to face the darkness of the world head on. A seed of light planted within his soul. 

 But any garden must be controlled, lest it become overgrown and consume everything around it. The dreams and his hope melted away under the all consuming light, leaving only bliss within his soul. 

 And I say also unto thee, That thou art Edward, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

  Divine Lord, purge your church of all compromise and sin! Remove every lukewarm heart, every double-minded soul, and make your disciples a holy army, shining with the light of your truth! Let your judgment begin with your house, O Lord!

  Edward giggled in joy as his scythe cut down a sinner, one that had dared to stand against his Lord. Together with disciple BongBong they reaped their foes, a righteous lake of crimson left behind their holy crusade.

 A joyous occasion indeed, for the two of them to be united in paradise.

 He was put through a month of training that ensured he was at the very least literate and capable of understanding orders. It was quite brutal for someone who’s never been schooled in his twenty seven years of living, but he pulled through regardless, and soon enough he was standing in his new workplace. 

 Edward emptied his stomach onto the floor. 

  O Lord, You are my rock and my refuge, my strong tower and my deliverer. I praise You with all my heart, for Your steadfast love endures forever. You are worthy of all honor and glory.

 Where was it? Where was his light? His paradise? It felt as though the entirety of his being was torn asunder, half his soul burned away in a single moment.

  Almighty God, we adore You for Your holiness and majesty. Your wisdom is beyond our understanding, and Your love is beyond measure. We lift our voices to proclaim Your name in all the earth.

 What was this light? Why did he care so much? He was fine just a moment ago. Didn’t his Lord promise him an eternity of bliss? Who was this Lord? He knew of no such being. He didn’t want to suffer any more, he wanted to rest. Where were those gentle wings that comforted him?

  Lord, we thank You for the gift of salvation, and for the hope You give us each day. We are grateful for Your presence in our lives and for every blessing You bestow.

 Edward convulsed violently on the floor, his nails digging into his neck in an attempt to rid himself of the flesh that chained him and find the pure white that he was blessed with. He tried to fly away from it all, to reach the heavens above, yet a wing he had not. 

 The last thing he saw was the metal fist of a robot before his world turned pitch black.

 He woke to voices he both recognized yet didn’t at the same time.

 “It must have something to do with WhiteNight, its influence persisted across several cycles before, this is likely a similar case.” Edward turned to the one who had spoken, a man of black hair and auburn eyes.

 “...!”

 He could feel it, the light that was torn away from him, the light of his Lord. It was faint, yet it was exuded from the one that had spoken.

  Manager.

 A broken smile spread across his face.

  Ah, my salvation, my Lord.

Chapter Text

 Ayin kept a close eye on agent Edward, seemingly the only former apostle still affected by WhiteNight after TT2’s activation.

 The man had a violent breakdown upon being hired, and had to be subdued via force. No other employee had shown a similar reaction so far, with the other agents who were turned into apostles only having a slight increase in mental corruption levels.

 The agent walked into Punishing Bird’s containment unit to perform insight work, running through protocols and writing his report as per usual. He had seemingly returned to normal after a memory wipe and heavy enkephalin therapy, but tests showed his mental corruption levels to still be higher than usual. Not a cause for dismissal or true concern, but still enough to require his attention.

 “The mental corruption levels of the agents affected by WhiteNight remain slightly higher than the normal amount, there have been no signs of them decreasing on their own as we had first suspected.” Reported Angela, as she had been told to do once per hour.

 Ayin frowned at the information. He had expected WhiteNight to leave a lasting influence upon the facility, but he had still hoped that wouldn’t be the case. No such luck.

 Angela spoke up once again, concern clearly evident in her tone as it had been for the last few days. “Manager, are you sure you don’t wish to give a mental corruption test?” 

 The concern was by no means unwarranted, as he was the only one among the former apostles to have retained his memory of the incident. It had caused him to become the second person to have manifested E.G.O, a clear mark of the effect it had on him. But…

 “I’ve told you already, Angela. There would be little point in me giving the test as it was never meant for someone who had lived for over five millenia. The results will be wildly inaccurate.”

 She frowned at his words, clearly unwilling to accept it—

 “I understand, manager.” 

—thought that didn’t stop her from nodding in affirmation. It never did.

 A hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, not one allowed to escape. Words left unsaid, conversations unspoken, hearts unrevealed. The powerlessness she subconsciously feels, an unwillingness to break free from his grip.

 It was for the best, they were nearing the end either way. 

 He stood to leave, Angela moved to follow.

 “Keep an eye on the facility, I need to see Garion.” He said to her, she nodded after a second of hesitation.

 Yes, it was for the best.

 The sight of the extraction department shall never fail to pierce deep into his heart, no matter how many thousands of times he’s seen it. A dark forest of pillars that rose above the skies and stretched beyond the horizon, truly a testament, for both of them.

 Among the pillars wandered Garion, an easy expression and a calm mind that he could never hope to match no matter how long he spent wandering this forest of sin.

 A small smile he saw as she saw him approach, a hint of amusement in spite of her recent ‘death’.

 “The flow of the river is quite powerful is it not? Eroding one’s rationality below its unrelenting current, it drags you along to its destination, a basin of unchanging water where a person will reach their final equilibrium.” Garion began.

 “Some basins are muddied, unable to take form.” She pressed a palm to one of the pillars, gently caressing it.

 “Others are crystal clear, imprinting their existence upon the fabric of reality forever more.” She looked to the one path that ran through the middle of the forest, where several employees dragged an extraction unit containing tomorrow’s abnormality. 

 “It’s a destined path, set in motion at the moment of one’s conception. You can slow the flow down, you can drown before reaching the end, but there is no way of truly avoiding it, for by its very nature the heart desires this basin.” Garion finally turned to him, her smile widening.

 “Yet some people reject this inevitability, struggling arduously to dig out a new path, rejecting their deepest wishes in favor of something else. It’s all pointless, as no matter how much one changes its course, the basin moves to match it.” She chuckled with great mirth, almost laughing by her standards.

 “I see that you have joined The Red Mist among those who redirect the flow, as lost as she may as of this moment.”

 He nodded after a moment of thought, as unworthy as he may be when compared to Kali.

 “I ask you, why does one struggle with all their might? Fighting against their heart’s deepest wishes. It seems contradictory, does it not?”

 His answer came without a single moment of hesitation. “The path of the heart is the simplest, yet it is often not aligned with the principal of the mind. Futile as it may be, we struggle to reach a different destination, just as all living beings struggle to survive, in spite of the inevitability of death.”

 Ayin wore a small smile. “Besides, you’ve already contradicted yourself, have you not? If the basin moves to match the redirected flow, that means the final destination has already changed. I simply desired a different equilibrium, that is why I have turned this stream of emotion into an outward tool to be wielded, just as Kali did.”

 Garion began to walk, he moved to follow suit, heading towards Carmen.

 “Have you decided where this basin shall be?” She asked, Ayin felt it was more of formality than anything, he wouldn’t have manifested E.G.O if he didn’t.

 “I have.” He replied.

 “And what is your decision?” She prodded further as she always did.

 “I will simply do both. Both Carmen’s dream and Angela’s happiness shall be fulfilled.” Garion stopped before turning to stare at him for a moment.

 “You are aware of what would be required of you, yes?” 

 He nodded. “Of course.”

 “The head, the eye, the claw. You think yourself the holder of strength enough to overcome them?”

 He nodded once again. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know that to be the truth.”

 A frown settled upon Garion’s face. “I’ll not verbalise my doubts, but know they exist.”

 She began to walk once more, and in a few minute’s time they sat with Carmen, silently sipping tea. A cup was emptied, then refilled, then emptied once again. 

 “What do you seek here?” Garion finally asked.

 “You already know my answer.” Was his reply. She did not chuckle as he had come to expect.

 “I still wish to hear it.” She pushed. Ayin sighed in annoyance, it always was so very difficult to deal with her.

 “I come seeking your hand.” He said cryptically, refusing to give Garion the answer she wanted purely for the sake of spite.

 It was silent as she stared at him with her eyebrows raised, awaiting a different answer, it would never come. She gave in after a few moments.

 “Perhaps you have, yet one loose end remains. One must face their past fully before moving forward into the future. Do you fear what my neighbour shall say to you when he comes to his realisation?”

 “...Perhaps I do.” He said, a slight tremor in his voice.

 “Then you must turn back one last time. ‘Face the fear, build the future’ are the words you have inscribed into your wing, are they not?”

 Ayin downed the rest of his tea in a single breadth before standing up. He let out a shaky sigh.

 He nodded as he turned to leave. He had one more sin to face.

 Garion poured a cup of tea in an alleyway of District 1, a small chair and a table set up to accommodate her. A few meters away stood Baral, the reason why this otherwise unremarkable alley had become a famous landmark, for an executioner of the Claw has stood guard here for nearly a decade.

 The arbiter found herself coming here more and more often as the days passed, each time the sinking in her chest growing more pronounced.

 Did she come here to reminisce?

 Perhaps she did, in spite of how little meaning such an action held, for the time passed with Zena absent had already surpassed the period spent sheltering the girl in her home.

 Her inquisitive eyes that seemed to see the world in its entirety, a thoughtful gaze that pierced through the veils of falsehood, she still thought of them often.

 Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so surprised when Zena was selected for training. The girl was brilliant beyond her being, a kind of brilliance that a backstreet rat had no right to hold.

 Was that why she took the girl in? To see how far that brilliance could be pushed? Or perhaps she saw something familiar within Zena’s eyes, a pitch black iris that mirrored something within Garion herself.

 …Nay, it was not a mirror, it was a window. To call it a mirror would suggest she still held the hints of luminescence that floated just beyond the glass of black. She did not look at a reflection, she looked at what once was, and what may have been.

 But such a path was never to be. She had been swept up in the current, to never return to what once was.

 All she could do now was reminisce, and wonder, as she always did.

 “What did you think of Zena, Baral?” She asked the Claw.

 A scraping of metal claws, a sign of discomfort. It was amusing how easily read the executioner was in spite of his supposed indifference.

 “...I hold no particular opinion on the girl.” He answered.

 “That hardly seems to be the truth. You enjoyed her conversations, did you not? As one sided as they may have been.”

 Baral fiddled his claws once again before going silent, speaking not a single word more. Garion sighed before returning to her thoughts and her tea.

 An hour passed, the world remained still, the air silent. Only the sipping of tea and the ruminations of memories that had long run out, revisited over and over again in some hopes of reaching an equilibrium. A cycle that never ended, an ouroboros of thought with no final goal. Perhaps that was the equilibrium, an eternity of meaningless reminisce.

 It was finally broken by a gruff voice.

 “It matters not either way.” 

 “...” Garion did not answer immediately, giving herself a moment more of thought.

 “...Yes, I suppose it doesn’t.” She said, standing up to return to her residence.

 It was the last time she visited the alleyway.

  Garion stared at the receding sight of Ayin’s back. She let out a sigh before finishing her cup of tea, to quench the green in her heart, to restrain the envy in her soul.

 The chance to face her sin, the opportunity to mend their broken bond. She too had a chance, she simply threw it away in fear of the sight that filled her eyes. 

 At the end of the day, her sorrow was but her own fault, the only thing to envy would be his willingness to face it head on after a single nudge from her.

 Benjamin sat across his desk, a chess board placed between them. 

 Just like always, pawn to E5.

Chapter Text

  A familiar hue of silver white filled his sight, eyes of emerald green that seemed so familiar, but was ever so slightly different. Perhaps there was a sense of clarity within those eyes that was previously not present, Ayin couldn’t quite tell, blind as he was to the world around him.

 His junior, his student, his assistant, his friend. Benjamin once held many titles in his life, yet never was he required for the final goal.

 The connections he had slowly built, the long nights spent attempting to refine cogito, the experiments he had run to find the correct dosage, the terrors of twilight that kept him in the shadows, away from the Eye’s all encompassing gaze. 

 All of these he accomplished by himself, and now he stood on a precipice; preparations were nearly finished, and the project could get started in earnest soon enough. Yes, Benjamin was never required.

 He was never required for the project, but perhaps Ayin still needed him in those moments.

 When everything became too burdensome to bear, when he could no longer hide from the reality of the world he wished to dictate, when he could no longer close his eyes to the future he saw. Such moments when his fragile skin would unravel under the weight of suffering and give way to an unending void of despair.

 Would Benjamin have comforted him? Told him that it was alright, that he’d stand with him until the very end. 

 Would Benjamin have been his sentinel? Protected him from the harsh winds of the world, if only for a moment.

 He supposed it didn’t really matter, for such a present never came to be. Benjamin had run, unable to bear the price of creation.

 He had run far beyond the horizon, over the hills and across the lakes, to a place where Ayin shall never reach, where their shared memories will flow down the river of time, forgotten under the weight of distance.

 Ayin didn’t blame him, he never could. Those to be blamed were but two, the world that had refused their paradise and he who had failed to overcome it. His only hope was that Benjamin would be able to find a happily-ever-after without regret to weigh him down.

 But rarely did hope come to fruition in the city, and here Benjamin stood, chained by regret and the misguided faith he had placed upon him, dragged from where he had fled back into purgatory.

 Benjamin spoke to him, Ayin replied, yet not a single word did he truly understand. Apologies were given, a tear was shed, promises were made. They spoke for the first time in years, and perhaps Ayin was glad, and perhaps Benjamin was glad. Yet nothing was remembered, nothing was understood, nothing remained in his heart.

 Nothing but a deep sense of tired melancholy, for another one would be killed by his hands.

  Bishop to b2, attacking Benjamin’s rook and forcing it away from the pawn that held his position together.

 Rook to b1, striking back against the bishop and forcing it off onto the b3 square.

 Knight to g1, attacking his bishop on h3. Bishop to d7.

 Benjamin’s brows were furrowed deeply in thought, their first game of the loop stretching above forty turns and deep into the endgame. 

 Benjamin had a single point of advantage in material, but Ayin held the superior position, his bishops weaving in and out of his opponent’s back line and threatening to collapse the pyramid Benjamin had set up.

 It was a position Ayin’s seen hundreds of thousands of times before, put on repetition and only slightly changed with each match that was played. With his opponent unable to remember their previous games, the current advantage he held was one built through memorization rather than superior skill.

 Just like always, Benjamin moved his rook to d1.

 Just like always, Ayin’s bishop escaped to e3.

 Benjamin’s brows furrowed even further, and Ayin knew the current game wasn't the only reason why. He had made no attempts at keeping Benjamin blind this loop, and his friend’s mind was likely filled with a hundred suspicions for their current situation. 

 There was a limit to how much a lie could be stretched before something broke, and it was time for Ayin to face his friend once again.

 King to g2, bishop to g4, rook to e1, bishop to d2. On and on it went, identical to the thousands of games that came before it.

 Ayin had lost every match that came before, improving by marginal amounts and slowly increasing the number of moves it took for Benjamin to be victorious. But a critical point had come, wherein Benjamin’s skill was no longer enough to overcome the endless trial and error.

 “Checkmate.” Ayin said, ending the millenia long tirade he had put up.

 Benjamin stared at the board for a while. He didn’t cheer, he didn’t jeer. Slowly, his gaze lifted to match his.

 Ayin recognized those eyes, for he had seen it once before. The eyes of a man that had come to a realization, one who had seen through the veil of falsehood to find the truth of his situation.

 Benjamin did not speak, he did not scream. He simply stared at him, searching for something within his auburn eyes.

 What did he seek? Perhaps Ayin knew the answer, perhaps he didn’t. Even after all these years, he could not grasp what lay beyond the surface of his being. 

 In a single moment, a current of anger, sadness and blame flashed through his emerald eyes before settling into a look that could only be called resignation. 

 Benjamin let out a long tired sigh before standing up.

 “I must gather my thoughts.” He left without a word more, Ayin couldn’t help but sigh as well.

   ‘What do you mean you built a nuclear reactor?!’ Benjamin yelled in utter bafflement.

 ‘It means I built a nuclear reactor, come on junior keep up.’ Ayin said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

 ‘Our physics professor confiscated it under the excuse that the parts used belonged to the university, and as such the prototype is technically their property.’ He explained.

 Benjamin’s bafflement only deepened at his words. ‘And how do you intend to get it back exactly? I highly doubt it’s small enough for the two of us to just pocket and leave.’

 Ayin scoffed. ‘They can have that unfinished junk, the problem is that he took my patent for the design while I wasn’t looking, that’s where the real money is. I have an engineer from R-Corp interested in buying it for a hefty price, I’ll give you 10% if you help me get it back.’

 Benjamin fervently shook his head. ‘No! I’ve been on thin ice with the physics professor as is, I’m not risking my degree.’

 ‘15%!’ Ayin insisted.

 ‘No!’

 ‘20%!’

 ‘It doesn’t matter how high you raise it! A no is a NO!’

  “30% off! A deal of a lifetime!” 

  Benjamin rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stared at the loaf of bread in his hands that’s been on sale for at least a month. What a strange moment to be reminiscing about.

 He’s been doing it more and more lately, recalling random moments from the past, whether it be from their days as roommates in university or the time they spent together at the laboratory in the outskirts. 

 Such incidents weren’t particularly rare back when they were younger, Ayin would always find trouble one way or another. He thankfully mellowed out with his crazy ideas after meeting Carmen, and even then there were no shortage of smaller incidents in the laboratory.

 He ended up giving in and going along with Ayin’s plan to get his patent back. As expected, their plan ended up going completely off the rails and eventually ended with the professor fired and at least half the department destroyed. Most of the cash they received selling it was spent paying for the damages and the two of them decided to waste the rest drowning their sorrows.

 Quite frankly, it was a pointless endeavour, dangerous to boot, but he supposed it made an amusing memory if nothing else.

 Benjamin found himself chuckling, even as sorrow took root in his heart. He supposed all those memories meant little now that Ayin’s lost his way and he’s run away, but even still, it was fun while it lasted.

 “What is so amusing about that loaf of bread?” Someone suddenly asked from behind him.

 Behind him stood a tall lady dressed in purple, a fixer judging from the weapons upon her person.

 “Just reminiscing.” She appeared to have noticed the bitterness in his voice.

 “A happiness now lost hmm? I suppose we have that in common, I too spend much of my time reminiscing about days long past.” The fixer stood beside him as she began to place groceries into her basket.

 “It feels suffocating doesn't it? A crushing sensation that devours your life whole and makes you feel like everything is pointless. Throwing you out into the sea with no compass, it makes you feel as though you have nothing more to live for.”

 Benjamin had to stop himself from lashing out. Though he wished to accuse the woman of overstepping, he couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words.

 “Don’t make such a dreary expression, you still have one more thing to cling onto do you not? Perhaps you should try mending your broken bond, I’m sure he needs you.” A hundred alarms were raised at her words, his body stiffening in fear.

 “Who are you?” He asked. She smiled sweetly at him, though he couldn’t help but compare her to a snake.

 “Simply a concerned bystander, you may call me Iori.”

 He wished to question her further, but the fixer had already left, the only proof of her existence being the missing groceries among the shelves. 

 He had tried his best to ignore the strange woman’s words, but like napalm they stuck to his thoughts and burned away everything around it. 

 He found himself staring at a familiar pair of auburn eyes, an unkept pile of black hair to accompany it.

  Beside him stood Angela, the conflict within her clearly visible in spite of her calm demeanor.

 Benjamin turned away to gaze upon the Records department. Castles and clock towers seemingly stretched on forever, built with no rhyme or reason; it could only be described as a dreamscape, where all employees awaited their turn in eternal slumber.

 It seemed that he too was counted among those who slumbered, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

 “How long has it been?” He eventually asked. 

 Ayin stayed silent for a while, the only sound in the air being the steady ticking of clocks.

 “...Three thousand years, almost four.” He eventually said.

 “I see…” Benjamin closed his eyes, taking the number in for a moment.

 “Why now then? After all this time.” He asked, even though he was aware of the likely answer.

 “We are at the precipice, I wanted you to be there for the final days.” Benjamin could practically hear the apology that was to come afterwards.

 “Do not ask for my forgiveness, that would suggest you believe yourself to have made the wrong decision. You still think it was for the best, do you not?” He couldn’t stop the accusatory tone that bled into his words.

 “...Yes, I do.” Ayin admitted.

 Benjamin knew it to be both the answer and the truth, yet it still hurt to hear.

 “And you have no intention of rectifying this, do you not? You still intend to go off on your own, leaving me behind.”

  ‘I’m sorry, Ayin. For having left you behind that day, I should’ve looked beyond my own grief to see that you were hurting just as much as I.’ He said to Ayin. His friend replied, telling him he was sorry as well; yet Benjamin couldn’t shake the feeling that Ayin was looking beyond him, rather than at him.

 “Yes, there is no need for the both of us to suffer. There need only be one.” Ayin told him.

 “Then save your apology for something deserving of it.”

  ‘Ayin, from now on, no matter what happens, I won’t run. Through the waves of the great lakes and to hell then back again, I promise to stand by you, to be a pillar of strength should you ever need it. In exchange, I only ask one thing. Allow me to fulfill my promise, and promise me to share half of your burden.’ It was an oath made from the deepest part of his soul, words that he will live by until the day of his non-existence.

 ‘I promise.’ Ayin said, auburn eyes meeting his emerald. Yet Benjamin still couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t looking at him, instead staring at a vision that laid far beyond the horizon.

 “I understand.” Ayin said, an apology for breaking his promise never verbalised.

 So that is why his gaze felt so off that day, he was never speaking to him. 

 Sadness, anger, despair, betrayal. There was no one word to describe the feeling in his heart, but the only ones that mattered was resignation, and quiet resolve.

 “If you believe yourself capable of walking the path by your lonesome, then prove it to me.” There was a tiny shift in the hundreds of clocks that surrounded them, unnoticeable even to Angela.

 “If I am not needed, if you hold the strength to carry the burden by yourself, then show me how much you’ve grown.” The clocks began to hasten, each tick coming sooner than the last.

 “Show me your resolve, and should it be found lacking I will be the one to reap your failure.” No longer did the clocks hold any meaning, no longer did time have power over the facility. A tick came before the last one could, the seconds overlapping as some moments repeated itself a dozen times while others never came at all.

 “Return to your office, let us make up for all our lost time together.” Benjamin finally said, and the hands laid silent.

 Ayin nodded before turning to leave. There was no hesitation in his actions, as though the current situation was exactly what he had expected.

 Benjamin stopped Angela when she moved to follow him. 

 “Angela, remain here with me. We have much to speak of.”

 They too had much time to make up for.

Chapter Text

 She kept her head low, unable to face Benjamin directly even if she had her eyes shut to the world. Angela had wanted to deny his request, to simply return to the office as though nothing had happened, but such a path was closed the moment her creator ordered her to stay as well.

 She silently awaited her judgement.

 What was it that he wished to speak of? Would he express his disappointment in her? His anger? His sorrow?

 None came as the frozen clockworks began to tick once again. A moment turned into a second, then a minute. She could feel his gaze in spite of her downcast face, and somehow it felt heavier than any words of admonishment could hope to be.

 “Open your eyes, Angela.” She froze. 

 It was an order, and an order was to be followed to the letter, yet she still hesitated.

 “Raise your head.”

 Auburn met Emerald, Benjamin’s gaze was searching for something, for what exactly she couldn’t quite say.

 Angela had to actively resist the urge to tear her eyes away, the sinking in her chest attempting to drag her head down along with it. It was a familiar sensation, one she’s ignored since the very first days of her inception. 

 The sephirah who suffered, forced to endure their personal nightmares and the employees who died only for the sake of perpetuating an endless cycle.

 After all this time, she was finally able to give the feeling a name, guilt.

 Guilt for closing her eyes to the world, guilt for ignoring the plight of those around her, guilt for being a bystander.

 “...It is the price we pay for silence.” Benjamin finally spoke, his feelings indiscernible to her.

 “If I just pushed a little harder, perhaps we wouldn’t be here. If I was more outspoken in my opinions, perhaps this facility wouldn’t have been created. If I hadn’t run that day, perhaps things could’ve been better. ” Among the endless dreamscape of the Records Department he began to walk.

 “Such regrets are what haunt us, burrowing deep into our hearts and seeding guilt that will follow us until our final breath. A possibility for what could’ve been—its beauty is blinding, but forever out of reach. That is the price we pay for staying silent in the moment, for choosing the option that felt the least problematic back then.” Benjamin pointed at himself.

 “I pay this price every second of the day…”

  Benjamin wanted to question him further, to dig to the roots of what has led him to creating such a plan and why so much suffering is necessary. But he stayed silent, in fear of pushing the two of them apart again.

 “...so does Ayin.” 

  Ayin wanted to reach out to her, to ask her if she was okay, if she needed his shoulders to lean on. But he stayed silent, for her current state was too delicate for him to risk such a move, for he feared breaking what was already broken.

 “...and as I see it now, so do you.”

  A single press, and Benjamin was gone. Now nothing more than prop on a stage to be strung along across the endless cycles. She wanted to refute her creator’s actions, to tell him that it’s not what Benjamin would’ve wanted. But she stayed silent, the very idea of being rejected by him simply being too much to bear.

  “Have you paid this price?”

 Has she? There was no one logical answer to such a question, matters of the heart could not be added or subtracted or observed as she pleased.

 …And yet, inexplicitly, Angela found herself shaking her head.

 “Then I suggest you do, one’s debt catches up eventually, and all the more crushing for how long one has run.”

 Angela relived every moment of her being as clearly as the present. Five millennia of memory, all seen in a single second. She searched, yet she found not a single acknowledgement of the sinking in her chest, the feeling that’s haunted her for so long. It was simply ignored and tucked away neatly, yet she could never forget.

 A single tear escaped, and a dam was broken. With no end in sight it flowed down her face, her desperate attempts at wiping it away only seeming to accentuate it further. Her breath began to hitch in spite of the fact that she had no need for air, such was the human core she was created upon.

 “I’m sorry, Benjamin–I’m sorry.” Like a broken recorder, she found herself repeating the phrase several times over. Perhaps that is what she was, a broken piece of machinery crying out into the void.

 Yet she wasn’t alone.

 Benjamin held her tight. In that moment, the shoulder her face dug into as her tears continued to flow felt more unmovable than any mountain, yet more gentle than any breeze.

 “Let the tears flow, and endure the price with dignity. There is no shame to be found in being human.” He softly said.

 Angela found herself raising her arms to hold him as well. Yet it was difficult to call it an embrace, but rather her desperately clinging onto Benjamin in fear that he’d disappear.

 “Let the tears flow. It is a proof of how far you’ve come, and a promise of how much further you will go. Know that I’m proud of it, and know that Ayin will be too.”

 The minutes passed them by, and finally she found the strength to lean away. There was a small smile upon Benjamin’s face as he gently held the sides of her shoulders in his hands.

 “What has transpired in the three millennia I've been gone? I wish to hear it in its entirety.”

 Angela nodded, they had all the time in the world.

 Garion was sitting in his office when he returned, the work day began seconds after his arrival.

 Everything was slowed to a halt, the agents, the clerks and the abnormalities moving at a hundredth of their typical speed while the clock in his office continued to tick normally.

 “How has your reunion gone?” Inquired Garion.

 “Tense.” Was his short reply, Garion hummed to herself. Continuing to silently sip her cup of tea.

 The facility remained nearly frozen, a minute passing for the two of them while only a single second passed for the rest of the facility. Nevertheless, he gave the agents their orders and waited patiently. He always did.

 “You don’t seem particularly affected.” Noted Garion with some curiosity in her voice.

 “I’m not. Excluding Benjamin from memory repository was the correct course of action, I will remain firm in my decision.” He answered.

 Garion raised an eyebrow. “Even if it tramples over his wishes and the faith he placed upon you?”

 Ayin nodded. “Yes. There was no need for him to suffer alongside me, and the loyalty he holds is one misguided. I simply corrected a mistake I was too weak to confront beforehand.”

 Slowly but surely, the facility was beginning to hasten. With each second passed the third and the fourth came quicker than the ones before it.

 “Do you hold the same sentiment towards your impending separation with Angela?” Ayin’s eyes widened as he froze at her words, perhaps there was shame in his heart, buried deep below.

 “Do not act so surprised. Your plans I may not know, but your present self I can see clearly. Is the state of her current being also a mistake you should’ve corrected?”

 He nodded after a moment of hesitation.

 “I should’ve excluded her from the project entirely the moment my hatred failed me. Instead, I have dragged her into the hell I’ve orchestrated and muddied her being with my sins. She must let go of both I and the facility if she is to find her own paradise.”

 The passage of time in the facility exceeded that of his office, the ordeals and the breaches growing in intensity as midnight approached. Ayin managed it all with cold indifference.

 Garion hummed. “I’d have expected you to offer her a choice.”

  “I wish to stay with you, my creator. I do not wish to leave you alone.” Angela said to him.

 “Any decision from Angela will be an arbitrary one. So long as I exist, she will never truly have a choice.” Employees panicked as the midnight ordeal arrived.

 “You believe yourself a worthy judge for the fate of another? Or what it means to be content in one’s existence?” Garion continued to push.

 “Yes. The world entirely hinges on belief and one’s perception of it, cogito alone proves that thought holds power over reality.”

 Four shrines manifested, and from nothing the hands of the divine appeared. Red, White, Black and Pale—the four of them announced the apocalypse that was to come.

 “If I have a vision and hold the will to see it through, the world shall be whatever I wish it to be.”

 The pale eye of a false deity appeared over the facility, covering every screen in his room and tearing into the souls of any that dared oppose it.

 Yet it held no power over the auburn eyes that stared back, for he had decided it so. 

  We incessantly tried to accept it. We wanted to understand them in our heads by any means, regardless of the consequences.

 The God Delusion.

 A tremor was felt across the facility, unaffected by the ordeal the Records Department may be. 

 “The Red shrine has fallen, it seems as though the day is nearly completed.” Benjamin noted as he fondled the hot cup of tea in his hands.

 “You seem quite confident in the manager’s success. Past experience suggests that department core suppression take several attempts before completion.” Angela had mostly recomposed herself, though the unkept state of her normally neat hair remained as a mark of her unbottlement.

 “No, he will complete this day with no further attempts. I know this for a fact.” Angela raised her eyebrows in questioning. She had become far more expressive in the millenia he’s been gone it seems.

 “Why have you come to such a conclusion?” She questioned his confidence.

 “Because I have faith.” Was his answer.

 “In spite of our broken promise and the betrayal he’s inflicted upon me, I still hold faith in what I see within his eyes and vision it reflects. I still trust the future he works to create.” The facility was shaken to its very foundations as the White Shrine fell.

 “I must wonder if the same holds true for you, Angela.”

 Benjamin being the one to ask her such a question was the only reason she didn’t immediately lash out.

 “Are you questioning my loyalty?” She asked indignantly.

 Benjamin shook his head. “Never, there is no one else more loyal than you. I’m questioning your faith.”

 He let his statement sink in for a moment before continuing.

 “Whatever I find at the end of his path, I have decided long ago that I will accept it no matter what. I may try my best to change its course, but I will never regret having walked it at all—for I believe this path will lead to a greater good, that is the faith I hold. Would the same apply to you?” The Black shrine fell, a tremor was felt as pieces of the ceiling crumbled.

 “Of course.” Was her immediate reply. His wishes were her commandment.

 “And if it were to result in his death?”

 The Pale shrine fell, and all was silent, a moment stretching into eternity as the world seemed to freeze over. Angela held no answer for him, a paradox within her being not allowing a clear solution.

 Benjamin sighed as he stood to leave towards the managerial office.

 “I suggest you come to a decision, the look in his eye has never lied to me.”

 Angela was left to stew in her own thoughts, as blind as she still was.

 Benjamin stared silently at the lone hand that was raised among the sea of people. ‘Would it be ethical to start a patent war if it meant increasing living standards?’ The lecturer had asked. Ayin alone had an answer, the professor looked surprised for a moment before gesturing at him to speak.

 “It depends entirely upon how high the increase will be. If it means eliminating needless suffering, any cost is acceptable.” Hushed whispers spread across the lecture hall, a hundred silent arguments breaking out in a single moment.

 The professor frowned. “Then you would consider it forgivable to cause the deaths of millions so long as it is in service of a greater goal?”

 Once again, Ayin had an immediate answer. “Of course not. Such an action being worth taking is not the same as it being forgivable. The one to have started such a war could still be considered a morally despicable person and deserving of great punishment.”

 To cause a great tragedy for the greater good, yet to seek no absolution at the end. No sane person would do such a thing, such an idea had no place in the city.

 Those idealistic enough to believe in change for the better could never bear the sacrifice required, and those willing to commit such acts would never aspire to overturn the city that had become a perfect environment for such people.

 Neither of them spoke for a while, the only sound to fill the office being the humming of monitors and Garion’s uncompromised sipping of tea.

 “You have made your decision.” He said to his mentor. Ayin simply nodded.

 “You walk a lonely path, leaving me and everyone else behind. Three millennia ago, I’d have said your soul is too fragile to do such a thing, though your gaze tells me that is no longer the truth.” Ayin nodded once again.

 “Then walk it unbending. I will place my trust within you as I always have, I only hope you will be able to find some peace by the end of it.”

 “Thank you, Benjamin.”

 Perhaps there was truth within Ayin’s words, however meaningless it may be. Such a person could never exist, yet something within his eyes told Benjamin that he would do it in a heartbeat should he be given the chance.

 Perhaps that is why he decided to eternally place his faith upon that person, an impossible being who could root out the corruption of the immortal city.

  ‘Those who are faithful and trustworthy.’

Chapter Text

 “With the completion of the final examination you have officially become an arbiter. A Beholder agent will be assigned to you within five minutes, all further proceedings will be handled by them.” And just like that, the agent from the Eye who had spent the last ten years experimenting upon her left, as though they didn’t know her at all.

 She supposed it didn’t matter, everything was over and done with.

 The surgeries and the slaughters that came afterwards, injected with an endless supply of healing serums to ensure their bodies never collapsed. The hundreds that would die in an eternal quest for survival, an experiment repeated a thousand times over to find the ideal outcome.

 The constant additions and deletion of false memories to create the ideal mind, one that wouldn’t bend or break no matter the stress put upon it, one that could never hope to defy the orders given from above. A mind so thoroughly violated that it could no longer be called theirs.

 A soul gutted of its origins, their past selves burnt to a crisp, their moral structure uprooted by its very foundations, to be replaced by an ideology of humanity. Pressed from all sides, the extreme pressure would create a rotten diamond from their being.

 Yes, none of it mattered anymore. The constant flow of life had led her here, she simply had to keep following the stream, to one day reach a basin that will become her forever constant, that she may no longer fear the darkness that shrouds her world.

 Not once has Garion ever seen the face of a fellow arbiter.

 She’s felt their touch, she’s heard their voices, she’s witnessed their figures, yet she’s never seen their faces. The final destination she searched for, a basin in which she will find her equilibrium, she’s yet to see it, not even beyond the horizon.

 Yet the arbiters around her acted as though they had already reached their destination, as though they were never a part of the current in the first place, all the while they flowed beside her on their flimsy canoes made from ash and scrap.

 They ignore the current, they ignore their hearts, they ignore the sights passing them by; believing themselves unbound by the river, believing themselves a God that watched from above, not realizing they were the only ones to sink.

 Through a decade of torture an arbiter is created, the ideal form of humanity. Imbued with technologies and concepts beyond comprehension they have faced the impossible and have made it their own, rising above the masses to be the ones who saw clearly, the only ones to bear witness to the city in its entirety and judge what is right or wrong.

 They dictated humanity with an iron fist and a perfect mind, their gaze infallible. 

 And yet, to fool an arbiter was easier than fooling a rat of the backstreets, for it is their perfect vision that makes them blinder than all.

 Through a decade of torture they have become Gods of humanity, yet it is this belief in their divinity that makes them incapable of questioning their true selves, of questioning the absoluteness of the justice they bestow.

 By believing themselves humanity perfected, they become incapable of change, unwilling to bear witness to the rotten soul within their being, unwilling to realize the arbitrary nature of the ideology they arbitrate.

 Instead, they bury their hearts under a mountain of justification, a mountain so gargantuan in size that it consumes every cell in their body. 

 In the end, all that remains is that mountain, leaving not an individual below. 

 That is why she has never seen the face of a fellow arbiter, she’s only ever seen a mask of false ideology.

 There was a feeling distinctly nostalgic about sipping tea in the office, a result of the millennia that have passed most likely. The humming of monitors, the subtle aroma of black tea and the knowledge that they sat upon a crown of agony.

 An atmosphere that never failed to create a feeling of melancholy within her, the weight of time bearing down upon her shoulder much like a warm blanket in the winter breeze.

 She took a long sip of tea, emptying her cup. The end was nigh, yet there was still an action she wished to take.

 “Will you continue to ignore my presence? I don’t believe myself to have slighted you in any way or form.” The frown upon Angela’s face deepened at her words, proof enough that her words had reached her ears.

 “Your refusal to provide support during the breach of WhiteNight will continue to be a black stain upon your records.” Garion chuckled for a moment before standing up.

 “Let us walk together, and perhaps you will learn to see things from another perspective, if only for a moment.”

 “I have no reason to follow you.” Was Angela’s prompt refusal, her words taking on a biting edge.

 “Perhaps you don’t, yet you have no reason to not follow me either. It would be better than staying here in your solemn silence, would it not? Or do you find my presence that unbearable?” 

 Her expression told Garion the answer to be ‘yes’, but Angela moved to follow her regardless. 

 “Why do you despise my inaction at that moment?” The elevator began to descend, into the facility they went.

 “Is it not obvious? Your refusal nearly resulted in the destruction of the facility and risked the manager’s psychological wellbeing.”

 “And yet, were I to take action in that moment it would’ve been to go against his wishes. Is it not your sole duty? To follow the path he lays? He seemed quite content in being embraced by its wings.” The elevator opened, they walked the halls of the control department.

 “That was entirely caused by the abnormality’s influence! It was not by his own will.” Angela argued back, the edge within her voice sharpening with each word.

 “Perhaps, yet content he still was. Who are we to decide the genuinity of someone’s happiness? What gives us the right to judge what is real?” She stopped for a moment to stare into the containment unit that laid next to them. The long bird held its scales beyond the door, forever tilted towards sin.

 “Your words suggest that there’s anything to judge in such a situation. There is a truth there just as the existence of gravity is the truth.” 

 Garion hummed to herself in response. “If that is what you wish to believe.”

 She stopped once again, in a containment unit slept the bird that held the lantern, its eyes seeing all that could be seen, yet failing to understand it.

 “But such a thought suggests that you see the truth for what it is. Such a feat is an impossibility, no? We all look upon the outside world through a lens colored by our own beliefs. To find an objective truth would be a difficult task indeed.”

 Angela didn’t let up an inch of ground. “I see enough to know that allowing the manager to be taken by WhiteNight would be against the will of his normal self. It was an objectively wrong action”

 And neither did Garion, frustration tinting her voice for the first time in millenia. “By what metric does one define normality? By what authority does one swing their claw at those they deem impure? By what right does one judge the sin of an action? If an objective truth does indeed exist, who holds the right to decide it so? And if such a being does indeed exist, why must we adhere to their subjectivity?”

 The two of them stopped one final time, beyond a door fluttered a small bird, forever searching for those it deems bad, believing in the obviousness of sin.

 “What does it mean for something to be true? What must one do to find their final truth? To finally lay down their bones and rest their minds, free of confusion forever more.”

 Angela did her best to restrain her frustration, it would do little good to escalate further.

 “Then by your definition, objectivity is impossible. There is no such truth to be found.”

 “...ha.” 

 Garion raised a hand to cover her eyes as she let out a bitter chuckle.

 “Yes. Perhaps the sole objectivity within our world is the subjectivity of everything else.”

 She continued to chuckle, yet it held none of her usual amusement.

 “Hilarious. It truly is hilarious. To think that all of humanity is built upon a lie.”

 Angela waited for a while for Garion to finally compose herself.

 “I suggest you visit my neighbour in Aziluth. Your dear manager will not be at his office, I believe the time has come for the two of us to put a dot at the end of our little dance.”

 As with all things Garion said, most of it flew over Angela’s head, to be tucked away and analyzed at an undecided date.

 One must wonder how much more was left.

  Garion could only watch as a needle pierced her skull, carefully digging through the crevices of her mind to extract everything that ever was. 

 The man standing over her could not even bring himself to meet her eyes with his own, a fragile coward at heart in spite of the cold indifference he had built up around himself. Lower than any rat she’s seen crawling through the mud of the backstreets, wasting away here at the edge of humanity all by his lonesome.

 Yes, he was lower than the rats, yet he still stood over her. 

 She who was of humanity perfected, a being that existed among those who dictated the course of the city, a God in all but divinity. A being that now laid defeated, her mind violated and her being enslaved to another ideology.

 The pain was unbearable, beyond even the experiments she faced while in training; yet his eyes promised a future that held even more suffering, one that would destroy who she ever was, and who she ever will be.

 But, inexplicitly, she felt as though she’d be laughing had she been able to control her body. 

 She would laugh and laugh until her lungs could wheeze no further, such was the sheer hilarity of her situation.

 An arbiter brought low by an outskirts laboratory, enslaved by a force that stood against the Head.

 It was proof of how idiotic they were, they who believed themselves absolute. Stupidity so grand in nature that it defied all logic, so crushing in its size that it consumed the entirety of their tiny word. 

 Truly hilarious indeed. To think this is what the city was built upon.

 The man walked into the room of the bucket. A sanctuary for just the three of them, they who were forced together in spite of their seemingly diverging paths.

 “Your recent words have truly frustrated me, this newfound belief in objective salvation.” Garion poured him a cup of black tea, the one forever constant of her being.

 “I can imagine. There is none other who understands you better, even if I often find myself struggling to agree with you.” He let his eyes rest upon Carmen just for a moment, to pay his respects to the original sin.

 “...”

After a long silence of sipping tea, she finally spoke.

 “...Do you truly believe yourself capable of challenging the head?”

 “You know of their mortality better than any other. At the end of the day, they are nothing more than people.”

 Garion let out a bitter chuckle before speaking.

 “And I know of your boundless vision better than any other. I would believe it if you were to claim yourself capable of overthrowing God in his own heaven, such is the impossibility of your sight.” She didn’t doubt it for a moment, this conversation too was a part of his beloved ever changing script.

 “No, the head’s human nature is precisely why I doubt your claims. The sheer belief Arbiters hold in the righteous truth of their action is something only a human could hope to have, for it is a thought that precedes every corner of the city. Or rather, such a belief is what was imposed upon the city by the absolute power they wield.”

 Her eyes began to turn glossy, her mind attempting to reach memories that had long been scorched from her mind. Of the ideology that was instilled into her, of the mask that was forced onto her.

 Of the face of a girl she never saw, Zena’s once inquisitive gaze replaced by the all consuming ideology, turned no different from every other Arbiter to have ever existed, blindly seeing the world in its entirety while believing in a subjective objectivity that held no true origin.

 Nothing remained, nothing but feelings long inscribed onto her very soul.

 “Do you know how I could be so cruel? It is because I alone was the one to realize the unknown existed at all, the darkness that shrouded the truths of the world, the terror that haunted my existence.”

 Millions of eyes flashed before her. Some held rage, others held despair, all unique in their origins and the lives they mirrored.

 But there was one ever present constant. Fear of the unknown, fear of the Arbiter that stood in front of them.

 “I devoured my fears for survival, that I may one day find a truth among those who faced the unknown, their eyes that held a testament to a life lived, a life learned—something so dearly missing in the gaze of Arbiters.”

 If there was one thing she once believed in the truth of, it was the power she held in her hands. That it would someday lead her to the objective truth of reality, that she may no longer fear the unknown.

 Yet even that was shattered upon that day, when a weapon unknown to her pierced her abdomen.

 What was left of her then?

 Fear. 

 Fear, and a mountain of lies built by the Head.

 “You believe yourself capable of challenging the head? Then you must prove to me that you are at the very least capable of challenging this wavering Arbiter. If you cannot do even that with your own strength, you cannot hope to overcome the stupidity of the Head.”

 'Once upon a time, three happy birds lived in a warm and lush forest.'

 “The forty-fifth shall be the day of apocalypse.”

 Ayin returned her a resolute nod as he left.

 The twilight that approached, the dawn that was to come afterwards. Garion couldn't help but dream of it.

Chapter Text