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Pugna infinita - Latin, "Unending Battle"
Simon does not know how long he has been in the cramped, putrid space he had swapped a cold, quiet prison for. Sometimes, he's lucky enough to get quiet in this place. But recently, he had only the gurgles and rumbling of some unknown monster out in the blood. There was no true quiet, the rover wheels of the Iron Lung pushing him forever into the abyss.
The oxygen meter has been sitting at 2 out of 4 for hours now. Realistically, it should have hit 1 or zero by now. He was no scientist, no man of mathematics. Even a dumbass would know that if there was no constant supply of oxygen, sooner or later he'd die from carbon dioxide poisoning.
Maybe he was. It was the only explanation for the voice that spoke in his pounding head, bright and cheerful, almost that of a child.
I've been looking for you, Simon.
Slowly, the broken chair he sits upon creaks in protest as he turns. Seated under the camera button with the green light creating a halo above its head… Is a weird, white creature. There was no way he had missed the thing this entire time, right? There were little places for a small furred animal to hide— of course, unless it had hidden in the crawlspace.
The creature seems to smile, but there's no readable emotion on its face. It's long and bushy tail waves from side to side in an unceasing rhythm, albino red eyes never straying from his own.
(Just what the fuck is this thing?)
Aliens existed. Of course they did. They just declined to meet with humans, keeping to themselves thousands of lightyears away from the Milky Way. It was incredibly likely that they had all vanished in the Quiet Rapture, taken by whatever cosmic event had decided to snap out 99% of all existence within a breath.
So Simon had one possible conclusion as to his previous internal question— this thing had to be an alien. But it still left the question as to how the fuck it had snuck into the submersible before it was welded shut?
Simon lifted one hand, and smacked himself in the head. Stars exploded in his vision, the remnants of his concussion quickly punishing him for his stupid move. He grunted a curse, but when his vision cleared again, the white creature was still there. It hadn't moved. Hadn't blinked, even.
You're only going to make your conditions worse doing that. I really don't understand humans sometimes.
It's voice sighed out, echoing uncomfortably in the human's brain.
But that's besides the point. I'm here to make you a very important offer. One that could save humanity.
Simon frowned, thick brows furrowing. "Sorry, but— what?" He could barely get any sort of proper thought out, his chest rising and falling with shuddered, uneasy breaths. He didn't dare look away from this creature.
"Who the hell are you?" He finally asked, hating how his voice broke. He didn't sound at all like the tough, murderous hound he was known to be.
My name is Kyubey. I am part of the Incubator species, but our kind have known humans for over a millenia.
The creature, Kyubey, closed its eyes, almost seeming to smile. Its eyes opened back up, continuing to stare up at the prisoner without any hesitation. No fear, despite being smaller than a housecat.
"Kyu…Bey? Incubator?" Simon echoed. Wait. "How did you know my name?"
I know your name because there's barely any other humans with names to remember now. You are the one that can change all of this for humanity. The loneliness. The death. The darkness. I sought you out specifically because of this. Because of your potential.
Immediate red flags and sirens blared in the convict's mind. He got up from the chair, stumbling a bit, before kneeling before the alien's tiny body at the back of the Lung. Even in the face of a hulking man, coated with bandages, bruises and a desperation in his tired eyes— Kyubey did not shy away.
"My potential? Sorry, but what fucking potential? Do you not see that I'm being made to carry out an expedition instead of the firing squad because of my," His fingers wagged quotations irritably, "'potential'? I'm not special or chosen or whatever."
Kyubey lightly shook its head. That's where you are wrong, Simon. Every human being carries potential to change their world, their lives. You see, my kind fosters a system of special humans. Once, at least.
It seemed almost sad, but its face never changed. That was the most uncomfortable part of it all— that its face did not change one eensy bit. Not even a twitch. It was more of a mask than a face.
Before entropy began to consume the universe as we know it, our kind created a system of "magical girls." Adolescents with grand power, tasked with removing despair and darkness from your world. In turn, their power fought back entropy.
Simon swallowed thickly, aware of the dryness caking his mouth. His fingers twitched, restless, confused. He had never heard "entropy" be used to explain or describe the Quiet Rapture. It had always been claimed to be some act of "God," a divine miracle that was not in humanity's favor. It merely had fostered the beginning of another extinction event.
"Okay, well, clearly that system didn't do anything good in the long run. The Quiet Rapture came, and now humanity is basically on its deathbed." He refuted, grumbling, his hands resting on his thighs and digging into the meat of them. A bruise angrily fired off pain receptors, so he backed off to wince.
We are still trying to determine what went wrong. But there's still a chance to push back against entropy. While there's a shortage of elligible magical girls, we have enough power left to contract with adults.
The alien padded a step closer, bouncing a bit as it came to sit upon its furry haunches. I want to make a contract with you, Simon, and make you a magical wielder… I suppose the proper term could be a 'Warlock' in your culture, yes?
Simon was dumbfounded. He felt his jaw drop, slack, before he quickly shut it with a snap. He stood up quickly, rubbing his head, pacing in what small square-footage he had to pace in. He didn't make eye contact with Kyubey. He just ran over the sheer absurdity of what he was being asked, of the whole damn situation.
A broken laugh left him, and he stopped suddenly, boots squeaking on the metal grates. "I'm sorry, what? A contract? What's the terms? What the hell could I do here in a goddamn iron coffin?!" He raised his voice, but he didn't give a shit. The Incubator didn't seem phased anyways.
The contract is simple. In exchange for one wish, any wish you can think of— You must purge darkness from the world. You will fight beings known as "witches," which in turn will restore energy to the universe to keep it alive longer. You'd be actively fighting back the full effects of this "Quiet Rapture" event that you humans named it.
Witches? Wishes? Magic?
"There's no way… Magic and miracles exist." Simon muttered. If they did, someone would have stopped the Rapture. Someone would have saved his mom. Someone would have stopped Filament Station from being taken.
The Tree would be alive.
There'd be stars. Living ones.
"Are you saying that if I truly wished it, I could reverse all this? I could bring the stars back? Restore the Great Tree? Bring back the dead?" Somehow, despite disbelief in his voice, Simon felt some stubborn piece of hope spark in his chest. The same spark he had clung to when Eva had first told him to get a sample. "And then I'll be free."
Speaking of which. Tromping over, Simon pressed the camera button. Light filled his eyes, radiation shining, as the darkness of the blood ocean appeared. Flecks of sediment shone like stars.
Anything you wished for. Simon, karma and fate rest so heavily upon your shoulders, any wish you wanted could be granted. Kyubey turned its head to the camera screen, at the endless dark. Those flecks of "stars" reflected in its eyes. If you even willed it, you could become a God.
A harsh, booming laugh cracked from the human, bending over as he grabbed his stomach. Tears burned at his eyes, and the laughter didn't cease for awhile. It all felt so stupid. Him? A God? There was no God.
Kyubey remained silent. It simply stared, before tilting its head up at the other living being. So, what do you say, Simon? Will you make a contract with me and save the Universe?
Simon said nothing. Slowly, he rose up from his bent, sad position. The Eden pendant around his wrist reflected the light of the emergency lamps above their heads. For a moment, he lifted his arm up high, staring at the sapling encased in glass.
(It's bigger than us. Wasn't that what Ava had said?)
(It's bigger than me.)
The tree could live again. The stars could come back. He could escape this awful, horrid place. He did not know what even laid beyond the stars, or if anything existed beyond this planet. This hell. But if he could wish for anything— if magic and miracles DID exist— he was willing to try.
The sub rumbled. Something in the darkness roared, hungry. Kyubey stiffened, its tail beginning to poof up like an alarmed cat.
Simon, you don't have much time. That thing— that monster— she'll come for us. She knows we're here.
Simon whipped his head down at the creature, then back at the console. "She?!"
Tick. Tick. TicktickticktciktcikTICKTICKTICKTICK—
The sonar was going wild. Immediately, Simon practically dove for the pilot's seat, grabbing the lever and piloting the Iron Lung far away from the clicks. Their intensity got smaller, but persistent. This "she" was following them.
She had been for awhile. He had heard Her voice. The way she had screamed and laughed, the hunger. He had heard it all before, at some point, between waking and dreams.
Simon!! Kyubey's voice exploded in his mind, panicked. You have to think of a wish. Hurry! She's going to catch up!
Simon felt his heart thrash in his chest. His ears were rushing with blood. Every bit of his skin felt hot, every cell, everything was alive with fear. Sweat trickled down his neck, soaking his tattered clothes further. All he could smell was rust and decay.
"I—" His voice sounded small, afraid, but he couldn't muster a damn. "I— I wish—"
BAM!!! The Lung creaked and groaned, the beast in the depths writhing as she tried to get the machine to come off course. Simon stablized it, just barely, teeth grit. His hands trembled.
"I just want everything to be okay," He didn't know when he had started crying. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the dawning realization he was going to die. He was going to die alone, terrified, and nobody would ever know his name—
"The stars. The tree. Bring it all back!" His voice sounded so far away. Was he screaming? All he could see was the blood beginning to weep from the seams of the Lung, the oxygen meter squealing as it went up a level.
A woman's voice shrieked in his mind. Enraged. His hands flew to his head as it pounded. The world was spinning, and he felt the last of his breath come rushing out.
"GRANT MY FUCKING WISH, INCUBATOR!!"
Light.
Light blinded Simon, pain exploding from his chest, his head. Everything was white. Something was screaming, pressure was building and exploding from the blood and the metal around him. A million songs were wailing and cradling his head, his legs kicking at the hands that clung at him through the ichor.
And though he could not see it, in his hands, he clutched his soul. The beast, the witch, screamed as it died, her maw of endless teeth blasted by the tree and Simon's power as he ascended through thousands of miles of blood. Up, up, up—
Until he could breathe again.
Simon blinked, wiping furiously at his eyes, clearing the cogulated blood and mess. His long hair stuck to his face, before he clumsily smeared it off his skin.
Something heavy sat in his hand. His vision blurred, sharpened, then focused. It was shaped like an egg encased in gold— a dark, vibrant green. It glowed more beautifully than any star, living or dead, full of warmth he thought he had forgotten.
Beneath his boots— land. Just the beginning of it, growing slowly over top of the blood. At his back was a tree. Dark, thick. Its limbs stretched up towards an endless sky alive with stars. Thousands of them. Maybe millions. Winking at him like eyes.
Tears tracked down his face, cutting through the blood. Relief, heavy and free, laid upon his heart. The fluffy white bastard had been right. Miracles and magic do exist.
"Son of a bitch," Simon breathed. Carefully, his free hand pressed to the tree's trunk. Above the branches, a familiar pair of pinkish red eyes stared back.
Kyubey clambered down, before its voice echoed in Simon's head again.
Congratulations, Simon. You have become a warlock. And— You have defeated your first witch. In time, her labryinth will completely fade, and this moon will become inhabitable again. All because of your wish.
Simon looked at the blood ocean, indeed noticing how slowly it was receding— as if the tree itself was drinking from it. At the makeshift shore, a strange black object the same size as his egg jewel washed up. He carefully, on surprisingly light feet, wandered to the object and picked it up.
That is a Grief Seed. The spoils of a witch hunt succeeding. Kyubey explained, suddenly curling itself around Simon's feet. He grimaced and quickly stepped away from it.
"Grief Seed?"
Yes. You use it to purify your Soul Gem after using magic. You should never, ever let your Soul Gem get too many impurities. Otherwise you won't live another day.
Simon lifted up the jewel in his hand, noticing how it glowed. The green magic felt like sunlight. Something he had thought he had forgotten. His Soul Gem. Proof this wasn't a dream. He was alive. A miracle had occurred.
But at what price?
Above him, one of the stars began to come closer. Eventually, he could see it was actually a ship— it was descending from the sky, light shining right at him. One hand to shield from the light, he willed the Soul Gem to hide somehow— and it materialized into a ring on his finger. The Grief Seed was pocketed, hidden away for later use.
Kyubey leapt onto his broad shoulder, curling itself around the back of his neck. There's still so much for you to learn, Simon. Your journey to save the universe from entropy is only beginning.
And as the ship began to open up to reveal the stunned COI technicians and their captain, staring at him white faced, at the tree, the stars themselves…
Simon could only clench his jaw.
He had traded one prison for another.