rogue_4

In this final refuge her parents had left her, she picked up whatever she could reach and threw it at the oncoming refugees.

She threw the control stick, the instrument panel, pieces of metal she never learned the purpose of.

Seeing a rock that was turning fiery red, she picked it up and tried to throw it.

But the rock dug itself into her palm, and she fainted at the scorching pain.

She woke up at Rhodes Island, her injuries treated.

Later, she had a chance to read the record of her rescue from an Ursine village that had been hit by Catastrophe.

The Catastrophe had erupted as lava from beneath the ground, and Surtr was the only survivor.

She told the Rhodes Island operators that she was not one of the villagers, but had only been passing through.

She knew nothing else.

She did not know who she was, or where she came from.

She did not know that, beneath the rubble of the ruined hut, now buried in lava, the only drawing of the family of three that her parents had left behind was now burned to ashes.

'And thus, Surtr defeated all the creatures opposing her, and became lord of all Terra. How about that?'

'Come on, that's way too fake.'

'And how is that my problem?'

'Now now, no need to get violent. You did take the effort to come up with that for us. The least us old bones could do now is answer your questions.

'You're a Sarkaz who came from the outside. I'm sure you're looking for your true home—

'That bright red hair of yours is hard to forget. Maybe it'll jog our memories.'

Surtr's face is completely impassive.

'What I wanted to ask is if there really is an ice cream furnace here.'

'Huh?'

'A candy and ice cream furnace! Yes or no?'

Surtr walks out of the furnace angrily, slightly disappointed at both the furnace and herself.

She had gotten into the habit of eating ice cream, even though she hated sweets. And it was all the fault of the one inside her.

As for her home...

In fact, Surtr had found the house in her memories soon after arriving in Kazdel.

The bed was broken, and badly damaged shelves and tables were scattered across the floor.

But there was no mistake. This was the room.

She sat down in the same place she was sitting in her memories. Maybe this really was her home.

It didn't feel like it. Or maybe it did.

It felt like it. Or maybe it didn't.

She was surprised that it failed to elicit any reaction from her at all.

It was no different from any of the other scenes in her memories she had visited.

She never once looked at the photo before she left.

She is more concerned with where she can buy ice cream, where the next stop on her journey will be, and when she will be heading back to Rhodes Island.

She looks around. She rather likes this Kazdel: this unfamiliar vitality, people hurrying around, delivering goods, doing business, bargaining, brawling, getting drunk.

She sees a drunk man lying sprawled out on the ground, babbling unintelligibly, but with a certain rhythm to it.

She walks up to him and kicks him lightly. 'Hey, wake up.'

The drunk man rolls over and ignores her.

'Where do you live? I am sure I could bother a Lich or someone from the Military Commission to help you find your way home.'

'Home? This <i>is</i> my home... Leave me alone! I like sleeping here!'

'Is this your idea of a joke?'

Surtr gets a passerby to help the man and stomps away angrily.

Although on second thought, what he said made a certain sense.

A place you can always return to, no matter how long you have been away. A place that will accept you, no matter what you have become. A place that does not try to bind you to it, but is simply there.

What is that, if not home?

At this, Surtr declares to herself that she will continue her travels. It is more entertaining to seek out good food, and to inflict violence on those who deserve it.

No more searching for the past.

Amiya had long understood the truth of her creation.

The salvation she sought was simply the deus ex machina that would emerge when the Storytellers ran out of ideas.

She brings their stories to an end when one can no longer think of a way to continue them.

And when she does so, the Storytellers disappear, and then reappear in another corner of the void to continue creating new stories.

This is the duty that had been 'bestowed' upon her—to bring an end to the story.

Amiya does not care what her creators thought. She simply seals away the tragedies about to happen, and continues to search for a way to save everyone.

Amiya had searched for a long, long time, so long that time itself had become vague and indistinct. She could almost summarize all the stories: they all began with a furnace, and a team of Sarkaz setting out on a journey, who experience many things before arriving at the end they wanted to tell—or arriving before <i>her</i>, as though—

As though under some kind of restriction.

Could it be that the Sarkaz telling the stories are themselves a creation in the eyes of others, just like herself?

If so, who created them, and are they watching this even now?

Amiya gazes at the void.

As she continued to explore the activities of the Storytellers, Amiya became increasingly certain of their existence. Stories that ended abruptly, stories that took their anger out on other stories, stories that ended before they even began... Their endings did not come from the telling, but from something else.

In countless cycles of sealing and searching, Amiya met Nymph time and again, put an end to the story time and again, and approached the truth she sought, one step at a time.

Finally, for the first time, Amiya sealed Nymph away. As Nymph disappears, Amiya looks up at the void, and in that instant, when all light fades into darkness—

She sees you.

Amiya attacks without hesitation. If you could see it, you would be in awe at the speed and power held in that ship-like Originium cone.

That is only the prelude to the attack, though. All it takes is for one particle of Originium to reach you, and Amiya will extract what she is looking for from your mind.

But all you see is your reflection in the darkness.

The distance between you and Amiya is not far, but a single layer of unreckonable darkness blocks everything.

The instant is fleeting. Amiya's attack evaporates without you ever noticing.

As the light returns, Amiya senses that you are gone.

But it is a good start.

Amiya has time. She is tough, and she does not know how to give up.

If she is convinced that you are the source of all suffering, then she will never let you escape.

It has been a long time since Amiya's first encounter with you.

She is beginning to realize that she cannot harm you physically.

At the same time, she is forced to admit that while she initially saw only the wounds, there were many other stories among those she had sealed that left an impression on her. Even after being sealed, they shined bright like stars around her—stories that were influenced by you.

Perhaps she should approach you in a different way.

She tries.

Language.

You cannot hear it.

Action.

You cannot see it.

Amiya wants to understand you, but there is no way for you to know her efforts.

This does not faze her. If you do exist, then you must have left something of yourself, a projection, in the innumerable stories. Even if it is not in real time, she may be able to discern what sort of person you are through your deeds.

Amiya had never imagined that you were always by 'her' side.

As story after story turns to cocoon, she is almost certain that the one by the name of Doctor, wearing a hood concealing the face, is your projection in the many stories.

The darkness under the hood is identical to the one that 'Amiya' sensed in the void after the end.

In most of the stories, you were always by 'Amiya's' side, keeping 'Amiya' company, and being inspired by 'Amiya'.

You are Amiya's _______

Perhaps it is your absence from her life, combined with all the other variables, that made her into the unique being she is now.

This is not what you wanted.

And so Amiya's understanding of you grows. You are not some vast, conceited will, nor the puppetmaster behind the Storytellers.

You are simply you, a spectator to the stories being told, enjoying their ups and downs. You sometimes express your emotions without reservation, and sometimes even choose how the stories progress, but always within the boundaries of a framework. Even you are bound by certain rules. The Storytellers tell the stories to the end, while you read them, respond to them, and arrange every conflict for them.

Here at the end, Amiya senses only your victory, your pride. But at the ends of the fragments, she can sense other emotions.

Helplessness at being devoured by the enemy.

Regret at making the wrong choice.

Anger at the cruelty of fate.

And surprise at the suddenness of the end, followed by a distancing from the land.

Things have not always gone smoothly for you. You have experience plenty of pain and suffering as well.

Amiya would seal you away too if she could, to spare you from more inevitable pain.

Yet everything she wants to do to you can never succeed. In the fleeting moment of darkness at every ending, she has tried to communicate with you, but you have always waited for the darkness to pass, before your attention is drawn by the reappearing light.

Amiya has yet to receive a response, but she will keep trying.