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Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
Welcome to my first horror novel! This is not my first novel, nor is it the first time I've written anything. I have this on another forum and have been writing it since December 14, 2013. Never would I have imagined it would have gotten so gruesome as time went on. As an aspiring author, this is the first project that wasn't a PMD fanfic that I've gotten past ten chapters for. It's a dream come true. Also, this story is ongoing. I may or may not continue to post chapters here. I'll post the prelude and chapter one right now, the rest when I have the time. Also, so you know, it's not a horror right away, so please don't get confused when you see that the first half dozen chapters aren't horrific.

The first six-eight chapters are rated T for violence and language. The chapters after are rated M for gore and explicit content. I'll put up this is rated [T] or [M] to warn you people which are rated T and M.

Okay, you ready? You're in for a crazy ride.


Standing Creation - ♥ Vanguard Duosoard.


♥ Welcome, one and all to the video game world! Strange, isn’t it? To be inside a video game like world? Well, this world has always been a little strange! I am giving you this postcard to alert you that you have been accepted into the tournament of Mariibo Rumaibo! A three way system of programming, testing, and fighting! You will program a section of the world, and test it out! But most importantly, you need to fight for that! You cannot program a part of our world unless you battle and win that battle! You have been selected after all! If you win enough battles, you will become a god rank fighter in our program! I’ll say this once, and say it now! Your rank means everything to you! You are one of the 1,000 people selected to fight and program, make sure you do not let it go to waste. As a result of being selected, you will be given a room to stay in! You will live here until you are either kicked out of the program by expulsion, or lose all your points from too many losses. Depending on your rank, the amount of losses you have to warrant getting kicked out of the program changes with your rank. That will be explained later, I kind of don’t quite have enough room to write all that, even on a letter sized postcard! Wow, technology stinks, doesn’t it?

♥ Anyway, anyway! Since you’ve been selected, you must get here at a certain time, and that’s at about 9:30 AM tomorrow! We are in the fine location of Milaturia! It’s quite hard to miss where it is, right in the center of the country! If you have to walk, walk! If you have to drive, I’d say that’s not a good idea, you need to have a magic proof car for that, so take a train! If you have to take an airplane, just take an airplane, or just use your magic! I don’t really care; it’s your decision in the matter! Whatever you pick is up to you! It’s just that, I want you to get here as fast as you can! You can manage that, right? Now that, my dear, that my dear, shouldn’t be too hard! So you know I’m the leader of this organization. No one else is in charge except me, so if you have any problems or concerns, you must come to me. I made this program using magic, and will one day, maybe add more people to my administration, but for now, it’s too early for that! If you want to hear it from me, I only made this program a month ago, planning takes too long! It only became publically known recently, and I was flooded with requests! But with two weeks of planning, it has finally been pulled off!

♥ Yes, though, I require myself to warn you. The enemy threat has gotten quite high lately. The World Seekers are seeking to, yet again, end the world and rewrite history entirely! There’s a high chance some of them will be after my program, and use it to their advantage as a way to rewire and program this whole world over again. Watch out for them! This is your only warning, even I don’t know if they are going to be around, but you never know! They could be disguised as children who signed up for our program! You’ll probably know by the way their magic is going to be when you fight them. I urge you to be careful who you make friends with, too. You don’t know who is who, and I’m sure even if your friends are going to be here, they could be part of the World Seekers! Man, oh man, people these days! Am I right?

♥ One last thing! (Great, I’m on the third sheet of paper. Wow, I’m a wordy man!) Killing of any kind will not be tolerated. I don’t care if it was by accident, or on purpose. I will kick you out of the program pronto if you are caught killing another member in the program. I have programmed it so you can’t die in battle, so there’s no way you’ll die on the field of magic battling, but outside of that field you are not protected from death. I just wanted to be clear on this. The penalty for killing more than one person, by the way, will be held up with the Order of Human Resources. You will be dealt with there rather than with me. You don’t want this as these men and women are tough and scary. I had to meet with them to make this program even happen, so I know what they’re like! They personally told me that there needed to be a no killing policy, so I had to enforce. I hate killing to begin with; it is quite an ugly art, isn’t it? Also, if you find a murder, and don’t know who it is committed by, you must report it. There will be consequences if you don’t report it. Everyone will be tried and asked questions about the murder. So not only will you be accused, everyone will. This is to pin down who did it! Also, in the case of an emergency, where everyone must leave the program due to a planet storm, or whatever apocalypses you people come up with, there is a vocational area where we will go to underneath the planet where we will keep continuing with our program!

♥ Good luck and make sure you get here as soon as you can! I don’t care if you’re late, as long as you come!

Gleam Noiyam shivers and twitches as she finishes reading the note. She had been accepted? Accepted into the program she had dreamed of being a part of? She could hardly believe it; she didn’t want to believe it. Was it a dream? Was what she was reading all a dream? She pinched herself—seeing as the pinch had hurt, it was no dream.

“My dream…” she whispered. “My dream has finally come true!” She dropped the paper on the ground and ran in a circle, she shouted wonderful at least twenty times, and ran in the circle until she got absolutely dizzy.

“Oh, right!” she said, snapping herself out of it. “I’ve got to get ready!” She ran in her room, to prepare. Prepare for tomorrow.

End of prelude, next to come: an adventure even young children can’t forget.


Welcome to hell, young children. It has begun!
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated T.

Standing Creation - ♥ Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 1; Travel. Travel and don’t come back.

She had long hair that goes down to the waist, had gold hair the color of money, and red eyes, the color of blood. She was a girl, the tender age of 12, going on 13. This young girl had magic vested within her body, like most people in the world she lived in. Her magic was quite different than anyone she knew. Most people in her town had levitation magic, but she didn’t. She had a strange magic, one would say: the magic of diamond dimension manipulation. Did she understand it? Not really, no. She didn’t see the point of it, either. She wished that she had telepathy like everyone else. Manipulating diamonds to do whatever she wished seemed quite dangerous, especially considering how hard diamonds are. 10 on the Moh’s Hardness scale? Of course, she didn’t know. She was never allowed to go to school because of her extreme power—she knows basic information, but not the more sophisticated information. She didn’t exactly care, though. She didn’t have a care in the world, not today anyway. She didn’t have to have a care in the world, either.

She was accepted.

Accepted into the program, Mariibo Rumaibo. The note had been the longest thing she had ever read, and the author of the note seemed very sporadic, but she didn’t care: she was too ecstatic. She had been accepted into the program, and that’s all she cared about. She could say goodbye to it all: her horrible parents, the loneliness, all the other children bullying her for having a better magic than them. All of it would end now, and she was quite ecstatic for that. The girl read the note one more time to check where the location was once again. The program’s location was in Milaturia, also known as the Game Controller Center. In her world, it was all video game based. Everyone was like data: all part of one big video game where everyone was in control of only themselves. It is not known how the world had gotten like this, and she herself didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to interfere or even ask anyone. It wasn’t her business, anyway.

The girl, of course, had a name. Her parents’ only kindness ever given to her—she knew they didn’t even want to name her.

She had been given the name of Gleam Noiyam. To her, the name was beautiful, and she felt lucky to have a name, and she, to be honest, treasured her name above all else. To her, it was all she had. She had nothing sacred to her, so she felt the need to treasure her name above anything; it was the right thing to do.

Gleam breathed a sigh or relief one last time. It was time for her to leave for Milaturia. She was ready for her whole entire life to finally change for the better. She couldn’t wait much longer. The wait was going to drive her crazy. She was excited beyond the ability to calm down.

“Programming a section of the world…” she uttered. “That does seem pretty exciting!” She was too excited, almost. She knew she would have to fight in order to program, as the note had said, but had practically ignored that whole entire idea of fighting in the note. To her, fighting wasn’t too bad, especially with magic, and if it meant that she could stay in the program, she didn’t care.

Gleam kept an eye on her watch. Looking closely, it said 8:30. It was time for her to leave for the program. She would have to get there by train because it was much too far to walk, and if she got there by train, she’d get there early. She headed towards the front door to ready herself, breathed in and out, and said:

“I’m leaving now!”

She said that, and yet there was no answer. Of course there wouldn’t be an answer, though. Her parents had earplugs in so they couldn’t hear her. She tried not to cry, but that hurt her emotionally more than the bullying around town did.

“…As if they’ll ever answer me…” she said, shaking her head. Regardless, she ran out of the house as excited as she could to forget it all. It was a good thing the train station was easy to get to, just a joystick away. The world being one big video game and all, she could just be warped there by stepping on the ground printed with an A circle glyph, so she did. It would only work if she knew how to get to the location, so it wasn’t that simple of a program. If she knew how to get to Milaturia, she would have asked the A circle glyph to take her there instead.

“To the train station please,” she said calmly.

The glyph lit up a golden color. The matter surrounded Gleam’s body and she could feel it modifying the world around her. Or, that’s at least how she saw it. She didn’t know how it worked. She could feel the matter of the glyph taking her to another location, it hurt a little, but that was the joy of it. Within moments, she was transported to the location she had wanted. The matter had stopped surrounding her body. Gleam jumped off the glyph and looked around for the train she was supposed to get on. Train 6 was what the ticket had said. The train station was very old fashioned where she lived, however, very like the 1800s or so. She didn’t know which train was which, but she knew all the trains were probably in numerical order. With that in mind, Gleam walked on the platform to look for train 6. Eventually she came across the train she was looking for, and walked through the door as quickly as she could, running onto a seat where no one was sitting, and waited for the train to begin moving.

After waiting for a little while, the train started to move. She smiled to herself a little because it was all about to come true: her dream. For once she would be with people who were just like her, and wouldn’t bully her for it. For once, she would be important to the world! She liked the idea, and she liked it more than life itself. It all made sense now, and she was ready to tackle the day.


“We have reached Mariibo Rumaibo. All who are designated to leave for this area please exit the train now.”

Gleam had heard the announcement and exited the train as the electronic loudspeaker had said to.

“Now,” she said, in a dreamy voice. “Now my new life begins!” Gleam began to walk to Mariibo Rumaibo, and she was ready. Ready for everything to finally change in her life.

End of chapter one, next to come: the beginning of reality; the first leg of the journey.


(This is where I put my author's notes) Yeahhh, basically the chapters being short, and the next one's after get longer. I wrote this in December, and it was before I handwrote anything.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This is rated T.

I might have missed some typos when I first edited this, oops.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 2; How to fit in when you don’t know how.

As Gleam approached Mariibo Rumaibo, she took deep breaths to keep calm. Inside she was giddy as can be and she herself knew that if she showed that side of her people would glare at her. She didn’t want people to give her dirty looks on her first day there, so she kept on breathing in and out. She felt very mature doing this. In fact, she felt like she was a seventeen year old about to emerge in the world of adulthood. She wasn’t of that age yet, but she knew she’ll get there one day. Only five years away. Five glorious years away, and she still had six months left to enjoy being a pre-teen. Time knew no bounds and had no way of being avoided. She sighed and shook her head. All this imagining would delay her arrival, so she decided now was the time to stop with the procrastination of entering. Gleam went inside the building. It was now or never or as she put it—a make it or break it situation.

Gleam looked at her surroundings as she gazed through the halls. All the hallways were strange: all decorated with a sickeningly bright shade of pink. It was most certainly nothing you would see in a normal building. She had never seen brighter pink walls before in her life. The nauseating colors didn’t end there, either. She examined further while walking to get a picture of what kind of place it was that she was accepted into. The color of the doors had made her want to vomit rainbows like in that stupid show she saw on television at age nine. The doors were completely the color of sugary candy. Actually, to her, the way she saw it, they were made from candy. The very thought of the doors being made from candy made her second guess why she was accepted into such a program like this. But if she complained, wouldn’t they throw her out? That she knew too well. She tried not to complain, but regardless of her feelings, her thoughts and words weren’t in agreement:

“What kind of place is this?!” she hollered. It was then she noticed that there were other people there in that hallway with her. She laughed a tiny bit to herself as she saw some boys coming at her at full circle speed. “Now I’ve done it...” she whispered to herself.

The boys were getting closer and closer to where Gleam was, but for whatever reason, her feet just wouldn’t move. Her feet were completely locked into place on the ground. What was this sensation she was feeling? It was nothing she had ever felt before. In fact, she didn’t know what to call it at all. Since she didn’t know what to call it, she named the sensation leg stiffening. Under her breath she said it would be okay and that the big boys can’t hurt her, but before long, they came, and they were mean and menacing looking. She again tried to move, but her legs just wouldn’t move. In that slight panic, however, she did get a good look at what the boys look liked and there were three of them. They were all big boys, about seventeen, maybe. All three of these boys had blue hair and a menacing, mean look on their face. Gleam did a gulp. She wasn’t sure what to call that feeling either, but it was already too late to scurry her way out of this situation. The big boys began to speak to her:

“What was it that you said, little girlie?” the big boy in the middle said with a menacing grin. The boy in the middle walked closer to Gleam and grabbed a hold of her shirt, lifting her five feet off the air. The boys were strong, and there was no escaping the boy’s grip. It was, however, the same as the way things were back in her neighborhood, so she knew the feeling of being pulled by her shirt and bolted into the air. She knew the process all too well. She just had to say something; the big boy would throw her on the ground, leave her, laugh and walk away. She knew the process so well that she practically lived by it as a code. Instead of acting like a frightened little dog of which she didn’t know the name of, she spoke:

“I said, and I repeat, ‘what kind of place is this’.” she said without a shake or quiver in her voice, but what she was about to say would really set the boys off. “Why? Want to fight about it?”

Now she had done it. She shouldn’t have said that.

The boy instantly dropped Gleam on the ground. He was placing his foot over her, attempting to stomp on her, but he stopped himself. Instead, he laughed for duration of ten seconds. The two other big boys, who weren’t as menacing, just looked each other and backed out of the action. They saw no reason to get involved in his wrath.

The big boy stopped laughing and looked at Gleam’s face one more time before saying anything else. Her face was decorated with a blank look. The big boy smirked and thought of the girl as weak and pathetic. Looking at her again, he knew there was no way this girl could so much as make a scratch on him, but it was all about leering for him, so he had to get Gleam angry to start the fight off:

“You’ll die by the end of this fight, girlie,” he said, smirking again. “That’s what you get for shouting, so let’s fight!”

Gleam had blocked out almost all of what he had said. She heard only the last two words. A declaration to fight in the middle of a hallway. Gleam shook her head at it, but it was already too late to talk herself out of this fight; the boys were definitely not in the mood to listen to reason.

“Let’s go, then!” she said, with a tiny laugh. The big boy smirked again and leered at her one more time.

“Alright, fine girlie, you go first then, since you find this so funny!”

So Gleam did just that. Gleam formed her hands to make a circle. On the ceiling appeared a complicated magic circle with strange letters on it. From the magic circle emerged a dozen diamonds. The diamonds moved into Gleam’s hand and charged at the big boy. The diamonds surrounding the big boy’s body and hit him. Even though the attack looked like it hurt, the big boy began to laugh all over again, from the looks of it; he was going to pretend that it didn’t hurt.
“Diamond Manipulation Magic, aye?” he said in an annoying question-like voice. “Try this on for size! Taste my big needle magic!” The big boy would have started to form his attack, but from the distance, there was an attack coming from the distance. The big boy did not notice, but Gleam sure as day had saw it. She knew it wasn’t coming at her, so she began to giggle like a little girl. The boy caught onto it and began to sweat a little from her laughter. “And just what’s so funny…girlie?” he finally said. “You haven’t…won yet!” As he finished speaking, however, it was too late for him to attack. The attack that had seemingly come out of nowhere hit the big boy and the big boy was on the ground. The other big boys had panicked and ran away at the scene of their leader being tackled down. They didn’t want to be thought lower of the leader by running, but they ran anyway. From the sound of the attack, it was a wind chime thrust attack. Gleam had heard of it before, but only in a legend. But where did the attack come from? Gleam didn’t know, but it would seem like she was about to find out just that.

After the big boy was certain to be knocked unconscious, another boy had starting running. It must have been the person who had launched the unseen attack. Gleam had, again, felt the leg stiffening sensation she had felt before. She couldn’t move, and she most certainly didn’t want to move. She waited for the boy to run to her, and finally, as the boy arrived to her side, she had gotten a good look at what he had looked like.

From the way she saw the boy, he looked like he was a little older than her, but not too much older than her. He had luscious silver hair almost the color of wind chimes. The boy wore a hooded jacket and denim blue jeans. He looked like a skateboarding boy from every angle she looked. She knew it would be rude to not thank the boy, so to be polite, she instantly said what had to be said.

“Um, thank you for that, really,” she said, shyly. She didn’t have any idea how to talk to this boy or let alone, any boy. It was a very rare moment when a boy was actually kind to her, and she wanted to take advantage of the feeling. “So, um, I’m Gleam Noiyam! Who are you?”

The boy tapped his foot on the ground a little. He was blushing just a tiny bit. From every angle Gleam looked, the boy didn’t seem comfortable, but she did not know what to call the feeling he was feeling, eventually the boy remembered that the girl had introduced herself, so he spoke as well, but in a nervous tone:

“I-I’m Chime Nume,” he said, sweating like a monkey. “I’m fifteen years old and have Wind Chime Thrust Magic.” he stopped sweating after saying this, and put on a braver face. Gleam smiled and tried her hardest to keep the conversation going.

“I’m 12!” she said with a big grin on her face. She put emphasis on the one and the two. “…But I’ll be 13 in just six months!” She was caught up in the emphasis and began to giggle again. This made Chime a little uneasy, but he felt it would be a bad idea to just stop talking to her now, so he also kept the conversation going.

“So, uh, Gleam,” Chime began to play with his fingers a little, but Gleam had not noticed. “You excited to program a part of the world?”

Gleam would have answered, but it was then that a disrupting announcement had gone off. Gleam took a look at her watch. It had only just been 9:30. How did time go by that fast? Gleam had been so caught up in the fight and talking that she didn’t notice the time. Or maybe, time didn’t want her to notice. If only she had a little more time to get to know Chime, then it would have been lovely.

The announcement had finally started; it was of a sporadic man, probably the man who wrote the postcard.

“Welcome! Welcome! I’m assuming everyone is here already! So go on! Go on! Come to the auditorium this instant! We will be holding an entrance ceremony! Be here by 9:45, and don’t be late or you will be sent home! Got it?”

“S-sent home?!” Gleam cried almost with instinct. “W-what?”

Chime patted Gleam on the back a little. “He’s just teasing, Gleam. We should get going though.”

“R-right!” Gleam said, but there was more she had wanted to say before running. “Hey, um…Chime Nume? Would it be okay if you …you know…go with me?” she felt hot and sweaty saying this, but she meant it.

“J-just… just call me Chime,” he said with a nervous accent. “And yes, maybe we can get to know each other more along the way this way.”

With that in mind, Gleam smiled. She liked the idea of getting to know this boy. She smiled a smile and started running towards the auditorium with Chime. It was hopefully, going to be a first great friendship. The first morning in Mariibo Rumaibo may had been shaky, but she was ready to stay in this crazy program.

End of chapter two, next to come: sometimes weird is the bad thing?! And Gleam thought she was weird!


Chime is my favorite characters. Am I allowed to have a favorite? I'm the author... I wrote this February 22nd, 2014 after going back to it. If I hadn't then, I would have dropped this series.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated T.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard

Chapter 3; Next to the ocean of people emerge the papers.

The auditorium was larger than anyone would think an auditorium would be. The large feel of the huge auditorium was intimidating and frightening. It was enough to scare all who were unworthy of being in the program and seemingly, that was the goal set aside when the program was put into motion. Despite how frightening the auditorium was on the outside, there was of course, no proof that it was the same on the inside. The inside was home to the creator of the program’s many assemblies, or so he says himself, where it will all begin. Gleam stared at the door for about two minutes, debating. Debating if she was ready to go inside, debating if Chime and she will somehow become friends and debating if this program will truly allow her to get away from it all. The debates were there—but weren’t breaking her. She shrugged and turned to Chime, hoping he wasn’t in a similar kind of situation as her.

“So,” Gleam said, nervously scratching her head. “You ready to go in?”

Chime streamed his fingers through his hair apprehensively. He had heard what Gleam had said, but was barely even aware of what to say back. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and scare this girl away, but he knew saying nothing would do the same kind of damage. Seemingly, it would have been a win or lose situation with the options of which were presented before him. His options seemed limited, but words began to form in Chime’s mouth, and decided to roll with the words.

“If…if you’re ready,” Chime was shaking like a leaf as the words continued to form. “I’ll…be ready, so let’s go inside.”

Gleam could hear the shaking in Chime’s voice. She then wondered if it was like she was forcing Chime to talk, but Gleam shrugged and quickly determined that it was nothing to worry about. All the dawdling before entering was going to become a habit if she were to continue doing so. With that in her mind, Gleam said what had meant to be said in such an awkward situation being presented before her.

“Fine with me,” Gleam said quickly. “Let’s go in.”

The two entered the auditorium with both stealth and curiosity. Gleam examined the inside of the auditorium before finding a place to sit. Amongst her was an ocean of people, and the ocean of people were loud and like the sound of a crashing wave. Everyone was talking; all nine hundred ninety eight voices erupting with useless chatter. Gleam looked at Chime, and Chime stared at the eruption of voices. Neither knew how so many people could talk to one another so easily. Both just looked at each other with a blank look and wondered if it were possible to blend in with the crowd.

Gleam examined the room one more time. Within her line of sight, she spotted two empty seats adjacent to one another. Gleam pointed excitably at the two empty seats and quietly, Chime followed. The two sat down in the seats and tried their hardest to blend in with the crowd as if their life depended on it. From the looks of it to Gleam, or how she seemed to have seen it, anyway, no one had even seen her come in. Everyone was too focused on their own conversations to even pay attention to the world around them. Gleam didn’t understand how people could get so lost in conversation especially since everyone could easily be a stranger. Gleam didn’t know if she could connect with a society of people like this. She didn’t even know what to call this society of people. She had been isolated for too long to know the difference.

Within moments, however, all talking had come to a disturbing and abrupt stop. Everyone had stopped talking and it was sickeningly silent. It was so silent that it was as if everyone was waiting for the king or a God, but neither a king nor God was ever going to arrive. Within moments, the sound of footsteps could be heard in the distance, and the footsteps were getting closer. Eventually, the footsteps arrived to the door, and all one thousand heads turned to look to see if it was the man they thought it was. The man they had all went silent for. Sure enough, it was the man, and everyone turned around as the man walked onto the stage.

Gleam examined the man closely as he walked up onto the stage. She noticed everything about him—almost too much about him, even. The image the man was conveying in the letter were all of which Gleam had pictured when she was reading it. The very fact her vision was right made her feel something she couldn’t even describe.

The man was tall, about six feet or so, which was extremely tall for anyone in the country, or even in the world itself. The man was slightly pudgy, but not really overweight—just pudgy. He was wearing a strange, rainbow colored suit which made Gleam want to look the other way because of how ugly it looked. She kept on looking at this man to get a full idea of who he was. To add on to ugliness, the man had on a black tie. The tie was so ugly that everyone, not just Gleam, noticed its ugliness. The last noticeable feature was his hair. It was white as snow and didn’t seem to match the man at all. It must have been a wig, but it looked real, so it couldn’t have been. Everything about the man had been sporadic—everything.

When the man reached the stage, he banged the microphone twice. Everyone could hear the microphone screech, and it most certainly got the crowd’s attention. If it was his intention of getting everyone’s attention, his method worked somehow. It was an odd method, but the method was completely successful.

“Hello! Hello!” the man finally said. “Sorry for the tardiness, sorry, sorry! I’m a very busy man, you know!”

Gleam noticed how many times the man decided to repeat himself. She didn’t understand why he kept on doing it, and she felt like he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but for the sake of his persona he’s trying to bring about. It kept Gleam interested, so she kept on listening to what he had to say.

“Now that I’ve got your attention, allow me to introduce myself properly!” the man raised his hand and from his hand emerged a flock of butterflies. Everyone stared at the spectacle of butterflies in absolute awe, captured by his magic. After the crowd had been riled up enough, the man stopped the butterflies and the room was normal again. The man continued speaking. Everyone listened carefully to his words. “I’m Ceetos Eetos, the creator of this program! I thank you all for coming on time!”

Everyone in the crowd suddenly began to cheer. An ocean of cheers—Gleam didn’t get why the people were so captivated by this man. He barely even seemed special, yet the ocean of people treated him like he was the imperial leader of the world. The crowd quieted down and the creator, Ceetos, began to speak again.

“Wow, such enthusiasm!” he said, cheerfully. “I love it! Now, allow me to explain a few things!” Ceetos took out a big screen and there appeared a chart. Ceetos took out a pointer and pointed to a large image of the outside of the program building being projected onto the screen. As he pointed, the ocean of people quietly cheered. “Now! This program! You all know why you’re here, right?” Ceetos smiled again and raised his hand. “I want you to tell me, Children! Raise your hands! Come on! Raise them!”

Within moments, over nine hundred hands shot up. Everyone knew the answer, so Gleam wondered why the creator was even bothering to ask. It was probably just his way of buying his audience into what he wanted, and she just saw no point in it.

Ceetos saw how large the hand to “me, me, me” ratio was. Ceetos pointed to one hand and motioned his hand for them to stand up, so they did.

“To program a section of the world, get tested, and fight,” the person had said with an eruption of confidence.

Ceetos beamed. From every obvious angle, he was delighted to hear such an answer. It was obvious he was enjoying himself up on stage, and that a right answer had made him enjoy himself much more.

“Very good! Wow! Wow! We got some smarties in here!” Ceetos looked as if he was about to break out into some kind of dance, but seemed to stop himself from doing so. “Now, yes, yes! You will be here to program!” he shouted louder and his voice begun to boom that even the microphone couldn’t handle it. “But to be able to do that you all are going to be tested!” he formed his hands into a square and papers were formed in that square. “Two days from now! I want you all to be in the gymnasium! All one thousand of you will take this test—and the passing rate is quite high!”

As soon as the word test was uttered, the useless chatter came back. The ocean began to hit shore. The people were all complaining. Some said, “I didn’t get accepted into this program to take a test,” some were mumbling in other languages, and some were just lost in the sea of voices.

Gleam was astonished. A test? Now? Why now and not later? She hadn’t studied for any kind of test-and she was caught off guard by the whole thing. Apparently, she was within the majority as well—no one was ready. Nobody could handle the fact that they were being tested, and no one wanted to hear the rest of what the creator had to say, but they stopped chattering anyway. Might as well let the man talk so they can complain later.

“Now, now! Don’t despair, don’t despair!” he said, cheerfully as ever. “All you’ll have to do is destroy a crystal! Do that and you’ll pass!” he held up an example of what the crystal might look like. Everyone just stared at the crystal. “That’s all! Oh, yeah, one last thing!” Ceetos put down the crystal and held up a key with a number on it. “When you leave, please take a key. That’ll be the key to your dorm room until you leave or are forced to leave!” he threw the key on the stage, and everyone had begun to cheer. “Children, you are dismissed!”

Nine hundred ninety eight people ran for the door in what would seem like frenzy. The violent sound of clanging keys and turning paper could be heard in the distance. Gleam just sat there in question not knowing what to call the feeling she had been feeling right then and there. She didn’t feel like naming it, and she didn’t have to name it, either. Gleam waited for the noise to die down, and as soon as it did, she rose from her chair, and Chime followed.

Gleam grabbed a key from the box and the paper from the desk outside the auditorium. She examined the number on the key quietly and printed on it was the numbers three, seven, and two. Room 372 was her dorm room, and she knew that was a high number just from the sound of it.

“Gleam,” Chime said, speaking up. “I got room 390. What room did you get?”

Chime seemed less uncomfortable when he wasn’t around many people, and Gleam had caught onto it. She wondered why he was asking what dorm room she got, but she guessed it was out of curiosity. She didn’t want to answer the question, but her words and thoughts didn’t seem to be in agreement again:

“372!” she said, cheerfully. “If I recall correctly…that’s only 18 rooms down! Wow…small world!” Gleam had begun to laugh a little, she didn’t know why herself, but it seemed to fit with the situation carefully and properly this time.

“So,” Chime said, this time with a nervous tone. “If you want to hang out in my dorm whenever you just…you know….want to…that is…it’s okay with me.” he was blushing and playing with his fingers. Gleam didn’t even notice.

“That would be lovely,” Gleam said with a smile. “Oh yeah! One more thing!” Gleam raised her finger to the direction of the ceiling. “This test. On the paper it says two or more people can team up and pass the test together as a team. Want to team up?”

Chime had no idea how to respond at all. In any way. Despite that, he nodded. Maybe if he teamed up with this girl, they would become friends somehow.

“Sure,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d enjoy it.”

“Wonderful! We have a deal,” Gleam said with a sudden ray of happiness. It was the moment of her life, and she wasn’t about to waste it.

Gleam was as sure as ever now—she belonged there. She belonged with this group of people. Despite any mishap that might happen, she just knew she belonged, and it made her feel warm inside. She looked at Chime and grinned a very stupid grin, and Chime grinned the same stupid grin back. It was the start of a brand new friendship.

End of chapter three, next to come: working together is a childhood lesson, but is it really?


The ocean is a very important metaphor in this story. Forget it and I'll be mad.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated T.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 4; Instant dead crystal: just add magic!

Two days had passed without a hitch. Gleam had somehow become best friends with Chime in those two days of endless practicing. It had only been two days and yet, she felt like she had known Chime forever. Getting to know Chime in two days, however, could have easily been used to get used to the program and its principles, but she was against it. She knew that one day there would be a time for all that—but right now her main focus was hitting it off with Chime because being alone in society was far worse than being bullied by society. Gleam didn’t want the other outcome as much as the former. It mattered little to her as she had come to the program to get away from isolation and bullying. She didn’t want it following her around wherever she went, but it would seem that cloud of hostilities is always around, and Gleam wanted no part of it. She wanted no part in that kind of society anyway, and she would not become lost in the midst of it all. That’s what she would keep on telling herself, and it was the code she herself was forcing herself to live by.

Gleam sighed and shook her head. All that thinking was causing her to dawdle again. The very thing she had feared to become a habit was quickly becoming such. Gleam had begun to sprint so she could arrive to her location in a matter of moments. After she notice the location was nearby, she slowed down her pace to prevent a bloody, sniveling mess. She refused to be bloody—it was undignified and horrible. Gleam kept on walking and then proceeded to looking up. She had arrived to a closed door, and printed on the said door was the numbers three, nine and zero. Gleam breathed a sigh of relief and smiled a little to herself. Quietly, she knocked on the door to alert that she had arrived and in no uncertain terms, her alert had been heard, and Chime opened the door.

“Hey Chime,” Gleam said in a warm and friendly tone. “You ready to go?”

Chime stared at Gleam with a tired look shaped onto his face. He was far from ready to go. He was never ready to head anywhere three and a half hours before. He wanted to tell her that, but he couldn’t form the sentence without it sounding pathetic or all over the place. He then wondered just what could be said in a situation like this, but he didn’t know that. He groaned to himself and hated that he didn’t know what to say, and the feeling was extremely crushing. Chime just wished that there was something he could say to show Gleam he wasn’t ready, but no matter what words he had been thinking up, none matched how he had felt at all. Chime sighed in defeat and just rolled with whatever words came to mind.

“No, I was just about done getting ready though,” Chime said. No matter how he had said that, he was lying. He was stuck telling a lie. “I was just about to eat breakfast; you could join me if you want.” He opened the door and motioned his hand for Gleam to come inside. Gleam entered the dorm room without much thought to it.

Gleam bowed her head in disappointment. She didn’t want to intrude if Chime wasn’t ready yet, but regardless, he had let her inside anyway. She was glad that he was allowing her inside, but the way she saw it, Chime should gotten mad at her. But he hadn’t. She wanted to cry for being a level one intruder. No tears would fall, but she still had to apologize or she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself at all.

“I’m sorry. I should have come later,” she said in an apologetic tone. “I knew coming at seven thirty was too early. I really shouldn’t have, so I’m sorry.”

Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder like he had done before. The touch was kind and soothing, quickly calming Gleam down within seconds. It was as if his patting on the shoulder were a magical power of some sort.

“It’s alright, Gleam,” Chime said in a soothed voice. “You didn’t know.”

Gleam would have said something back, but no words would form. Nothing would form—she was at an absolute and complete loss for words. She wondered if that was a bad thing or a good thing, but it didn’t seem like anyone could help her with something of that sort. She knew she had to say something, though. It would be as if she was ignoring Chime, so she decided it would be best to answer back despite her lack of words right then and there.

“I won’t do it again, I promise,” she said dejectedly. She had thought about it, but what she said seemed like it came out of nowhere, and it seemed jagged. “I promise.”

Chime just smiled a little and shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know why, but he had found Gleam’s promise strangely adorable, but he didn’t want to say it out loud, so he kept the feeling bottled up and locked away deep inside him.

Chime went into his dorm kitchen and took out two mugs. Chime turned to Gleam wondering what she liked to drink. Based on how little he knows on that topic, he took out coffee mix and brewed weak coffee into his mug. He placed the mug onto the table without spilling a drop and looked at Gleam again in question.

“Would you like some coffee too?” he asked thoughtfully.

Gleam blinked. She had no remote idea why Chime would ask that. She was too young for coffee—she knew Chime was too young for it, too. Besides, coffee was only good if it was decaf, and she wanted to let him know that. However, she wondered if that would come off as a little too high strung or too strong.

“I’m 12, uh…” Gleam said, thinking about it. “I can’t exactly have coffee.”

“I’ll make you decaf if you want,” Chime offered.

Gleam just shrugged and went along with it. “Sure,” she said.

Chime brewed the decaf coffee and passed it over to Gleam. The two drank the coffee quickly due to the time constraints placed upon them. Because of how quickly they drank it, neither knew what it tasted like, but it didn’t matter—it was just a stimulant to get them energized. Chime had went from looking dead tired to slightly awake. As the minutes piled on top of one another, Gleam finished her decaf coffee, and Chime finished his coffee. Chime placed his mug down and folded his hands onto the table, but Gleam wasn’t paying attention.

“So we’re going over our strategy one more time,” Chime said with a serious look on his face. “We’re first going to take a weapon. You’ll use the weapon, I’ll use my magic.” Chime took a piece of paper and drew a diagram of how it would all go down. “We’ll go for the crystal in the back corner like we planned. So we’re clear on our planned strategy?” he turned to Gleam.

Gleam nodded. She had liked the strategy the two of them came up with together. Gleam had never really come up with anything with someone else before—and it was an enchanting feeling. That was, as least, how she had seemed to have seen this emotion to begin with.

“Yeah, it’s perfect, Chime!” she said, smiling. “I’m glad that we could come up with this idea together.” She was blushing a bit while she was saying this, but she tried to hide that. “It was fun!”

Chime blushed in response to Gleam’s blushing. He didn’t know if that’s what he was supposed to do, but he decided it didn’t really matter, so he decided to just roll with the feeling. He figured that it was something two friends could share with one another. Maybe it was like that, it could have been, but at the same exact time he had no idea. He never had any idea just how two friends were supposed to interact with one another. He shook his head and figured that deep down he knew what was wrong and what was right in friendship. In fact he knew that deep down, he knew more than he had let himself believed he knew.

Chime examined Gleam’s face. He had noticed she had seemed to be completely done blushing, so he as well, stopped blushing. Not like it mattered to him, it was just a single moment, and it was over.

“So, uh,” Chime said, tapping his foot on the ground. “I guess for the next hour we can just…hang out.” He said that trying not to sound nervous and it was the first time he was successful in doing so.

Gleam nodded in agreement. “Okay!” she said cheerfully. “It’ll give us an opportunity to get to know each other more, so why not?” Gleam had started giggling, but stopped herself to keep control of the situation—not like she would lose control anyway. She made sure that wouldn’t happen so far, for her, she was ale to keep control of her giggling. It was strange to her, but she knew it was a mere habit that could break on its own.

“Good point,” Chime said. “I guess we can do that.”

Gleam and Chime had started to hit it off with one another and for the next hour, they had a gracious and joyous time with each other.


An hour passed. Gleam had learned more about Chime, and Chime had gotten to know Gleam a small amount more. The two of them had already arrived at the location. Gleam breathed in and out to remain completely calm. She was slightly used to the ocean of people since she'd been inside that ocean once before. She turned to Chime to see if he was also breathing in and out, but he wasn’t. He was just standing there, seemingly going over the strategy he and Gleam had come up with. Gleam knew that they would pass as long as she knew what she was doing, and she was pretty much ready to go inside now.

“Okay,” Gleam said, raising her fist. “Let’s go in!”

Chime nodded and the two of them quickly proceeded. As Gleam had expected, it was the same ocean of people amongst her. Many of those people in the ocean were as loud as ever. It was the same. The ocean of people was so loud that the wave had hit shore. Gleam decided to ignore the ocean of people and proceeded to find the weapon table. Within moments she had found the weapon table. For one reason or another, there were two men, dressed up like policemen guarding the weapon table. The policemen looked at Gleam and got a quick note from looking at her that she was no suspicious wench. The men gave her a thumbs up which was a symbol that she could take a weapon.

Gleam turned to Chime. She didn’t know which weapon to take—there were too many. A swarm of weapons was presented in front of her. The swarm of weapons was not only overwhelming, but hard to pick from.

Chime pointed at a random weapon and Gleam picked the weapon up. She held it in her hands and tried her hardest not to use it just yet. She places it down, and the two policemen examined the weapon she took. She didn’t feel comfortable with the policemen staring at her like that, but she was pretty sure that’s what they had did to everyone who took a weapon, so she just decided to forget the whole thing and move on. However, the policemen kept on looking, and of them spoke to Gleam. Judging from the way they spoke, the creator of the program had hired them—they had a sporadic charm in them. Gleam listened to what the policeman had to say.

“You’re good to go,” he said. “When you destroy the crystal, come back here for your opponent paper, alright?”

Gleam nodded and obeyed. She didn’t get the point, but she knew it was what was supposed to have been done.

Gleam turned to Chime with a look of readiness. Chime nodded. The two knew what had to be done and begun to find the crystal they were designated to destroy. Within a moment or so, Gleam had seen the one Chime had mapped out and excitably pointed to it. Gleam didn’t notice the other people were watching her—it was better if she didn’t notice, anyway.

“Okay,” Chime said pointing to Gleam’s weapon. “You know what to do.”

“Yup!” Gleam said, taking her rented weapon out. “Use my weapon to shoot and break the crystal, right?”

Chime grinned a grin of understanding. He was pretty relieved that Gleam had remembered the procedure. He knew in a society that not many people seemed to remember important information. He was relieved that Gleam wasn’t the kind of person that selected what she remembered.

“Okay, good,” Chime said. “Unleash the weapon.”

Gleam nodded and clamped the weapon within the grasp of her hands. She felt the weapon for the pick she had discovered when picking it up. She had found the pick and nailed it down. She was slightly worried that she would miss the crystal. The crystal in front of her had three golden force fields and was attached to a wall, so if the shot missed it would be absolute chaos. Gleam stopped worrying and nailed the pick. Three bullets had begun to race to the blue crystal steadfastly. The bullets made contact with the crystal, and the crystal’s force field was finally gone. All that was left do be done was for Chime to use his magic to destroy the entire crystal. Gleam put down the weapon and motioned her finger at Chime. Chime formed his finger into a thumbs up as a symbol that he was ready to initiate his magic.

Chime pointed his finger to the ceiling. From his hand emerged a gale gust of wind. Within that gale gust came stronger gust of gales. Chime snapped his fingers in his free hand to create the next part of his spell. After doing so, a set of gray wind chimes appeared in his hands, and the gale gust took the wind chime attack then within seconds, the crystal was destroyed. Gleam and Chime passed the test without a hitch.

Gleam giggled at their achievement. “We did it!” she cried. “We did it! High five!” Chime raised his hand as Gleam cheered. The two made a high five and their hands made a rather obnoxiously loud smack. Gleam didn’t care if people would hear the loud smack—she was too ecstatic to care.

After the hive five had been done and over with, Gleam ran back to the policemen and Chime followed quietly behind her.

The policemen gave Gleam a rather strange look. They wondered how she could destroy the crystal that fast. It was unreal, unnatural, and almost inhuman. It wasn’t in their contract to think about it, so the policemen handed Gleam and Chime their opponent papers. The two left the gymnasium wondering who their opponents were.

As soon as Gleam got to the outside, she feverishly looked at the name of her opponent. Within seconds her expression changed from ecstatic to horrified. No matter how many times she read the note, the name remained the same. She hated the name on the paper more than anything. She didn’t want to run into anyone she knew at Mariibo Rumaibo, and to her bad luck it would seem, she has come across the very name that made her want to get away from it all. Why would this happen so early? And why to her? It made no sense to her in any means possible.

She read the paper one more time before throwing it on the ground. Shaking like a leaf was her only restraint left before going through a laughing fit and losing her sanity.

“Congratulations GLEAM NOIYAM. You will be fighting SPECTRUM MIGAYUM! Your match will be in THIRTY SIX HOURS, so prepare well!”

Gleam shed a few tears and started to hug Chime. She didn’t know why, and neither did Chime. He comforted her while she had begun to get into the hysterics of crying.

End of chapter four, next to come: past foes, past evils. All come together in battle.


Well, when I wrote this, I started to foreshadow some, he he. Poor Gleam.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated T.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 5; Silent sentimental Spectrum stops smelling snapdragons.

The day of the battle had quietly crept up to Gleam. The shadow of the day was already beginning to haunt her. She could only take so much at one moment, and that was what was going to break her one day. In the light of it all, however, Gleam had been able to practice in the comforts of her dorm room alone. She wanted to practice with Chime, but she didn’t want to hurt Chime with her attacks, so she had instantly decided against it. Gleam had been practicing for hours without any break to eat, but she didn’t care at the moment. All she cared about was her training—she knew that stopping to eat now would be going against her training principles. Gleam sighed and started practicing one more time before taking a break. Gleam formed her hands into a circle and on the ceiling appeared a magic circle with complicated lettering on it. The words on the magic circle spelled fire and from it emerged ten burning diamonds. The diamonds travelled into Gleam’s hand, and as soon as they had come into her hand she sent the burning diamonds to the target she had placed on the wall. The diamonds travelled and burned the target, but not all the way through. There was still a small section of target on the wall. Gleam shook her head in absolute unsteadiness. There was barely any time left and she hadn’t mastered the new attack. Gleam sat down by her bed and begun to wonder if whether she’d ever be able to master it. Gleam figured she was just exhausted and needed a break. She had been practicing for seven hours. Who wouldn’t be tired after that? She didn’t know, and she was too tired to protest.

On the outside of her room, Gleam could hear a knock. The knock was quiet and seemed extremely familiar. Without even thinking about it, Gleam had instantly known who was on the other side of the door. Hoping her intuition was correct, she slowly got onto her feet. Gleam walked slowly to prevent getting light headed from the lack of food going through her blood stream. The door had felt like it was a mile away, but she had known it was right in front of her the whole time. Gleam had finally reached the door moments later and opened it hoping it wasn't a stranger. Gleam smiled when she had seen who it was at the door and proceeded to greet him.

“Hi, Chime!” she said cheerfully. She opened the door a little more hoping Chime would come inside without it having it seem awkward. “Why don’t you come inside?”

Chime had wondered if Gleam would allow him inside, and even though she did so, he wasn’t sure he was ready for it yet. He had never been in a girl’s room before. Despite his thoughts, however, he went inside. As soon as he had entered, he examined the room to get a full look at what it looked like. When he saw it was exactly like his room, he was astonished. From all the stereotypes he had heard about girls, one of the ones he had once heard was that “girls loved pink and frilly things,” and he had seen no frill or pink—just plain white walls. He turned to the wall to his left and instantly noticed the burn markings on the plain walls. From every angle, he had instantly come to the conclusion that Gleam had been practicing in her dorm room. He turned to Gleam in question.

“I was just coming to see how you’re doing,” he said. “You okay now?” he took a look at Gleam’s face and noticed how tired she looked. “I see you’ve been practicing. Have you eaten anything?” All the questions had seemed strange and even a little bothersome.

Gleam shook her head. “I’ve only been practicing,” she said sheepishly. “Haven’t had time to eat.”

Chime sighed, “I figured that.” He rummaged through his pocked and took out a napkin encased with rice balls. Chime handed one of the rice balls to Gleam. “You need to eat to stay energized, you know.”

Gleam took the rice ball Chime had given her and quickly ate it to get food consuming over with. It was the least bit of her concerns at the moment, but she knew Chime was right about eating to stay energized. Gleam finished nibbling on the rice ball and turned to Chime. She was wondering what could have been on his mind at that moment.

“Thank you for the rice ball,” Gleam said bowing her head. “It was delicious.”

“It was no trouble,” Chime said. “No trouble at all.” Chime again turned his head to the target on the wall and still noticed the burn marks on the wall. He had wondered what magic Gleam had used to burn the wall, but he figured it was probably a weak fire spell. “So what spell are you even practicing to place a burn on the walls like that?” he finally asked.

Gleam didn’t know what to call the spell she had used. To her, all the spells were just incantations –none had anything different about them. All just had different properties when she released them, but nothing more. She had barely been able to manipulate any diamonds into other forms, anyway, and she was merely just learning how to make them go on fire. She had only recently mastered some other forms of Diamond Dimension Manipulation. It took her a while to figure out what to call which form of Diamond Manipulation, but nothing even came to her mind.

“Um,” Gleam said, scratching her head on the subject. “Fire Diamond Manipulation.” She frowned a tiny bit, however in between sentences. “I haven’t mastered it yet, though.”

Gleam sighed and tried to form her hands into a circle again, but she had remembered Chime was there, and remembered she didn’t want him to get hurt. She put her hands by her sides to prevent herself from trying again. Gleam didn’t know why, but no matter how much practice she seemed to be putting in; she still couldn’t master the fire diamond spell. She then proceeded to wondering if she would ever master it. She had doubts she would be able to, and it upset her more than the person she had to fight. Figuring that she wouldn’t master the spell in time for the battle, she knew she would have to reconsider her winning strategy, and it made her feel the feeling she named stormy single. She knew, however, that she would have to redo her strategy if she was going to win against Spectrum, and she knew that far more than anything else. Gleam had a few hours or so to come up with new strategy ideas. So she tried not to think about it all that much.

Chime proceeded to wondering. He had never heard of Fire Diamond Manipulation before. He felt like he wanted to help Gleam perfect it, but at the same time, he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Her battle was four hours from now and any kind of dual training takes a few days. Chime instantly nixed the idea of helping Gleam—as much as he had wanted to, it was far too late to attempt. He wondered if that would make him a useless friend. He didn’t like the sound of being useless, and he knew he should have come earlier if that were the case.

“Your match is at 2:30 in the morning,” Chime said, reminding Gleam of the time. “Right now, it’s almost 11:00 at night. Do you think you’ll be able to stay awake the entire time of the battle?”

Judging from what Chime had known about Gleam he knew that would be the stupidest of stupid questions, but he had to ask her in order to confirm what he had known.

“Yes,” Gleam said. “I should be able to stay up during the whole battle.”

Chime smiled a little. The moment he had heard that, he was relieved. He was sure that if Gleam had fallen asleep during a battle that it would lead to instant disqualification in a battle. He knew that only trained sleepers could sleep standing up, and Gleam didn’t really seem like one of those professionally trained sleepers. He didn’t know who would be a professional sleeper, anyway.

“Good, good,” Chime said warmly. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Chime winked at Gleam, but he didn’t know why, so he decided to just roll with it. “Maybe you should try to manipulate your diamonds to put your opponent to sleep.” He suggested out of nowhere.

Gleam grinned. She had liked the sound of doing that, but she then wondered how she would be able to do that. She knew she had a few more hours to kill, so perhaps she could practice it now. Considering how Sleep Diamond Manipulation wasn’t dangerous, she figured she could practice it while Chime was there. With that on her mind, she turned to Chime, wondering if he would agree to watch her practice a spell like that. She turned to Chime, hoping he would say yes to her offer.

“Chime, that’s a great idea,” she said, smiling. She then thought about what she wanted to do and tried her hardest to form the words correctly. “I don’t know how to do a spell like that, though.” She sighed as she said this. “You wouldn’t mind staying here as I practice it, do you?” She turned to Chime and from the look on his face, it looked like he was going to say no. She backer her hands up and backed away. “No chance, huh? I figured.” She gave a sheepish laugh. “Sorry for asking…”

Chime didn’t know where that was coming from. He wouldn’t mind, he knew there was no apology needed to be given. It was uncalled for and seemed like an inferiority complex. There was no need for such, and he figured that Gleam wanted him to stay. He still thought that the apology wasn’t needed, and he knew that apologizing excessively would become a bad habit, and he didn’t like being around bad habits since he would catch them as if they were a disease.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Chime said. “I’d love to.” He patted Gleam on the shoulder lightly to calm her thoughts down a bit, and it seemed to have worked. “It’s just a Sleep Diamond Manipulation craftwork spell, not a God Manipulation spell or anything,” he joked, but the joked was terribly unnecessary and unjust in a situation being presented in front of him. “Whoops, that joke was stupid. I shouldn’t have said that.” Gleam, however, didn’t even know it was a joke, she just shrugged.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m glad you’re staying. I’m going to practice now!” Gleam had then remembered she needed to set up a target first. “Oh, right. I have to set up a target onto the wall.” She walked into her closet and took a wall target out and nailed it to the wall without any effort. She had done it many times before, so she didn’t need to put much effort into it. “Now I’m ready!” She cheered and backed away from the wall.

Chime gave Gleam a thumbs up. When Gleam saw this, she was ready to begin practicing a small amount of time more.

Gleam formed her hands into a circle, and like before, a magic circle with complicated lettering on it appeared on the ceiling. In her mind, while performing the spell, she thought of the word sleep, and the words sleep appeared on her magic circle. The word sleep glowed, and from the glow emerged six diamonds. The diamonds travelled to Gleam’s hand, and then Gleam sent the diamonds to the target. Gleam hit the target and the target soon had green bubbles coming from it. Gleam smiled slightly, somehow knowing the spell worked.

Gleam smiled and gave Chime a high five. The two hands together had made a loud smack, but no one was around so the two were content with their high five.

Chime told Gleam to give it a few more tries, so Gleam did so, and by the time it was time to go, she had practiced it enough to have mastered it. That was how she had hoped it would be.


It was 2:30. Gleam had practiced enough and had headed to the battlefield. Her opponent hadn’t arrived yet, and for one reason or another, Gleam was relieved. She was hoping she’d never arrive that way she could win by default, but that was terrible thinking, and she knew it was wrong to think such. Gleam had examined the battlefield below her and noticed that it was a marble field with two circles placed upon it. The circles were obviously there for the two battling one another. Around her towards what would seem like a mountain was the ocean of people watching the battle. Gleam did a gulp. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to perform as well with people staring at her.

After three minutes, Spectrum had arrived to the battlefield. Gleam had grunted—she still had hoped she would refuse to show up, but she showed up to the battle anyway. She was going to settle things with Spectrum now, and she would then pretend she never existed afterwards. Before saying anything to her, she got a good look at Spectrum. Her hair was obnoxiously rainbow like it had been before and about down to her waist. For some reason, she was wearing a white dress, and it disgusted Gleam. She wanted to burn that dress right off her skin, and that was what she was going to do first.

“So we meet again,” Gleam said coldly. “Here to ruin my life?”

Spectrum blinked. She didn’t like this as much as much as Gleam did, but she wanted to get across she had changed. She knew reasoning would be dumb now, however.

“How hazardous, hillbilly,” she said. “Completely, I’ve changed, completely. Come on I’ll show you,” she was talking as poetic as usual.

Gleam would have answered, but a man in a black suit appeared on the stage. He pointed to the board which showcased a small rectangle picture of both Gleam and Spectrum. Underneath their pictures appeared two green rectangular bars. Further underneath were numbers that read 1,000 by 1,000. The man blew a whistle and said:

“First person to knock the other to 1 HP is the winner…begin!”

In the audience, Chime cheered for Gleam. “You can do it Gleam! Remember what we practiced!”

Gleam smiled and begun to focus on the battle. She was curious as to what Spectrum’s magic was, so she pointed to her. Spectrum laughed and thought it would be an easy win.

Spectrum removed a rubber band she had jammed into her hair. She threw the rubber band on the ground, and it had become red. Afterwards, the rubber band had been blazing. The rubber band hit Gleam on the arm slightly causing her to lose some HP.

The board had now read that Gleam had 922 HP left. She wasn’t about to lose anymore hit points, so she decided now was the time to burn Spectrum’s dress.

Gleam quickly formed her hands into a circle, and on the ground appeared her magic circle with the complicated lettering again. She carefully printed the words searing hot fire on the magic circle, and from it emerged ten burning diamonds with a searing mist. They travelled to Gleam’s hand and she then sent the diamonds over to Spectrum’s dress, burning it to a crisp. The dress had been so burned that Gleam could see Spectrum’s bra now.

The board had now read that Spectrum had 700 HP. The attack seemed to have done some damage. She knew if she kept that up, she would be able to defeat her easily.

Spectrum looked at Gleam with a look of embarrassment. She had singed her brand new dress and she was going to get mad if she kept that up.

“So strong, sometimes I saw you striking stuff, but you’re so strong,” she said poetically again, only to annoy Gleam into getting angry, but Gleam ignored it.

Spectrum removed three rubber bands and threw them on the ground, and they had become the colors orange, yellow and green. They then made their way to Gleam and all had different powers. The green one whipped her with a grass like constructs, the orange one with punching like constructs, and the yellow one with sun like constructs. It was only then she realized Spectrum had Color Construct Magic vested within her. The abuse she took from her for so many years had finally made sense to her now.

The board confirmed the attack. The board had now read Gleam had 250 HP left. She had to attack her again to make it even.

Gleam again formed her hands into a circle. Her magic circle appeared again, and on it she printed the words steel moon dust. From the magic circle emerged gray sparkling diamonds, but only two. They, as usual, travelled into Gleam’s hand, and sent them to Spectrum’s side. The moon dust came out of one of the diamonds and had gotten into Spectrum’s eyes. Spectrum could not see. The first diamond’s job had been fulfilled, so the other one had struck Spectrum on the face, bruising it.

“How does it feel to be bruised by someone else?!” Gleam said, pointing to Spectrum obnoxiously. “Tell me!” Spectrum wouldn’t answer the question.

The board calculated the amount of HP lost. Spectrum now had 250 HP, just like Gleam. Both were dead even.

Spectrum wiped the moon dust out of her eyes and finally answered Gleam. “Stop, silly,” she said. “Changed completely, I have completely changed; can’t I caress a caring in you?”

Gleam had gotten sick of Spectrum’s poetic talk. She couldn’t hold the fact in anymore, she had to shout.

“Stop speaking like that!” she shouted.

Spectrum shrugged. “Sigh, well, since you say so. Fight. Finish the fight!”

“With pleasure!” she said, growling.

Spectrum removed her last rubber band and threw it on the ground. The rubber band had become black and travelled to behind Gleam’s back. From the rubber band emerged a spirit, and the spirit stole her shadow. Gleam didn’t understand the attack, but she figured it might be fatal later.

The board took the note of the attack and it now read that Gleam had 100 HP. The battle was wrapping up fast, and Gleam had to end it now.

Gleam prepared her final attack. She formed her hands into a circle and her magic circle appeared one last time. Like she had practiced, she wrote sleep onto the magic circle, and in the circle emerged five green diamonds. Quickly, they travelled into her hand, and she sent them charging at Spectrum. The diamonds hit Spectrum and they had knocked her out like a charm. Gleam mastered Sleep Diamond Manipulation—and won the battle. She couldn’t be happier or more proud of herself.

The board confirmed the attack. It finally read that Spectrum had one HP. The man in the suit had came back onto the battlefield and lifted Gleam’s hand up above her head, symbolizing she something she hadn’t understood.

“The winner is Gleam Noiyam!” he faced the crowd and the crowd seemed to have cheered. Gleam didn’t know if it was sarcastic or not, but she didn’t care. She never really settled it with Spectrum, so she had only really won the battle.

Everyone except Gleam and Chime left. Chime had run out of his seat and onto the battlefield as proud as he could be of Gleam—the training pull off, and he was happy that Gleam wasn’t going to have to leave already. He circled around Gleam since no one was around to see.

“Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Gleam!” he smiled and stopped circling around her.

Gleam wasn’t sure about herself. She had won, and she was glad she did, but, she wanted to settle it with Spectrum still—she wanted to know why she had come there, but now that she lost, she would never know and it was disappointing.

“Yeah…” she said, drifting off. “I’m happy.”

Chime had instantly picked up on her tone of voice. He knew something was up.

“Huh? Something wrong?” he asked. “You don’t sound too happy.”

Gleam didn’t want to talk about it, however, so she shook her head at it.

“No, it’s nothing…” she said. Gleam walked off the battlefield and headed back to her dorm. There were so many questions that needed to be answered, and now they would remain unanswered forever.

End of chapter five, next to come: what’s the Sovereign of Destruction? Secrets can tell.


Mmm, something's wrong here. I wonder. This chapter took a long time for me to get to work. xD I won't lie.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated T.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 6; If you know what a Sovereign is, press one. If not, hang up and try again.

A while had passed since the battle, and Gleam still had a rainstorm of questions storming through her head. None of which had a definite answer, and she knew herself that there would never be an answer. There wasn’t a single person who would know, and the way she saw it, not knowing anyone who would have the answer was the battle itself. Gleam was on her last tear of hope on the subject. Despite it all, however, she did wonder. She wondered the whole week after if Spectrum had really changed. She wondered so much that the nights had felt like six years, which she knew was impossible because the night was only a total of nine hours at most. She sighed and decided after a week of what would seem like monstrous thinking, she had to stop thinking about it. Thinking about it had gotten in the way of her happiness and enjoyment with Chime and she didn’t want him to notice it. She figured that if Chime never knew anything was on her mind that she could keep it to herself. She knew that didn’t make her a good friend, but even friends kept secrets to her or himself. She knew it was wrong and unjust of her, but she knew that her thoughts would extinguish in due time, so she decided to let it go for now. Gleam decided then and there that the monstrous thinking had to end. Gleam left her bed and headed straight for the door. Even in the middle of the afternoon, she knew Chime would most likely be in his room, studying or keeping to himself. Neither had any other friends. Well, Gleam didn’t. She wasn’t sure to every degree if Chime had no other friends and she knew it was very rude to just assume Chime didn’t. She sighed and continued walking. Her thoughts were still getting in the way of everything. Eventually, she had reached the location, but just to make sure she looked up at the door and noticed the three, nine and zero etched onto the top of the door. She knocked on the door, desperately hoping there would be an answer. An escape--someone there on the other side of the door. She then knew that it all seemed evasive and advantageous of her. On the other side she heard the knob turn and the door open. Chime gazed at Gleam in surprise. It had been a few days since she came by, and it was strange to see her again so suddenly. He knew that if she hadn’t come over in three days, something was wrong. He had a hunch, but decided to hide it.

“Hello, Gleam,” he said. It was rare for him to greet her first. “Please come in.” he opened the door and Gleam followed him in slowly.

Gleam placed herself on the couch and stared into space. She wondered again. She wondered if Chime had other friends. She looked at the table and noticed six books spread out on his dining room table. From the distance she could see the title of the books. All of them had the words mystery and sovereign, but she knew it was probably something that had to do with Chime’s research. She wanted to know more about it, so she had to ask Chime. She was hoping that if it were research, that it wasn’t dangerous or anything. Maybe she could help Chime investigate. She waited for Chime to sit down, however to ask him.

Chime then proceeded to sit down as Gleam thought to ask him. Chime was looking straight at Gleam. He knew Gleam had been thinking for a long time, and he had to ask her. Both looked at each other wondering who would be the first to speak, and it would seem Chime would get in his second word now.

“Gleam is anything the matter?” Chime asked. “You have been quiet lately and seem lost in thought.”

Chime caught her. Gleam knew she would be caught sooner or later, but not like this. She didn’t want to be caught, and yet she was. Gleam began to shake and form her hands into a fist. She was caught in a big net, lost in the secrets she had been keeping. She didn’t know what to call the feeling at all, and she wanted to keep it that way. The shaking got more violent and she thought it might stop if she proceeded to tell Chime, but she couldn’t form a single word. She breathed and decided to try. Words starting to form in her mouth.

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing.”

Chime blinked. He knew Gleam was lying to him. He didn’t understand why she was lying, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. He knew that if she was lying that something was amiss.

“Don’t lie to me, Gleam,” he said in a higher tone of voice. “Tell the truth.” He raised his hands thinking of pulling Gleam closer to him, trying to drill it into her that he wanted the straight truth, but he put his hands down. “Look, just tell the truth.” He moved himself onto the couch and held Gleam’s hand a little, but he had no idea why. “I’m here for you, you know.”

Gleam sighed and decided it was the only way she was going to be free from all her thinking. She thought it over one last time and decided he was right—the truth was inevitable. She breathed in and out before telling the truth to Chime. She sighed and started to speak.

“There are still so many questions that will never be answered,” Gleam said. She had begun to shake again. Tears began to decorate her face. “I never got the answer. Why Spectrum came here, why I had to battle her…nothing.” She wiped her face in between words. “Nothing, Chime, nothing.”

Chime moved slightly closer to Gleam and proceeded to hug her and comfort her. He knew that was the truth and he knew that was what had been bugging her that whole week. He waited for Gleam to calm down, but during the hug he had to say something. Something warm, something a friend would say.

“It’s okay,” Chime said. “It’s okay; maybe you don’t need an answer. It’s better that way.” He let go of Gleam and for some reason, pointed to the wall. “One day, there will be an answer. Just don’t agonize over it anymore. It’ll be okay.” He waited for Gleam to stop tearing up slightly to continue speaking—eventually she did. “That’s the way! Listen, Gleam, one day you’ll just know the answer, but for now it’s okay not to know. Trust me, it’s okay.”

Gleam was shocked by the words. They hit Gleam right in the feelings. He said it was okay, so it must have been okay. She figured that if it were like this, the shock factor she felt didn’t matter. She tried not to laugh, giggle or cry, lest the giggle fit took control. Holding it in, she sighed, and wouldn’t stop saying to herself that it would be okay.

Chime turned to her, noticing the look on her face. He wondered if repeating “it’s okay” so many times was bothering her. He guessed it did and he knew if she were to snap out it, she’d probably call him a name like idiot or bastard or something in an upset rampage. But he knew 12 year olds rarely cursed or said words like that, so he knew it was really stupid to think such stupid thoughts, but the stereotype he had heard recently was fighting its way into his head. Even though he knew it was false, the stereotype that “girls enjoy calling guys idiots when wronged,” had stumbled upon him and he stared at the stereotype dumbly.

“Gleam,” Chime said. “Sorry, maybe I spoke too much.”

Gleam blinked. It seemed odd for Chime to speak in such a manner. She knew the apology seemed improper. She knew he didn’t need to apologize.

“No,” Gleam said. “You didn’t.”

Chime was relieved to hear that. He was wondering if Gleam would have been mad, but she wasn’t. He wondered what would make someone like Gleam mad so he could walk her through it. He knew it was way too soon for such, and figured he could always wait until later for that kind of thing. He was done thinking about it, however, because the girl had been looking at him. She had been looking at him, and she was waiting. He wondered what she was waiting for, he then wondered if she was looking at his books laid out on the table and instantly changed the subject simultaneously.

“You’re wondering about what those books are about, aren’t you?” Chime laughed at her curiosity.

“Yes!” Gleam said, finally smiling. “What are they about?!” she had gotten up and started to bounce with anticipation and excitement. “Tell me! Tell me! I must know!” she almost had begun to sing a little, but held it in.

Chime laughed, amused at Gleam’s excitement. “Well, it’s about the Sovereigns.” He held up a book that was closest to his reach. The book was red and printed with orange lettering. The book had been titled Mystery of the Sovereigns. Chime handed it to Gleam. “It’s my current research. You can read one of my books if you want.” He then smiled again, hoping she’d research with him. He knew two heads were better than one. “Want to?”

Gleam flipped through the book and nodded a bit. “I’d love to!” she said. “Before I start, tell me what you know first, though!”

Chime laughed patting Gleam’s head. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know.” Chime went through his pocket and put on glasses without any lenses to pretend that he was professional. “There are seven Sovereigns. Each representing something. Something powerful and, well, it always has to do with the material world.” Chime was about to go on, but Gleam intervened, completely interrupting. He was okay with it, however.

“It has to do with this world?” she asked. She had no idea what the material world even was.

Chime nodded, continuing with the explanation. “Yeah, the material world is this world,” he confirmed. “Every fifty years or so, there come to be new Sovereigns. When the old die, new Sovereigns are born.” Gleam intervened again. Chime allowed it.

“Are they born with the same power as the last Sovereign?” she asked curious as could be.

Chime spread out his arms and waved them around a little. He figured that was what had to be done to show great excitement on a topic such as this.

“Nope!” he said stretching his arms freely. “When a new Sovereign is born, they get a new power. The old Sovereign’s power and title die.” He shook his head however. “Though the powers they wield are dangerous. Deadly, and some are even illegal and forbidden.” When Gleam had hear the word forbidden she again, intervened and got involved again.

“Why?” she asked.

Chime was waiting for Gleam to ask that question. He was about to recite his favorite part that he remembered, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste on not remembering entirely. He sighed happily and began to recite it.

“Because,” he said. “They’re the supreme rulers. They are always the supreme ruler of what their powers are, but most, like I said, are negative and forbidden. They turn all those who are Sovereigns evil. The madness takes them. Some even die or kill themselves when they find out they are one. Usually they are told about it when they are born, though and forced to live by it…or something. I don’t even remember.” He took a breath then continued. “There rarely are any positive Sovereigns and usually from the seven only one is positive.”

Gleam paused from listening for a moment. She wondered who could deal with such a thing. She hoped if the Sovereigns were around now that she was not one of them. She decided to proceed to ask a few more questions since the topic was very interesting to her, and she loved learning about it. She loved learning about this topic with Chime and she was glad to have come now. She was completely over what had been bothering her now. She turned to Chime, ready to ask another question.

“What were the last Sovereigns?” she asked with passion. He then responded with an equal amount of passion.

“Ah! You asked! Great!” he pointed to something again, but Gleam didn’t get it at all. “The last seven Sovereigns were Oblivion, Bloodlust, Stupidity, War, Murder, Dictation and strangely, the last one was the Sovereign of Happiness.” He finished, scratching his head. “And that’s all I know, but I’m sure there’s more.”

“You seem passionate about this subject,” she said, smiling. “Well, I should head out now. I got to study before programming a section of the world.”

Gleam headed for the door, and waited for Chime to wave to her so he could see her off, or at least, that’s how she saw it. Chime grinned and did so because she had kept him company when he had wanted it most of all—that was what he had wanted all along, but he couldn’t say it out loud.

“See you later!” he said, happily. “Thanks for keeping me company by the way.”

Gleam smiled. She was glad to have kept Chime company. She knew it’s what friends do for each other.

“No problem,” she said. “It’s what friends do!” Gleam knew that was in her place to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chime!” she walked out of the dorm room and closed the door behind her, exiting to the hallway quietly.

Chime sighed. There was something he omitted. Something huge—something he knew would be bad to tell Gleam. He knew telling her all of the information would be a very dangerous risk. He knew telling her the real part—the Sovereign war and how all Sovereigns usually are brought together by an impending war, he omitted. He didn’t think she should know. He also didn’t want her to know that most Sovereigns end one another—he knew those facts were horrifying. The horrifying would stay in the book. They would never leave his head. They wouldn’t be told to her. He also didn’t want her to know all the Sovereigns were in the program. He knew it all. All to the very last detail. He knew everything. He always knew. It had to be that way.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you everything, Gleam,” he said quietly. “But I must keep the truth from you to protect you.” He held his arm and sat in his chair, pondering.


Gleam was in the hallway. She would have gotten to her dorm room by now, but in her way was a sky consisting of ten people. Each, of course, looked as if they had business with Gleam. All had black hair, and black suits. Even the females in the group presented themselves with a suit as black as the midnight sky. Gleam questioned why they were dressed in such attire. She stopped moving and waited for the cloudless sky to make a move, and then it was evident that they were ready.

The boy in the center stepped in first. He smirked and had streamed his fingers through her hair, then started picking at it. Gleam, at first, didn’t notice or even say a thing about it. She said nothing because she knew the guy was just doing business with her, despite how little she knew about their actions. Soon the picking became ripping, tearing and pulling. The boy was ripping some of Gleam’s hair out, and she felt it. It hurt, but she didn’t want to scream. She wanted him to stop, but she knew it would be over within a second, and she was right. The boy let go of her hair and examined the hair he had ripped out of her head. He smirked, seemingly fascinated by her gold hair. He then laughed and obnoxiously showed it off to the nine others there.

“Look at her hair!” he said, again holding up the miniature lock he stole from her. The miniature lock stood out like a sore thumb. “Almost inhuman, isn’t it?”

The crowed riled up and agreed with their boss.

“I bet she doesn’t know,” he said. “Say hi to her, guys!”

The crowd was riled up still and listened to what the main man said. They knew what he wanted them to say.

“Hello Sovereign of Destruction, we found you.”

Gleam heard the word Sovereign and didn’t like it being thrown around like that. “Huh?” she asked. “What?” she had been hopelessly clueless. Were they joking? They must have been. She knew it had to be a joke. It was just an instigation tactic, and she knew it.

Three of the members of the crowd circled around her, examining her. This annoyed Gleam, but she had no reason to make them stop, so she strangely allowed it.

“Blood red eyes,” one said.

“Strange expression,” another said.

“She’s the one!” the third said.

“Huh?” Gleam said again. She was still hopelessly confused.

“Sovereign of Destruction, we have found you.Go on, tell us!” the first one said.

Gleam had again been confused, baffled by it all, not getting it. What were they getting at? She didn’t understand; she knew about Sovereigns and now she was being called one. She knew it was bad fate or something, and it was accursed or ironic, even. She said nothing, and let them talk.

“Destroy something; you are the Sovereign of Destruction, after all. We all know!” Gleam shook as one continued. “Your parents know! We know—and we found you! Come on! Show us your magic! SHOW US YOUR MAGIC!” the crowd had begun to get riled again. “You’re going to show us your magic! We know you’re hiding it! Destroy the wall, do it! Show us your magic!”

As the people surrounded her, Gleam didn’t know what to do, let alone, did she want to know what to do. Of such an accusation put upon her, there wasn’t a single way she could get herself out of a situation like this. She didn’t know why they were asking her to show them her magic—they’d probably seen it when she battled. More importantly, she wanted to find out more about this wild accusation. “Sovereign of Destruction” was she? The thrust of fear and anxiety were enough to get under her skin.

After a short silence, the crowd of ten people was soon riled up again.

“So, girlie! What’s a Sovereign like you doing in a public place like this?” one asked. Gleam couldn’t answer the question.

“I bet you wanna kill us all!” one of the females shouted.

“Yeah! I bet you do!” another female shouted.

That had done it. Gleam wasn’t about to listen to these people as they proceed to instigate her. She had to do something, but what could she do? There were too many people in the area to use her magic. Thinking about it, she knew if she used her words, it would all work out. Talking things through always seemed to have worked when she was approached before, so she decided it would be best to go about it that way.

“Stop, please! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t even know what this Sovereign of Destruction is! I can’t possibly be such a person!” Though her thoughts and words again were not in agreement. Everything she had learned about Sovereigns before had been gone, left her in the anxiety brush, and she was ashamed. The crowd of people, apparently, did not agree with what Gleam said, and the instigation continued.

“Listen to her plead innocence!” one of the boys shouted.

“Yeah, why not just kill her!” another said. Within moments it riled the ten some up, and it become loud and ferocious in moments.

“Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!”

“No…” Gleam said. “STOP IT!”

A sudden strange steam of energy overtook her body. A glow of an extremely violent gleaming glow overcame her without even a whim of control within her. The glow of light had spread to the ten people, and with an overwhelming blast, all of their eyes had turned white, and the ten individuals fell to the ground, and none were breathing.

“No! What?! What have I done?!”

Below her laid the sky: a sky of people in her midst. All she had known was no longer there; it was gone. Gleam was a stranger to herself, and it was no wonder, even to her. She stared at the ten unmoving bodies below her. She couldn’t believe she had done that, and she second guessed herself—maybe they weren’t through living. She looked at the eyes and noticed there weren’t any pupils. Gleam knew it now. She was responsible. She wasn’t sure how, but their lives were extinguished by her. She was a stranger. A stranger to herself, and she didn’t understand it—she didn’t understand it at all.

End of chapter six, next come: cry, take a soul, take it and infest it. Infest it with pride.


Welcome to hell. You have met the beginning of the true story.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated T+

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 7; Sovereigns come, Sovereigns fall. Sovereigns live, Sovereigns ball.

Even while the hours passed, the despair of what Gleam did wouldn’t leave her. It sat there sitting inside her, about to break her. Despite that, she had to do something. There was no way she planned to sit on her knees and despair. Gleam rose to her feet, only slightly staggering from the emotional hurricane, and headed for the dorms. Eventually, she had reached her destination almost by instinct. Gleam quietly knocked on the door, almost weakly, even, but for some strange reason knocking was barely enough. She shook her head and spoke her mind.

“Chime! Please open up,” she cried. “It’s Gleam.”

After her declaration that was indeed her, Chime opened the door. From the looks of it to Chime, he knew something just had to be wrong. From the look on her face and how late she decided to just show up like this. He knew that from every angle something was definitely bothering Gleam and it worried him a little. However, since he didn’t want to show any worry he just stood there waiting for her to go on, but he had to ask his friend what she was doing there so late at night. It is what friends ask was what was parading through his mind.

“This is strange,” he said. “It’s two in the morning, Gleam.”

Gleam, trying not to cry again, answered the remark as quickly as she could. “About that, Chime,” she said, shaking. “You wouldn’t mind if I stay here the rest of the night do you?”

Chime saw how upset Gleam looked, but to him, he was wondering if all girls did this. He was wondering if she was just doing it for attention. From all the stereotypes he had heard “girls are attention seekers” was always one of them, and as baffled as he was by all this, he knew it would be twisted to say no to his friend, even if it were for attention.

“Um, sure, come in,” he said with indifference. “I don’t mind.”

“Th-thank you!” Gleam said, wrapping her arms around Chime, but Gleam snapped out of it, and entered Chime’s room quietly –hoping no one sees her. Gleam sat down on the couch and tried not to make herself comfortable. She wasn’t planning on staying long. She would stay until she had the remote emotional ability to go back to her dorm room.

“This really isn’t like you,” Chime said, trying his hardest to hide the worry in his voice. “So, please do tell me what’s the matter.”

“Chime…” Gleam said weakly. “I’m not a bad person, am I?”

Chime rose an eyebrow wondering just what had brought something like this into be. He was completely concerned now, and he could no longer hide it anymore. “…Of course you’re not,” Chime said. “What brought this into be?”

“Chime…it’s just that I…” there would have been more, but the tears had begun to flow onto Gleam’s face, and they wouldn’t stop. The tears made themselves evident that they wanted to be there—and the tears continued leaking from her like a faucet. But despite the faucet she was crying up, she was somehow able to talk through it. “It’s just that…they…the people are taunting me! Chime… they’re calling me nasty names and I let my emotions get the best of me… What am I supposed to do?! I’m afraid Chime, afraid!” She omitted the part of ending all the people’s lives. She wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t. She wanted him to know, but there was no way she could tell him. She knew if she told him, Chime would hate her—she wasn’t ready to lose her only best friend.

Chime blinked twice. He didn’t know whether to hug or hit Gleam. He also didn’t know if it was normal for a twelve year old to deal or go through such great despair already. Chime walked over to Gleam and begun to hug her in hopes for her to calm down.

“Is it that boy again?” Chime asked. “If so, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. He needs to leave you alone.” Chime, again, looked at Gleam’s face. He knew that wasn’t it, just from looking. “Was it multiple people, then? I’ll tell them off for you. No one should treat you that way.”

Gleam wasn’t sure what to call the feeling she had just felt after Chime had said this. To her, Chime seemed to be on to her. She knew that was her cue to leave. She had no reason to answer the question, and she knew if she did, her hate fear would come true within a matter of moments. Gleam wasn’t ready for that risk, and not in any way possible.

“I-I need to get going now, Chime!” she said, avoiding the question. “Bye!”

Gleam staggered to the door, her heart beating pretty fast, dizziness infiltrating her mind, about to fall over. Chime stood up and ran to Gleam, grabbing her by her wrist. Hard. Hoping she wouldn’t escape somehow. There was no way he could be nice about this—Gleam had to stay there. He didn’t know how to put it nicely, so he had to say it harshly. It was possibly the only way he could put it.

“No! Lie down!” he scolded. “You’re staying here tonight.” Gleam had evidently forgotten she was the one who asked to stay, and that’s how Chime had instantly seen it. “You’re obviously in no condition to be walking around—I saw you staggering. And if you try to leave now, I’m sorry but, I’ll have to knock you unconscious.” Chime took Gleam back over to the couch, and placed her in a sleeping position. “I’m worried about you, okay?” He finished sternly, and like an older brother or father even. Gleam sighed a little, defeated in her attempt to avoid and run away.

“I’m sorry for trying to leave,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Gleam attempted to sit up, but she didn’t want Chime to scold her anymore. It was there, the evidence that Chime was, as she put it, leg stiffening for her. Though, his legs weren’t frozen to the ground. She had to give it a name that was similar, but different. She decided to name the feeling scolding wonder despite how positive that seemed on a negative feeling such as that one.

Chime told Gleam to wait a moment and that he would be right back—don’t move. Gleam hadn’t heard anything said due to the thought sea she was drowning in, but sure enough, Chime had come back with a soft blanket for Gleam. He placed the blanket on top of her gently and spoke one last time.

“It’s fine, Gleam,” he said gently. “Just get some rest, alright?”

Gleam gave a fake smile. “Alright,” she said. “Thanks Chime, really.”

Gleam closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Chime took one last good look at Gleam’s face, still worried about her—even though he had finally gotten her to sleep. He just knew something was about to go wrong when she were to wake up.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please sleep well.” Chime walked away and headed for his bed, sleeping as well.


By the time both Gleam and Chime had awoken it had been 11:45 in the morning. The incident last night had left the two so tired they couldn’t even wake up. Surely, when Gleam opened her eyes, Chime came into the room already dressed. He must have gotten dressed while Gleam was still sleeping at the time. Chime came over to where Gleam was slowly, however, and she didn’t really understand it. She shook her head and decided to just forget about it. Eventually, Chime had arrived next to Gleam.

“Morning,” Chime said. “Sleep well?”

Gleam thought about it, and had remembered the roars of the nightmares tormenting inside her head, but she didn’t feel like talking about them. She didn’t want Chime to worry about her anymore, so she decided it would be best to keep it to herself. Maybe he wouldn’t find out about the nightmare she had.

“Yeah,” Gleam lied. “Like a baby.”

Gleam took the blanket off and sat up, stood up and got to her feet. Chime paid extreme close attention to her movement like last night, she was staggering. In fact, she looked like she was about to fall over. Chime knew right away from that clue that she was lying. He knew it would be bad to let her go out of his dorm in a state like that. He again, grabbed her by the wrist, but softer this time. Gleam didn’t argue.

“Gleam please stay here,” he said sternly. “You need to lie down. You really don’t seem well.”

Gleam was instructed to sit down. She did so, but she knew sitting around would get her nowhere, and she had to admit that to Chime as soon as possible. There were things she had to get done today, and she just couldn’t sit around all day. There wasn’t any way, she couldn’t. Today was going to be her first experience with programming the world. She couldn’t miss the opportunity.

“I’m fine Chime,” she said. “I have stuff to do. It’s my first day programming a section of the world and I have to go.” She didn’t want to be kicked out of the program for not going, and she said it with as much realism as the situation called for.

Chime patted Gleam’s shoulder lightly. He understood that something couldn’t possibly happen in a room where programming galore would be happening. That’s what he wanted to believe, but he didn’t want Gleam to faint. He had to keep her there somehow; he figured there could be a way to keep her safe. Chime shook his head and did it as sternly as he could. Though, it probably wouldn’t do much, if at all.

“Gleam, I really don’t think you should go today,” he said, this time not able to hide the worry in his voice. “I can call to say you can’t make it—I don’t want anything happen to you.”

Gleam blinked. She saw how concerned Chime was. Despite all that, she needed to do this and she thought if she did the program today, she’d be able to forget what she did at least for a little while. Today, she was going to have the time of her life, and she would be able to forget about those people and everything else.

“It’s okay Chime,” Gleam said with a weak laugh. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Chime stared at Gleam a little. He didn’t know whether to believe or to not believe Gleam. Instead of hugging her this time, however, Chime went out of the room and made a lot of noise. When he came back, he had returned with some kind of foods Gleam did not recognize in one hand, and in the other hand, tablets that looked like painkillers.

“Alright. I’ll let you go,” Chime said sternly again. “But if anything happens, I’m coming for you.” He handed Gleam the items as Chime paused, Gleam ate the foods. She didn’t know why, but it tasted like sand, however, she smiled anyway. “And if you start feeling weak again, you are to come here right away. By the way, I’m giving you these painkillers in case you need them. Don’t worry; they’re not prescription, so you can take them.” Chime stopped talking and handed Gleam the painkillers. She decided to put them in her pocket in case for some reason, she needed them later.

“Thanks Chime,” Gleam said, smiling. “I’ll see you later…that is um, if you’d like me to stay here again tonight.”

Chime nodded. “I don’t want you going back to your room until you seem better,” he said thoughtfully. “So yes, I’m allowing it.”

“Oh, yeah!” Gleam said, clapping her hands together. “Since you’re preparing for your fight, what else are you doing while I’m out?” she sighed a little. “…Since you can’t program yet, and all.”

Chime looked directly and Gleam and said, “Well, I’ll just practice my attacks since it’s scheduled for later today. You’re coming to watch my battle, I hope.” He then whispered: “It’s easier when you’re there.”

Gleam nodded. “Of course, that’s what friends do! I’m leaving now, see you later!” Gleam opened the door this time without a single stagger, and that had been that. Off she went to her first programming session.


Gleam had begun to run to the programming room. She would have gotten there, but as she was a running a grim reaper like boy was in her line of sight. She instantly had stopped running so she wouldn’t collide with him. Colliding with the wrong person would cause her to be bolted in the air like she always is, and she wasn’t in the mood for that at the moment.

“Ah!” she cried, startled. “Sorry! Please excuse me!”

Gleam had begun to run again, but the boy was gazing at her, grabbing a hold of her hood, almost choking her. Gleam stopped in her tracks from that to prevent him from choking her. She didn’t try to run. She figured the boy had business with her, seeing as he had grabbed a hold of her. The boy had then begun to speak to her.

“What are you doing Sovereign of Destruction? Let’s talk!” the boy let go of her hood and Gleam looked directly at him. Glaring at the words Sovereign of Destruction like they were a contagious virus of some kind.

“Stop it!” she shouted, putting emphasis on the it. “I’m not this Sovereign of Destruction! I’m named Gleam Noiyam, and I didn’t kill anyone!”

The boy laughed. He seemed to get a kick out of what Gleam had claimed. Gleam just glared at him, finding it very strange that he was laughing at this. What did he find so funny? Why would he laugh at a time like this, anyway? Gleam was desperate to find out the nature of this person.

“How cute!” he said between laughs. “Kid, you’re cute when you deny what you really are!”

“Stop!” she shouted. “I’m not denying it! Who are you, anyway?”

The boy stopped laughing and went rummaging through his pockets. After the strange rummaging he came across what he had wanted. The object opened, and to Gleam, it looked like something she had saw on television at one point or another. She remembered the name of the object clearly from a television program—and it was indeed a scythe from every angle she looked at it. He slammed the item on the ground like it was absolutely nothing. He must have been very familiar with the item for it to feel like nothing, Gleam thought.

“I’m Soullim Gaoroudim,” he said with a high confidence in his voice. He was spinning around the scythe like a madman. “But I’m better known as the Sovereign of Solitude!”

Gleam questioned the meaning of what he had said. She didn’t understand what a supreme ruler of solitude could actually do. Let alone, she didn’t even know how anyone could rule over solitude. It seemed like a farfetched idea to her in all possible ways.

“What’s a Sovereign of Solitude anyway?” she asked with obvious curiosity in her voice.

“How adorable!” he said in a high pitched tone. “You asked!” he toned his voice down slightly. “Basically, I separate couples and steal their feelings of love, ending their relationship. I’m basically the harbinger of human extinction.” Gleam noticed that after he was finished explaining, that he was laughing hysterically. She was aggravated at the site of his laughter. It wasn’t a matter to scoff at or even so much as chuckle at.

“That’s terrible! Nothing to laugh at!” she cried almost with instinct, but calmed down quickly. “What’s your other magic, though? And why the scythe?

Soullim smiled, he seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

“I use this scythe to gather all the dead souls in the area. These souls become my power, and then I infest my victims with dead spirits,” he laughed a little. “But that’s my human magic. Surprising how you don’t know about this.”

“It’s just that I…” Gleam, however, was interrupted, never getting to finish what she wanted to say.

“Oh! I got it!” Soullim said. “Let’s fight! Here and now!” he swung his scythe around again to show off.

Gleam shrugged and didn’t know what to say—except for yes. It was rude to turn down anyone as she had observed since she had arrived at this program. It was the polite thing to do; it’s how she saw it, and what she had taught herself to do since arriving. She wondered why, but there was no use arguing with the logic of it.

“Fine,” she declared. “I’ll fight you!”

Soullim went into his thoughts, analyzing Gleam’s face a little. She didn’t know or even notice it. He was using his hidden magic to analyze deep into the depths of Gleam’s heart, searching for a person she deeply cared for or loved. After discovering, he snapped his fingers and had clearly whispered “aha” but Gleam didn’t hear a word of it.

“Say, this Chime person,” Soullim said, pretending to be thoughtful about it. “You like him, don’t you?”

As soon as Gleam heard him say Chime’s name, she instantly had gotten extremely defensive about it.

“Leave Chime out of this!” she said defensively. “You won’t lay a hand on him!” If we fight, we use our normal magic! Got it?” She knew it might have sounded demanding, but she made sure that the message would get across to Soullim this time. She was successfully able to do so, it seemed.

Soullim shrugged. “Fine, fine,” he said. “If you insist.” he lifted his scythe above his head. “Okay—fight begin!”

Gleam nodded and pointed to Soullim. In a fight, this was an indication meaning that she was giving him the okay to go first, so Soullim did. Soullim’s scythe had started glowing a black shade of color. Gleam stared at the attack quietly as she waited for the attack to arrive. Souls from the walls began collecting into Soullim’s scythe, and eventually, the glow had finally died down. Soullim swung the scythe one more time and within moments, a green slime like ball came heading towards Gleam’s direction. Gleam, too fascinated, stayed put there, and the attack reached her. Strangely, it felt like nothing happened, and soon, Gleam was struck with confusion.

Gleam tried to move to start her attack, but she, for some reason, couldn’t feel her feet. She looked down and noticed the green aura around her shoes and legs. It was enough to cause her to scream, but she kept quiet as it was her turn to attack.

Gleam formed her hands into a circle. She looked at the ceiling to see if her magic circle was there, but it wasn’t. In fact, there weren’t diamonds coming into her hands at all. Her body had been glowing white again, just like it had yesterday. She couldn’t seem to control the glow, and her other magic was starting to perform on its own. She tried to end the magic, but no matter what she would try, the magic wouldn’t stop. Then came the second part where it felt like the Earth was in her hands. She hated the feeling; she hated the feeling more than living itself.

“No…” she cried in the middle of her attack getting ready. “Why this again?! Attack, I command you to stop!”

But again, the attack wouldn’t stop forming. More energy seemed to come into her hands, all feeling like the Earth. After a little while, the attack was done charging, and Gleam had no choice but to release it. The blast of energy hit Soullim with a violent streak. Soullim wasn’t able to get out of the way in time of the attack. The blast had completely scorched Soullim, and he fell to the ground. Before the same events were to be repeated again, Gleam ran over to Soullim, hoping that he wasn’t dead yet.

“Soullim!” she cried, tears began to stream down her face as if by instinct again. “I’m sorry! I don’t know why that happened! Honest!”

Soullim laughed a little, and didn’t seem to be mad at all, it was very strange to Gleam, but Soullim seemed like he had something to say. Gleam let Soullim have his last few words.

“It’s alright…Sov…Gleam, it’s what the creator of this program wanted.”

Gleam didn’t understand what Soullim had meant by that at all. What the creator of the program wanted? What did that mean? She wasn’t about to let the matter drop. Soullim still had some life left in him, from the looks of it to her.

“What do you mean it’s what the creator of the program wanted?!” she asked, even though she shouldn’t have. “Please tell me!”

Soullim laughed again. “You see, Gleam, the creator of this program…the only reason he created it, was to gather all the seven Sovereigns and have them kill each other. All so he can steal their powers.” he breathed in and out, trying his hardest to stay alive for a little while longer to explain. “…And…after he has all the Sovereigns kill each other, he’s going to kill all the magic users he invited to this program, so he can become the most power magic user on the planet. He intends to become a God, too.”

Gleam didn’t like the sound of this program anymore just from listening to that. Gleam didn’t like it at all—she then wondered why such a sick and twisted man would create a program just for the sole of killing. She remembered that in the note he wrote that “killing was such a terrifying art” even thinking back on it made it sound like it was all a lie.

“What about the part about programming a section of the world?” she asked. Thinking about it she already knew the answer.

“Bogus. That was just to attract attention,” Soullim said, weaker than before. “…But the fights? Well, those are the only thing about this that’s real.” After he said that, his death had begun to speed up. Soullim’s eyes became white and he had finally stopped breathing. Then and there, Soullim was no longer of this world, and Gleam, again, was the reason.

Gleam stared off into space. She didn’t know what was what anymore. If this program wasn’t real, why was she invited to it in the first place? Gleam didn’t know anything anymore. Gleam got on her knees and began to get into the hysterics of crying all over again, and wouldn’t stop until she would allow herself to.

It all made sense now. Everything made perfect sense. Everything that the people had said to her about being this Sovereign of Destruction had suddenly made all the sense in the world for her. She wished it wasn’t like that, but it was already too late to change anything.

Gleam Noiyam. The Sovereign of Destruction. Amongst her was a puddle. A puddle of a person in her line of sight. There was no turning back anymore, but she decided it didn’t matter if people called her this insult of a name. She decided to keep on denying it, and she still didn’t know what to believe. The power vested in her couldn’t possibly be real. All of this had to be a nightmare, and it was what she decided to tell herself over and over again through the faucet of tears.

Amongst her was a puddle. A puddle of a person created with her own hands. Gleam denied it over and over in her head, there was no way what had happened could have been real.

End of chapter seven, next to come: something, something breakdown, line.


I wrote this chapter by hand way before I wrote the chapters 3, 4, 5, and 6. It took me an entire day. You bet it was worth it.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
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10.4 Years
This chapter is rated M. There is torture and other dark themes.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 8; Is torture ever justified?

Unpresentable and drained. Those were two words Gleam had on her mind. Her eyes had become completely swollen from the faucet she had cried. Despite her condition, however, she still had to go to the programming room. Just for a little while, she could still pretend that everything was real. Just for a little while, she had something to do. For some reason, even though she did think that, her legs wouldn’t budge. Of all times for her legs to be frozen in place it had to be now. The time she needed to move the most, and she was stuck there. Stuck to the ground. It was as if she was locked to the floor by invisible chains that were being held by a made up master. She told her stupid legs to move, but her legs would not move. She could feel her legs, so why couldn’t she move them? She didn’t understand; she barely understood anything at the moment, anyway. She held in her shouts as much as she could, but she couldn’t hold all of them in. She ended up screaming the word why to the dead body of Soullim and to the ceiling straight above her. That didn’t help her frustration anymore than the next. She sighed, bewildered by her own persona again. She tried to move to get onto her feet again, but her legs still refused to move. She quickly screamed why again, louder than the last why. She was probably going to be stuck to the floor for another hour, week, or day or two. Worst case scenario, she’d be stuck to the floor forever, left to die there. She was baffled however, when all her thoughts of being left to die by the ocean of people was diluted by the site of Chime coming to her rescue. Chime could hear Gleam screaming why in the hallway. He had figured there was definitely something off since Gleam had been gone for far longer than she should have been, and he was worried that he lost her forever. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle such grief because she was all he had; to see her alive made him feel relieved, but there was little time for relief. Chime quickly ran over to Gleam and noticed the scene in front of him. He saw Gleam on the floor, and a dead body in the corner of her. He wasn’t concerned about the dead body since it was a part of society, but he was gravely concerned about Gleam and her well being. He held his hand out to pick Gleam up. Gleam grabbed his arm and stood to her feet, but couldn’t stand and fell to the ground. Chime started shaking fervently and frantically, not knowing what to do.

“Gleam, are you alright?” he asked frantically. “Speak to me! What happened? You look terrible! I’m taking you back to my dorm now to take care of you—this is serious.”

Gleam could barely see at that point in time. But she could speak and had enough strength to, so she spoke. “I was taken by a battle, and won. The person I fought infested my legs with dead souls, so I suppose I’m still infested and can’t move.” She didn’t say that she killed him. She refused to. She still couldn’t say she killed now what had become eleven people. She wanted to stay friends with Chime, and she didn’t want one mishap to ruin if for her. If she were to lose her best friend now, she would have no reason to wake up in the morning anymore. She’d lose all purpose, too and she wasn’t ready for such.

Chime had a frantic look on his face. Gleam needed treatment—now. He put aside all what Gleam said. He was fine with the battle she had, but her well being pretty much mattered more. He grabbed Gleam gently and places her on his back. Gleam was light enough to carry, and started to walk to his dorm room. “Never mind that!” he cried. “You need to be treated or your legs will be permanently infested! Stay on my back, okay?”

Gleam held close to Chime’s back. “Okay,” she said.

Chime frantically ran to his dorm room, but gently because Gleam was on his back. He was running though, because it was an emergency. He had no time to waste. Infestations were no joke and had to be fixed right away. The swift running got him to the door in enough time to get Gleam back into his room. He quickly removed her from his back and placed her in a lying position on the couch. He then ran as quickly as he could into his necessity cabinet. He quickly looked for infestation remedies and removed the one his first eyes met with on the shelf. He read the label carefully to make sure Gleam could take it, and when he saw she could, according to the label, he twisted the cap off and removed two pills then walked over to where Gleam was. He held his hand out, and Gleam sat up to reach for them.

“Take these now. They’ll cure your infestation. Can you swallow?” Chime was hoping. Hoping Gleam could. He knew if she couldn’t that it would have been more serious than before. Gleam nodded to his discretion and Chime puffed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. That’s good. Thank the lord.” He hid his tears from Gleam.

Gleam took the pills in her hand and quickly swallowed them. She felt lucky that she could swallow at the moment simply because if she couldn’t, Chime would probably lose his mind. As the pills travelled through her bloodstream, she lied back down and decided it had been a long day and that she needed rest. She figured her legs would no longer be paralyzed when she woke, so she decided it was for the best.

Chime noticed and didn’t say much then. He grabbed the blanket he left out for Gleam and spread it over her. He was glad that she was going to sleep now. It put his mind at ease. He knew Gleam would be safe in her sleep. So much had been happening to her lately, and Chime thought she deserved none of it. He wished he could take all that Gleam had been dealing with and toss it in the garbage so she could be free. He’d even take her place and take all that she’s dealing with for her. He wished that were possible, but it wasn’t possible.

“Please don’t worry, Chime,” Gleam said, still awake. “Really it’s going to be okay.” She hoped that her words matched up and that she would be right when she said that. Even though she wasn’t sure, Chime had been so worried about Gleam that she was pretty close to fretting for his sanity. She prayed that Chime would not lose his mind. She wouldn’t know what to do if he did.

“Gleam, please just rest so that becomes the truth,” he pleaded. “Please.”

She moved her arm over her eyes to make it easier to fall asleep. It seemed drastic, but it’s what she had to do. Eventually, her attempt had worked, and she had gotten to sleep. Chime sat by her and waited for her to finally fall asleep. He didn’t want to leave her on the couch alone, but he had to. It did hurt him, but it wasn’t a good idea to sleep on the same couch as Gleam was on. He left the couch and climbed into his bed, not able to sleep until four hours later.


When morning came, Gleam was right about it all being okay. She had gotten enough sleep for the infestation to have left her body. She was finally able to stand up, and as weird as it seemed, she was incredibly relieved she could stand and walk around now. She knew she was lucky for that. One hundred percent lucky. There were people in the world who were like the way she was the day before. From there, she waited on Chime who was still sleeping at the time she woke up. It was pretty rare for her to wake up first, and she wondered if Chime had been watching her most of the night. She shook her head and just waited for Chime. It was pretty dreadful when Chime wasn’t around. She couldn’t describe the feeling she had been feeling when she was sitting without Chime to keep her company when she knew that he was there. She decided to name the feeling dreadful abandon, but that sounded wrong, so she nixed the abandon part of the feeling she named and just attached sensitivity to it. She named the feeling dreadful sensitivity, and it pretty much already felt like such before, anyway. She continued to wait and wait for Chime to come into the den where she had been sitting. Eventually, perhaps half an hour later, Chime came out of his room and over to Gleam. He noticed she was sitting up and that all color had returned to her face. He was relieved beyond relief to see this, and then walked to Gleam and hugged her out of both relief and ecstasy.

“I’m so glad,” he said almost like a drunkard. “So glad you’re okay now.” He let go of Gleam and brushed the dust off his clothes from when he brushed up against the couch. “Can you walk now? You can, right?”

Chime sounded extremely tired. Gleam knew he didn’t get any sleep or just a small fraction of sleep. Gleam didn’t want Chime to do that anymore. She didn’t want him to stay up at night at all because of her. She felt dirty and like a bad friend to Chime, but that was what will break her quicker, so she shook her head and carefully looked at Chime. Intentionally, she decided to ask a question she had been deliberating over asking that whole time.

“You look exhausted, Chime,” she said in a concerned tone. “Did you get any sleep last night at all?”

Chime shook his head, and then covered his eyes with his hands, attempting to rub them in an attempt to look a lot less tired. Though, it didn’t work and he started to lean on the couch arms to keep balance. Gleam was watching him, fretting over his extreme fatigue.

“I got some,” Chime admitted, covering his eyes to try to rub them once again. “An hour, maybe.” He admitted it, and yet kept trying not to look tired so desperately. It was sapping his energy, so he figured it would be best to just give up with it. He figured coffee would fix his fatigue. It always did, so he slowly walked into his dorm kitchen, trudging like a zombie. He wasn’t even lifting his feet off the ground—he was dragging them like he was dragging a dead puppy to the bottom of a lake.

“No, No, Chime!” Gleam cried. She sprinted to Chime’s side to stop him from going a step further. She knew how bad he wanted coffee to wake himself up, but Gleam had seen how exhausted Chime was. She knew it hadn’t been in her place to tell Chime what to do, but she had to. She had no choice. “No, Chime! Why not go back to sleep? I’ll leave now so you can!” she felt like Chime must have when she had been staggering. She understood now. Well, she kind of understood, but she didn’t completely understand. She couldn’t comprehend it. “It’ll be easier if I leave. I’ll come back later, I promise.”

Chime didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to struggle. He knew Gleam was right. He, however, didn’t like the idea of her leaving, but what could he do? Chime hadn’t told Gleam, but during the time Gleam had been dueling the other day, he postponed his battle to the next day. He was going to have to postpone it further now due to his fatigue. He figured it would be best to tell her before she left.

“I can’t look tired on the day of my match,” he told Gleam. “I’m going to postpone my match again.”

Gleam looked at Chime in question. Obvious to her that she hadn’t known Chime had postponed his match yesterday. Could he keep on doing that? What if he got kicked out for constant match postponing? She hoped that was not possible.

“You didn’t battle yet?” she asked almost like a five year old about to have a fit. “Isn’t it bad to postpone battles?”

Chime shook his head. “The man on the phone said it was fine.”

Gleam instantly blinked at that fact. Gleam thought it seemed suspicious. Extremely suspicious, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling.

“Is that really true?” she then asked. She wondered if the man on the phone were a con artist. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was because it could have been the creator of the program.

“It’s true,” he said again. He then looked at Gleam and had one more thing to say. “By the way, I asked the man about your match, and he said your second battle is right after mine.” He smiled at Gleam weakly.

“I’ll practice now, then,” she said quickly proceeding to the door. Chime placed himself on the couch as she headed for the door. She looked at Chime with small flames in her eyes. “Now you get some sleep, I’ll be back later!”

Chime laughed a little and joked, saying: “Yes, doctor Noiyam!”

Gleam laughed and exited the dorm room and headed for hers. As usual, while walking, there were people in her way. This time it had been only one person. The person was wearing a black robe so Gleam couldn’t see his hair or face. The person was a mystery to her. The person had a shovel behind his back and wore a smirk on his face. He took the shovel, and out of nowhere, thrashed the shovel over Gleam’s head. The thrashing was robbing her of her wind, and she had instantly fallen to the ground, knocked unconscious. The boy in the black robe dragged Gleam’s unconscious body underground. His plan was perfect.


Gleam came to some point in time later. When she regained consciousness she looked at the surrounding around her and noticed how extreme they were. A rotary wheel and other weapons were glued on the walls. Around her had been many torture devices. Gleam felt a shiver down her spine and quickly caught on to where she was, and she was extremely uncomfortable with the setting. She tired to run away, but there had been something freakishly tough constricting her entire body. She then saw the people in the corner, pretty much sticking out like a sore thumb. She came to an impending conclusion that she was kidnapped and being held hostage by these people. It frightened her that people could be so driven to do crime like this, but it would be of no use for her to say anything. A pool of criminals never listened to reason. She knew that was how kidnapping and hostages worked, so she figured she’d play the role like a good kidnapped girl.

The pool of three noticed Gleam had came to and huddled into a circle. The kidnappers ravished, screamed, whooped and hollered as they were discussing what wonderful torture they were going to commit on their torture subject. Gleam, completely trussed up onto some kind of stake stood there entirely hopeless. She couldn’t move, and her hands were immobilized by the tight ropes. The sweat invited itself on the brim of her forehead living there, and the sweat had soon become her second best friend. After about four seconds, one of the kidnappers had come over with a whip, smiling evilly. The kidnapper took the whip and placed it behind his back. He then, with full force, used the whip, striking at Gleam until he saw her face bleed. Afterwards he struck the whip on her stomach. He wanted the girl to scream, and sure enough, Gleam had given him what he wanted. A blood curdling scream. The scream was disjointed and injured, more so than Gleam herself. When the person stopped torturing her stopped whipping her stomach she ceased screaming. He put the whip down and then seemed to have gotten into a small episode of thinking. He walked back to his group of people and discussed with them what torture he would perform next. Gleam waited anxiously as the group discussed. Eventually it seemed they had come to a decision. The small group of torturers then couldn’t seem to keep quiet this time which was inconsistent with this specific group of people. The main subordinate of torture backed up and called to the female in the group. In her hands was an extremely long rope, coiled into a snake. She walked onto the stepladder placed next to the stake and prepared for the group’s favorite form of torture.

“Now, it is time!” she exclaimed as audible as possible to excite her accomplices. “Who’s ready to hang the princess?”

The torturers violently cheered like gracious idiots throwing their lives away. An unpleasant scene, it was.

“Yeah! Hang the ♥♥♥♥♥!” they shouted. “Hang her! Hang her! Hang her!”

The girl smirked, her smirk almost was accompanied with evil laughter, but she decided that was a little much. She took the rope and placed it around Gleam’s neck. She was about to begin. Gleam did a gulp, and started to pray, knowing her death was coming. She started to thank Chime for being there for her, although the time with him was short, she still enjoyed it. She was never happier that he hadn’t been there, either. She didn’t want him to see her get killed. The girl then noticed Gleam had been done thinking, and said:

“Have you collected your final thoughts? Good! Now bear with me and die fast, kay?”

Gleam accepted it. Accepted it and allowed the girl to do her dirty work. She started to close the rope in on Gleam’s neck, choking her as if she were a live plant. It reminded her of a fantasy television show she had once watched. Gleam could feel her spirit escaping her as the rope got tighter and tighter, however, the intent to kill had been interrupted by a fiery ball of smoke. Someone had thrown down a smoke ball, but whom? The girl who had been holding the rope let go of it, snapping her fingers. She had been interrupted and she hated being interrupted. The smoke didn’t die down. It was extremely thick. The smoke was fog. From the fog emerged a figure. Gleam’s vision almost turning white at this point, could faintly see the figure. The figure was definitely male and probably about approximately Chime’s age. He stood up on the step ladder and took out a knife, cutting all the ropes binding Gleam’s limbs. He removed the rope that would have killed her, and then scooped her up in his arms, running to the edge of the underground lair. The smoke then cleared, and the small group of people looked at their boss horrified. If he had been there, he would have their heads. They started to sweat anxiously because he looked enraged. The female especially was sweating.

“What did I tell you guys you couldn’t do? Remind me what I said to you.” His voice sounded demonic and demanding.

“Y-you told us we could torture her!” the main boy said. “You told us we could!” he sounded like a little kid blaming what the parent said to the child.

The boy holding Gleam laughed under his breath sinisterly. “Did I say you could try to kill her, however? Did I allow you three to try to kill her?” he made his words sound godly and intimidating.

The main boy backed away, sweating like a pig with fear. The words were stabbing him in the chest with an invisible knife.
“N-no…” he said weakly. “You…you didn’t, Numboil.”

Numboil turned his head and made a sinister smile, scaring the living daylights out of the main boy. He knew he shouldn’t have said his real first name, and now he was going to get it from him.

“Get on your knees and apologize,” he said godly. The main boy froze and didn’t move, infuriating Numboil even more. He walked over and then said it to his face. “ON YOUR KNEES!” he then shouted and the main boy quickly got on his knees to satisfy his master. He then kicked the main boy in the back until he saw tears stream down his face. “Now, call me Master! Let me hear you say Master!”

The main boy was shaking, swallowed entirely by his fear, and listened entirely to what Numboil said. “I-I’m sorry, Master! I-it won’t happen again…really!” the terrified sound in his voice is exactly what he wanted to hear. He gave a sly smile and made way for the underground exit once again.

“It better never happen again,” he said demonically and godly. “Next time this happens, you die. Remember that.”

“Y-yes Master,” the main boy said weakly. Pleased with the answer, Numboil left his underground lair holding Gleam in his arms.

While he started walking, he hit Gleam on the forehead to keep her conscious. He had no need to do such, however because Gleam had been conscious the whole time. Well, only half conscious but she still was at the time when she was in that underground lair. Despite that, to humor him, she jumped and flinched. She proceeded to say thank you, but Numboil interrupted.

“You can thank me for this later, Sovereign of Destruction. In the meantime, just hold on.” He said this as he was running. Gleam would have argued, screaming she was not the Sovereign of Destruction, but was too weak and lethargic to say anything related to arguments. “Where am I taking you to?” his running had then accelerated.

“Room 372,” she said quietly. “Or room 390…” her voice trailed off a little. She didn’t want Chime to see her in such a weakened state. She shook her head. “No, uh, room 372 is fine. That’s my room.”

Numboil knew room 390 and if she said “take me to room 390,” he would have killed her right there, but he figured to wait until he said they would duel for that. He smirked and spoke to Gleam quickly.

“I’m Numboil Turmoil,” he said randomly. “Better known as the Sovereign of Emotion. Nice to meet you.” He then jumped over flights of stairs and continued running, speaking without a sweat. It was something only he could do. “My slaves had no right to try and kill you. If anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”

Gleam sighed. Another Sovereign was after her, and it was just too soon for that. She wondered if they ever let up with chasing after her. She guessed they didn’t, and it was a little bothersome how quickly another one had come after her. Regardless, she didn’t want to die at the hands of a freaky person like him.

“If you want to kill me,” Gleam said with a cold voice. “We’ll duel. Does 48 hours sound reasonable? I have a match tomorrow.”

Numboil gave yet another sly smile. He got exactly what he wanted, it worked perfectly and everything was in his favor.

“I accept,” he said, sneering. “48 hours on the top of the third floor near the glass pane window.” He stopped walking and dropped Gleam on the ground. The conversation she was having made it feel like nothing, however. “This is your stop. In you go.”

Gleam entered her dorm room with a resolve. The resolve was there and it kept her heart going. She knew what she had to do, and she was going to do it in her own style.

End of chapter eight, next to come: staying six forever but having the magic to become any age you want? What?


Whipping is not cool, children... I never thought I'd have to do a theme of whipping in this story...oh my.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated M. For reasons of the following: puncturing veins, bleeding out.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 9; Sixteen and able to drive a car over people.

It took time for Gleam to clean her cuts up. She never learned, and no one ever taught her how, and in the past when she had received a new inviting cut, no one would take care of it. She figured while she was in her dorm room, she would at least find one thing that could heal cuts. No matter where she searched in her small dorm room, however there was nothing of the sort. She herself knew she should have brought a first aid kit with her, but her parents destroyed all the first aid kits when she was five so that her cuts would all get infected. Now that her parents were no longer around her to do such, she could finally have cuts that would be treated before such travesty was to befall her. Since she didn’t have anything in her dorm room to clean and disinfect her cuts with, she could ask Chime if he did. She didn’t want Chime to know what happened, and she felt dirty going to his dorm room knowing that he needed sleep. Though, it was almost fifteen hours since she left his room, so she figured it would be okay to go see him now. With such a resolve, she proceeded to the door and left her dorm room quickly. Before she headed for Chime’s room, she examined the door for any papers like challenge letters or credential notes. Despite what she knew about society, the one thing she agreed with in the ocean was having notes placed on the door for challenges or procedures. She then found a note plastered on the middle of the door and quickly tore the note down. She figured reading it could wait until later—it was probably just a ransom, a nasty note, details about her challenge with Numboil, or information on whom she is going to end up battling later on in the day. She placed the note in her pocket and started walking to Chime’s dorm room. She knew the location by instinct now and no longer needed to look up at the numbers on the other dorms to know where exactly she had to go. When she reached Chime’s dorm, she already knew the procedure. Gleam knocked on the door, hoping she wasn’t bothering him or disturbing his sleep. Surely enough, neither fact was true, and on the other side of the door, she heard Chime turning the knob to open the door. Chime gazed at Gleam on the other side and smiled, but soon his smile was lost in the sea of cuts on Gleam’s face. He was hoping no one had tried to kill Gleam while he was sleeping, and if anyone had tried to, he wouldn’t have had a reason to sleep. He knew it was a bad idea, but it was far too late to change such. Though, he had to something about the cuts on Gleam’s face. He examined them once more, quietly then finally stopped.

“How did you get those cuts?” Chime asked sharply. “Come in so I can put peroxide on them.” Gleam didn’t hesitate and entered Chime’s dorm room quietly and sat on the couch like she always did, but Chime shook his head. “No, Gleam, sit on a chair, please.” She did what he instructed and that made it easier on him.

Gleam wondered again. Wondered if it would be a good idea to tell Chime. She wondered if she could trust him with the truth, but she didn’t want him to know about the Sovereigns being after her. She figured it would be too early to tell him and that it could wait until later. It bothered her to do that, but for now, it was best to keep it a secret. She didn’t want to cause Chime to lose his sanity, so she quickly proceeded to come up with a convincing lie.
“I tripped,” she said flatly. Just from the sound of her voice it was a bad lie. “It was disastrous.” She added, but still didn’t make it sound any better or like the truth.

Chime knew directly from the way she said it that she was lying. He didn’t want Gleam lying to him anymore. He proceeded to his necessity cabinet and took out a brown bottle or peroxide, cotton balls, and a few bandages. He walked to the chair where Gleam was, breathed in, ready to say what had to be said about lying. He gave Gleam a quick look, and tried his hardest not to sound mean as he began to speak.

“Please don’t lie to me Gleam,” he said as gentle as possible. “I’m here for you, you know that. So please don’t lie anymore.” Chime opened the bottle of peroxide and put a dab of it on the cotton ball. “Now hold still, this will sting a little.” Chime took the cotton ball filled with peroxide and dabbed it on Gleam’s face. He was right about it stinging, but Gleam tried to show now pain. After dabbing the cut with peroxide he then took out a bandage and creased it on top of Gleam’s cut. The bandage felt strange and sticky. Chime examined her one more time before continuing. He knew Gleam had more cuts. “Now show me the rest of your cuts. And tell the truth, please.”

Gleam sighed and lifted her shirt revealing the cuts on her stomach. She decided that Chime was right about the truth, and this time she decided to tell it. “When you were sleeping, people kidnapped me,” she sighed. “Next thing I knew, when I came to, I was trussed up. They tried to hang me, but first they whipped me. A boy saved me, though, so the injuries aren’t too bad.” She didn’t state why the group kidnapped her as she forgot the answer. She hoped that Chime wouldn’t ask, but from the look on his face he was going to. She then added, “Sorry for being so much trouble.”

Chime made a frown at the wall. He hated the sound of people abusing Gleam, and now he knew that he shouldn’t have let her leave. He could have prevented a major tragedy from happening, and now it was too late for such. He sighed and stopped with the if/then thoughts, however because it was an unavoidable circumstance and possibly fated.

Chime, once again, opened the bottle of peroxide and dabbed the peroxide on the cotton. He turned to Gleam giving her a face of readiness. “Okay. Stay still. It’s going to sting again,” he dabbed the cotton ball on the cuts on Gleam’s stomach. Gleam couldn’t hold faces this time and started to cringe. After he was done dabbing, he creased another bandage and placed it over Gleam’s cuts. He then went back onto topic about what she said. “People tried to hang you? That’s going beyond terrible. How could anyone do such a thing to you?” he could barely hide the worry in his voice anymore. He then, said, “You’re not causing anyone trouble, they’re causing you trouble.” He put the bottle of peroxide down and smiled at Gleam now. “It’s okay, don’t worry so much.” He patted Gleam on the shoulder.

Gleam understood and knew what Chime was saying. She figured he was right. She didn’t need to worry so much. “You’re right, Chime, thank you,” she said with tears streaming down her face, but they were not tears of sorrow. She didn’t understand. “Thank you!” she stood up and hugged Chime and Chime hugged back, but let go due to time constraints.

“Right, I forgot,” Chime said, remembering his battle. “My battle is sooner than I thought.”

Gleam lowered her head in shame. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” she said quietly, but Chime gave her a look that said there was no need to do such. She then, changed the flow of her words. “Who is your opponent?”

Chime removed the paper from his pocket and read the name of his opponent to Gleam. “Powder Holwer,” he said, trying to hold in the laugh. “Transgender with Powder Magic I hear. They’ll be so easy to beat, Gleam.” He grinned and changed his expression to a curious look. “Who’s your opponent?”

Gleam nervously removed the paper from her pocket and read the name to Chime. “Ageless Guiess,” she said, laughing at the name. “I bet you that she’s a 53 year old biddy coming here to fulfill her last few years in life.” She waved her hands like a porpoise. “Eew!” She laughed. Both Chime and Gleam shared a thought on the person.

“Well yeah, I bet!” he said, holding his sides. “You ready to go to the audience as I head for the battlefield?” he asked. He wished to get there early.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready when you are!”

Chime gave Gleam another pat on the shoulder to show he was proud of her. “That’s my girl,” he said without even thinking about it. “I’m ready now, so let’s go.”

Both of them proceeded to the door and exited the dorm room together. Neither said much while walking, but both equally had their matches to think about. As they proceeded to the battlefield, both hoped their laughing and ridiculing of the people they were about to face would be right on target. When they came upon the door to the battlefield and coliseum seats, both looked at one another one last time with only one fear: loss. However, they tried to keep a confident face. Neither of them planned to lose. Gleam, especially hoped Chime would win, and began to sweat with anxiety of the thought of him losing.

“Ready?” she asked nervously. “I’ll cheer you on!”

Chime nodded, hiding his small fear of losing. “Ready.”

Gleam entered the audience seats and Chime entered the battlefield. Neither of them were ready, but at the same exact time, they were confident.


Chime cracked his knuckles and waited patiently for his enemy to appear on stage. Gleam was in the front row, also waiting. Both were hoping their laughter would have been proper. Chime stood and waited. His enemy still not on stage. He looked at the clock on the board above him, and it read the time. It was already 4:30 in the afternoon. His match was supposed to have started three minutes ago. He tapped his foot, irritated, but it did absolutely nothing. Powder Holwer still did not arrive. After about another minute or so of waiting, his opponent had finally walked onto the marble field. Chime examined his opponent quietly, laughing under his breath. What he said to Gleam about them was spot on.

Powder had white hair the color of baby powder that had gone down to about their chest. Their hair was very girly, but their face was androgynous. From looking at their body, he was even more puzzled. They had a very bulky, manly body. Nothing about them was pointing to a specific gender. Chime, puzzled, stopped with the laughter. He, though, still had confidence that he could beat the person. Chime gave a ready look on his face, waiting for the match to begin.

A man then walked on stage dressed up in a gold suit. It was flashy beyond normal, and it bothered everyone in the audience. Why would someone wear such a horrendous outfit? Chime wondered. The man lifted his hand and grabbed the whistle he had guarded by his neck. He blew into the whistle and spoke the rules of the match.

“First person to knock the other to 1HP wins…begin!”

Chime cracked his knuckles, ready to begin. He figured a wind chime hurricane would be enough to beat Powder in one move.

“Chime, you can do it,” Gleam cheered from the audience. “I believe in you!”

Chime smiled and prepared his attack. Powder stared at the board above them. The board was the same as it had been last time. The board showcased a small rectangular picture of both Chime and Powder. Underneath their pictures appeared two green rectangular bars. Further underneath were numbers that read 1,000 by 1,000. Powder readjusted their eyes at Chime and stared down at him. They laughed, and said:

“You’re going down, baby,” they said. “You’re going down, baby!” their voice sounded unsure of itself. Both masculine and feminine. Chime could barely take the voice seriously, but held all the laughs in. “Wow, wow, baby, I’ll attack first!”

Powder clapped their hands together. Within moments, the top of a baby powder bottle nozzle appeared in their hair. Holes shaped like they were on a baby powder nozzle would be, also appeared. They charged at Chime with their head tucked in. As they came into Chime’s space, they then start shaking, getting powder all over Chime’s hair, making it look fairy unpleasant. Chime pondered what kind of magic it was that they used. Quickly he came to conclusion that it was Baby Powder Disarming Magic. A very pathetic kind of magic. It barely did any kind of damage anywhere unless it was to get into places one can’t mention.

The board, however, determined that it did cause damage. A fairy small amount of damage. The board now read that Chime had 999 HP. Chime sighed at how pathetic the attack was. He then went back to the thought of it being so simple that he could beat them in one shot.

Chime pointed his finger to the ceiling, and from his hand emerged a wind about as powerful as a hurricane. From there, stronger winds had picked up at a much more powerful speed. Chime snapped his fingers in his free hand to create the next part of his spell. After doing so, a set of blue wind chimes in the shape of a butterfly appeared. The hurricane took the wind chime attack into a spiral and travelled over to Powder. Within seconds, the attack and Powder met. Chime rubbed his hands in anticipation waiting for the board to read that he had won, but when he looked up at the board, and noticed the board did confirm the attack. The board read that Powder now had 50 HP. He proceeded to wondering how Powder was able to hang onto even the faintest scratch of HP.

Powder sighed, and seemed to have come up with a proposal. “Sigh, okay, baby,” they said. “Let’s make a deal.” They pointed at Chime. “If I win, you have to live life as a girl for a week, and if you win, I’ll tell you my true gender.” They placed their hands on their chin. “I see how curious you are, ya know, baby!”

Chime did not answer. He did not know how to respond in a situation like this. He figured it would be best to say okay, but every word he thought up refused to form. Chime just shrugged, accepting the deal.

When Powder saw this, they knew it was a confirmation, and decided to say nothing, showing off their best side in battle. Powder, this time, rubbed their hands together. Within a moment, the top of a baby powder bottle nozzle appeared in their hair. Holes that were shaped the way they would be on a baby powder bottle also appeared. They then jumped in the air, seemingly defying gravity. They then appeared above Chime’s head, turning upside down. Powder started shaking violently. Within a moment, baby powder came in a torrent, drenching Chime with baby powder. Chime started coughing from the dust of the powder. After Powder was sure they damaged Chime enough, they ended the attack. They stopped defying gravity and landed onto their feet like a cat. After the powder cleared, Chime stared in awe.

The board confirmed the attack. The board read that Chime had 100 HP left. He knew that gloating and counting on winning before even starting was what caused that to happen. He underestimated Powder, but he was ready to win this time. He had a plan. Chime pointed his finger to the floor this time. From his hand emerged a tiny gust of wind. From there came a wind that was visible. Chime snapped his fingers with free hand to start the next part of his spell. Afterwards, a set of gold wind chimes shaped like circles appeared. The wind took the wind chimes and met with Powder. Within seconds, the attack did the amount of damage he wished, and Powder had slightly fallen to the ground on one knee.

Chime didn’t even need to look at the board to know that he had been the winner this time. The man that had been on the stage earlier came back and rose Chime’s hand above his head, symbolizing that he had been the winner.

“The winner is Chime Nume!” the man shouted. The crowd then cheered, and Gleam, especially cheered.

Powder got off their knee and stood, walking over to Chime, attempting to shake his hand, however, it was a one sided hand shake because he wouldn’t put his hand out.

“Female,” Powder said. “That’s my gender.” After telling Chime, she left the stage.

Chime exited the stage and headed over to where Gleam was, smiling to her from a distance. He was proud that he won and more happy that he was going to be able to stay with Gleam. He gave Gleam a thumbs up, and said, “I get to stay here!”

Gleam giggled and quickly jumped out of her seat, despite how dangerous it was. The ocean of people in the audience had begun to hit shore violently at the scene of Gleam jumping at such a height, but she couldn’t care less what the people thought. Gleam then giggled and hugged Chime affectionately. She, again, didn’t care who saw. She was beyond pleased with Chime winning, even if it was such an easy battle.

“You won!” Gleam exclaimed, crying tears of happiness. “I’m so glad!” Gleam let go of Chime quickly, however, because the ocean of people were watching. “Hmm, my battle is next. I should get ready.”

Chime raised his hand to give Gleam a high five. Gleam copied, and both made a high five. The loud smack disturbed the peace, but neither of them cared who would hear such a loud smack.

“Good luck,” Chime said. “And whatever happens, do your best!”

Gleam smiled and ran outside to climb onto the stage, preparing for battle.


Gleam waited on stage for her opponent. She wondered. Was her description she gave to herself, a 53 year old biddy, egotistical? She wondered if the girl was her age or even worse an adult preying on kids. She sighed, hoping the first thought of what she was going to be like was correct. She knew laughing before even knowing was rude, and now she was quickly coming to regret such an action. After about a minute or two, Gleam’s opponent had come on stage, and within an instant, Gleam’s mouth dropped open.

Ageless was extremely short. About a foot or so shorter than Gleam. She had pink hair that was so curly that it appeared shorter than it actually was. The girl was wearing a sailor suit, accompanied with a hat. She smirked and threw her hat in the air, waiting for the wind that did not exist to catch it. Gleam, from every angle noticed her description was off. She felt less than human for laughing at her behind her back now.

“Hi! I’m Ageless Guiess!” she said childishly. “I’m 6 years old!” she then giggled. “I bechya that you’re shocked, right?”

Gleam was beyond shocked. She didn’t want to fight a six year old. That would be a miserable battle. She could forfeit now and let the girl win by default, but that would warrant Gleam a loss. She figured it would be best to go easy on her. Still, she didn’t understand it, why a six year old? Of all kinds of matches, it had to be with a six year old.

Her thoughts were brutally and rudely interrupted, however, when the man from before walked onto the stage, and spoke the rules.

“First person to knock the other 5 HP wins…begin!” he pointed to the board above him. The board showcased circular pictures of both Gleam and Ageless with the number two next to the circles. Under the pictures appeared two blue rectangular bars. Further underneath, there were numbers that read 1,500 by 1,500. Gleam quietly and timidly started at Ageless, still in awe at how old she was.

“G-go first,” Gleam said, shaking.

Ageless smiled childishly, and said, “Now, now don’t underestimate me!” she said this as if she were much older than she let on. “I’m very, very, very strong! Don’t forget now!”

Gleam just groaned, taking her word for it.

Ageless started changing an incantation. Gleam couldn’t understand the incantation. However, by the end of the incantation, she declared something Gleam could understand.

“Age 16!” her body turned a blinding white color, and for a moment, Ageless vanished from sight. The light died down, and in front of Gleam’s eyes was an Ageless that had appeared to be ten years older. It shocked Gleam, and she didn’t understand it al all, but she kept on watching her. “I can drive a car!” After declaring this, a car appeared, and Ageless had appeared inside it. She pressed down on the break and started driving. Gleam, afraid of the huge car in front of her, fell to the ground, shaking.

Ageless started driving the car swiftly. She quickly appeared to have been a reckless driver and drove right over Gleam’s body. Gleam started screaming from the fear of getting run over, but Ageless stopped to prevent herself from losing control. The amount of mental strain that it caused would leave major damage on Gleam.

Gleam quickly intervened. She hoped her magic would be her regular magic and not that intense one she had coursing through her veins. Gleam formed her hands into a circle. This time, her magic circle did appear, and it appeared on the floor. She wrote truck onto the magic circle. From the magic circle emerged thousands of diamonds in the shape of a truck. They then travelled to Ageless’s car hitting it. The diamond truck hitting the car sounded like a realistic car crash. After the attack hit, Ageless appeared to be a six year old again. The spell must have ended.

The board confirmed both attacks at once. It read that Gleam now had 200 HP and that Ageless had 750 HP. Gleam screamed at the major HP difference. She was already losing the fight, and she still had no idea what kind of magic she had on her.

“What kind of magic is that?” she asked, trying not to sound like a little kid.

“Age Privilege Magic,” she said, surprisingly answering the question. “Don’t underestimate me!” she said, laughing. “This attack will destroy you!”

Gleam gulped at what Ageless was about to do next. She was beyond afraid; she was terrified. Terrifying as this girl’s power was, she knew a way to win, but it was a long shot. It would take a little bit of dragging the battle out, and defending, but she would do it in order to win. Despite it all, her strategy might not even work. It was what she was afraid of, and she was afraid her magic would stop and her other magic would come out instead, and she hated that magic. She hated her other magic—and she would ask to be kicked out if that magic unleashed itself now.

Ageless started to chant another incantation that was different from the last one, but Gleam did not understand it. However, when the incantation had been over, it was the same procedure as last time.

“Age 21!” her body, this time, had turned a blinding red color. For a moment, Ageless vanished, and the light then died down. Ageless appeared to be an adult. “If I want, I can drink alcohol!” In her hand appeared a beer can. Ageless ran over to Gleam, opening the beer can, spilling it on her head. The beer rained on her body as she became drenched. Ageless laughed like an idiot and went back to being six. “This is sooooo fun! I’m creaming you!” Gleam stood there, freaking out and drenched beyond a recognizable level.

The board confirmed the attack. It now read that Gleam had 32 HP. She was losing—and quickly. Gleam was ready to stop going easy on the girl and prepared for an attack.

Gleam formed her hands into a circle again. On the floor her magic circle appeared. She wrote the word storm onto the magic circle. From the magic circle emerge twenty diamonds. They violently stormed their way to Ageless and hit her all over her body. The girl acted like a brat and started to look like she was going to throw a hissy fit, and that’s what Gleam was afraid of happening.

“Owie! Owie!” she said babyishly. “That hurt! You hurt a six year old! You’re mean!”

Gleam had fallen right into Ageless’s trap. She felt sorry for her. Really sorry for hitting her, but she then remember this was a battle. Ageless was the enemy. Quickly, she snapped out of it. She had admitted to herself that she almost fell for a baited trap, so she stopped and proceeded to continuing with the battle.

The board confirmed the attack. It now read that Ageless had 350 HP. It still was a big HP gap.

Ageless started chanting another incantation. This one had seemed to be in another language as well. After she was done with the incantation, she twirled her hair and spoke her attack.

“Age 12!” her body turned a blinding black color. Again, Ageless had vanished. The light died down quickly, and Ageless appeared to be the same size as Gleam. Gleam, mortified, shouted and tried to run away, but was stuck on the battlefield. “I can do long math problems and study properly!” a hoard of papers appeared in her hands and above Gleam, but Gleam, scared out her mind, quickly dodged the papers out of fear of burial.

Ageless gave a very sour look and started pouting. Her attempt to defeat Gleam with papers failed. She quickly became six again and said:

“Why? Why? Why?” she was stomping her feet ferociously. “Why? Why? Why?” Gleam would not answer. “Try this, then!”

Ageless chanted random words, but no incantations. She then was done with chanting in a flash and looked more irritated than before.

“Age 3!” her body turned a blinding green, but she did not vanish. Her body appeared to get smaller in all regions. After the light died down, a smaller Ageless appeared on the floor of the battlefield. “I can throw a fit if I want, and I can get away with it!” she then threw herself on the floor, causing tremors. The tremors were violent, and Gleam had to jump every time one went off. Barely able to dodge any of the tremors, Gleam started to get ready to intervene with a quick and painless attack.

Gleam formed her hands into a circle. On the floor appeared her magic circle. She wrote the sentence silent but lethal onto her magic circle. From the magic circle emerged a practically invisible diamond. The diamond traveled to Ageless’s side as she continued to have a fit. The diamond then struck at Ageless on the arm like a double edge sword, causing Ageless to bleed out. The attack ended, and Ageless passed out.

“I punctured a vein,” Gleam cried, ashamed. “A vein…this isn’t how I wanted to win.”

The board confirmed the attacks and the board finally read that Gleam had 10 HP, Ageless had 5 HP. The man quickly came onto the field and raised Gleam’s arm above her head. Gleam grimaced at the win. She grimaced at it and felt less than human about it.

“The winner is Gleam Noiyam!”

The crowd cheered. Gleam gave the crowd a dark grimace and did not enjoy the cheering. She covered her ears to block out the cheers. She blocked out the cheers she felt like she didn’t deserve, and waited for the crowd to leave.

Chime noticed Gleam had been contemplating something. He came out of his seat and onto the marble battlefield and started to console her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. He started hugging her. “It’s okay, Gleam. You didn’t know you’d punctured a vein.”

Gleam started to cry hysterically and couldn’t calm down. She didn’t want to win that way. She had no business hurting a six year old girl. She didn’t care if it was a battle—she still felt like it was wrong. Beyond wrong.

“No, Chime!” she shouted. “This…this isn’t what I wanted! This isn’t how I wanted to win!” Gleam continued hugging Chime, trying to calm down, but failed miserably.

“Oh, Gleam…” Chime whispered to himself. “Come on, it’s okay.”

“I really must be a monster…” she said to herself one last time before screaming her mind out of proportion.

A dirty battle and another one to come. Gleam wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for her duel with Numboil, and she was, in the most craziest corners of her mind, fretting over whether she had the right to duel the Sovereign of Emotion altogether.

Relentless and less than human. That’s how she saw herself in a situation like this. A monster. A relentless, six year old injuring monster. She didn’t know if it were a trick or a fated feeling. She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She didn’t understand, and just didn’t feel like trying to understand.

Chime stared at Gleam and took her hand quietly. “Let’s go back to my dorm,” he said. “Come on. I’ll walk you there.”

A monster. Gleam kept on repeating those words in her head. A monster—a relentless monster. She didn’t stop thinking about it, and the thought carried itself into even her sleep. For some reason, it became permanent, and she agreed with the thought.

End of chapter nine, next to come: boil, boil, boil, Numboil Turmoil!


Ageless was really hard to write up when I did this...but she came to life like I wanted her to. ^^ I did this chapter back in March, it was a long ride.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


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This chapter is rated M. You'll see why.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 10; Boil in oil, Numboil Turmoil.

It was a long night of screaming and shouting inside her head. Gleam never really dreamed anymore, but when she did, all they had been lately were insane nightmares, and they scared her. Nightmares of many categories, but all were gory and ended in a bloodbath. Most were of the faces of the people that died at her own hands. Staring at her with bloodshot eyes. Some spoke to her, asking why she killed them. Some tried to hurt her rather than asking anything. Some failed, some succeeded. The other half of the time, all the faces would appear in her subconscious and laugh at her sinisterly as she would scream stop, but they would never stop. The only way they did stop was when she had woken up from her slumber. It was getting harder and more challenging to wake up every single time she had a nightmare, and they were getting much more common. It wasn’t so much every night. It was only after a major tragedy that the horrifying dreams of murder would occur, and she was getting afraid to even fall asleep anymore, but she had to, and she was beginning to hate it. New hates were only starting to arise, and all she could do was figure out ways to turn around her hate into just a mere dislike, but it was getting much harder as time went on and she hated that as well. She was even beginning to loathe herself, but she decided it did not matter. They would all be her downfall if she gave into them, so she decided to let all her thoughts just live inside her mind without even a second thought about it. Her nightmare that night, however, was more like a show of gore and hate than ever before. Her nightmare was worse than what was led on, and she was still in a nightmare right then. Even though it was only short time ago since their battle, Ageless was already gracing Gleam with her presence inside her mind, and it was barely pleasant. It was as if Ageless had gotten into her head somehow, and it was scary to her. The dream’s—rather, nightmare’s—setting was a white room. Ageless was sitting at one end, Gleam the other. Ageless had been questioning Gleam. Most were why she did it, how come she hurt a six year old, and the last one being why didn’t she lose over her. After Ageless stood up from the table with a knife and started to defy gravity. Ageless lifted Gleam’s shirt and pointed the sharp end of the knife at her stomach, but as she was proceeding to kill dream Gleam, Gleam started to scream. The scream woke Gleam up in an instant. It was already morning, and she had barely gotten a good night’s rest in any standards.

Chime had come out of his room all dressed without somewhere to go. He only heard the end of the scream, but the scream was enough to worry him. He then proceeded to check up on Gleam and to more importantly, ask why she was screaming. He then noticed quickly that she was as white as a sheet and looked so tired and frightened that he came to the conclusion that something had happened. It might have been a frightening dream, but he wouldn’t know until Gleam would actually tell him. Chime quickly sat on the couch. He one last time examined Gleam and tried his hardest not to sound worried or scared when he spoke.

“Holy,” Chime said. “You look pale.” Chime tried not to stumble on his words and was seemingly successful in all in his attempts. “Are you okay? No. Wait. Did you even sleep well?” his words were beginning to run into one another. He then miserably finished off with, “I really hope you don’t have a fever.”

All the worry seemed unneeded, but she saw how worried Chime was. But why worry about a relentless six year old injuring monster and the Sovereign of Destruction? She wondered. Gleam didn’t want to lie, even to save Chime’s sanity. So she spoke the truth.

“I was having a nightmare,” she cried softly. “Ageless was there. We were in a white room and she was questioning me.” Gleam breathed in to calm herself down. “Ageless then took out a knife and tried to kill me, but I was able to wake up before that, but…” even though she told herself she would cry, Gleam started crying anyway. “It was so scary! And these dreams have been occurring a lot lately! I don’t even want to sleep anymore.” Gleam held her arm over her eyes to stop the tears, but it seemed her tears were in control mode, so they would not stop. She then added, “So many bloody dreams. I don’t think they’re ever going to stop.”

Chime understood the nightmare and understood why she was having them. She was exactly like him when it came to dreaming; always nightmares. Never anything else. He pulled Gleam closer to him and hugged her. It was all he could do, and all that he even knew to do. The content of the nightmare, however, was a little more graphic than his own, but he still felt like he understood it enough to help Gleam be free of the nightmares.

“This nightmare,” Chime said. “It seems very serious.” He looked at Gleam and stopped hugging her to get his point across. “Try sleeping on your side or try thinking about the things that make you happy before sleeping.” He thought that sounded corny, but it worked with the presented situation. “Well, that was corny, but really Gleam. Please just try it. I promise it will help you.”

Gleam sighed. She didn’t know how positive she’d be able to think at this point, but it was worth a try. She would try it after her match with Numboil. Provided that it would end in a way that was going to end it: positively. With no death for either her or Numboil. She was determined to have it end with it being a mere scrape, but it was obvious it probably wouldn’t end that way. She knew a fight with a Sovereign would only end in either death and/or bloodshed. She knew that, despite it all, she still wanted it all to end positively. She was already sick and tired of it; sick and tired of more bloodshed. It following her everywhere she went now whether it be to her or others, anyway. So she wondered why she was sick of it. She didn’t even have to be sick of it since it was already too late to change it. A lifestyle of bloodshed. What difference would one person make? It was a cycle. A cycle. Either Gleam would end up bleeding, or people would be after her, and she would cause them to bleed. It was almost a lifestyle. The lifestyle she didn’t want to live.

Chime had soon realized Gleam was lost in a deep thought and hadn’t said anything in a while. He wasn’t sure what had to be said or done in a situation like that, but words did form, so he quickly decided to roll with whatever words formed.

“Gleam?” he asked. “Are you still with me?”

Gleam instantly snapped out of her train of thought. The train parked in the station as Gleam seemingly focused again. “Um yeah,” she said shaking from the shock. “I’m with you.”

Chime knew she wasn’t really with him. It was only when he spoke up that she was, and from that he knew Gleam had more on her mind than he initially thought she did. He wasn’t sure how to go about such, either, and it was virtually killing him. Two times in a row, he didn’t know what to do, he figured that made him useless again, and he didn’t want such to happen. To keep his usefulness, he said:

“So what’s on your mind?”

Gleam heard the words, and yet, she continued to believe he hadn’t said them. She had never been asked such before by anyone, and it caught her completely off guard. She didn’t know what to say, nor did she know what to call the feeling she had been feeling at the moment being presented upon her right there. To get it over with, she named the feeling shocked reception. Still not even sure what to say the unprecedented dread in front of her was winning in the battle of speaking. She kept on wondering what she should say, but the battle lived on. Though, she knew the question had to be answered, and it had to be answered now. She couldn’t leave Chime in suspense for the answer. She sighed, digging through her mind for at least one or two words to form. She kept on attempting and eventually words did form. She no longer felt the way she had been feeling before. She tried again to find words and after a while, they finally formed.

“Well, the leader of the people who kidnapped me challenged me to a dual,” she said. “I was just thinking about how to go about it.” She then lowered her voice. “I’m not even sure I have a right to battle.”

Chime blinked. He noticed the long pause before she responded. Not like it bothered him, but it was strange to him and he didn’t understand. Though, he knew that there was more to it—much more than she was leading on. However, to respect her space, and whatnot, he decided not to say anything about that. He figured it could wait until another time, and now just wasn’t the time for such. He was clueless, however, as to how so much could be on Gleam’s mind in a matter of one night. He failed to both understand and comprehend it, but he then decided that it just did not matter right now. He knew this dual was the main issue here, so he quickly tried to stay on topic.

“Are you sure you’re in the condition to dual this guy?” he asked. “I could go in your place.”

Gleam shook her head. “No, you can’t go,” she said. “This is my fight, Chime.” She was a little angry to herself for speaking that way to him, but it was too late to take it back. “I’ll be fine though, really. It’s just something I have to settle, and I have to settle it in person.”

Chime had dreaded Gleam would say that. Even though he didn’t even know what was going on, he had a feeling the battle would be a dangerous one. One side it would be like a game. To the other, it would be like a war. He knew the leader of the kidnapping group would be the closest thing to a ruthless killer, and if Gleam were to be as spacey and hesitant as she was now, it would end up being curtains for her, and Chime didn’t want Gleam to be gone from the grip of his fingers. He wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“You seem spacey today,” Chime blurted. “I don’t want to lose you to some ruthless man.”

Gleam questioned why Chime had said that. Numboil was not ruthless from how long she was stuck down in that underground lair. Actually, he was a ruthless man beating his slaves like he did with his words the way he did right in front of her, but it didn’t matter. It no longer mattered. She had many things she had to settle with him, and in the end, she knew getting lost in thought wouldn’t help her in a battle. It would hinder her and possibly kill her. She wasn’t ready for her life to be over. Not now, anyway. Still having unfinished business was her reason for being. It wasn’t even much of a time to be dying anyway. If she did, then she’d be doing what the creator of the program had wanted. She wasn’t about to fulfill his desire to steal all the powers of the Sovereigns. It was evil, and she wouldn’t succumb to his evil.

Gleam sighed. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “This is something I have to do. Something I have to settle.” She tried not to repeat any of her words. “I don’t think I’d space out during a battle, so please don’t worry.”

Chime protested. “And you’re sure?” he asked again. “You’re positively sure you won’t die in this fight.” He changed the tone of his voice to show he was serious. “You’re sure this isn’t something you’ll end up regretting?”

Gleam was sure. Very sure. She was never surer about something as clearly as this. She wasn’t sure why it was such a big deal since battling was no big deal in Mariibo Rumaibo. Then again, Chime was right to assume it would be something she would end up regretting. She was already regretting making the match in the first place.

“I won’t die,” she reassured him. “There will be no bloodshed in this fight.”

Chime sighed in what would seem like both relief and fear. Still not sure whether to allow Gleam to go, or to keep her there, away from the battle. It was seemingly hard for him to accept what she had been saying, and perhaps he was afraid of losing Gleam. He knew the fear would only swallow him whole if he let it, which he seemed to be allowing. He sighed again, rethinking the whole thing entirely.

He asked once again. “Are you sure?”

Gleam answered almost automatically. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’re sure you’re sure?” Chime asked again.

Gleam sighed and answered again. “Yes, Chime, I’m sure.” She tried not to sound irritated.

“Alright, okay, if you’re sure, I guess I can’t stop you,” Chime said, shrugging his shoulders. “Just make sure to be careful.”

“I’ll be careful,” she said, reassuring him. “Don’t worry so much, okay?” she smiled at him, hoping that her smile would cheer him up, but it didn’t. This slightly made Gleam upset in all degrees, but she figured it really didn’t matter now. “Come on, Chime, it’ll be fine. You really need to stop worrying so much.” She again, tried to smile, but she knew that somewhere in that sentence, she had said something wrong. “I’m sorry,” she said finishing off her speech.

Chime wasn’t sure what to say. He had to worry about Gleam. He cared about her. He knew if he didn’t worry, it meant that he didn’t care, and that would be the most of the evils.

“Gleam,” he said sharply. “I’m worried because I care. I care about you.”

Gleam didn’t know what to say, and decided to dodge the entire topic altogether. She got up onto her feet and headed to the door. She shook her head wishing she had more to say.

“I know you do,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, really, but I have to go now.”

“Alright,” Chime said. “Good luck.” He then said one more thing to Gleam. “Please come here when it’s all over.”

Gleam was surprised Chime would even let her back in his dorm, but she gave Chime a fake smile and said, “Okay.”

She closed the door behind her and quietly proceeded to the location she had to be. It was the start of a dangerous dual, and Gleam was just barely even ready.

Chime sighed in his dorm room. Still pondering if it was okay to even send her out. He had a sick and twisted feeling that Gleam would come back to him in the middle of the night in absolute shambles. He sighed; brewed some coffee to calm himself down, a storm was brewing inside him.


The third floor was almost an inexistent section of the program. Barely anyone knew how to go up to the third floor and it wasn’t a staircase away. Numboil knew it would have been the most perfect place to battle. Obviously from how secretive it seemed, Gleam didn’t have trouble finding it, however because Numboil had explicitly left footprints decorated in blue. Gleam followed the very deliberate left behind footsteps. Eventually, she did reach the third floor through some kind of elevator. It was obvious there was something up there that no one would be allowed to see. Gleam did indeed find the glass pane window, and had finally spotted Numboil. She was ready for a two person revolution.

Gleam had finally gotten a full look at what Numboil looked like. Numboil had short spiky hair. The spikes were more in the form of a Mohawk with spikes on the ends. His hair was mostly the colors of blood, but it was more like a shade of maroon. He wasn’t very muscular, but he looked extremely vicious either way. Numboil turned his head in a freaky way and almost in a crazy manner.

“You’re not a coward after all, huh?” he said, laughing crazily. “Now, if you ran away, I would have tracked you down and killed you. So it looks like you made the right choice!”

“Of course I’m no coward!” she shouted. “I’m going to settle this once and for all so I can move on with my life!” even though that sounded dramatic, she meant it.

Numboil smirked and opened the window he was standing beside. He barely faltered. It didn’t matter to him if wind let loose from the window. He was confident to show Gleam what kind of monstrosity was down three stories below. He grabbed Gleam and pushed her by the window almost close to the window’s edge, however, to scare her witless.

“Look down there, do you see that red liquid?” he asked stupidly.

Gleam kneeled and placed her head at the window and looked down, noticing the strange boiling liquid towards the ground. Scared or that’s at least how she thought she should feel. Gleam did a gulp after seeing the hot red liquid bubbling. After getting a good look at it, Gleam picked her head up and stood. She decided to humor Numboil however, by acting like she didn’t have any idea what he was talking about to make the battle go by much quicker.

“No,” she said, playing dumb. “Do tell me what that stuff is.” The dumb act wasn’t working at all, however.

“Are you seriously THAT stupid?” he asked, laughing again. “You’re such a stupid girl!” he then gave Gleam a scary look and said. “It’s lava, idiot, and we’re going to fight above it.” He then dramatically changed his tone. “Loser plummets down to the program’s secret lava pit and dies.”

Gleam gulped. The odds were not going to be in her favor this time.

Numboil turned his head, knowing that Gleam was afraid, and he loved it. The more fear Gleam would show, the more powerful he would become.
“Aww! What’s the matter?” he said viciously. “Are you afraid?” he asked only to provoke her.

“No!” she shouted. “Why should I be afraid?”

“Oh, little girl, how little you know!” he said obnoxiously. “Such a stupid Sovereign you are!”

“Shut up!” she cried. “Why not just battle me already? You’re the one who wants me dead anyway, right?”

Numboil started to eye Gleam evilly, pondering how quickly he could kill the girl. To him she seemed weak and fragile, simple enough to kill in two shots.

“Alright, Sovereign of Destruction!” he said loud and suddenly. “Get ready to die!”

Gleam answered viciously. “We’ll see about that—big talk!”

There were no more words then. The battle was starting. With a major soaring of whatever moved, the battle itself was a scream for both sanity and humanity. All with an open window that would determine a death.

Numboil started to go deep into thought, channeling all of his Sovereign energy. Numboil’s body had started to look pale as an extreme light had started to invade his body. After pinpointing where he wanted to send the attack, and after confirming such with his mind, a circle of light appeared in his hands, and he unleashed it. The attack charged at Gleam with extreme and brutal force, and soon, all color returned to Numboil’s body.

When the attack hit Gleam, all of her greatest fears soared out of her at once. The attack had somehow hijacked her emotions. She didn’t understand, nor did she even get it, but then again, magic that played around with other’s minds was always a complicated and extremely risky kind of magic. Eventually, all her fears being summoned in front of her was just a crazy and cruel tactic being used by Numboil to weaken Gleam into becoming an emotionless zombie, but Gleam wasn’t going to become an emotionless zombie.

Gleam punched and kicked the visions of all her greatest fears. It took a while, and all her fears slowly had begun to be defeated by her own fists. Numboil just stood in the corner with a self satisfied grin on his face. All the punching and kicking of the visions of her fears made him stronger even if she was defeating them. He placed his hands on his chin waiting for Gleam to be done with feeding him power. The wait was almost painful as a root canal. He couldn’t hold in any of his sinister laughs anymore at that point. Numboil had started laughing sinisterly. As soon as Gleam heard such, she stopped punching and kicking her fears.

“What’s so funny?” she cried. “Stop laughing! This is a battle!”
“That’s right! Just keep punching and kicking those fears of yours! Keep it up! Keep it up!” his eyes started to glow with a red color, almost. “You’re only making me stronger, Sovereign of Destruction! So keep it up! Keep it up!” he was then holding his sides from the insane laughter. “Makes your death easier on me!”

Gleam put her hand in between her hair and forehead, exasperated. She said, “Stop calling me Sovereign of Destruction,” she said flatly. “Fight with your human magic!” she then cried.

Numboil shrugged his shoulders. He was dumbfounded by Gleam’s absolute and almost stupidly profound obsession with being considered a human. He didn’t get it. He found it to be highly stupid. A Sovereign shouldn’t be obsessed with trying to be human. He found it to be just as stupid as he used to be. That was the way he was back then. Numboil gave up on trying to guess why Gleam was so obsessed with being considered a human. To humor her, however, he started to unleash his human magic. It was only to shut her up, however, because she insisted on them using human magic.

Numboil cracked his knuckles and clapped his hands. He placed his hands next to his lips. After doing such, his hands had turned into the shape of oil. He then, hurled oil at Gleam. Just to shut her up, he aimed it at her face, however, since he hadn’t used his human magic since he was about ten, his aim was off. The oil, instead, landed on Gleam’s chest, burning it slightly. Gleam, feeling extreme pain from the oil burns, started screaming and crying ferociously. Numboil ended the attack and brought back the sinister smile on his face, glowing about, stealing the pain and screams from Gleam, only making him stronger in the end.

“That’s my human magic,” he said, annoyed. “Now, give up with all this I’m human crap and get with the program!” he stared at Gleam with the intent to drill Sovereign nature into her. “You’re not human. You hear me? You’re a Sovereign. LIVE AS ONE!”

Gleam cried, “No! I’m human!” she insisted. “I’m human!” she wouldn’t lower her voice and she kept on repeating it. “Sovereign of Destruction, whatever, I don’t care. I’m still human.”

Numboil covered his ears and waved his hands back and forth trying to convey he didn’t care, but it wasn’t working in any way possible.

“Shut up, kid,” he said. “Give up. It won’t change anything.”

“Whatever!” she shouted. “I don’t care! Back to the battle!”

Gleamed formed her hands into a circle. She waited for her magic circle to appear, but it would not appear. Anxiously waiting for the circle to appear, she tried to force it to appear, but it didn’t. Her body started to glow white. The glow was already taking control of her. The part she hated the most was beginning. The feeling of the Earth being in her hands. More energy in a cluster then came into her hands, and she hated it. The power still felt like the entire earth was in her hands, and she hated it. With all her might. After the attack was done charging, Gleam released it. Mad at herself for having to release it, she continued to yell to herself inside her head. Gleam sighed then waiting for the attack to be over, hoping Numboil would not die in the blast.

Numboil, however, saw the attack coming. He stealthily dodged the attack, and the attack then travelled to a nearby wall, ripping that said wall to shreds. The wall had a huge hole in it now. Numboil grinned stupidly, pretending to be happy the attack missed him. He waited for Gleam to turn around and notice. Gleam soon noticed the obnoxious and stupid grin on his face. Gleam clenched her teeth with fury as she saw the expression on his face. She didn’t think it was proper, and it was an extreme of extreme annoyances to her.

“So powerful,” he said sarcastically. “Wow you almost GOT me there!” his sarcasm started to become more obvious. “I had SUCH a HARD time DODGING it like WOW!” his sarcasm was taking control of him; he then coughed to snap himself out of his major sarcasm fit. “Taking all of the matter in the area and destroying it, then destroying anything it touches. Destruction is fun, isn’t it…Gleam Noiyam?” Numboil said the whole thing in a sarcastic tone still, however, even the part about the matter and destroying it. That was the only part that was even true. “Well…Gleam Noiyam?” he said sarcastically again. “Liking the destruction you caused?”

Gleam growled with fury again. Clenching her fists and teeth. Violently and with absolute precision. She was getting sick and tired of Numboil’s sarcasm and the mocking of her name—she had to say something, and quickly before it was too late.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” she cried, her body started glowing white as her anger started escalating. “Shut up! Stop mocking my name! Stop calling me the Sovereign of Destruction! Without even realizing it, her power was overtaking her again. A gleaming glow of white light was releasing from her body, charging at Numboil with a violent streak, but Numboil dodged it again. “Just stop it! Enough! I’ve had enough!” as she kept on pressing on, her magic ferociously and violently continued. Gleam, too ignorantly angry to notice her magic had kept shooting off, continued to scream. “And enough with your freaky, and not to mention annoying sarcasm! Just stop!” another gleaming glow of light ended and started charging at Numboil again. He was already used to dodging, so he dodged the attack again. Gleam, finally calming down slightly, finished off with, “I’m human. I was born human, so that means I’m human!”

Numboil sighed. The girl’s obsession with being considered human was driving him up a wall. He decided then and there. This battle would accomplish nothing. Killing the girl would be unsatisfying. Attacking her even once more would be a waste of energy. It was exhausting to even listen to her little ramblings of saying that she was a human, and he was just tired of hearing any more of it. Admittingly, perhaps, challenging her to a dual, or actually, she was the one who challenged him in the first place, accepting the dual was stupid. It accomplished nothing. A pathetic and stupidly empty battle. Numboil decided then and there that it was time to end it. Not for Gleam, but for himself. If one of them had to die, he figured that it might as well be him. Considering how killing Gleam would be a lost cause, anyway. He looked at Gleam with a dead look on his face, trying to show her that he wanted attention from her. He walked over the window, and said:

“You know what,” he said, placing his feet outside the window. “I give up.”

Gleam stared at Numboil. She knew what he was doing, but refused to believe it. She wouldn’t believe it, and she quickly said to him, “No,” she said. “No, stop it.”

Numboil laughed evilly. “You win,” he said. “You happy, little girl? I’m surrendering. I can’t take you anymore.”

“What do you mean?!” she cried. “You got some explaining to do!”

Numboil sighed. Forcing himself to explain to shut Gleam up. “Did you not just understand me? You won. I’m surrendering. I’m giving up. Quite frankly this fight is a lost cause, so I’ll just end it now. I bet the lava will love my bones.” He then went on the outside of the window, readying to jump.

“No!” she cried. “No! No! Stop! We can work this out.”

“Goodbye, Sovereign of Destruction,” he said sinisterly. “You’re exhausting. I hope the next Sovereign kills you.”

“No!” she shouted one last time, but it was too late.

Numboil jumped off the ledge of the window and started to fall into the hot pit of lava below him. He smiled as the scorching lava kept getting closer and closer to him.

Gleam ran to the window and watched as Numboil was falling. The lava pit was right underneath him, and almost peacefully, Numboil fell right in. Gleam watched as Numboil’s flesh was being burned off by the thousands and thousands of degrees of heat. Numboil’s flesh was gone. No more. His clothes evaporated, boiled away. Then came the part that was like a mocking remark to Gleam. Numboil’s skeleton and other bones showed up at the top of the lava pit, burning to a crisp, boiling to nothing. No traces of Numboil were left, not even his hair was in sight anymore.

Gleam moved away from the window, horrified. She had never seen a worse way to die in all of her life. To boil away, it seemed like the most perfect kind of suicide, but the most painful kind of death.

She couldn’t make sense of it anymore. Anything, and as exhausting as it was, she then wondered what the point of anything was anymore. Gleam wondered if it would be better for her to have burned away and evaporated from Earth instead of Numboil, and the very thought started to eat away at her very unstable sanity.

End of chapter ten, next to come: poison is not the answer. Don’t poison anyone.


I love Numboil. If only I didn't murder him. B]
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated M. For reasons of the following: poisoning and attempting murder.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 11; It’s all fun and games ‘till someone gets poisoned.

Even though time had started moving much slower, four days had passed. Gleam had decided it was best to leave her dorm room for good, and stay with Chime. For four days, she had been moving all her clothes and possessions into the drawers near the couch. Gleam was upset with herself for not deciding on this sooner. She guessed it was because she never really thought about it. Even though everything seemed normal on the outside, nothing had really been normal. The flashbacks of Numboil’s death occurred every night for the past three nights. They didn’t occur during the day—they only occurred at night when she had gone into a deep sleep. The death had invaded her dreams. Gleam was already regretting it. Regretting the battle. Regretting forcing herself to watch Numboil incinerate, and more importantly, regretting pushing Numboil over the edge. She knew herself it was't an intentional death. It wasn’t, and she would keep telling herself that because she had to. She had to, and it wasn’t her fault. For the past four days, besides moving all her clothes and possessions into Chime’s room, Gleam had been researching. She wasn’t researching anything in particular. She was just researching to force time to move itself along. She had wanted Chime to research with her, but for the past four days, Chime had been in the library, seemingly studying medicines. Chime had told Gleam not to leave his dorm while he was studying in the library, and Gleam obeyed. She understood why it had to be this way, so she decided to raise no arguments about it. She knew if Chime had told her not to come that it was an extremely dangerous research project. Even though it felt wrong for her to feel relieved, she felt relieved anyway. It was a cold feeling, and she highly disliked it. She didn’t hate it, but she did dislike it. A wrong sense of relief—and it was so cold. Gleam, right at the moment, however, was drawing up a diagram. It was almost three in the morning and Chime still hadn’t come back yet. Gleam was worried something had happened to him. She was hoping nothing did, and she wouldn’t be able to sleep if anything happened. With everything being so ordinary, something had to be wrong. Everything had gotten so ordinary it was almost sickening. Sickening and out of place—it was almost like everything was on acid. Gleam sighed and went back to drawing her random diagram until she heard the door open.

Gleam smiled when she noticed it was Chime at the door, quickly she ran over to hug him.

“Chime!” Gleam said. “Welcome back!” she held her arms out, but put them back to her sides.

Something had been wrong, very wrong. Chime had been shaking and appeared to wobble as he was walking; his lips were a little blue. Gleam’s smile changed from that of a horrified face. As Chime walked he started to tumble. As he was about to lose consciousness, Gleam caught Chime’s arms. His arms had felt extremely hot, like they were burning. She wondered how his body had gotten so hot, but there wasn’t any time. Chime was the main focus right now.

“You’re burning up!” she cried. “How did you get this sudden fever? Chime, what did you do?” she tried to keep it together. She tried not to cry, but she couldn’t. She quickly wiped her tears and helped Chime into his room. After walking Chime to his bed, she asked him again. “What did you do Chime? What did you do?”

“The medicines…” he said weakly. “…They failed. I was testing them to make sure they worked, and they failed…” he started coughing violently, but stopped. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone by having a random stranger take it, so I did.” He started to cough violently again.

“I could have helped you!” she cried. “You don’t deserve this. Why did you do this in the first place if you knew it would end like this?” the way she said that, she had made it sound like Chime was about to die. She shook her head. “Chime you shouldn’t do that! What if you die?”

“Gleam,” he whispered. “This is why. It’s too dangerous. I won’t let you be subjected to such danger.” His vision started to fade, and he started to fade in and out of consciousness. Gleam quickly ran over to Chime to feel for a pulse, when there was one, instead of breathing a sigh of relief, she did the opposite. A scream let loose from the chambers of her throat. She was frightened. Frightened. The feeling from before, leg stiffening, had come back, and it was robbing her. Robbery by her own feelings. If it weren’t so ironic, maybe it would be a dream come true to her.


Reckless. It was just reckless. Gleam knew that by a long shot. She knew that everything seeming so ordinary was fake. There was always a catch, and she had caught the catch. There was never anything normal, so she should have known, but she didn’t. She didn’t know.

The day after was absolute turmoil. Even though it was technically the same day. It was already almost midnight, so it didn’t count. Even so, Chime was still unconscious. Gleam had been pacing around on and off for that whole day. She hadn’t slept, eaten, or done anything except pace around, all paranoid and fearful that Chime wouldn’t ever wake up. Paranoid by everything that happened. It was making her head spin and she too, soon lost consciousness.

She wasn’t for long, though, however. It was like she was sleeping. Gleam came to sometime later in the morning. When she had regained consciousness, Chime was standing above her with a worried look on his face. He held his hand out and helped her up.

“How’s your fever?” Gleam instantly asked, not caring at all that she had fainted. “I’m so glad you came to. I was watching over you to make sure you didn’t…” she had felt weak and didn’t finish her sentence.

Chime quietly placed his hand on Gleam’s forehead. Her head was hotter than an oven. He shook his head and said:

“You have it,” he had said it in a low voice. “It must be from the stress going around in here. I’m sorry it had passed on to you, Gleam.”

Gleam didn’t think that all that paranoia would ruin her. She wasn’t sure if Chime was better yet, either and she let go of Chime’s hand and tried to walk herself to the couch. She couldn’t even do that. She could feel her breathing being extremely labored. It was too hard to try, she felt hopeless and almost stupid.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Chime shouted. “I don’t want you getting pneumonia!”

Gleam stopped in her tracks, realizing that Chime was right. She nodded a tiny bit. “S-sorry…” she said weakly. “S-sorry.”

Chime took Gleam’s hand and lifted her up, placing her on his back. He carefully walked to the couch and placed her on the surface of the cushions. Quickly, he took out the blanket he had given Gleam and spread it over her. Gleam was barely conscious anymore. All the moving made her feel like she was on a sea boat.

“Try not to talk so much,” he said in a lulled voice. “I want you to get some rest. This is all my fault. I caused this, so please.”

Gleam had already been fading in and out of consciousness to begin with. She weakly nodded, quietly falling asleep. Chime breathed a sigh of relief and stared at the clock on the wall. It was already a quarter to one. Time was moving too fast now. It made little sense. Just a little while ago, time was moving slower than a snail. It was now moving quicker than an asteroid about to collide with Earth and then ending the world. Chime didn’t understand time right now. He really didn’t want to, he didn’t even care. He just hoped time would go back to a normal pace soon. It seemed pretty strange that time had felt like it was beginning to go at a different pace all of the sudden.

Chime retired to his room and tried to sleep. It took him hours of attempting, and hours of worrying. It wasn’t until he forced himself to fall asleep that he had finally done so. It would seem even that wouldn’t calm him from his worrying, and nothing would. Before he knew it, a nightmare would torment him. An uninviting death related nightmare. It was what it was, but he would remain locked inside it. Deep inside the nightmare until late afternoon. All the negative feelings were making him have worse problems inside his mind. There was nothing to fear since he was used to it, but it was uncalled for, and he didn’t want to be trapped in his mind when Gleam needed him. That would make him feel useless and pretty much, make the nightmare trap him farther. As the night pressed on, Chime was getting closer and closer to a black hole of dreams.

And people were on the outside of the door, plotting. The group chuckled to one another as they hammered a note onto the door to Chime’s dorm room. After sticking it on perfectly, they backed away from the door silently. Not to be considerate in the slightest, however. They were only being quiet for one reason and one reason alone. If they were to be loud, they would be figured out. The group did a group giggle and ran to the lair of party. Setting up something mean and fierce for the world to see. The world, the whole program would see. The end of a life. It would all go down to a perfect kill. It would be perfect and end the way they want. All they needed to do was stage it. The group did yet another group giggle and started setting up the stage. The stage to kill Gleam Noiyam. It was only the beginning of their fun, and it wasn’t even the time yet.


The rocket of time soared, and it had soon been twelve hours later. Chime had woken up. He tried to be as quiet as possible so that Gleam wouldn’t wake up from loud noises. He quietly opened his drawers and took out clothing to dress in. After dressing, he took out his comb and brushed his luscious silver hair to make it look a little presentable. It was strange getting ready at one in the afternoon. It was even stranger getting dressed when there was nowhere to go. After all the issues he had with learning how to make medicine, he decided to stop going to the library. As much as he wanted to learn how to make medicine and be successful at it, he couldn’t. It was his fault Gleam had gotten ill, and he wasn’t going to allow such to ever happen again. He didn’t want anything worse to happen because of him. His days of learning medicine were now over. They were over so soon. He wasn’t disappointed—he was nowhere near disappointed that he couldn’t continue to learn how to make medicine. He was stopping with it to keep Gleam, as well as himself, safe. He didn’t want Gleam to get anything from him. If keeping her in a healthy state meant stopping something he was dying to master, then Chime didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

Chime then remembered. He had to check up on Gleam. He didn’t forget. He just had what would seem like hundreds and hundreds of other things to do before then. He knew that Gleam came first and his needs were not important right now. Even though what he was doing seemed normal, it only now was looking selfish to him. Chime sighed, very displeased with himself. He started to walk to the couch quietly. It felt like a long mountain to walk around. He wondered why it felt like that. He failed to understand, and he even wondered why human feelings were so complex, a human mind, of all things, it was dreadful. Thinking about it, though, was wasting so much time, and he wasn’t even out of his room yet. He then decided that this was all incredibly stupid and that the stupidity of it was making everything worse. Chime smacked his cheeks with his hands, readying himself to go into the other room right that second.

Chime counted down to three and ran. He slowed down as he came up to the couch to prevent collision. He then saw Gleam sitting up. He then realized that running was pointless. Entirely pointless. He wondered why he ran in the first place—it was a complete mystery. He looked at Gleam’s face and didn’t see anything sickly or any redness on her face. Chime was relieved, but was out of breath for some strange reason. It was strange to him—he hadn’t run far. He looked up and Gleam and finally spoke up.

“How do you feel?” he asked, panting. “You look a lot better today.”

Gleam smiled, wondering why Chime was out of breath. The run from his room to the couch was so small—was his stamina gone now? She guessed it was. It must have been.

“My fever’s gone,” she said. “I must have slept it off.” She then changed her face to a more serious expression. “But what about you? You shouldn’t be so out of breath after running over here. The couch is only a small walk away.” She then changed the tone of her voice to show worry. “Are you okay?”

Chime didn’t know. He had no idea. It didn’t really matter to him if he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want Gleam to anything if had something again. He then had been able to catch his breath, but Gleam was right. He shouldn’t be so out of breath after running to the couch. It must have been his thoughts that had done that. If that were the case, then it was nothing to be concerned about. Or, at least, that’s what he thought at the moment.

“My thoughts were getting in the way,” he said impractically. “I’m fine. It happens sometimes.” He sighed. “I didn’t even know you were awake, so I guess I was pretty anxious.”

Gleam understood it. Anxiety had often gotten in the way. No, it always had gotten in the way. She wondered if she’d start getting more anxious when she becomes a teenager. It wasn’t much of a bad though, but she still wondered. She then remembered her other wonder. What happened with Chime when that medicine failed? She figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“So what exactly were you doing in the library with those medicines?” she asked.

Chime didn’t even have to ponder about Gleam’s question. “Well, I was making medicines,” he explained. “I had to inject myself with tons of non-deadly neurotoxins.” He went on with the explanation. “I’d then make the medicine that could cure them.” After he changed his tone of voice to a more miserable sounding tone. “The last medicine I made failed to work and caused a negative reaction in my body. Crazy contagious side effects, you could say.” He shrugged his shoulders and sighed, finishing off with, “It was a dangerous bargain to begin with. I should have never tried this.”

Gleam was amazed; she was amazed that Chime would do something like that. It was kind of, no, it was extremely dangerous. She knew now why Chime wouldn’t allow her assistance. It was too dangerous. The only thing that worried her more was about the neurotoxins that Chime was using to test out the medicines. Even though he stated they were not deadly, they could have been, and she was wondering why he would take such extreme measures. It made no sense to her in any means possible, and she wanted to put two and two together to figure out why. Nothing she thought up for an answer however, worked, and all the answers she came up with seemed stupid and barely made sense. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask him on her own. It was better than leaving herself in suspense for an answer. She sighed, letting all the answers she had thought up on her own, and allowed them to leave her like a bird leaving the nest when it got older.

“Why do something so dangerous?” she asked. “It’s extreme.”

“To help you, and when we get out of here eventually, other people,” he paused and breathed in. “When they get an illness or pain of any kind.” He smiled. “Making medicine has only interested me recently. I just wanted to learn how.”

A disturbing knock then made itself present. Gleam and Chime looked at each other, clueless. Wondering just who was knocking on the door. Neither of them knew why anyone would knock on the door—it was a strange feeling to both of them. Gleam looked at Chime and he then nodded a little. Chime walked to the door and opened it to notice the inviting lead to nothingness. No human being was present, so that must have been a knock and run or, better yet, something had been left on the door. Chime went on the outside of his dorm room to discover he was right. A note, no, two notes had been left on the door. Chime tore the two notes off the wall and read them carefully.

The first note he had read was obnoxiously bright and written in rainbows. He didn’t know whether to be disgusted or amazed by how much time was put into the note.

The note said, “GLEAM NOIYAM and CHIME NUME, you have been invited to a WINNER’S PARTY in the WEST PARTY HALL on the SECOND FLOOR. Punch will be served.”

The second note was exactly the same and in the same rainbow lettering. It, however, only specified a time.

“Be there at 4:30 PM and don’t be late.”

Chime still didn’t know. He didn’t know if this party was for real or if it were bogus. He then came back inside and walked back to Gleam. He had a puzzled look on his face. Gleam looked at him, very confused. Too confused to get it.

“What do the notes say?” she asked, noticing the notes in his hands. “Are they ransoms?”

Chime changed his expression to that of a dark one. “…A party,” he said quietly. “….We were invited to a party.”

Gleam questioned why anyone would invite Chime and herself to a party. She wondered. Could it have possibly been a trap? It could have been; no doubt about it that it was. A party. A party, of all things. It was strange—and out place. Gleam decided to ask Chime what kind of party it was. It was the only way she’d know if it were for real or not.

“What kind of party does it say it is on the invitation?” she asked.

Chime glared at the note darkly. “A winner’s party, according to the note,” he said. “At 4:30 according to the note.”

Hearing the words winner’s party in a sentence together sounded weird and out of place. Gleam did know, however, that it wouldn’t be polite to turn down and invitation to a party. It would be rude to. Maybe it wasn’t bogus at all—maybe it could have been real. That’s what she wanted to believe. Gleam looked at Chime again quietly, noticing the look on his face.

“We should go,” Gleam said. “Just to be polite.”

“Yeah…” Chime said, with his voice drifting off. “…To be polite.”

“Chime?” Gleam asked. “Is something the matter?”

Chime shook his head. “No. No. Of course not. I’m just uh; well, a little suspicious about this.” He was playing with his hands as he said this. Gleam failed to notice such.

Gleam agreed with Chime’s suspicion, however. She, too, felt the same. She didn’t the sound of this party.

“I don’t like it either,” she said. “But let’s go just to get it over with.”

Chime nodded. “To get it over with,” he repeated.

Gleam and Chime spent the time getting ready. It didn’t matter to them, but at the same time, they wished to be presentable. A party. A winner’s party. Why did such thing exist? Or did it not exist at all? Neither knew. They were about to find out, and one would say, in a rather sinister kind of way. Hell was about to break loose, and it wasn’t going to be alive; it would be a dead hell. A clinically dead hell. It would all make sense when they would get there, and the hell would break loose entirely.


The party hall was yet another lair. Another lair governed by a Sovereign. Possibly. It could have just been hopeless fools. Fools who wanted the body of Gleam Noiyam. The body of the Sovereign of Destruction. The group did a group giggle. While they awaited their guest of honor, they had readied the punch. One of the girls took a bottle of black bottle etched with skulls and cross bones and evilly dumped the contents of it in. They again, laughed and laughed. They were all ready for a single dead body to fall.

The group of eight heard the footsteps. They all coughed and snapped out of their small giggle fest. One of them took the lead to pretend. Pretend to be a good party host. As the footsteps got closer, the group got more excited—excited to make their dream come true. The footsteps them met the host. The host put on a fake hospitable smile. She fake greeted Chime and Gleam as if it mattered to her to seem friendly.

“Welcome to the party!” she said with false excitement. “Join us as we celebrate our winnings!”

Gleam looked at Chime, and Chime stared at the party room. Neither were sure about this party, and they still figured there was a catch of some sort. Gleam and Chime entered the party room to the site of seven people, along with the host in the front made eight. Gleam looked at the small ocean of people and noticed something oddly familiar about what they were wearing. Everything they were wearing was similar. Each member of the group was wearing a dress. It was freaky how they were all wearing the same thing. She wondered what it was with people; always wearing the same clothes like they were in the army.

Gleam sighed, greeting the people. “Hi?” she said with question in her voice. “Nice party?”

Chime also said, “Nice party?”

Neither were sure how to feel about this party. There was a major sense of dread being presented in front of them. Chime, nor Gleam, liked it, but despite that, they started to force themselves to feel festive.

The group smiled insincerely. It was time. Time to bring on a fake party-like atmosphere. All would lead up to the prime time event in the party. All they needed to do was steal Gleam’s awareness. A fun conversation would set the stage for such. Neither were sure who to force to be the conservationist. One of the girls threw one of themselves At Gleam and Chime. She knew what to do. They were all aware.

“So,” she said. “Let us discuss our wins!”

Gleam sweat nervously. She didn’t know why a random discussion were to just be shot off from thing air. It was a hard topic, but the again, it was a winner’s party. It would be an appropriate topic, after all.

Nervously, Gleam answered. “I…beat a girl named Ageless Guiess,” she said flatly. “It was a brutal battle.” Gleam tried not to cry as she said such.

The conversationalist showed fake sympathy. “Aww, poor thing!” she said with fake sympathy again. “You must have barely won, huh?”

Gleam knew that there was something wrong with that sentence. It sounded strange, fake, and completely sarcastic. She had caught onto it, but decided to keep playing along with the game.

“Um,” Gleam said, trying to sound like she was pondering. “Yes.”

The girl pulled out a chair and grabbed her arms. It was time for the main event. She knew that the conversation really wasn’t working, so it was time to just go along with their plan. She looked at her accomplices and her accomplices nodded. The girl gave a quick and evil smile. Clenching her teeth with anticipation.

“Hey!” she said quickly. “Why not sit down?”

“No….I…” she said, waving her hands in rejection. “I can stand!” the anxiety was getting to her. “I can stand.”

The girl let out a maniacal laugh and grabbed Gleam’s arms with her nails. She gripped the arm viciously so Gleam would not be able to let go. The grip was almost insane. It made Gleam feel uncomfortable.

“SIT DOWN!” she shouted.

The girl threw Gleam onto the chair while the other girl handed her a rope. Gleam’s pupils got small as the rope and her eyes met. The girl took the rope and wrapped it around Gleam and the chair. Chime saw what was going on and got enraged by it. He wasn’t going to allow such to continue. Not while he was around, anyway.

“Untie her or we leave,” he said. “Untie Gleam!”

The girl sighed and untied the rope. After undoing her work, she looked at Chime. She knew Chime was going to hinder their process of the perfect and best moment.

“Chime,” the girls said in unison. “Sit down.”

Chime shook his head, not falling for the trap.

“SIT DOWN!” they then shouted. The girls all grabbed Chime by the elbows and did the same exact procedure. They threw Chime in the chair and wrapped the rope around his body and the chair constricting all of his movement. Chime squirmed in the chair, trying to loosen the grip of the rope, but was failing miserably. The grip of the rope was constricting him, and tightly.

With all the distractions out of the way, the girl that was the conversationalist backed away, and another girl came over to Gleam. Narrowing her eyes on the prize: death.

“Now,” the girl said. “Try the punch!”

Gleam noticed the strange tone in her voice. She knew there was something very off about it. She shook her head quickly to emit that she did not want it.

“No,” she said, sweating. “I’ll pass.”

The girl would not take no for an answer. She pointed to two of her accomplices and the two accomplices ran over and harshly pulled Gleam’s arm with an evil grin on their faces. Gleam tried not to scream. She wanted to show she was better than they were. The girls gripped her arms, hoping they would pull the arms out of the sockets. The other girl then came back with a wine glass filled with red punch. She gave her two allies a smile, and they nodded alerting her that they were going to allow her to do the civil duty.

“No?” she said with fake and sarcastic question in her voice. “Sorry! No is not an answer!” she placed one hand around Gleam’s throat and the wine glass underneath her mouth. “Now,” she said. “TRY THE PUNCH!”

The girl took the wine glass and poured the punch down Gleam’s throat, forcing her to drink it. The two other girls let go of Gleam’s arms and ran back to the middle of the room, waiting. Waiting for the real party to start.

Within seconds, their bargain had been answered. Almost like they had asked for it.

Gleam started to feel a sharp pain going through her whole entire body, and it was excruciating. The very excruciating pain started to overtake her. Gleam fell out of the chair, screaming and crying. Her body felt like seven million needles piercing through all her body parts. Even though she screamed her loudest, the pain would not escape her. Gleam tried to stand, but the pain was too much. It was too much for her, and she could feel it getting worse by the second.

Chime, still constricted by the ropes saw what was going on, and he was furious. If he wasn’t tied up in the chair, this wouldn’t have happened. He kept trying to break free from the ropes, but was too infuriated to stay quiet for long.

“What did you put in the drinks?” he shouted. “What did you do to Gleam?” he then raised his voice, struggling and squirming again. “Tell me, you monsters!”

The girl turned her head symbolic to the way Numboil did when he was still living to try to wear Chime down, but it didn’t work.

“Oh, you know,” the girl said stupidly. “Toxins.”

Chime instantly shouted as soon as the word toxin was used. “Give me the antidote!” he cried. “Give me the antidote—now!”

“Why should we?” she said with a fake smile. “Hey! Why don’t you make it?” the girl again darted her eyes at her accomplices, nodding at them. “Cut him loose!”

The girls nodded, removing a sharp butcher knife from their pockets. Like madwomen, they ran to the chair and slashed the ropes until they had been loose. They were going to humor each other by slashing him, but it wasn’t worth it. The girls put the butcher knives back in their pockets. The other girl stretched her hand out, and it glowed an obnoxious white color and from there came a needle and a capsule maker.

“Make the antidote!” they shouted. “But first…” The girl took the needle and jammed it into Chime’s shoulder, smiling idiotically—giving herself away. “Have this neurotoxin!” she cried in a singing voice. “Have a wonderful time as you succumb to its wonders!” she laughed sinisterly.

Chime glared at the girl and then decided to grunt. He took the tool explicitly left out. It was, and could have been, a trap. He quickly created the medicine and antidote, or tried to. The neurotoxin jabbed into his shoulder was starting to take a toll on him. He ignored the pain and did not grab his shoulder. After realizing that the antidote was done, he sprinted over to Gleam who had appeared to be done screaming and crying. Her face was slightly blue—as if she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t. She couldn’t at all. The toxins were almost about to kill her. She was barely conscious—barely alive.

“Hang on, Gleam!” he shouted. “Stay with me! Okay? It’s going to be okay!” he picked Gleam up and held her in his arms. He then turned to the eight girls. “Give me the neurotoxin neutralizer,” he demanded. “Now.”

The girl grunted and threw a needle of neutralizer at Chime. He caught it and injected the neurotoxin neutralizer into his arm. He then looked at the group of girls and glared at them.

“Well?” the girls said. “We gave you what you wanted—so leave our lair!” she came behind him and slammed him on the back, pushing him out of their lair. “Now leave before we poison you again. You know too much. We could kill you for such! If you want to live now, I’d run to save your ass, son!”

Chime grunted and ran to his dorm room at the speed of lightning. When he had reached his room, he quickly opened the door and placed Gleam in a chair. He then, instead of using the medicine he had made up in the lair; he went over to the necessity cabinet and took out a poison neutralizer. He didn’t want to inject the needle into Gleam, but he had to. He closed his eyes as he searched for Gleam’s shoulder, when he found it, the needled poked into her arm, killing the poison coursing through her veins. Her face went from blue to normal within seconds.

Gleam looked at Chime and all she could do was hug him. The tears started to flow like a river, and the river continued to flow from her. A poison that could have killed her—why couldn’t it just have done so?

Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder. It was a revolution. No one was safe. People were so cruel when they wanted a single person gone. He tried to figure out ways to stop the fore coming revolution. He was going to protect Gleam at all costs.

A revolution. A crazy, human revolution. No one would stop until it was over, and perhaps something in the future would end the entire predicament. Chime’s face became expressionless and dark from the thought of another person causing more damage to Gleam.

“Why does it have to be this way?” he said it without emphasis. No emphasis at all. His words were cold.

A revolution and it was just starting. A crazy revolution and it wouldn’t end until would be over. It was ugly and disgusting, and Chime was through with letting the revolution spread.

End of chapter eleven, next to come: where do all the losers end up? Say, good question. Will it be answered?


This chapter took a few days to write because it was insane. @_@
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
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This chapter is rated M. For explicit violence.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 12; Never deny. Even so, hundreds of rumors are suspiciously lied about.

Where was the truth? Gleam wanted to know the truth of it all. The truth of everything. Despite how she already knew the entire program was fake. She felt like there was more being kept secret from everyone. Gleam wished to figure out every single secret of Mariibo Rumaibo. Every single secret. It didn’t help her any not knowing and she was tired of being left to be swallowed by the darkness of the secrets of the program. She didn’t know why she wanted to know so badly. Perhaps it was because she was ignorant, or maybe it was because she was the Sovereign of Destruction. It most likely was the first one. She still refused to believe she was the Sovereign of Destruction. Even if it were the answer. She didn’t care—she refused to believe it was the answer. She constantly wondered in her late night agony how anyone was able to handle being a Sovereign. She wondered how anyone could be so accepting about something like that. Then again, she knew she wasn’t raised as the Sovereign of Destruction. Her parents never raiser her at all. The only raising they did was when she was a baby, and strangely, she remembered the time she was a newborn. They only took care of her until she learned to walk and feed herself. That happened when she was two, and for the next ten years, her parents never looked at her again. Her own parents rejected her, hated her, and most likely wished to never have her in the first place. She knew that was the case and she knew herself that her birth was a fated accident. No matter how negative things would get, however, the one thing that kept her going was the thought of being born with reason—that she isn’t a mistake. She was meant to be on the planet. It was one thought that always kept her afloat. None of the other thoughts that she used to have even existed anymore. Slowly she was sinking in a sea of negative thoughts, and soon, she would lose the one thought that was allowing her sanity to exist. Something sacred—what was something sacred to her? She remembered the day she left for Mariibo Rumaibo that she had nothing but her name to hold sacred. Did that change while she was at the program? She wasn’t sure, and maybe it was best if she was never sure. Her friendship was precious; her friendship was precious, but was it sacred? Not yet. She figured it was precious, but was it sacred? She was confusing herself with both words. Normally, on a bright afternoon, Gleam would be up and about, but Chime had kept insisting that there would be side effects from the antidote within six hours. It had already been six hours, and no side effects made themselves present. Since she wasn’t allowed to leave the couch, she figured it would be best to at least attempt to start a conversation of some sort. It was quiet. Too quiet. Gleam wanted to break the silence, and now.

Chime, on the other hand, had something heavy on his mind. People were out to kill Gleam—out to get her, destroy her, and it didn’t sit right with him. The very thought of people being after her made Chime feel sick to his stomach. He knew what it was like for people to go after him, but he never imagined that someone would be out to get Gleam. It was entirely insane. He couldn’t picture it, and he didn’t want such to be the truth, either. He refused to believe it only because he had to. He had to refuse to believe it. It would be better if people were after him. He thought back to the time when he was Gleam’s age. The time he didn’t want to think back to. He remembered the boys in his neighborhood and the permanent scars left by them. He shook his head and forced himself to stop thinking about it. He then noticed how silent he had been in his dorm room. It seemed Chime had been thinking a little too much. He didn’t even realize how silent he had been. It was an absolutely avoidable circumstance. Absolutely avoidable. He figured it would be best to rip the silence apart by speaking. It only occurred to him now: he knew nothing about Gleam’s family. He could ask about hers, but at the same time, hide the story about his family. It was a sensitive topic. As long as he didn’t have to talk about his family, it would be fine.

Gleam broke the silence. “Chime,” she said. “Let me…”

“If you want to walk, run, exercise, the answer is no,” he forced himself to say. “The side effects could come at any time.”

Gleam wondered what was up with Chime all of the sudden. He seemed to be thinking. She knew he had been. Something was definitely bothering him. She didn’t know what it could have been, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask him.

“Chime,” Gleam said. “Is something bothering you? Anything?”

Gleam discovered. She discovered his inner worries. It shocked him. Even thought it shouldn’t have, it did. More and more, he came to different conclusions; she was getting better at reading faces, she was a master of emotions. It could have been either. He sighed, dissecting the silence.

“Just the past,” he admitted. “It’s nothing, really.” He sighed and focused on the topic he was thinking about. “Gleam, can I ask you something?”

Gleam thought it was strange for Chime to be asking her a question. “Go ahead,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Chime was ready. “Do you know your parent’s names?” the question was embarrassing and as a result, Chime started blushing.

Gleam didn’t know why Chime wanted to know something like that. It was extremely useless information, even to her. Regardless, she answered the question. “Yes,” she said. “Dad’s name was Quantam Noiyam.” She paused to think about her mother’s name. “I think my mom’s name was Moondust Lirust. She kept her maiden name. Despite that I’m still a Noiyam.” She looked at Chime, in question. “Is there any particular reason you want to know any of this?”

Chime started to sweat out of absolute anxiety. “Just wanted to know what your family is like!” he said evasively. “Not really asking to dab into your personal life or anything.”

Gleam felt it again. The feeling. There the feeling was, corroding her. She didn’t know what to call the feeling. She then, scrambled in her mind for one answer. It only came out as a question.

“Is something the matter?” she asked. Even rewording it made her seem like a broken record.

Again, Chime knew Gleam was onto him. The one thing he didn’t want Gleam to know was about his past, and he would hide it as much as he could. The one thing that pained him more than anything was his past. Anything within it as well. He wanted to forget all his memories before he came to the program. No matter how hard he tried, however, none of his memories would ever disappear. He was trapped with his memories until his day of death. He sighed.

“Just the past,” he repeated. “Really, Gleam, that’s all it is.”

Gleam knew there was more to it than that. “You don’t seem like yourself,” she finally said. “I don’t know what’s with you, but I’ll lay off.”

Chime sighed again, knowing nothing at this point would escape Gleam. He decided to go back to the family topic for just a little while. There was nothing better to do, anyway. “Your family,” he began. “How did they treat you?”

Chime was still asking strange questions. Why did he want to know any of this? She sighed and answered, “They never even looked at me or knew I existed.” It wasn’t a lie, but it sounded like one. She was hoping Chime wouldn’t see it to be a lie. From the look on his face, she could tell he thought she was lying.

Chime had seen the watch on Gleam’s wrist before. If what Gleam was saying was the truth, then how did that explain the watch on her wrist? It didn’t. It didn’t at all. He had to admit that to her.

“Then explain that watch on your wrist,” he said. “If your parents don’t even know you exist, how did you get that watch?” he hoped Gleam wasn’t the type to shoplift. Then again, he didn’t think a twelve year old would shoplift anyway.

Gleam lifted her wrist to show her watch. Why Chime was questioning it was beyond her. “You mean this?” she asked. “My…my Uncle sent it to me for my 11th birthday. I haven’t taken it off since.” She smiled. “My Uncle is really nice. He sends me everything I need! He’s the only family member who acknowledges my existence. Mom never mentioned me to anyone, but my Uncle always knew about me.” She sighed, thinking it would have been better to have lived with her Uncle. She didn’t want to say that, but her thoughts and words were not in agreement. “I wished I could have just lived with my Uncle.” She hoped Chime wouldn’t look down on her for thinking something like that.

Chime was jealous. Jealous of how Gleam could so easily talk about her past when he couldn’t talk about his at all. He was almost too jealous, but he wasn’t about to let jealousy get in the way. Jealousy was a disgusting and evil feeling. Chime’s body then took over his instinct, and like an animal, he randomly hugged Gleam. He didn’t know what was with the random hug. His words were all mixed up as well.

“That must have cost a fortune,” he said randomly.

Gleam let go of Chime. She still wondered what was with him. Was he losing his mind? She sighed, hoping that it wasn’t true. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if Chime were to lose his sanity. It was one thing she always knew.

“Go to bed, Chime,” she then said. “You need sleep.” Even though she had no right to say that, she said that anyway. She knew Chime was sleep deprived, and she personally knew it was because of her, too. “Sorry if that was not in my right to say,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it.”

Chime blinked. He knew Gleam was right in every single angle. The part he didn’t want to hear was the apology. There was no apology needed. Why she was apologizing in the first place was beyond him. She didn’t need to apologize.

“No need to apologize,” he said calmly. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

Gleam smiled. That was the Chime she knew. She didn’t say anything else, however, because she couldn’t think of anything. It was getting harder to think of anything to say in a situation like this, she wondered why it was so difficult. Perhaps it had to be that way for now, though. Sometimes, it was just how the world worked for her. To say nothing, to have nothing to say, but she knew that eventually it wouldn’t work like that, and it never did. It never worked like that. Nothing was that easy. If only it could have been. She didn’t always want to have to scramble for words. She always seemed to anyway, so by now, she figured it didn’t even matter.

“I wonder why,” Gleam suddenly said. “I truly wonder why.”

“Hmm?” Chime asked, slightly worried. “What do you mean?”

Gleam shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking.”

Chime knew that wasn’t the case. But he understood how Gleam felt. Words just flowing out. Words one couldn’t control. Words that forced themselves to come alive on their own. He knew that it was possible they were the only two who were like that. Everyone else in the world had it easier on the road of talking. No force was holding them back. They had it easy. Other people could easily talk to anyone as if they were best friends. It was as if the world, sans Gleam and himself, was in a huge worldwide circle, holding their hands tightly, and forming a circle around the world. He tried picturing it, but no pictures he conjured up seemed to give the point he wanted. He shook his head, disregarding the entire thing altogether. Still, everyone else in the world seemed better off. If only it were possible. Perhaps as time would go on, Chime would be able to control the flow of his words. Perhaps Gleam would, too. Chime sighed, trying his hardest to get back to reality. Get off the thinking train. Leave the thought station. He was thinking much too deeply about how easy everyone else had it in terms of speaking. Chime, again, tried to get back to reality. It took him a short while, but he was able to snap out of it. He was surprised with himself that he could.

Gleam looked at Chime. Again, she noticed. Noticed how deeply lost in thought he was. It was so strange for it to be so strangely quiet in the room. It had been quiet since the incident, and Gleam didn’t like it. She didn’t know how to describe it. She couldn’t figure out what to call it. Perhaps the word she was looking for was the atmosphere. Was that the right word? She wondered. She had no idea. She decided to just accept it as the answer.

“Gleam, listen,” Chime said suddenly. “If anyone else tried to hurt or kill you, tell me.” Gleam turned to look at Chime to see a serious look on his face. He continued speaking. “You can always count on me to be here for you.”

Gleam didn’t say anything, and it would be evident that she would have been interrupted even if she had said something. Like earlier, a random and disturbing knock made itself present on the other side of Chime’s dorm room. She wondered if it was another member of the ocean out to get her. It was a possibility, and she knew by now that almost everyone was after her at this point. Since she knew it had to do with her, she attempted to get up to open the door, but Chime glared at her. His glare instantly defeated her.

“No. Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll get the door.”

Chime slowly opened the door, hoping that it would lead to inviting nothingness. He didn’t want there to be anyone at the door. He hoped and pleaded that no one was there. The fear was alive again. The fear was controlling, but he was done allowing the fear to control him. To show fear was lower than him, he opened the door. He closed his eyes, still hoping no one was there. He opened his eyes, irritated that there was no nothingness standing before him, but a young person. A young and tiny boy. What business did this young boy have? Despite his appearance, he knew somehow the boy was after Gleam.

The young boy had cadet blue hair that was slightly bobbed at the end. His eyes were barely visible, the color of ink. The young boy wore a white shirt that had stained splotches of blood on it. They could have just been a design, but he highly doubted it. The boy wore white pants as well, and something about his presence was nice and warm. He swore that if he looked on his back, that he could have had angel wings; that was impossible. The boy was human. The boy looked younger than Gleam, about ten years old, maybe. Chime couldn’t tell. He appeared to be shaky and jumpy—as if someone or something had scared him. Everything about the boy screamed timid. Perhaps he was intimidated by someone to come after Gleam. He wouldn’t be surprised, either. Nothing at this point surprised him. Seeing as the boy seemed to know where Gleam was, he knew that the boy was out to get her. Chime didn’t want business with simplistic morons like that. He said nothing to him, and proceeded to close the door, but the little boy timidly held on.

“W-wait,” he said. “D-don’t slam the d-door on me…” he was shaking like a small dog that he forgot the name of. “I-I’m just here to c-caution you about something!”

Chime covered his eyes with his fingers, shaking his head, annoyed. He must have been one of them. He knew where Gleam was. Why should he listen to someone who is one of them? He couldn’t trust those kinds of people.

Gleam noticed how annoyed Chime seemed by the boy standing at the door. Judging from the way the little boy was acting, she knew that there was nothing suspicious about him. Even though Chime couldn’t trust him, she knew that she could. There was nothing wrong with him: he wasn’t a part of the ocean. The boy seemed to be as much of an outcast as she was. She didn’t know why she felt like that, but she rolled with the feeling.

Chime answered. “Not interested,” he treated the boy as if he were a solicitor, and started to act like he was shooing him away. “Please leave.”

The boy walked closer, still shaking. “P-please hear me out!” he cried. “A-after you let me say what I have to…I’ll skedaddle! P-promise!”

Chime still didn’t believe the boy, and continued to show suspicion. “How do I know you’re not one of them?” he asked. “How do I know you’re not after Gleam?” he asked one more question to balance out his suspicion. “How do we know you’re not working for someone? You obviously know where my dorm room is and that she’s in here.”

The boy showed no understanding of what Chime was even talking about. Still, he was afraid. He was being mixed in with them. Society, the very thing he was afraid of. People. Society. Being mixed up with those scary people. He had gone to every dorm room he could, warning people out of fear to save at least three lives. He had to explain that to Chime.

“N-no!” he said. “R-really. I-I’m just...going to every d-dorm room I c-can to warn everyone!” he was shaking violently, trying to steady his words in the process. “I-I really don’t know of any d-dorm rooms around here! E-except my own…really!”

Gleam finally intervened, wanting Chime to stop. “Chime, let’s here was he has to say,” she said. “He’s not one of the people who’s after me.” She was able to say it, and she meant it.

Chime turned to Gleam. “How can you be so sure of that?”

Gleam smiled. “His eyes,” she said. “They look alive.” She continued to explain. “We can trust him. I trust him, Chime. So, please, listen to what he has to say.” She laughed a small fraction. “Besides, someone this frightened would never have the courage to go after someone.” She was always able to tell the difference. The people out to kill her had dead eyes; no color, no emotion—nothing. It was the same thing with everyone. All dead eyes—always dead eyes. “So please, Chime, let’s hear what he has to say.”

Chime couldn’t argue with Gleam. Even though he didn’t want to trust this boy, he realized Gleam was right. He shrugged his shoulders at it. “Okay,” Chime said to the boy, still suspicious, but hiding it this time. “Go on and tell us what you need to say.”

The boy was relieved. Chime finally agreed to listen. He was still nervous, but kept on trying to calm his nerves. It took him a matter of moments. “Y-you guys have w-won your matches, right?” he asked.

Both Chime and Gleam nodded in response. “Yes,” Chime said. He knew there was more to it, however. “Go on.”

“I-I heard a r-rumor,” he said. “T-that the creator of the program doesn’t kick out the people who lose in their match.” He paused for a second to calm down. “I heard a rumor that the creator of the program kills everyone who loses their assigned matches…”

Gleam could believe it. After learning the program was bogus, she knew. She knew a rumor like this would pop up. She didn’t want to believe the rumor, and she hoped it was false. She wanted it to be false more than anything. Even for a sick and twisted man such as himself, that was going too far.

Chime felt a sort of forced shock overtaking him. He felt sorry for trying to shoo the boy away. He couldn’t think of anything to say. The creator of the program, Ceetos Eetos, killing the losers. Of what reason would he have to do that? Any normal person would be shocked while any sadistic person would love it. Any normal person would want to leave, while any sadistic person would want to watch. The fine line between normal and sadistic was thinning, and it was thinning quickly.

“Thank you for the information,” Chime said quietly. “You keep spreading the word. It helps.” His voice had no expression. The shock of the rumor—it had crawled under his skin like a parasite of some kind. “Sorry for being so suspicious of you.” He finally admitted.

The boy looked at him, shaking again. “H-happy to have been of help,” he said. “H-hope to see you around!”

As he was about to leave, Chime lightly grabbed his arm. For one reason or another, he wanted to know the boy’s name. To get it over with, he breathed in and out. “Wait,” he said. “What’s your name?” it sounded strange to him, but he decided to roll with it.

The boy answered nervously. “Seriphard Duosoard,” he said. “M-My name is Seriphard Duosoard.”

Chime was satisfied with the answer and let go of his arm. As Seriphard ran, Chime closed the door, not looking back at the boy again. He walked over to Gleam, thinking to ask her what she had thought about all of this. He wondered if she was afraid or shocked or both. Personally, Chime hoped the rumor was false. If it wasn’t false, he wouldn’t know what to do. From every angle, if it wasn’t false, one thing Chime would do first was try to find a way to get Gleam and himself out of there. Perhaps after, the two could find a place to call home. He knew Gleam probably wouldn’t’ want to return to her house from what she told him about her family.

Gleam also hoped the rumor was false, and she, even though she personally knew Chime would be against it, wanted to watch a match between two people in hopes that the rumor was false. Even though she personally knew the rumor was true, she hoped it was false. She wanted it to be false.

Gleam turned to Chime. “Let’s…let’s watch a match,” she said. “I want to see if this rumor is true or false.”

Chime wondered if that would be a good idea. He knew of a way to be able to see for sure. To see for sure if the rumor was true—seeing as the creator of the program was supposedly killing the losers, there was a guarantee that the losers were sent to his office. It may be a long shot, however, because it would require making an elixir, and that took a while. Luckily for him, however, he had stored some invisibility elixir in his necessity cabinet in case he would need it in the future. Luck was on his side.

“That’s a great idea, Gleam,” he said. “And I have a way we’ll be able to see without being detected.”

Gleam was fascinated and awestruck. It was interesting. She smiled and said. “Cool!” she swore she could feel a small twinkle in her eyes. “How though?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” he said, excited. “Two words, Gleam: invisibility elixir.”

Gleam’s eyes became small. An elixir. A concentrated chemical. Those all fell under the poison family. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that again, not after being poisoned earlier.

“Elixir…” Gleam said, shaking. She tried not to cry, but tears started to stream down her face anyway. “An elixir...poison…” she didn’t know why it frightened her so much. The memories were still fresh in her mind, so maybe that could have been why.

Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder to attempt to calm her down. It seemed odd, but at the same time, normal for Gleam to be afraid. However, an elixir was not poison, and the effects of an elixir wore off over time. An elixir was not a poison unless turned into one. He knew that better than anyone else.

“It’s not poison, don’t worry,” he said. “I would never give you a poison.” He made his voice serious to show Gleam he was absolutely sincere when he had said it. “I have some invisibility elixir in my necessity cabinet. I’ll go get it to show you it.”

Gleam understood now. The difference between elixirs and poisons. She nodded to show Chime she understood now.

Chime proceeded to his necessity cabinet and remove two small bottles of a black substance from the cabinet. He closed the small door and returned to Gleam’s side and showed her the elixir. He handed one of the bottles to Gleam. Gleam slowly took the bottle, reluctant to take it.

“When it’s time to drink the elixir, only drink two drops,” Chime explained sternly. “Drink the whole thing and it could actually poison you.” He wanted to leave that part out, but it was information he couldn’t leave out.

Gleam would be sure to remember to only drink two drops. Only a stupid, curious or suicidal person would drink more than one or two drops of an elixir. She didn’t want to risk having too much concentrated substance in her body.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” she said, smiling. “So, you ready to go now?” she turned to Chime.

Chime laughed a tiny bit. “Hey, hey, patience,” he said jokingly. “I’m ready. Come on.” Chime held out his hand, and Gleam reached for it. They shouldn’t have been so happy. It was inhumane. Chime held Gleam’s hand and the exited his dorm room. They headed for the stadium bleachers, hoping the rumor was still false.


Luckily for Gleam and Chime, they had arrived at a perfect time. A battle had been scheduled for that time. They didn’t know if it were fate or sheer luck, but either way, it worked out in their favor.

On the battlefield appeared to be two teenage girls. Both had been on opposite sides of the marble field. The girl on the left had extremely short, artist like hair. Everything about her pointed to her being an artist. Her hair was violet and had two barrettes constricted inside. In her hand was a huge paintbrush. It was obviously her magic tool. The girl had an extremely confident look on her face. She knew she could win the battle in five shots or less, and she was confident it would be that simple.

The girl on the right, however, had long hair that went down to about her knees. Her hair was the color of eggshells. Pure white and very precious looking hair. She wore a brown dress the color of chicken eggs; everything about her was pointing to eggs and eggshells. Unlike the girl she was facing, this girl was not confident. She knew her power was useless, and she felt like she had no right to be in the program. Someone with a pathetic power like hers. She gulped as she heard the footsteps of the referee coming closer.

The man walked on stage dressed up in a dark red suit. It was barely noticeable, unlike the last suit he had on last time. He grabbed the whistle around his neck and blew into it to speak the rules of the match.

“First person to knock the other to 1HP wins…begin!” he pointed to the board above him. The board showcased pictures of the two girls, who were named Style Magle and Eggshell Corsell. Under the rectangular picture appeared two rectangular bars. Further underneath there were numbers that read 1,000 by 1,000. The girl on the right, Eggshell, showed a shy, and frightened demeanor. She couldn’t hide it.

“I never thought we’d have to battle,” Style said. “Then again, you always were the scaredy cat.” She artistically brushed her hand out. “But, hey, it’s cool; I’ll go easy on you.”

Eggshell blushed in embarrassment. Style was calling out their friendship to the entire audience. She shouldn’t have done it.

“No…” she said softly. “Don’t go easy on me, Style. Give it all you got.”

She started laughing, holding her sides. “If you say so!” she cried in between laughs. “Enough chatter, let’s to battling already, pal. It’s what we always dreamed of doing!”

The two had always known each other. Probably even before they were born. They both believed in previous lives—they always believed those tales.

Style smiled and placed the paintbrush she had in her hands in a painting position, as the battlefield came in contact with the huge paintbrush, it started to glimmer a blinding light. The light died down, and on the paintbrush appeared reddish brown paint. Style picked up and turned around the paintbrush, pointing it in Eggshell’s direction. Like a gun, Style shot out splotches of reddish brown paint. Like lightning, the paint travelled and hit Eggshell. The paint had become dirt and red dust. The dust gathered and got to Eggshell’s lungs. It hurt to breathe, and Eggshell knew she was going to lose. Eggshell let out a hoarse scream, even though she shouldn’t have. The crowd of people just watched as she was hysterically shouting.

Eggshell calmed down and prepared her attack. Eggshell clapped her palms and stretched her arms out, clasping them together. On the other side of the battlefield appeared eggshells. The eggshells also appeared under Style’s feet, forcing her to flinch. The attack, however, didn’t do much. It was a mere entry hazard. Egg Incubation Manifestation Magic was always weak unless it was done properly. She knew Style’s magic was Paint Cluster Magic, and a powerful form of it, too. Eggshell stood no chance; she knew it wouldn’t end well.

The board confirmed both attacks. The board now read that Style had 900 HP and Eggshell had 721 HP. Even though it was a battle, the two were having extreme fun. Their dream was to one day battle, and it had now come true.

“Style,” Eggshell said. “This is fun…” she was shy about it because she was calling out their friendship by accident.

Style laughed. “You bet it’s fun,” she said. “Let us continue.”

They both put on serious faces and focused on the battle. Style lifted up her paintbrush and then placed it in a painting position. The brush started catching fire and flames had then surrounded Style. The fire around her stopped flaming violently and went inside the paintbrush, placing it in a horizontal position. The fire poured out of the paintbrush and surrounded Eggshell, burning her feet and scorching her. She could feel the fire start to consume her, but she ignored it and started her attack.

Eggshell slapped her wrist. After, she formed her hands into that of a beggar, and within her hands formed a small egg. Within moments, the egg had shown signs of hatching. The egg had more cracks until all the cracks were revealing a tiny yellow bird with a fire tail. The bird cheeped and waited for Eggshell’s command. She pointed to Style, and the bird hopped over to Style, using the fire on its tail to burn the battlefield. The field was covered with smoke and flames. The flames were close to Style, burning her, and some of the smoke started to suffice in her lungs. The bird stopped burning the battlefield and hopped back to Eggshell, cheeping. The bird perched itself on Eggshell’s shoulder, innocent as ever.

The board confirmed the attack. Both Style and Eggshell had about 305 HP. Both were even. Both had prepared to be even at some point. Even though being dead even was a huge risk, neither girl seemed to care. They were floaty and lost in the dream of their battle. They smiled, but went back to focusing on their battle. There wasn’t much time left—damage would take huge tolls on them.

“Last fling,” Style said. “You ready, Eggshell?”

Eggshell smiled. “Ready when you are,” she said, happily. “Last fling!”

Both started to form their attacks at the same time. Style placed her paintbrush in a painting position. The paintbrush started getting cold, like it was getting frostbite. The brush had an icy steam about it—it was not a solid ice, but a gas kind of ice. Ice that could rip your skin off. Eggshell pointed her finger to the sky and was spinning in a circle. An egg with a stick of dynamite appeared in her hands as she stopped spinning. While the dry ice surrounded Eggshell, the egg bomb had been thrown at Style. The egg bomb blew up while the dry ice touched Eggshell’s skin, eroding it off. The blast of the egg bomb ended, and the dry ice had disappeared. Eggshell fell to her knees, crying with a smile on her face, knowing that Style won.

The board confirmed the attacks. Eggshell was right. Style had won. The board now read that Style had 3HP and that Eggshell had 1HP. It was a mere two point difference. On the stage appeared the man from before. He rose Style’s hand above her head, symbolizing she had won.

“The winner is Style Magle!”

The crowd cheered for Style. Eggshell was standing there, crying tears of joy. She figured it was time to congratulate her friend before being kicked out. She ran to Style’s side, despite all her battle pains.

“Congratulations, Style!” she cried, happily. “I’m proud of you! This battle was fun!”

Style sheepishly smiled. “It was a great battle,” she said. “I’m so glad I battled you! I’ll win for both of us now until I’m kicked out.”

Eggshell liked the sound of that. “I’ll cheer for back at home!” she said excitably. “I love you, Style!”

Style stretched her arms out to hug her best friend. The audience awed. “I love you, too,” she said. “I’m so glad I came here with you.”

Everyone left the stadium except for Chime, Gleam, the referee and Eggshell, who was told to stay put. The man looked at her, and said, “Go to the creator’s office,” he stated. “You have lost, so he will give you the procedure of leaving the program.”

Gleam and Chime hid on the stadium floor, listening. It was time to use the invisibility elixir. Chime looked at Gleam and put his voice in a whisper.

“Now,” Chime whispered. “We drink the elixir. The effects will last two hours, so we have to be quick.”

Gleam nodded and opened the bottle of black elixir. She carefully poured two drops into the cap and drank the two drops, and Chime did the same. For a second, Gleam felt like she was disappearing. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange. Within a matter of moments, Chime was a ghostly outline, and so was Gleam. Gleam frowned, thinking it didn’t work.

“Did it work?” Gleam whispered. “I can see you still.”

Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder again. Two times in one day. “You can see me,” he whispered. “But no one should be able to! We’re like ghosts.”

While whispering, Eggshell was being escorted to the creator’s office. Gleam and Chime jumped off the ledge and followed her from behind. Eggshell wasn’t sure what to be feeling, but she was satisfied. She had her dream fulfilled, and she couldn’t ask for anything more. When she makes it home, she thought about what new dreams she should start pursuing. A new dream, something new to begin. She was still unsure that would be, but she knew she had an endless amount of possibilities. The referee smirked to himself, knowing the loser had many new dreams in her mind. He already knew what was next to come, and was satisfied about his usefulness to Ceetos. He stopped walking and had come upon the location.

The man put on a fake smile, and acted all fake. “Here we are,” he said. “I’ll walk you in.”

Eggshell agreed, knowing this was how it had to be. “Okay!” she said, following the man in. Gleam and Chime followed Eggshell.

The inside of the office looked like a prime minister or president office. A lot of time had been put into building the creator’s office, it seems. Gleam and Chime put themselves against the wall to watch the event unfold in the corner. Both gulped, hoping the rumor was false and that the girl was only being kicked out. They both hoped it wasn’t true. Quietly, they watched as Eggshell took a seat.

“So you lost,” Ceetos said. “Shame, shame! Such a shame!” he smiled obnoxiously and almost ferociously. While smiling obnoxiously, he was appearing to play with his tie. From the tie, while playing with it, a switchblade had appeared. Ceetos had a switchblade hidden in his tie the entire time, but Eggshell didn’t notice. “I have to kick you out now!” he was saying this sporadically, as usual, the man was being sporadic.

Eggshell was not suspicious about the creator’s tone or behavior. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m aware.”

Ceetos gave a strange grin. “So you’re ready to be kicked out,” he said. “Okay then! Okay then!” he walked behind Eggshell and placed the switchblade on her shoulder, preparing to “kick Eggshell out of the program.”

Gleam and Chime cringed. The rumor—the rumor was looking true. Gleam and Chime started to get this horrified feeling. Something wasn’t right. The rumor. The rumor was looking true, and neither Gleam nor Chime were prepared for the truth. The switchblade got closer to Eggshell, about to rip her open. The rumor was looking true, and the truth was mortifying.

End of chapter twelve, next to come: bloody shoulders, how they rain violently. Telling society? Good luck with telling the ocean.


You know you got a bad feeling about this. Sorry if this was an expected twist.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated M. Explicit gore warning in effect.

I have not edited the typos yet. If I have any, they will be edited when I find them. I wrote this today and posted it on another site today as well.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 13; It’s raining shoulders! Bloody, bloody shoulders.

Death was coming, and it was creeping up slowly. Death was surrounding the girl Eggshell, and just watching the event about to unfold was gruesome. While against the wall, Gleam pulled down on her shirt, scared for what might come. Gleam couldn’t imagine it. She couldn’t imagine what might happen. One way or another, it mattered none. Death was coming. It was coming swiftly. Death was emerging in the most likely of places. Evidentially, Gleam was paranoid by the emergence of death. It was mortifying. More mortifying than the rumor. The rumor was looking absolutely true. With the rumor being so close to being true, Gleam was beginning to plan her escape from the program. Every place had an escape route, every fence had a hole or two and every rule had a loophole. Gleam was determined to find a way to get herself, as well as Chime, out of this torturous program. She would find a new place to get away from it all, a new place to start everything anew. It could be something like a hole in the ground for all she cared. Anything beat being with the ocean. Anything was better than returning back home as well. She had no reason to go back there. She left there for the rest of her life. Going back there would be turning back, and turning back was cowardly. She knew for a fact, however, that she wasn’t welcome at her former home. Even if she wanted to go back, she wouldn’t be able to; her parents would creek the door open when she knocked, and would then violently slam it, triple locking the front door. She knew better than anyone—she knew the truth. She didn’t belong. She didn’t belong with the ocean, she didn’t belong at Mariibo Rumaibo, she didn’t belong at home; she didn’t belong anywhere. She had no place to belong. Nowhere was any different; wherever there were people, there was evil. It was useless to think anywhere would be any different anywhere she would go. She knew she was foolish to think she belonged in this program, but it was already too late. It was too late to change anything, and it was too late for her to go back in time and erase her mistakes. All and all, there was no going back. The present was inevitable.

Ceetos gave a huge grin. There was absolutely no time left for this girl to live. The girl lost, and her disgusting pure presence was soiling his office. The girl wasn’t even suspicious, she was so accepting; that made it easy on him. Easier to have someone so blindingly accepting.

“Nice knowing you,” he said under his breath.

Eggshell somewhat heard that remark. “Huh?” she asked. “What did you say?” she was completely unaware that Ceetos was standing behind her with a switchblade on her shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing!” he said sporadically. “Just sit and relax, relax, young lady.”

The girl foolishly smiled. “Okay,” she said lightly and accepting.

Ceetos changed his grin to a smirk. He heard the word he wanted to hear. He heard it. He heard the word okay. That was his cue to begin. Ceetos reconfirmed the feeling of the switchblade in his hand. He took the switchblade and thoughtlessly began. The switchblade and Eggshell’s shoulder met. Eggshell, however, still wasn’t suspicious. The switchblade was then serving its purpose. Ceetos took the switchblade, and violently started slashing the shoulder. He wouldn’t stop until he could hear the blood and see the blood on the blade. He kept slashing and cutting the loser’s shoulder. Eventually, the job was done, and he put the switchblade back in his tie. He went back to his chair and waited patiently for his favorite part. He drummed his fingers, and waited. Then the time came. The smirk on his face returned. Eggshell’s shoulder was no longer a shoulder. It was a bloody half shoulder. A shoulder cut in half perfectly by a switchblade. The shoulder was cut right in half. Within seconds, Eggshell began to bleed out as her arm was falling and sliding off her body. Such precision. It was a perfect slash. A perfect slash. As her blood poured onto the floor, Ceetos smiled. The pain it brought him to wait was over.

Gleam watched as Eggshell’s arms slid off in horror. Chime took his hand and covered Gleam’s eyes. He didn’t want Gleam to witness this horror, and neither did he.

“No! Don’t look!” Chime said, accidentally shouting. “Don’t look!”

Gleam removed Chime’s hand and placed her own hand on her face. The scene was gruesome and morbid. She did not want to look. There was no way she could.

As more blood began to poor out, Eggshell started to scream from the pain. The pain was not human. The pain was barely human. Eggshell grabbed her bleeding half arm hoping it would stop bleeding, but it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. Grabbing the arm, half arm, rather, took the last bit of her strength. Eggshell could feel her heart begin to stop. Her vision became black; she could see nothing any longer. Eggshell’s body was lifeless and still, like a still life figure.

Gleam removed her hand from her face, shocked beyond belief. Below on the floor was a pool of blood. The blood was decorating the floor graciously. Gleam would have screamed, but she didn’t want to be discovered even if she were invisible. Gleam tugged on Chime’s shirt weakly to get his attention right away.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gleam whispered. “I don’t want to stick around in here.”

Chime nodded and grabbed Gleam’s hand. He took himself and Gleam out of the creator’s office steadfastly. As they ran, both of them had become visible. The effect of the elixir ended early due to the shock. After getting to a hallway near Chime’s dorm room, he stopped running, completely out of breath. Chime let go of Gleam’s hand and was panting like a dog, holding his knees. Never before in his life had he ever had to run that fast before. He never thought he would have had to.

Gleam could feel the tears stream down her face. Like a faucet the tears poured out of her. The tears burned like crazy, but she couldn’t stop them. The scene of blood was permanently etched into her mind, and there was nothing she could do to get it out of her head. She grabbed Chime’s slightly and started to hug him. Chime tried to comfort her as she got into the extreme hysterics of crying.

“What are we going to do now, Chime?” she asked. Her question sounded hoarse from the tears. “What are we going to do now?”

Chime had absolutely no idea. He had no idea what to do. The image had been burned into his brain forevermore. He didn’t know what to do. There was no way he’d be able to figure that out. Running away was most certainly out of the question. Whatever the reason, he just didn’t know. Nothing came to him. His mind was blanker than someone with a coma. He shook his head.

“I…I don’t know,” Chime said. “I’m sorry, Gleam.”

Gleam started trying to think of something instead, but her mind was filled with the event and nothing else. Nothing came to her. She tried to think of something, anything, but nothing came. She couldn’t get a peace of mind. She had no peace of mind, and it made her want to scream her head off her body.

“I can’t think of anything either,” she admitted. “I wish I was useful.”

Then it came to him. Chime figured it out. He didn’t know how it came to him, but and idea hatched inside his mind. The hatched idea started to form. He had a major idea, but he knew it wasn’t a very good one. Maybe, just maybe, if he and Gleam told them, society, the creator’s true intentions, it would scare them into leaving Gleam alone. Before telling them, he and Gleam would have to find the girl who won the battle. The girl would have to be the first to know, after all. Hopefully the girl wasn’t violent and like the rest of the people in the program. He pleaded and hoped that there was at least one sane person. He knew the plan would be perfect. He knew it would all work out in his favor. Telling society. Telling them. Maybe it was a good idea. Perhaps it was the best idea he had ever come up with. He didn’t know how to put his idea into words, however. He figured that if he tried harder, the words would form. Words formed eventually. It was in a matter of seconds, yet it felt like hours.

“We tell them,” Chime said. “We have to tell them.”

Gleam turned to the wall. She didn’t want to believe what Chime said. She didn’t want to believe his words to be the truth. Tell them? Tell the ocean? Gleam wondered what that would even do. What would telling the ocean accomplish? She knew that if they even tried to tell them, they wouldn’t listen. Nobody would listen to her. No one would listen to the Sovereign of Destruction. She knew that and despite her disbelief, she knew telling anyone would be a wild ball game. Wondering further, she knew maybe, just maybe, they would listen to Chime. Chime was entirely human. No one would listen to her, but she knew better than anyone—they would listen to him. She sighed, knowing that thinking about it was a lost cause.

“We can’t,” Gleam said. “We can’t tell them.” Gleam couldn’t believe what she just said. She shook her head. “Why do we have to?”

Chime gave Gleam a dark expression. “Sorry Gleam,” he said. “We have to. We have to tell all of them.” He gave her glassy eyes. He wanted to show her he was serious, but he could only give her a dead look. “We have to tell society that they’re at risk.”

Gleam couldn’t. She still couldn’t agree. There wasn’t any possible way she could. Chime didn’t realize. He didn’t realize how dangerous it would be. The danger it would bring. Did he even have any awareness of what could happen? Perhaps he was thinking that telling them would end their attempts to kill her. Despite knowing that, nothing would end that. She started forcing herself to believe it. She started forcing herself to agree to Chime’s idea. She hated disagreeing. It took up far too much time and way too much energy. Pretending to agree, however, took even more energy.

She sighed, scrambling for words. “Okay,” she said. “I guess we do have to tell them.” She looked at Chime crucially. “Maybe everyone will change their ways once they are told their days are numbered here.” She shrugged her shoulders, somewhat agreeing to her pretend agreement. “I really do hope this works.” By now, she knew it wouldn’t work, and why would it? One thing she had learned is that people don’t listen. Nobody ever does.

Chime scoured the area with his head. The conversation was kind of getting private. He didn’t realize how long they had been standing in the hallway. He wondered if anyone heard their conversation. Then again, they weren’t being loud, but there were always those nosy eavesdroppers who listen in the corner. People were sneaky like that, and Chime didn’t want anyone else to hear the conversation. He looked at Gleam.

“We shouldn’t stand here and talk about this in public,” he said.

Gleam nodded. “You’re right. We should go to your dorm room and discuss this,” she said automatically. “You never know who might be listening to us.”

Chime nodded. Both of them proceeded to his dorm room and quickly. There wasn’t much time. There was barely any time to discuss what the two of them were going to do. They had an hour to get it over with. An hour. No more time could be wasted. As the two made it to his dorm room, Chime removed the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. As they proceeded to the inside of his room, they headed for the table. They took out two chairs and sat down. They were going to discuss now. An hour to discuss. One shallow hour to decide everything they are going to do.

“First we have to tell the girl’s friend,” Chime explained. “Alone.”

Gleam knew that was the right thing to do. She knew the girl Style had the right to know before anyone else. Maybe she’d listen to Chime and not start anything. The paintbrush she had was a powerful weapon and could easily kill someone when not on the battlefield. How would one interact if they learned their best friend was brutally murdered? Judging from what she knew about the ocean, one thing is for sure is that she would show no sympathy or sorrow. None of the members of the ocean seemed to have any regard for other’s lives. For all she knew, she could have been faking the entire friendship with Eggshell. Still, it was the right thing to do, even if the girl was possibly faking the entire friendship. She shook her head at the thought. She knew better. She was wrong to think that. It was disgustingly inhuman to even consider that as a fact. She disregarded the entire thought and forced herself to think something else. She then wanted to know how they were going to do this. Neither she nor Chime even knew where this girl would be right now. It baffled her that they might have to search for her.

“But how are we going to do that?” she inquired. “We don’t even know where she is.”

Chime wagged his finger. He had his way around everything. He even knew how to get around the things he didn’t know. Despite his misbelief, he did know. Chime rummaged through his pockets until he came across a brochure of some sort. On the outside, there were words printed on it. The words were faded and barely legible, but if one knew how to read illegible writing, it was Chime. The cover read “dorm room locations and owners” from what he inquired. He opened the brochure and pointed to a number in the 300s. The number was slightly visible and underneath the number was Style’s name. He handed the brochure to Gleam and started to explain, pointing to the name and number.

“We’ll go to her dorm room,” he explained. “I know it’s not visible, but her room is 381. Nine doors down from us.” He took the brochure back from Gleam and placed it into his pocket. He explained further. “We have to tell her what happened in the nicest way we can.” He then gave Gleam a stern look to remind her of what he didn’t want to hear from her when they tell Style. “And I don’t want to hear you lie or sugarcoat anything. Tell only the truth.” He then finished his sentence off. “Are we clear on the procedure?”

Gleam was clear on the situation. She was to tell the truth. She was to sugarcoat nothing. She wasn’t going to lie or sugarcoat anything, anyway. There was no way to sugarcoat something of that sort, anyway. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m clear.”

Chime was pleased to hear those words from her. He smiled and then started to explain the next part of the procedure.

“Right, very good choice,” he said, praising her. “Now I’m going to explain the next part.” He turned to Gleam to make sure she was listening. From the looks of it to him, she was. “After we tell Style what happened, we head for the auditorium and get on stage.” He thought that sounded choppy, but it was far from it. He continued with the explanation. “Sometimes they host random rallies in the auditorium. There’s one going on in two hours. We’ll host it this time.” He looked at Gleam and said one last thing before getting ready to leave. “I looked into this awhile ago. It works out perfectly. Now, let’s go to Style’s room.” He waited for Gleam to answer. He was hoping she was fine with the procedure he decided upon.
Gleam emerged from the chair and smiled. “I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Chime rose from his chair as well. “Then we’ll go now,” he said. “Remember to not lie or sugarcoat anything. Tell only the truth.”

“I’ll remember,” she assured him. Gleam looked at Chime in hopes that he believed her. The look on his face told her that he wasn’t sure on the matter. She tried again. “Chime! Really! I’ll remember not to sugarcoat and lie to Style! I’ll remember. I promise!”

Chime gave her a short look. “Good,” he said. “If you can remember that, it’s all good.” He smiled at her and patted her on the head rather than the shoulder. “Sugarcoat and lie and I’ll get mad at you.” He wouldn’t get mad at her, and he personally knew that. He could never get mad at Gleam. He didn’t even know why he said that in the first place; the words formed on their own.

Gleam noticed the last sentence and was frightened by it. “M-mad at me?” she asked. “O-okay! I promise not to forget.”

Chime gave a stupid grin. He found it adorable the way Gleam reacted to his words. “I was teasing,” he said. “Don’t worry; I’ll never be mad at you.”

Gleam was able to crack a small giggle. She knew the giggle was disgusting and out of place for a situation such as this one, but she couldn’t help herself.

“You’re just saying that,” she said happily. “That’s not really possible.”

“I can make it possible,” he said warmly. “Now, we really need to get going.”

Gleam nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “We really do.”

Chime and Gleam left the dorm room and started walking—hands in their pocket. Neither were prepared to tell the girl the truth, but they had to. They had to now.


Room 381 looked like any normal room on the outside. Seeing as the room looked normal on the outside it had to be normal on the inside as well. It could have been, seeing as the dorm seemed normal, Chime came to the conclusion that this Style had to be a normal human being. He was still worried, however, that this Style girl was dangerous and one of them. With that on his mind, he couldn’t knock on the door. He couldn’t knock. He was frightened. He thought if he knocked on the door, the girl would viciously respond. She would respond like a viper. He saw himself to be a pathetic little boy. Not even able to knock on a door. It was pathetic and he was a pathetic excuse for a teenager. Too scared to knock on the door of a teenage girl. The withdrawal was receding, and even then he couldn’t knock.

Gleam noticed. She noticed how Chime froze. She guessed it was because it was because there was a girl on the other side of the door. She remembered how nervous he was around her when they first met. Essentially, it was exactly the same situation. Gleam decided there wasn’t any time to waste, and knocked on the door for Chime. Gleam knew it would be rude not to say who was on the other side of the door, so she spoke.

“Excuse us,” Gleam said. “Please open the door. We need to talk to you!” she could feel sweat trickle down. She wiped off the sweat before she continued. “We’re Chime Nume and Gleam Noiyam, and we request to speak to you!” the words seemed to reach Style, and quietly, the door creaked open.

Gleam backed away to prevent collision with the door, or, worse yet, with Style. She didn’t want to collide with anyone. She never wanted that to happen again.

Style swung the door open all of the way. She took a look at the two standing before her. She had no idea why the two were outside her dorm room. Were they here to steal her paintbrush? Take away her magic tool? She hoped that was not the case; she was allowed to have the paintbrush according to the rules, and if they were to take that from her she’d have no reason for being. She looked at Gleam expansively, noticing her gold hair and red eyes. After thinking about it, she knew she recognized the two from earlier. She especially remembered Gleam. He best friend made comments on how cute she was when she battled that alliteration rainbow haired girl. She would never forget something when Eggshell was with her.

Style gave Gleam a grin. “Hey!” she shouted. “You’re that cute girl who battled that rainbow head!” she then turned to Chime, whom was looking away. “And you’re the boy who circled around her!” she giggled a little. “Eggshell noticed how cute you two were. You must be really close!” she then changed her expression because she knew they were there for a reason. “I suppose you’re here to talk to me about Eggshell, though,” she said. “Come inside, you two.”

Chime turned around and headed inside behind Gleam. He examined the dorm room quietly and noticed it looked like a normal dorm room. He didn’t know why, but he thought it wouldn’t be like that. He thought it would be darker and much more grotesque, but it wasn’t. It was nothing like that. It was normal and completely human. The only difference was that she had paintbrushes hung up on the wall. Chime gave up on trying to find evidence that she was one of them right there. From every angle, he knew she couldn’t be.

Style pulled out the leg chairs from the recliners in her dorm. She motioned her hand and asked Chime and Gleam to sit in her reclining chairs. They did, but had no intentions of getting comfortable.

“So,” Style said in a serious tone. “This is about Eggshell, isn’t it?”

Chime looked at Gleam. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t know how to respond. This was only his second encounter with a girl in a normal manner. He didn’t know what to say. Thinking of Style as a girl Gleam’s age wasn’t working, either. He couldn’t. Words wouldn’t form. He looked at Gleam again and tried to imagine he was talking to Gleam rather than Style, but the attempt failed. His vocal cords were frozen. Locked. Constricted. He couldn’t say anything—anything at all.

Gleam spoke up since Chime was suddenly quiet. “Yeah,” Gleam said quietly. “It’s about Eggshell.”

Style frowned. She knew it wasn’t going to be good news. “What happened?” she asked.

Gleam tried to think of the best way to put it without lying or sugarcoating it. She couldn’t think of anything, but she had to. If she froze up as well, then she would be useless. She breathed a sigh and rolled with whatever words formed first.

“She…she was murdered,” Gleam explained. “I know, I was there. The creator, he…cut her shoulder off…and she bled to death as her arm came off her body.” Gleam felt nauseous, like she was about to vomit. The scene was coming back into her mind and she didn’t want to see it replay in her head. It was too much for her to bear. “He doesn’t care about anyone… he’s evil.”

Style looked at Gleam, worried. She was looking slightly pale after talking to her about what happened. Before she could tackle what she said, she needed to help her. “Hey, you okay?” she asked. “You need water! I’ll get you some.” She ran into her kitchen and ran the faucet. As soon as the cup she took out was half full, she handed it to Gleam. She drank the water quickly and looked at Style. Style was pondering. She believed her. She wasn’t shocked in the slightest. She had a sick feeling before the battle that this would happen. It was hard to deal with the loss, but she had to be strong. Despite that, she could feel tears gently stain her face. She couldn’t stop the tears. “Eggshell, you know, I should have tried to tie,” she said to herself. “I knew this would happen. You’re too sweet and trusting of others.” She wiped away her tears and looked at Gleam. One thing she hoped was that she wasn’t judging her.

“You must have really loved her,” Gleam said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Style smiled. “She’s in a better place now,” she said. She wiped the smiled off her face. “You had more to say though, right?”

Gleam nodded. “Yeah,” she replied. “The creator…he kills all the losers. It’s not a joke, he really does.” She could feel tears start to form again, but she controlled herself. “The truth hurts.”

“It really does,” Style echoed. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It must have been horrible.”

Gleam nodded instantly. Something about this girl felt familiar. She was almost like a female Chime. Almost, but not quite. Everything about her was like Chime except for a few differences.

“It was most horrifying thing I have ever seen,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

Style felt the need to pat Gleam. She walked to her and patted her on the back. She smiled. “You’re a good kid,” she admitted. “Thank you for tell me all this.” She looked at Chime who looked extremely anxious. Seeing that, she knew it was time to let the two of them go. “Well, I think you should go now. Your guy pal isn’t looking to comfortable.”

Gleam looked at Chime. She noticed how uncomfortable he looked. She couldn’t deny that Style was right.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I guess we should go.” Chime heard Gleam and stood up. Gleam stood up as well and headed for the door. As she opened it, she waved goodbye to Style. “Nice meeting you,” she beamed. “Thank you for listening.”

Style grinned. “Any time!” she exclaimed. “You can come here anytime you want. I’ll be here.”

“Okay,” Gleam said. “Thanks, bye.” She closed the door behind her and went over to the wall. Chime followed.

Chime was proud of Gleam. More proud than he ever was of her before. She didn’t lie or sugarcoat. She told the entire truth like he told her, and he couldn’t be more proud of her.

“You did a wonderful job, Gleam,” he said. “I hope that you do just as well when we tell them at the random rally.”

Gleam clapped her hands. She was relieved. Relieved she had done a good thing this time. She was always getting into trouble, and she was sick of that happening. “I’ll try to!” she cried. “I’ll try my hardest.”

Chime was glad to hear her say that. “Well, goo,’ he said. “Let’s head for the auditorium before our spot is taken.”

Gleam nodded. The two started walking again, and quickly. The random rally wasn’t going to wait for them. Nothing would wait for anybody.


The stage was insane and large. Larger than life. Gleam never thought that she would have to be up on stage. It was her only attempt she will ever make. She knew going up in front of the ocean only spelled disaster. Even though Chime was on stage with her, she knew something would happen, and hoped that nothing would happen. Hopefully no one would do anything. She couldn’t be able to dodge any barrages, and she knew Chime might not be able to protect her. Amongst her, the ocean was staring at her, mumbling loudly. They had no intentions of listening to this girl. They were aware of her identity. They held their weapons tightly and waited for the perfect moment to strike.

Chime went up to the microphone and started to speak about why the two of them were up there.

“H-hello,” he said in a nervous tone. “We’re here to warn and tell you something important. Please bear with us through this random rally.”

The audience waited. Waited for Gleam to speak so they could destroy her. Waiting was colossal and crucial. If they destroyed her right away, that would be suspicious. They’d wait. Wait until she would get worked up. The more worked up they make her; the easier they could claim her lifeless body. Anxiously, the audience waited. Waited for perfection.

Chime looked at Gleam. Gleam was ready to tell the ocean. She would tell the ocean and she would hopefully be able to get them to leave her alone for a while. She nodded at Chime, alerting him that she was ready. Chime handed her the microphone and she began her speech.

“Thank you for coming,” Gleam said. “Please bear with me for about five minutes.”

The ocean started getting loud. Their first attempt to instigate Gleam had begun. They kept getting louder. The ocean was starting to hit shore. The wave was crashing, like a tidal wave.

Gleam banged the microphone to make it screech. The screech was as loud as nails scratching on a green board. The ocean instantly shut up, angered by their failed attempt to instigate Gleam. They decided to wait. Wait until she said for them to listen to her.

Gleam spoke again. “Okay,” she said. “Please heed my and Chime’s warning.” She closed her eyes and scrambled for words to say. They came. “The creator of the program is killing all the losers,” she explained nervously. “No one is safe! Please! You have to be careful when battling your assigned matches!”

The audience knew that was their cue. It was their cue to get loud. Their cue to make it seem like they were concerned. They didn’t care; they knew as long as they got louder and louder, they would get the result they wished for.

Gleam stared at the ocean. She noticed how they had instantly gotten loud. She had to say something. She didn’t have time for the ocean to hit shore. She had to go on with the warning an explanation. The sudden disturbance was getting to her.

“Please listen to me!” she cried. She was on the edge of the stage now with anxiety. “I’m telling the truth!”
The audience got what they wanted. The words they wanted to hear. All two hundred fifty people smirked and removed their weapons from their pockets. They waited for the perfect moment to rally an instigation tactic. One boy stood up form his chair and said something to get them started.

“No!” he said with a vicious tone. “We won’t listen to a liar.”

Another stood up and went in on the instigation. “Yeah, liar,” she said. “I bet you want to have us all killed!”

A third arose. “People like you deserve to die.”

Chime growled. It was a lost cause. He knew telling society would do nothing. Now Gleam was in danger, and it was his fault. All his fault. He had to put a stop to it, but there were too many people. Way too many people.

The ocean noticed Chime’s expression. They knew he would react like that. They gave a sinister grin and all of them stood on their chairs readying to shoot both of them with their weapons.

“Die, little girl!” two hundred fifty voices said.

Gleam was speechless, scared, and too afraid to fight back. She was useless. She couldn’t protect herself in this situation.

The two hundred fifty members in the remaining of the five hundred ocean members launched the weapons. The weapons raced at Gleam and made grace. Gleam tried to dodge, but she couldn’t. Chime jumped in front of Gleam, but his protection failed; the weapons spun around him.

The weapons poked Gleam. All two hundred fifty of them all over her body. They were sharp, painful and she felt like a dart board. All over her body, the arrows were poking her. There was only a little blood; not enough to kill her, but the pain was insane. Gleam screamed at the top of her lungs from the piercing pain of the two hundred fifty hours.

Chime took the microphone and cried viciously. “How dare you!” he shouted. “All of you are monsters! How dare you hurt Gleam?”

The audience knew that was their cue to bolt. All of them ran to escape Chime’s wrath. They, too, knew who he truly was. All but two members of the ocean left. The two remained hidden underneath the seats as the two hundred forty eight stamped out.

Chime was enraged beyond belief. He knew it was a lost cause. He knew they would try to kill Gleam. Why didn’t he listen to his instinct? Why did he try to reason with them? All the questions had no answers. None. It was awful. Awful what he let happen. He was angry with himself entirely. He knew that this would happen, and yet he tried to reason with them, society. He ran to Gleam to remove all of the arrows from her body and quickly to prevent major injuries to Gleam’s skin.

“Gleam, I’m sorry!” he cried. “I knew reasoning with society was wrong.”

Gleam knew it was wrong, too. She didn’t even agree. She wasn’t mad at Chime. She was just surprised he went through with it.

“It’s okay,” she said weakly. “Please help me get these arrows off.”

“Don’t worry, Gleam,” he said. “I’ll remove all of them.”

Gleam weakly smiled and nodded. She would take them off herself if she wasn’t stuck to the wall and floor.

Chime quietly removed all two hundred fifty arrows. He then took Gleam in his arms and proceeded to take her to his dorm room. Despite the fact the wounds were not deep; he still had to treat all of them, and now.

He glared at the bleachers. Still enraged at the ocean for abruptly leaving to run away. He swore to it. Next time he saw those people, he’d hurt them for hurting Gleam. He ran to his dorm room to treat Gleam’s wounds. The revolution was here. The revolution has started. He couldn’t prevent the fore coming revolution. He couldn’t prevent the crazy, human revolution. And now, he was being targeted as well.

A revolution and the first bullet had been fired. A crazy, insane, human revolution. Thinking about how to prevent the revolution from spreading was going to drive him up a wall. A wall was better than dying, but a revolution was crazing to end than anything.

A revolution. There was no beginning or end. A revolution of bloodshed and insanity. All aimed at Gleam. If there weren’t so many people involved, it would be so easy to protect her. All he wanted was to protect her, nothing more, nothing less, and the thought of him losing that tempted him to scream. Scream at the world for allowing the revolution to continue.

He entered his dorm room and stared at the world. How could a world allow this? How could any world allow this to happen?

Gleam looked at Chime, worried. She knew something was on his mind again, but she left him be. There was no reason to bother him now.

The revolution. The bullets were fired. The revolution. It was unavoidable. Chime knew that it was too late. He was pathetic. A pathetic human being. He kept repeating that in his mind as he treated Gleam’s two hundred fifty wounds.

He stared at the wall and wouldn’t stop thinking about what happened. If he had to, he’d sleep on it. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything being shoved through his windpipe and back again and there was nothing he could do about it.

Meanwhile, in the auditorium the two remaining members of society were still hiding. Conspiring. It was actually more work than implied. The leader decided it was enough. They had enough conspiring and left.

The other, however, smiled. He had only gone to get a look at the Sovereign of Destruction. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, and just to roll with it. When he was given the arrow, he had to play along.

People like that were easy to control and manipulate. Those kinds of people were his prey, and he was hungry. But there were other things to do. The Sovereign of Destruction and he needed to meet. He would have fun taking control of her. Now was the time. The time for him to make his appearance. He was hungry. Hungry for control. Control of a Sovereign. A person like him.

“Look like sparks…are gonna fly!” he shouted, animated. Control. He was hungry for control. Any would do. It didn’t matter to him as long as he got what he wanted. He was ready. Ready to rip the Sovereign of Destruction to pieces. Ready to gain control.

He tore strands of his hair out and ran. Control was an appetizing dish.

End of chapter thirteen, next to come: never give a gift to Avangift Sarogroft lest you want to be taken advantage of. Whatever that could be, that could be.


I typed this today. I spent a good few hours on this. Don't expect to see chapter 14 because I haven't written it yet. It'll come soon.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated M.

I forgot I posted my novel here, lol.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 14; Embezzlement by control.

Two days passed without much happening. It was as if the entire planet was on pause. Within the two days of nothing, Gleam’s injuries had healed. Gleam didn’t understand how she had healed so quickly, seeing as there were over two hundred wounds to heal, and to heal within two days as well. She didn’t understand it, and at this point, she didn’t care anymore. She decided that it was what it was. On the outside, nothing was happening. No one was trying to kill her, and there were no strange visitors coming to the door. It was as if everyone truly did give up, but she knew deep down that the ocean was plotting. As strange as it was, she guessed plotting did take a while, so she decided to enjoy the peace while it lasted. As long as it was peaceful on the outside, perhaps it would remain like that for a day or two more. Despite the strange peace on the outside, however, it wasn’t like that on the inside. There was a war. A war of nightmares. The nightmares were getting worse with each given night, and she hated it. With every nightmare, she was getting trapped farther and farther insider her mind. At the moment, she was trapped in a gruesome nightmare. Within the dream were bleeding faces surrounding her, cornering her, readying to kill her. The nightmare had no permanent setting; at some points it was a white room, at other times, the auditorium. The setting of the nightmare was more unstable than she was, and it made no sense to her whatsoever. The current setting was a black room with a spotlight being shown on her. The bleeding faces were coming at her like demons readying to end her life. Gleam tried to run away, but her feet were locked. She could not move. Her dream body would not allow her to. The bleeding faces smirked and held up their switchblades. Strangely, the switchblades looked familiar, as if she knew them, but she couldn’t think of where she had seen them before, not while she was locked inside her mind. The bleeding faces swung their switchblades and violently began to slash Gleam on the shoulder. It would have hurt, provided if it were really happening, but it wasn’t, it was still a nightmare. Even though it was one, she could still feel tears stream down her face. She couldn’t talk, and yet, she could cry; she didn’t understand her dreams. On their own, they were extremely intricate. As the bleeding faces started to cut her left shoulder with their switchblades, Gleam attempted to scream. The attempted scream sent a shock of adrenaline in her body, waking her up in an instant. As she opened her eyes, Chime was standing there with an extreme look of worry plastered on his face. He knew something had happened to Gleam.

Chime had heard Gleam talking in her sleep. He knew that Gleam was having an extreme nightmare, and he wasn’t going to sit by idly as Gleam was suffering through that kind of extreme torment. Constantly he tried to wake her. He was constantly shaking her, screaming for her to wake up. All his attempts failed. It pained him to be such a failure to wake up Gleam. He counted all his attempts to wake her up. He counted fifty times. Fifty failures. He was relieved to finally see her wake up, but it still pained him. It still pained him to be such a failure. In the three hours and fifty attempts over with, he had no reason to praise himself. Even if he had woken her successfully, it wouldn’t have even mattered. A failure was a failure, and a failure was pathetic. At that very moment, however, none of that mattered at all. Gleam was important right now. Noting else mattered. All his thoughts meant nothing right now. Thinking about him was selfish. He instantly stopped thinking about himself and spoke to Gleam. It only came out as a scream.

“You’re awake, thank God!” he cried. “I’ve been trying to wake you for hours! What was happening in there?”

Gleam sat up and removed the blanket from her body. She saw how worried Chime was. His face was as white as a sheet. He looked more exhausted than she felt at the moment. Even though she didn’t want to, she had to tell him that she forgot her dream. Even if it were a lie, she didn’t want Chime to lose his sanity. The nightmare was still fresh in her mind, but she didn’t want to tell Chime or try to recall it. Just thinking about it gave her a head splitting migraine.

“I…I already forgot the contents of my nightmare,” she said, lying badly. The lie reeked of a liar’s scent. “I’m fine!”

Chime had it. He had it with Gleam’s lies. She was not fine. She was far from fine. There was no way she could be looking as pale as she was. There was no way he could say it nicely—he had to put it harshly. It was the only way he could put—harshly.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” he shouted. “You’re not fine. You’re far from it.” His voice was beginning to raise as he started to get furious. “I know you remember that dream. It’s obvious, so stop acting like you forgot!” his shouts were only getting harsher from there. “Tell the truth! No more of these lies!” he then calmed his tone so he couldn’t get lost inside the fury of his anger. “Please, Gleam, I beg you. Please tell the truth.”

Gleam had never seen Chime acting that way to her before. It scared her beyond the way she had been scared before. She didn’t know what to call the feeling she was feeling. She wanted to run away. Run away from Chime. Far away. So far away. Maybe back to her dorm room to hide from him and his anger. Tears began to stream down her face, it was almost automatic. The tears wouldn’t stop; perhaps it was better that way.

“I’m sorry…” she said through her tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Chime. I’m sorry…” she kept on apologizing. It was the only thing she could say. They were the only two words that would come out. It was as if every other word she ever knew was gone. As if she had forgotten they existed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

Chime saw how frightened he had made Gleam. That was unacceptable and he knew that. He knew that it was unacceptable, yet his fury took over. His anger had invaded his insides and strung him to a tree. His fury had controlled him like a puppet. Gleam had no need to apologize. He was the one who should have been apologizing, not her. She had done nothing that horrible to apologize that much. Chime had sinned. He had committed the sinnest of sins. Gleam didn’t. He should be the one apologizing. He got on his knees, readying to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for shouting at you.” He would not get off his knees. “It was wrong for me to do so, Gleam. It won’t ever happen again.” He got off his knees, allowing himself to stand. “Just please tell the truth and this won’t happen again. I was fed up, that’s all.”

Gleam stopped crying. The fear inside her left. She was no longer afraid. No longer afraid of Chime and his fury. As long as it was all over, perhaps now was a time she could tell the truth. The entire truth about her frightening dream. She sighed, breathed in and began to retell the horrors of her mind. Forcing herself to recite the dream.

“Bleeding faces,” she began. “There was a sea of bleeding faces in my dream.” She could feel her head pound as she continued to attempt to describe the horrors of her nightmare. “They were after me…and…they had switchblades…and….” A surge of pain streamed through her body as she continued to try to explain. It hurt her to continue explaining. She could feel her head pound, her body ache. She could feel a scream break from inside her. “No…” she cried. “No! No! It hurts… No!” the pain was ripping her apart. She couldn’t continue to recite the nightmare anymore; it made her feel as if she would die that very moment.

Chime frowned. He was disgusted with himself. He was putting Gleam through such extreme pain. He wouldn’t forgive himself for doing such. He watched as Gleam kept on holding her head and screaming no. He couldn’t leave her like that. Chime went over to Gleam and hugged her, but it didn’t help her at all. She was still screaming. He backed away quickly. Yet another major failure, all in the same day.

“If it hurts that bad, I did a bad thing,” Chime said. “I did such horrible things to you today.”

Gleam was able to hear Chime. The pain had gone away enough for her to regain control of herself. It was enough for her to answer rationally. She didn’t know what was up with Chime today. He was scaring her. She wasn’t prepared for it to happen. She didn’t see it coming. She guessed it was one thing in friendship that was sometimes unavoidable. She barely understood it. She knew now, however, that the lies had to stop. She could no longer resort to lying to Chime anymore. It was getting out of control. They were taking control of her. It was as if a person or a Sovereign rather, could secretly have been controlling her from afar. She shook her head at it, disregarding the thought. There was no possible way that was it; her mind was making up stories.

She sighed. “You had the right to,” she replied. “I was being horrible…lying to you the way I did.” She stood up from the couch to try to apologize on her feet, but Chime walked over to her and placed her in a sitting position.

“No, you’re not well enough to be standing,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s best you just rest for now.” His expression changed to that of a dark one as he thought of the only way he could put it. “I’m the cause of everything today. If you have another nightmare, Gleam, blame me, okay?” it may have been extreme, but he was willing to take those kinds of extreme measures at this point.

Gleam couldn’t agree to that. She couldn’t agree to giving Chime all the blame for what had happened. She couldn’t. There wasn’t any way she could. From the looks of it to her, Chime was disgusted with himself. She hated that, and she didn’t want it to continue. She couldn’t agree to giving him the blame. It was too much for her to bear. It was how she saw it, and how it would remain for her.

“I’ll go to sleep now,” she finally said. Gleam took the blanket and placed it over her body. “You should sleep too, Chime, it’ll get rid of the tension in here.”

Chime agreed. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It’ll be the best for both of us.”

Gleam gave a weak laugh. “Yeah,” she said. “Best for both of us.”

Chime exited the room and then quickly went into his own. He sat on his bed, thinking. There was a monster inside him. A huge monster. A furious monster growing inside him. He didn’t want the monster to continue to grow. The monster inside him. It wouldn’t stop growing even if he wanted it to. It was too late for the monster to hide in the places he didn’t know where it didn’t exist. It was too late. The monster inside him was revealed. He placed his arm over his eyes, forcing himself to fall asleep. A pleasant nightmare was sure to grace his presence.

Gleam on the other hand, had already been lost. Locked deep within a nightmare. It was too late. Too late for her to be free from the shackles of her mind. She was lost deep inside. Deep inside her mind. An extreme nightmare of bloodshed. Bloodshed and nothing else. The bleeding faces soon returned with the switchblades in their hands, readying to kill her. The same dream as before. Nothing changed. It was as if it were an ongoing dream. An ongoing dream and Gleam was forced to see the events over and over again. The bleeding faces came closer, instigating Gleam with a flurry of questions. The questions came out slow and monstrous. The questions were extreme and broken, there was no way she could answer the questions. She couldn’t hear them. They only came out in static. Static and nothing else. The insanity of it made no sense. She refused to let it be the truth. She attempted to answer, and as she expected, no words came out—only static. The static was intimidating and earsplitting. The nightmare was earsplitting. As time went on, the bloodshed began. The bleeding faces began their dirty work. They removed the switchblades from their pockets to kill dream Gleam. Gleam accepted the dream death as if it were a real death. She smiled at the thought of being murdered; murdered within the depths of her dreams. Maybe if she had any conscious idea of what was happening on the outside, it wouldn’t be so wild on the inside.

On the outside of the door, however, he was there, hungry for control. As the moon beamed on him, he gave a maniacal laugh, ripping strands of his hair out. He was no longer hungry for control—he was starving for control. It was fun. Absolutely fun toying with the little girl’s dreams. He was starving. Starving for control. Starving to control the Sovereign of Destruction. He was through waiting, it was time to make his appearance. He, once again, ripped strands of his hair out and ran to his lair. Preparing for a wonderful barrage. A barrage of excellence.


Chime woke up first. He woke up to the sound of a loud scream. He knew that it was Gleam again. He ran into the room to the sight of Gleam squirming around, as if she was having a seizure. He kept on shaking her, and screaming for her to wake up at least a dozen times. After the thirteenth shake and scream, Gleam had successfully been able to wake up.

Gleam looked at Chime trying to make out a face. All she could see were clusters of colors. Mere cluster of colors. People, the walls, everything appeared to be a cluster of colors. She could feel her head spin. It was insane, and she could barely stand it. A scream let loose from her throat as the colors of the world around her became her line of sight.

Chime was frightened at the site of her screaming. Water. Gleam needed water. He wasn’t about to allow another failure, and two days in a row. He wasn’t going to allow it. Chime ran into the kitchen and removed a glass from the cupboard, running the faucet instantly; waiting for the cup to be at least half full. When the cup had been half full, he ran back to Gleam and handed her the cup of water. She drank it as quick as possible merely because her eyes were gunk. Maybe if she could see, it would be easier for her to drink like a normal human. As the water travelled through her, the cluster of colors became regular visions. The walls were walls, and Chime was no longer a white figure in her sight. She didn’t understand it, but as everything became normal, her head was pounding like a jackhammer. A jackhammer and it was practical insanity. She reached for Chime and hugged him. He attempted to comfort her, but his efforts seemed to be in vain.

“Why?” Gleam asked. “Why do I keep having that same nightmare?”

Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder. He didn’t know. Nothing came to him. No idea came to him. No idea he came to made any sense. There could have been hundreds of causes, but he couldn’t think of any that constituted to a point where it made remote sense. He came to a quick conclusion that it was from everything going on. Maybe it could have been that. It could have only been that.

“I don’t know,” Chime said. “It could be anything. I had a nightmare last night, too.”

Gleam didn’t understand why Chime was having nightmares also. She knew something was wrong there. Someone must have been controlling their dreams. Someone had to be. It was the only possible conclusion. Nothing else she came up with made any sense, anyway. Someone was controlling their dreams. Gleam wanted to put a stop to it before it was too late. Even if it would kill her, she was going to put a stop to it as soon as possible. She had no idea why she felt so strongly about it, but she just knew there was nothing normal about the ongoing nightmares. Someone was taking control of their dreams. Gleam figured that would there was only one person who would be capable of doing that—and that would be a Sovereign.

“What was it about?” Gleam asked, trying to confirm her hunch as correct.

Chime sighed. “People were ripping my skin off,” he explained. “That’s odd because my dreams are usually more graphic than that.” He thought it over quickly, knowing there was something wrong with that kind of dream. “I had that dream the day before, too. I don’t know why I keep having those kinds of dreams.” He held onto his arm, thinking about the past again, but stopped himself to prevent the fury from breaking loose inside him. “It’s not human,” he said. “It’s not. It’s crazy, Gleam.”

Gleam’s suspicion and hunch were looking true. She was ready to find the person toying with them, and now. If she wasted any time, this person would be back again before she knew it, and she wasn’t about to allow that to happen. She knew if she let it continue something more tragic was going to happen to both of them, and she was going to fix it before it was too late.

Gleam rose from the couch, readying to find the monster, Sovereign rather, and put a stop to their fun toying. It wasn’t fun. It was an absolute sadistic and dirty way of doing things. She hoped Chime would agree. Both of them knew something was amiss, so she hoped Chime would let her go find the person.

“I’ll find this person,” she said. “I’ll find them and have them stop.”

Chime was shocked. Shocked that Gleam had said that. He knew it was dangerous, but he knew if anyone could put a stop to that, maybe it could be Gleam. He thought it would be better if he put a stop to it, but he knew it was Gleam’s turn to put a stop to something, rather than him for a change. What he hoped was that nothing would happen if he allowed her to go out. Too much had been happening recently. He wished the world would stop so all would freeze. Everything would freeze. He wanted everything to freeze. It may have been wishful thinking, but it was what he wanted. The world to freeze. The world to stop turning.

“I’ll allow it,” he said. “Just please be careful. We don’t know who it might be doing this.”

Gleam nodded. She was relieved. Relieved Chime was allowing it. She knew deep down, Chime didn’t want to allow her to do so. It probably hurt him, but she had to do what she could. Even if it was a hard fact to accept, it had to be done. Nothing else could befall. It was already a problem to begin with, and she knew the interferences would only get worse if they were to continue. She walked to the door, readying her departure.

“I’ll be careful,” she said. “As careful as can be.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he said. “Give them a piece of your mind.”

Gleam smiled as she opened the door to leave. “I will,” she said. “A huge chunk of it!” she joked, knowing the joke was inappropriate. “No one is going to mess with us again after this; I’ll make sure of it.”

Chime gave a stupid grin. “Good,” he said. “Do this for the both of us.”

“I will,” she said. “For the both of us.”

“For the both of us,” he repeated. “You should head out. At any moment, they could get away.”

Gleam knew Chime was right. She instantly went on the outside of the door, waving to him before running to find the lunatic. The Sovereign whom was toying with their dreams. The Sovereign. The monster. The human mind game. Gleam ran faster to search for the monster. The mind game monster destroying their dreams.

Chime sat on his chair, waiting. The revolution was continuing. It was continuing, and it was becoming reality. The revolution was continuing, and now Gleam was involved. It was too late to reverse it, the revolution was unavoidable. It was unavoidable, the revolution. A crazy, human revolution and it wasn’t going to be over until everyone was going to be gone. He was done trying to prevent the spread of the revolution. It was too late. The revolution was not going to stop; it was already too late to put a stop to it.

A revolution. There was no beginning or end. There was no putting a stop to it. The revolution was the inevitable. The revolution was alive. A live revolution. A crazy, insane, sick, twisted revolution. A revolution filled with a sea of madness. The madness was alive. It was taking control.

The revolution, and it was alive. The revolution was living a life of its own, and the life was becoming a teenager. The revolution was an angsty teenager, and the angsty teenager knew nothing.

Chime went into his kitchen and brewed some coffee to drown all the thoughts out. He brewed black coffee and sipped it as he forgot it all. The thoughts plaguing him. He slipped the black coffee, waiting for the adrenaline rush. Waiting to be drunk on coffee. Chime drowned himself in coffee. Hell was rising.


Gleam stood by a hallway, waiting. She had run out of breath. The hallways were almost the length of a labyrinth. Two labyrinths, even. She then was lost. Lost deep within the two labyrinths. Trying to find the escape route, the way out, was nowhere to seen. It was as if the exit were invisible.

Gleam sighed and walked through the labyrinth. She kept on getting more and more lost as each wall closed on her. She didn’t like the feeling, but she kept on running. From what felt like hours was really a matter of moments. After a few more rounds of running, he saw her, running around like an idiot, trying to find him. He maniacally laughed in the corner as he anxiously held onto the edge of the wall. Gleam had heard the maniacal laughter and followed the voice. When she and the voice met, she knew right from there, the voice had been after her.

Gleam got a good look at the boy. He had long indigo hair that went down to his shoulders. He had orange eyes the color of fiery flames. He seemed to be older than Chime by about one year. He wore a strange suit with a tie as long as the floor. The boy wasn’t very tall. In fact, he was practically the same height as Gleam—only one inch taller, perhaps. She didn’t know. Everything about the boy screamed Sovereign, and Gleam could barely get over it. The boy cracked a maniacal laugh and ripped more strands of his hair out—he was crazy, possibly, but not really. It she had a crazy scale to measure how crazy he was, it would probably register at about “nuts.” Nuts being level two on the scale. She didn’t know why he kept on ripping his hair out; perhaps it had to do with his power. The boy looked at Gleam, all amused.

“Hello, Sovereign of Destruction!” he said cheerfully. “I’m Avangift Sarogroft. Better known as the Sovereign of Control!” he placed his hands on his face as if he were about to rip off the skin. “I’ve been looking for you, you know.” He gave a dark whisper. He was bearing his fangs at Gleam.

Gleam screeched. She found him. Found the culprit. She found the person controlling their dreams. She wondered how long he had been after her. She was tired of him trying to control her and Chime’s dreams. For now, she felt like it would be best to ignore the calling of her other name. The Sovereign of Destruction. It didn’t matter right now. All she wanted was for him to leave her and Chime’s dreams alone. It was tedious standing there as he could have been controlling dreams. Even though she tried to ignore the explicit use of Sovereign, her thoughts and words were not in agreement.

“I’m not the Sovereign of Destruction!” she cried. “Why do you people keep on insisting I am this Sovereign of Destruction! It’s annoying!”

Avangift knew that Gleam would say that, and he loved it. He loved the sound of her denying what she really was. It made it easier on him to take control of her. Control of her on the outside. It was easy to control her on the inside of her subconscious, and it would be easier to control on the outside. It would be so simple that he could start taking control of her now. Little by little, his hunger was quieting. His hunger would finally cease. To take control of her would be so simple, and he was ready to begin controlling her now. He put his left arm behind his back and prepared for his big moment.

“My, aren’t we so quick to deny?” he asked sarcastically. “Why do you enjoy denying it so much?”

Gleam sighed. Avangift was being a major annoyance to her. Interrogating her with questions she hated. She didn’t want to answer his questions. His questions were much harder to answer than anything ever asked. Judging from what Sovereign he was, she knew if she answered, he’d do something to her that would have no possible way of being erased. She knew, however, it would be the same if she didn’t answer. Whether she liked it or not, she was forced to provide an answer to Avangift’s annoying question. Perhaps it was a simple yes or no question. To her, it seemed like such, and to her it was that complicated simple. She scrambled for words inside her to come up with an acceptable answer.

“I don’t enjoy it!” she answered. “Why would I enjoy something like this?!”

Avangift’s hand glowed. Gleam’s practical automatic answer fed him. It fed him some of her awareness. He knew if he kept on interrogating her with questions that he’d make up out of earshot, the faster he would gain control. The more questions he’d ask the more control he’d gain. His goal was in hindsight. It was perfect. The odds were for him this time, and not against him. He figured it would be better to humor her, however, by acting like there was no need for her to answer the question. He would act like that every time to rile her up until she was to become his loyal servant. Five questions would be able to do it. He’d be able to control her with a mere five questions. It was petty, but it worked for him. The girl was weak, anyway.

“That was a rhetorical question,” Avangift said sarcastically. “I already knew that.” He looked at the girl with fiery eyes, waiting for her next reaction.

Gleam couldn’t wait anymore. She could no longer wait for Avangift and his interrogating questions. She was there to put a stop to his controlling of her dreams. After thinking about what to say, she allowed the words to form.

“You’re the one controlling my and Chime’s dreams, aren’t you?!” she cried. “Tell me why you’re doing that!” she could feel her blood boil as she continued. “It’s scary and an invasion of privacy! It’s wrong! You need to stop this!” she calmed down to keep her humanity just for a little while longer. It wasn’t as simple as it seemed, but she felt like she would be able to keep her humanity with this Sovereign. Unlike the last one she encountered. Despite how much more insane this one was, Numboil was far worse than Avangift seemed.

Avangift laughed manically. The girl was stupid to ask such a question. Of course he was the one controlling their dreams. He was the only one with that kind of power. He didn’t have to stop, either. He had no reason to, so why should he? He had no business stopping with something with something that made his world go round. Putting a stop to what made his world go round was just like killing him, and he wasn’t going to allow any figurative killing. It wasn’t going to happen. At least not on his watch. Besides, to him, it was all child’s play. Entire child’s play. Toying with the dreams of others. It was child’s play to him; simpler than ripping a piece of paper and eating the contents of the paper. It was child’s play. Complete child’s play. He turned his head into a tilt and looked at Gleam sadistically.

“I won’t stop,” Avangift announced. “It’s fun!” he gave her a look in an attempt to scare her. “Besides, can’t blame a guy for getting hungry,” he continued. “Don’t you get hungry for destruction?”

Gleam was disgusted. Disgusted by his answer. She knew now it was impossible. Impossible to reason with him. She figured it would be easy to reason with him, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t easy to reason with him. What disgusted her even more was his question. The way he asked it, the way he turned his head, the look he gave her. All of it had disgusted her. She was never hungry for destruction. The very question was bone chomping. She was beginning to wonder why she was even bothering with Avangift. If he wasn’t going to stop, he was a waste of her time. He was a waste of her time in every single entirety. Even so, she wasn’t about to give up. It may have been wasting her time, but she knew that one way or another she would be able to get him to stop. She figured now was the time to try harder.

“Of course I don’t!” she cried. “Why say something like that?” it wasn’t unbelievable to her, but the word poured out of her. “You’re unbelievable!”

As Gleam continued to answer his questions with hostility, Avangift kept on getting fed. His hand glowed as he slowly gained more control of Gleam. Of course it would only be a matter of when he completely robbed Gleam of her awareness that he would be able to take control. With his goal in hindsight, it didn’t matter to him. He still had three questions left. Three questions before taking complete control of her. Perhaps it didn’t matter what kind of questions he asked anymore, as long as he got what he wanted in the end. He smirked at her, acting as if he cared about her words.

“Unbelievable you say,” he answered with obvious sarcasm. “Do you even have the right to judge me, Sovereign of Destruction?” his third question was barely even a question, but it worked for him.

Gleam wasn’t aware. She was not even aware of anything Avangift was doing to her. From what she had seen, his questions were stupid, absolutely stupid. She figured he was just asking them to annoy her. She had no idea. No absolute idea why he was asking her such questions, of everything. She decided just to roll with along with it. It was all she could do in a situation like the one being presented in front of her. She knew somehow she’d get him to crack. She would get him to crack, but knowing her, it would take a while. She decided to continue to roll with it until she would figure a way to crack him like a nut.

She sighed, answering the stupid question. “Judge you,” she answered, exasperated. “Think what you want, I choose not to answer that question!” the answer was unexpected, even for her. She couldn’t believe the words raining from her mouth. Now she had done it. She had really done it this time. There was no escape, and Chime wouldn’t be able to rescue her. Not this time.

Avangift didn’t care. The way she answered his mind game questions didn’t matter a thing to him. Two questions left. He still had two questions before he could take entire control of her. His hand glowed again as he was still being fed her awareness and becoming his puppet. It would all happen soon. Two questions left until his goal were to become reality. He continued with the interrogation.

“Sure,” he said with fake indifference. “You can get all dodgy and evasive, but it won’t do you any good. Just makes me hungrier!” he prepared for his next question to steal even more of her awareness. “Why can’t you just be like a regular little girl and answer my questions properly?” he squinted his eyes and placed his hand out, motioning her to come.

Gleam didn’t know why he was motioning her to come, but she came anyway, completely unaware of the actual reason why. Avangift gave a sinister smile. His questions were working. At this rate, it would be easy to rob Gleam of entire control. It was looking so simple. He knew right from the start that it would be a simple task. The girl was too stupid to realize. Sovereign or not, the girl was no different from all the other people he had fed on.

Gleam slapped her face, snapping out of it. Yet another stupid question she had to answer.

“I am answering them properly!” she cried. “What is with you, anyway?” she tried to calm herself down before saying something she would end up regretting later on. “If I’m not answering your questions properly, then do tell me how to answer them properly!”

Avangift was about to laugh at her, but he held it in. He could laugh at her all he wanted to later. Now was not the time. One question left. One question left until his hunger would be cured. His hunger to control would be solved. He was anxiously awaiting for the perfect moment. His hand glowed as he kept on robbing Gleam’s awareness. He proceeded to ask his final question.

“You’ll never learn, the way you act,” he said. “Say, tell me, why did you come here in the first place? Why did you come to this program?” he thought the question was a bad move, bit it was too late to change it. His eyes glowed orange, like a brimming fire. He was ready.

Gleam finally noticed. Noticed the flames brimming in his eyes. She instantly drew from there that he was trying to control her. He was trying to take control of her. He was trying to take control of her, make her his slave, turn her into his plaything, puppet, servant. She wasn’t going to allow it. She refused to sit by as the boy was firing bullets. She wasn’t going to allow it to continue. She had to do something about it. She had to. She had no choice in the matter. She decided then and there—she had to fight Avangift. She had to fight him. It was possibly the only way she would be able to get him to stop. Stop with everything he had been doing. She knew it was the only way to put a stop to his tactics. A stop to the controlling of her and Chime’s dreams. She didn’t care if it meant she would have to resort to violence. She didn’t care. Her goal to stop him was still possible. It could have been, and it was. It was remotely possible, and she would make it possible. A fight, and there would be no bloodshed. She pointed her finger at Avangift, attempting to show him that she was ready to make a point.

“You know,” Gleam said. “I’m not going to fall for that.”

Avangift grunted. He failed to control her. The failure weighed heavy on him. He manically laughed and started to pull strands of his hair out, still starving for control. He covered his eyes with his hand, making it seem like he was going to rip his face off. Gleam backed away as Avangift had an insanity episode.

“Is that so, huh?” he said, covering his face. “Fine, Sovereign of Destruction, you win this round!” he removed his hand from his face. “You win this round. I guess I can’t control you.”

Gleam angrily pointed at Avangift. She again, made an attempt to challenge him to a battle.

“If you say that, then I,” she breathed in to steady her words. “I challenge you to a fight!”

Avangift manically laughed. He expected her to challenge him. It was stupid of her. Stupid of her to challenge him. He had almost godly human magic. Her declaration to fight him was her stupidest move yet—there was no doubt in his mind. The girl would be easy to kill. Despite that, he decided it would be nice of him to let her live another twenty four hours. He knew of a perfect place to fight where she could be killed and never be discovered. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The girl was stupid, and she would die a stupid fool. Stupid fools got on his nerves. Stupid fools had no reason for being alive. They were stealing air from all the intelligent people, like him.

“I accept!” he shouted. “We’ll fight in twenty four hours—in the basement.” He dramatically changed his tone of voice. “You’re so stupid. You won’t beat me. I’ll just end up killing you anyway.”

Gleam knew that. She knew if she lost, that Avangift would kill her. She didn’t care at this point. There was no turning back on the match.

“Fine,” she said. “If you win, you can kill me!” she thought of a way to counter his reward when he won. It came to her within moments. “But if I win, you have to stop controlling my nightmares! Chime’s nightmares, too!” she was confident that the deal would get through to him. She hated making deals, but she to.

“We got a deal,” he answered. “Twenty four hours from now! I win, you die. You win; I stop with my mind games and controlling of your nightmares.” He sighed in a pretend manner. “It would be fairer to just have me die, too if I lose, but it doesn’t matter—I’m going to win anyway.”

“Stop it!” she cried. “I won’t resort to your tactics!”

He laughed manically one last time before losing it. “Whatever,” he answered. “Why don’t you go practice? Unless you want me to kill you right now.” He made his voice into a singing tone as he said it.

Gleam violently shook her head and ran back to Chime’s dorm room. She was ready to put a stop to it all. She was ready. Ready to have a regular nightmare without someone controlling it. She was determined to win the battle, and she was going to win it without any trauma or bloodshed. That’s what she wanted to believe, at least. She knocked on the door, and waited. Waited for Chime to open the door. She would tell him everything.

Avangift laughed and indulged to hitting himself until his arm was black and blue. His arm was decorated wonderfully by the colorful black spots he had given himself. The girl was so stupid. Stupid to have challenged him. Her dead body would become his, and would be the grandest of grand occasions. He laughed harder and continued to punch his arm. He was starving again, starving for Gleam’s future dead body.

End of chapter fourteen, next to come: o b l i t e r a t e! What does that spell? Obliterate! Avangift never knew that he’d lose his head like this.


I love Avangift. I made his name up before his character.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
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This chapter is rated M.

Standing Creation -
Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 15; Representation of an advantage and gift. Obliteration to soon follow.

By the time Gleam had returned to Chime’s dorm room, he had already been asleep. She figured it would be better that way, anyway. The time alone would give her time to think about things she normally didn’t think about. The time alone would provide time for her to practice a little. Despite that, she knew no amount of practice would do her any good; there was no time. Twenty four hours was never enough time to practice. She wondered. She constantly wondered in that time alone about how she was going to go about beating Avangift. She knew that his power had huge advantages. She knew the power to control could mean a one sided battle. She knew if she had time to practice, she could come up with a strategy to cancel out his control, but there wasn’t any way. She then decided to declare a fight with their human magic—she knew that if she declared that, the fight would be easier on her. She didn’t want to use her other magic. She didn’t even want to know she had it inside her. She refused. She knew she had no reason to acknowledge it—she knew it wasn’t a requirement to. Maybe if she kept on acting like it didn’t exist, the magic would leave her. She decided to keep on repeating that in her head over and over hoping for it to become reality. With the plan she had to defeating Avangift in her mind, Gleam then decided to draw up random diagrams to pass the time. She would go to sleep, provided she could, but decided not to. It would be pointless to try. There was too much on her mind. If she tried to fall asleep, and had successfully done so, a nightmare would be sure to invade her. She didn’t want to fall into a nightmare the night before a battle, so she decided to skip out on sleeping altogether that night. It wasn’t any big deal to her, anyway. If she didn’t fall asleep, then Avangift couldn’t control her dreams before the battle. For the first time, Gleam saw an advantage to not sleeping. The hours passed nicely, Gleam had been successful in staying up the entire night. She wasn’t sure if she should have been proud of herself or afraid for the day to come. She continued to draw up random diagrams until Chime were to come out of his room.

As morning peaked through Chime’s room, he had woken up. The feeling of the light in the room instantly made him feel awake. He could feel his head splitting apart as he emerged from the comforts of his bed. The caffeine from the day before had taken a huge toll on him. A huge toll on him, and he knew it was his fault. He knew the reason, and knew from there that he caused the hopeless chain of events. As hard as it was on him to accept the impending fact, he was addicted to coffee. The caffeine had given him killer migraines, as if he had a hangover, as if he had alcohol. Thinking about the addiction only made him feel worse, so he forced himself to stop thinking about it. He knew staying in his room wouldn’t make the situation any better, so he made the decision to leave his room in hopes of Gleam being back by now. He exited his room cautiously in case Gleam was sleeping. When he scoured the area, he had noticed that she was not sleeping, but was wide awake. Completely absorbed in what she had been doing. He had only realized then that Gleam must have been waiting for him. She had probably gotten back ages ago—to say in the least, he knew it was a good idea to leave the door unlocked, despite the major risk. He wondered if Gleam had settled a score with the person controlling their dreams. When he saw that she had no injuries on her body, he worried if she didn’t find him or her. The thought of her not putting a stop to the controlling of their dreams instantly frightened him. He knew he had to ask Gleam about it. Chime tapped Gleam’s shoulder to get her attention. He had hoped that she had a good report.

Gleam had felt the tap. She stopped drawing up random diagrams and turned to Chime. She smiled at him, attempting to make it look like she was in a good mood.

“Morning,” she said. “When I came back, you were sleeping, so I didn’t want to wake you up.” She changed her expression in an attempt to show him she had something to say. “I have a lot to go over,” she explained. “None of it is necessarily good news.” She didn’t want to say that, but her thoughts and words were not in agreement.

Chime was afraid Gleam would say that. He was afraid she wouldn’t have any good news for him. He wondered if the news had to do with someone being after her again. If that were the case, he didn’t care—he would put a stop to it. It didn’t matter if it were only slightly; he wasn’t going to sit by if someone was after her again. The very thought accelerated the feeling of his head about to split open. Before he allowed the pain to rob him, he proceeded to ask her about the bad news.

“What’s the bad news?” he asked. “People aren’t after you again, are they?”

Gleam tried to find a way to tell Chime. To tell Chime that she had found the person controlling their dreams. She wondered how would be the best way to tell him. The words were there, but they wouldn’t form. She didn’t want Chime to think anything was wrong by her not answering. She tried not to make it seem like she had no idea what to say. After thinking about what to say, the perfect words formed. She allowed the words to flow out of her as she confirmed the bad news.

“No, Chime, no one is after me,” she said, confirming the fact. “I found the guy who was controlling our dreams, though.” She sighed, trying to think of the best way to put her next sentence. “I couldn’t get him to stop, so I decided to challenge him to a battle to force him to stop.” No matter how she put it, she knew Chime would instantly worry.

Chime knew that the battle was the bad news. He was sure that Gleam would get hurt, and he didn’t like the sound of that. Regardless of that, it was Gleam’s decision, and he had to accept it. He didn’t want to accept it. He didn’t want to accept it, but he had to. He had to accept her decision. While it pained him more than anything, he knew it would be for the best of both of them. He knew going in her place would solve nothing. While he thought it would be best to try to get her to stop, he stopped himself from attempting.

“Can you beat him?” Chime asked quietly. “If you’re going to battle, please be careful.” He didn’t want anything to happen, but he knew it probably would be unavoidable. “I know you can do it, though.” He turned to her for a moment. “When is this fight going on, anyway?”

Gleam tried to remember the exact time she had the encounter. She knew by now that at least ten hours had passed. She tried to remember. Tried to remember the exact time she declared to have a battle with Avangift. She kept on thinking back, trying to remember. Trying to remember when the battle declaration occurred. She kept on trying to remember. Soon it all began to flow back into her. The time, everything. The deal, conditions, time, manner and place, they all came back to her, and all at once. All at once, and the very thought itself was overwhelming. The condition, time, manner and place were okay to tell Chime, but she knew if she told him the deal that he would reject it. She proceeded to tell him everything but the deal she made with him.

“In about eight hours,” she said, confirming the time. “In the basement.” She confirmed the place quickly. “If he loses, he promised to stop controlling our dreams!” Gleam smiled at Chime and finished off with the manner. “We’re probably going to have a magic fight, so it’s not going to be too dangerous.” She hoped her words would be the truth. She didn’t know what kind of human magic Avangift had, but it most likely was a powerful form of magic. Judging from what she had seen him do so far, she guessed he had Hair Magic or Insanity Magic. She wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as the Sovereign of Control seemed insane. It made sense to her in all forms. It made entire sense, and she prayed. Prayed that her guess would be the correct guess.

Chime stared at Gleam’s words. Eight hours. Eight hours was a lot of time. Almost too much time. Eight hours was more than enough time to practice or think up a strategy or two. He knew that Gleam, however, probably didn’t want to practice. He wanted her to practice, but there wasn’t any way he would be able to convince her to do so. He scrapped the idea and moved onto the next part of what she said. He wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure what to make out of a basement location. The location seemed suspicious, as if it were a lair of some kind. It could have been the domain, and he wondered if that meant he had slaves at his command. Upon tackling the location, his mind went about to tackle the condition. She said the condition of what would happen if she won, but what about him? What if he won? He wanted to know, while at the same time, he didn’t. It must have been something Gleam was afraid to speak of, so he forced himself to stop thinking about the other condition. He lastly, tackled the manner. He also wondered. Wondered just what kind of magic this person might have. From what he could do, it had to be a dangerous magic. All of it sounded familiar, as if Gleam was fighting a Sovereign. He then realized it could only be that, and before it was too late, he came to realization that a Sovereign was now after her. His worst fear had been confirmed. His worst fear had presented itself in front of him, and it was about to swallow him whole. He didn’t want to show his fear, but it showed on his face, anyway.

“Are you sure you can beat him?” he asked her again. “Do you know what he could possibly be capable of?” he had a dark expression plastered on his face. He couldn’t hide it. He couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. “What if his power is deadly, Gleam?” he couldn’t stop feeling the fear, and it continued to show in his voice. “Do you really think this is the right thing to do?”

Gleam knew that Chime had suspected something. She knew from the flurry of questions he had been asking. It made her wonder if he had silently been figuring it all out. She wondered how much he had figured out on his own. If he had already figured out she’d lose, she’d die; then she knew for sure that Chime was already trying to figure out ways to keep her away from the battle. Even though she knew that, she couldn’t back away. She had to fight Avangift. Backing away would cause an automatic loss. If she backed away, that would lead to more of a reason for him to kill her, and she didn’t want that. She also knew that backing away was a cowardly act, and she was no coward. If she had to settle a score, she didn’t care—she’d still settle it even if she would have regrets. It didn’t matter to her, so as long as the battle were over with. She guessed that Chime just didn’t see battles that way.

“Chime,” she said. “Please don’t worry too much.” She tried to get him to stop worrying, but the look on his face said otherwise. “It’s going to be fine. I promise you.” She attempted to change her tone of voice, but failed. “Really, I mean it. I’ll make it a quick battle, I promise.”

Chime had felt the feeling again. The feeling on uncertainty. He wasn’t sure if Gleam would be able to keep that promise. He’s seen it in the past. He’s seen the injures caused to Gleam in previous battles. He’s seen it happen to her before, and he wasn’t sure if she would be able to keep that promise. The thought of not knowing whether she could keep that promise gravely placed a figurative wound on him. He just knew somehow that things wouldn’t be fine. They wouldn't be, and he knew it. He knew that somehow, Gleam would return to him as injured as could be, and it pained him to think such.

“Can you keep that promise?” he asked almost out of nowhere. “Can you keep your promise of returning fine?”

Gleam thought the question was strange to hear. She didn’t think he was on to her, but she knew he suspected something. Just from that, she knew Chime had many suspicions. It frightened her to think that he had it all figured out. He figured it out. She always knew Chime was quick to pick up on things, but she had wished he wouldn’t pick up on it so fast. It was her only wish, and yet, the wish would never come true. It would never come true. She was condemned to seeing that it was impossible; it was impossible to change people’s learning abilities. She sighed, giving up on her selfish wishes.

“Yes, Chime,” she said. “I’ll come back in one piece. I promise.” She made the conscious effort to seem serious. To seem like she knew what she was about to do. “I don’t know what he’s capable of,” she said. “But I will find a way to beat him.”

Chime had to confirm his suspicion. He didn’t want to do so, but he didn’t want his suspicion to remain inside him. It was like anxiety. It was hard on him, but it was easy on others. He shrugged his shoulders and pried the words out of him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Are you entirely sure?”

Something about what Chime was asking sounded familiar. It was almost too familiar, even. The atmosphere was distinctly the same. It was the same as last time he had gotten like this. She knew the only answer she could reply with wouldn’t work, but it was put upon her to be sure.

“Of course I’m sure,” she said. “I’m entirely sure.”

Chime sighed. There was no way he could stop her or get an answer to his suspicion this time. He figured if he had to give up, now was the time. It was time to drop it—sometimes there were things he wouldn’t be able to find out. While it bothered him to just give up on it, there was just no way he would always get information. It was over. Over for him. As long as nothing awful was to befall, he wouldn’t have to try to find out the entire truth. It didn’t matter in the end, anyway, in the end, regardless; he came to know every single thing. Not knowing right at that moment was probably for the best. He also knew the continuously trying to stop her was one thing that needed to cease. It was obnoxious—entirely obnoxious. Selfish and obnoxious of him to keep attempting to stop Gleam. It was obnoxious, and he felt awful for always trying to stop Gleam constantly. He did want to keep her safe, but it was wrong for him to keep trying to put a stop to scores she needed to settle, and he knew that. Obnoxious. He was obnoxious.

“Alright,” he said. “If you’re entirely sure.” He wondered if saying that made him sound even more obnoxious. “Sorry for all this, Gleam,” he said flatly. “I’m being rather obnoxious, aren’t I?”

Gleam blinked. He wasn’t being obnoxious. He was being himself. She didn’t like the sound of it; the sound of Chime putting himself down. He had no reason to put himself down. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear words like that from his mouth ever again. Words like that were the second closest thing to being a sin. She wouldn’t tolerate it. She wasn’t going to tolerate such behavior.

“Please don’t talk like that,” she said. “You’re not obnoxious.” She tried to keep control and not get lost in a sea of fury. “Chime, someone as amazing as you is never obnoxious,” she said, giving him compliments. “So please don’t talk like that, okay?” she meant that, but only for Chime. She couldn’t say the same for herself. She could never say the same for herself. As long as she kept on causing destruction, she would have more of a reason to despise herself. It didn’t matter how many compliments would be given to her. She wouldn’t understand them. As long as Chime didn’t put himself down, she wouldn’t have any reason to have the self loathing grow more. She proceeded to give him more compliments. “You do so much,” she said. “If anything, you are the best human being on Earth.” She blushed at the comment she made. “That was…a little much,” she whispered, embarrassed. “Anyway, you get the point, Chime.” She couldn’t say anymore due to embarrassment.

Chime laughed a little, despite how it hurt to. He patted her on the shoulder lightly. “You’re right. Sorry, Gleam,” he said. “You cheered me up a little, thank you.”

Gleam perked up a little and hugged Chime. “No problem,” she said. “Anything for you.”

Chime could feel it now more than ever, however. The head splitting migraine. It was far worse than before. The pain was going through his head—through his blood vessels. Everywhere. The pain was becoming dominant and visible. As the head splitting migraine began to take control of his rational thoughts, he started to show it on his face. He tried to be strong, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be strong. He held the sides of his head and felt small tears drip from his tear ducts. He wondered how he had forgotten. How he had forgotten all about the caffeine induced migraine. He was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

Gleam took note of Chime’s behavior. She wasn’t surprised, while at the same time, she wasn’t expecting the event to befall. With all that had been going on, she knew at least one of them would be in extreme pain. She was sorry it was Chime and not her—she would prefer it if she was the one in extreme pain. He didn’t deserver any of it. She then remembered; Chime was more important. She could think later. Now wasn’t the time for such, anyway, as the hours were numbered for her. The hours were numbered—she had no time to dawdle. Time was a precious artifact and was taken for granted by many. She knew herself that she also did such. She knew thinking about it did her no good, however. Time was being wasted. She stopped thinking about it and focused on Chime.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned. “You look like you’re in a lot of pain.” She wondered if she could have possible been the reason for such thing. She hoped that wasn’t the cause, but her thoughts mattered nothing. “I really hope I’m not the cause,” she mumbled. “I really hope you aren’t in excruciating pain because of me.” She hoped that Chime had not heard that last bit of speech.

“It’s just a coffee induced migraine,” Chime said weakly. “I’ll be fine.” He tried to act strong, but the pain would not allow it. He wanted to scream, but the pain forbade such. The pain was taking complete control of him, and there was no stopping it. “I guess you could call it my punishment for drinking so much coffee,” he admitted. “I guess it will go away over time, Gleam.” He felt defeated. Defeated by the excruciating pain in his head. His attempt to ignore the pain failed. Useless, he was useless to ignoring his pain—he was useless, and he knew it.

Gleam knew now was the time to bring Chime into his room. She didn’t want to see him suffer that way. She never wanted to see a scene like that, even once. She had to do something before he would suffer more, and she didn’t want such to befall. Gleam rose to her feet and out of the chair quickly. She wasn’t about to waste air doing nothing about the situation being presented in front of her.

“You…you don’t look so good,” she said quietly. “I’m going to take you to your bed, so you can rest.”

Gleam took Chime’s arm and placed it on her shoulder to help him walk to his bed. If she was strong enough, she’d carry him on her back, but she had lacked such form of strength. As she travelled to his room, she wondered. Wondered just how much coffee he drinks. She wondered if she even wanted to know at all. She shook her head, figuring it wasn’t her business.

As the two of them had arrived into Chime’s room, Chime let go of Gleam and did all the rest of the mobility himself. He was absolutely grateful to have had Gleam walk him to his room—for now, anyway. He had doubts he would have been able to have done so in his present state to begin with. Weakly, he climbed into his bed, and gave a pain induced smile while wincing immensely.

“Gleam,” he said, half whispering. “Sorry and thank you.” Again, he could feel it. The pathetic feeling crawling into his skin, sucking the blood out like a leech. He was a pathetic excuse for a human being, as pathetic as could be. He was no match for the good traits, and he felt inferior to the positive traits in him, if he had any. He had his many doubts. “Please win your battle for the both of us.” He managed to say what he wanted, despite his current state of mind.

“I will!” she said, perking up. “For the both of us!” she then remembered she had something of which she was required to ask before preparing to fight. She hoped Chime wouldn’t have to think too hard about the answer. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “Did you have any nightmares last night?”

Chime didn’t remember. He had no idea. If he had any idea, he would have had one, but he didn’t. It was all lost. It was all lost in a major sea of black coffee. Even if he tried to remember, he didn’t want to. It was better if he forgot it, anyway.

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t remember,” he said. “I can’t remember for the life of me, Gleam.” He changed his tone of voice slightly to evoke his true thoughts. “I think it’s better this way. I don’t want to remember.” He took his arm and placed it over his eyes, trying to get some sleeping. He was hoping the attempt would work instantly. The attempt instantly failed.

Gleam knew. She knew that if he forgot that Avangift had possibly left his subconscious alone. At that point, however, it wasn’t a solved problem. It just meant that he had chosen a separate victim that night. Early. She wanted to settle the score with him early. She decided now was the time. The time to settle the score with Avangift.

She started walking to the door to proceed to the basement. Before she exited entirely, she decided to say a temporary farewell to Chime.

“Bye Chime,” she said quietly. “I’m going to settle the score early.”

“Alright,” he said, half awake. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“Okay,” she said. “See you later.” She changed her tone of voice to a more serious one. “Please get some rest while I’m gone.”
She proceeded before Chime could answer. The score was going to be settled, and it was going to be settled much earlier than anyone intended for.


The basement was barely real. Or, at least, that was how Gleam saw it. The basement was far easier to get to than the third floor however, and unlike Numboil, Avangift had not left behind explicit clues to where the basement was hidden. The floor was disgusting; absolutely disgusting. She swore if she looked down there was at least three locks of hair on the ground. From that, she had concluded that where she had been standing was Avangift’s lair. It was Avangift’s lair and place to plot his insane tactics—which explained why the floor was decorated with his indigo hair. Gleam didn’t know whether to be disturbed by the huge amount of hair or disgusted by it. She also didn’t know what to call the feeling. She decided to call the feeling distorted choice due to not knowing which disturbance to be. She sighed, not knowing was aggravating.

She waited for Avangift’s arrival as if waiting for a king. She wondered if coming early was stupid after all. She quickly realized it was stupid. Fairy stupid. He wasn’t coming at all. There was no sign of his presence, either. She made the decision to stay where she was, however—there was no point in going back to Chime’s room since she had already been there. There was no turning back now. She found a spot on the floor that wasn’t decorated with indigo hair and sat there and waited. She waited and kept on waiting. A matter of hours soon felt like years. It was slow and almost like she had been petrified to stone.

Six year hours then passed. She could finally hear the sound of footsteps coming. She stood up and waited for the footsteps to meet her. The footsteps were slow and took almost a millennium to reach her, in her mind, anyway. As the moments passed, the footsteps met Gleam. The six year hours of waiting had been over.

Avangift looked at Gleam sarcastically. He knew from the look on her face that she had been waiting for hours. He smiled sinisterly and tore strands of his hair out. The girl had determination. Way too much determination and it was stupid. It was entirely stupid. At least she wasn’t a coward. He figured she was all talk and would not have actually come. The fact that she had been waiting amused him. He loved it—loved how blindingly stupid she was. It was amusing. Entirely amusing. He was starving again. Starving for control. Starving for a battle that would be one sided.

“Did I make you wait?” he asked sarcastically. “You should know that when I say twenty four hours, I mean twenty four hours.” He gave her evil eyes. His tone of voice became vicious instantly. “You’re going to die anyway, Sovereign of Destruction, so what do I care?” his eyes glowed orange like a brimming fire as he started with his interrogation.

Gleam gave Avangift a nasty look. She was disgusted by his behavior. Everything about him was absolutely aggravating. She just wanted to get the battle over with. His uptightness with time. She was tired of him flaunting his insanity also. She was already tired of him. Just being in the lair was blood draining. Now was the time. The time to get it all over with. There was no time left. Every second was being wasted with every breath she were to take, and she knew that. She pointed her finger at Avangift readying to declare what she wanted.

“It doesn’t matter!” she cried. “Let’s just get this over with!” she again, pointed at him. “We are going to fight with our human magic, by the way!” she was persistent in getting the ending she wished for. Her battle would mean life or death.

Avangift laughed maniacally, placing his hand on his face, making it seem like he was going to rip the skin off. He predicted that she would say that, and it amused him. It completely amused him. He didn’t care which magic he used, he knew he was going to win anyway. He had godly human magic and could make his body into that of a God if he wanted to. The girl stood no chance of beating him. Five attacks would do it. Five attacks until her death was by his hands. Imperiously, he stretched his arms out to show that he felt almighty, but Gleam didn’t notice what he was doing. She was too focused on her declaration to have even known he had changed positions.

“Sure, whatever you want,” he said in a sinister tone. “We’ll fight with our human magic!” he slapped the center of his chest to get her attention. “Doesn’t matter to me—my human magic is almighty and godlike and far more viable than my real magic.” He then, again raised his hands in an imperialistic manner. “Regardless, welcome to my lair!” he shouted. “If you die here, no one will ever detect your death.” He had said such in a dark tone of voice. “So you’d better prepare for the worst!”

Gleam sighed. He was all talk. All crazy talk and nothing more. She seemed to have come to the conclusion that she could defeat him easily. It would be a simple task and continued to think of how easy it would be to beat him. People who seemed like they were all crazy talk. They were simple to beat.

“In that case, let’s go now!” she declared. “You’re all talk as far as I’m concerned, so let’s begin!”

Avangift laughed inappropriately at Gleam’s declaration. If anyone was all talk, it was her, not him. All her words were pathetic and he would have every reason to send them back flying at her.

“All talk, hm?” he replied. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” he gave her a look and spoke one last time. “If anything you’re all talk, and because of that, I’m going first!”

“Be my guest!” she cried. “We’ll see how godly your magic is!” she knew she would regret saying that later, but it was already far too late to take it back. The words had been launched.

Avangift started to concentrate hard. He started to chant an incantation that Gleam could barely understand. She could hear some words within the incantation such as sword and cutting, but she didn’t understand why those words came to be. As Avangift continued with the incantation, his body was transforming. Within moments, his incantation had ended. Avangift had returned in an outfit that looked like that of a sword master. He stared like a demon in an attempt to scare Gleam.

“Swordsman!” he cried. “The power to stab wherever the hell I want, whenever I want!” Avangift removed the sword he had acquired through his transformation. He took the sword and charged at Gleam. As he met with Gleam’s shoulder, he slashed at it violently until a hole formed in the center of it. He placed the sword at his side and cancelled his transformation. He waited quietly for her blood to pour out of her—killing her within an instant.

Gleam held onto her shoulder as she felt her blood drop from her. She wanted to scream, but she didn’t want to show any weakness in this battle. She could feel dizziness as her blood began to drop from her—she then couldn’t help it. Gleam let out a small scream as the hole on her shoulder was decorated with red.

Avangift then realized that this was too easy; he was already winning the battle. He let out yet another maniacal laugh and tore out pieces of his hair out instead of strands. He watched sadistically as she screamed from the loss of blood. He stopped tearing his hair out and waited for the moment of perfection. The moment when he’d know for sure what kind of magic she had. It joyed him to see the blood continue to fall from her. After a while, as the bleeding stopped, he soon saw her move her hands. He then knew that her hands were a major essential to her magic. He smirked.

“Oh, I see!” he cried out randomly. “You use your hands to perform your magic!”

Gleam grunted. “Shut up!” she cried. “This injury is nothing! I can still fight!”

Avangift glared at her. It wasn’t enough. The attack he had launched wasn’t enough to stop her. He had to come up with another attack to knock her down forty five pegs. He could turn himself into a king next. A king and he would cast judgment on her.

“Sure you can,” he said complete with sarcasm. “Go on, then! Show your magic to me! I’m waiting!”

Gleam sighed. He was aggravating. Aggravating, but it didn’t matter. Now was her time. The time to show her magic. She hoped her regular magic would appear and not her other magic that she hated.

Gleam formed her hands into a circle. On the wall, her magic circle appeared. She wrote the word electrocution onto the magic circle. From the magic circle emerged four diamonds the color of a lightning rod. The diamonds travelled to Avangift and shot electricity at him. Gleam watched as everything but his body was covered with electric static. The attacked failed—it failed miserably.

“How could you be okay after that?!” she cried. “How?!”

Avangift laughed manically. The attack was pathetic. Diamond Dimension Manipulation? He had heard of it before, but had never seen it so pathetic in all of his life. The power was so pathetic that he already knew how to avoid it—her power was so awful that it pained him to even let it hit him. As the static died on his clothes, he took his left arm and placed it on his side. He started to hit his right arm until it had black and blue marks on it. He was famished. Famished for a win.

“My, my, what a pathetic little power you got there!” he said sadistically. “Is that all you’ve got? Your human magic is no match for me!” he then decided to show her real electrocution. What it was really like to use lightning. “I’ll show you real lightning. Don’t blame me if you die because of this!” the last bit he had added was to scare Gleam witless, but his attempt failed.

Gleam gulped. Seeing his last attack, there wasn’t any kidding around. He could become anything he wanted, so long as it had a power attached to it. She said nothing and waited for his next attack to figure a way to counter it.

Avangift started to concentrate again. He began to chant an incantation that she couldn’t understand at all. She could hear words in between, however, such as majesty, king and lightning. She watched and wondered where those words were coming from and why. As Avangift’s incantation continued, his body was transforming yet again. Within moments, the incantation was over. Avangift returned with an imperial robe and crown placed on his head and body. His eyes brimmed the color of fire as he readied his next attack.

“His Majesty the Lightning King!” he cried. “Feel the godly judgment of lightning!” Avangift lifted his hand and placed it high above his head. After a moment, lightning gathered into his hand. When he felt like there was enough lightning in his hand he dropped it into a waving position. The lightning clouded around Gleam and struck every part of her body. She could feel the lightning burn her. The lightning burned, and the static surrounded her body. She felt weak from the electrical shock, but felt like she had enough in her to keep going.

“That isn’t enough to stop me,” she exclaimed. “This is nothing!” she acted strong despite how weak she felt.

“Then go on!” he shouted. “Intervene, Sovereign of Destruction!”

Gleam was tired of hearing her other name. Now was the time to end the battle. She was going to use it. Her most powerful diamond spell. Her most powerful diamond spell. She didn’t want to have to resort to such, but she was getting tired of having Avangift run his annoying mouth.

Gleam formed her hands into a circle. On the wall appeared her magic circle. She wrote the words bloody knife storm onto the magic circle. From the magic circle emerged six hundred diamonds. The diamonds appeared above Avangift’s head. The diamonds were in the shape of knives. The knife shaped diamonds rained on him as her attack continued. When the attack ended, the floor was barely covered with blood. Only a small amount of blood had gotten on the floor. Her attack failed yet again. Gleam was disgusted. Disgusted with her failure. The attack failed, and she felt weak again with electric shock. If her most powerful diamond spell failed, then she had no idea. She had no idea what attack to use next. She couldn’t think of what to attack with next, and it showed on her face.

Avangift noticed the look on her face. He knew from there that was all she got. That was the last of her potential. She had used up all her powerful attacks. He cracked a maniacal laugh and ripped more of his hair out. He didn’t need to do five attacks anymore to kill her. One more attack. One more attack to end her life. His God of Eruption attack would kill her—it was time. He said nothing and started to perform his deadliest attack.

Avangift started to concentrate again. He was, again, chanting an incantation that Gleam couldn’t understand. In between, she could hear the words magma, lava and volcano within the incantation. She gave up on figuring out why he was hiding secret words within his spell. As the incantation continued, his body was transforming into a major godly figure. The transformation ended. Avangift returned, appearing to be a God in a human’s body. His clothes had become the color of a snow cap mountain. He could feel power booming inside his voice in his God transformation.

“God of Eruptions!” he boomed. “Everyone shall die at the hands of an eruption!” Avangift snapped his fingers. A dome appeared underneath Gleam’s feet. He ended his transformation as he waited for the volcano he placed under her to erupt.

Gleam had felt something under her feet and anxiously jumped out of the way. She knew that wouldn’t be far enough, so she weakly ran far away from the dome placed under her feet. The dome showed signs of exploding. The ground shook as if an earthquake were happening. The magma inside the dome became lava. The lava boomed and rushed over to Gleam. No matter how far she ran, the lava caught up with her, burning half her shirt to a crisp. The lava hit her skin, and left severe burns on her body. She was surprised she had lived through the blast.

Avangift grinned evilly and ended the attack. He snapped his fingers, and the domed volcano vanished. He had had it with this pathetic excuse for a fight. He decided to force Gleam’s Sovereign magic out of her. Control. He would control the powers out of her. It didn’t matter to him since he was going to win anyway. He placed his hand behind his back and started to channel all his Sovereign energy.

“You’re so pathetic!” he cried. “I’m so tired of your poor excuse of magic!” he placed his hand in a waving position again. “Time to release your Sovereign magic, Sovereign of Destruction!”

A light surrounded Gleam and was inserted into her body. She knew Avangift had done something. Something major, and she wasn’t about to allow such to happen.

“There’s no way I’ll use my Sovereign magic!” she cried. “I won’t resort to your tactics!”

“Sorry,” he said viciously. “It’s too late for that!” he made his voice sound musical as he finished speaking.

“No!” she cried. “What did you do?”

“You’ll see,” he said with absolute enthusiasm.

Gleam’s body moved on its own. Her body had started glowing white. The glow was robbing her of her control over herself. The part she hated was coming. It was coming. She tried to stop the attack, but there was no control. The attack wouldn’t stop. Then the feeling of the Earth being in her hands came. A cluster of extreme energy came into her hands, and she hated it more than the last time it happened. After the attack was done charging, Gleam was forced to release it. The attack travelled over to Avangift, and within moments, the gleaming glow of light ended. The attack made grace with Avangift. The energy became blinding. Gleam covered her eyes as the entire basement was white with blinding light. While covering her eyes she could hear the sound of a huge explosion. The explosion blasted her eardrums. She wanted to go deaf from the explosion—she couldn’t stand to hear the sound of it.

Avangift’s eyes opened wide. He had made the biggest mistake. Her Sovereign magic was going to kill him. He couldn’t run away; he was trapped. He made a mistake. A huge mistake. A huge mistake to force her powers out of her. Of all the insane decisions he made, that was the most insane one yet. His personality left him, and he waited for his death. He stared at the attack lifelessly.

“Dammit,” he said. “God ♥♥♥♥ing dammit, I made a mistake.” His last words and they were the most sane thing he had ever said.

The attack met Avangift. Another loud boom could be heard. Within an instant, the power blasted his head off, being lost to utter obliteration. Avangift’s life was no more. His heart stopped. His brain had been lost when his head was wiped entirely from existence. His body disassembled. His limbs were no longer attached to his dead body and flew off from the burst of power. The blinding light died down, and Gleam opened her eyes, mortified at the site before her.

Avangift’s body parts were all over the place, raining down from the ceiling because of the blast. Every body part, except for his head, came raining down. Gleam, too shocked and mortified to move, stayed sitting. Forcing herself to believe what had happened was just a bad nightmare. The body part rain ended, and Gleam received a present in her lap: one of Avangift’s disassembled legs. Gleam screamed as the dead leg weighed her down. The scream was heard by no one and nobody. The room was soundproof, lightproof, human proof. Gleam continued to scream at the site of Avangift’s body parts surrounding her, still dressed. Everything was charred. Especially her mind.

No more. She couldn’t take it anymore. Her life was meaningless as long as she was only made for destruction. No more, she was pushed against the wall of life, the wall of hating her life, and the wall was winning.

End of chapter fifteen, next to come: run around the mulberry bush. A mental breakdown’s coming. Grab that glass and run for your life. Pop goes the Gleamsel.


I spent a long time planning this chapter when I actually was writing it. Avangift's death was fun.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
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This chapter is rated M. Suicidal themes warning in effect. Read at your own risk.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 16; Winding up the jack-in-the-box. Don’t know when it’s coming. One, two, three four, pop goes the Gleamsel.

It had taken Gleam ages to work up the confidence to leave the basement. Eventually, she had been able to, but had only done so to remove the battle from her memory. She didn’t want the memories to linger, she wanted to forget everything that had happened, but she couldn’t. It was too late—the memories were stitched into her mind, and there was no stopping that. If only there was a way, but she knew there wasn’t one. As she walked back to Chime’s room, she then remembered. Remembered that Chime would scream if he saw her in the state she was in, but she had to return. She knew if she didn’t, Chime would suspect something was wrong. She breathed in and walked slowly to Chime’s room, hoping it would take ages. She didn’t want him to see her all beat up and looking like she would pass out at any moment. She didn’t want Chime to worry about her gravely. She had already caused him enough worry, and she was tired of being the cause of his stress. She was tired of it, and she knew it had to stop. It had to stop. It couldn’t continue. Today would be the last day she would cause him to worry. She hoped those words to be the truth. She had to figure out a way to tell him what happened. She didn’t want to tell him that she killed Avangift. She couldn’t; there was no way she could say such. She didn’t want to lose her only friend to the hands of murder. If she lost Chime now, she would have no one. She wasn’t ready, nor was she prepared to have no one. She wasn’t ready, and she never would be. She knew, in the meantime that omitting the part where she killed Avangift was her best bet. It was the only way. The only way she would be able to tell him all that happened. It wasn’t lying; it was still telling the truth. It was still telling the truth, as far as she was concerned. It wasn’t lying; it was merely hiding the information too gruesome to share. After deciding to omit everything she didn’t want to tell Chime, she proceeded to his room quickly. Even though she was told that the door would remain unlocked, she didn’t trust herself with going into the room without knocking first. Gleam knocked on the door quietly, and waited. She waited for both Chime and worry at the door. Eventually, the door opened, and Chime was standing there. His heart skipped at least ten beats.

Chime had opened the door to the sight of an almost dead Gleam. Her shirt was half burned. She had burn marks all around her body, and a hole in the center of her shoulder. He knew it. He knew Gleam would return to him injured as could be. He knew it would happen, and the very sight of it made him worry within a millisecond. He wanted to know what caused all the injuries left on her body. He wanted to know exactly what happened, and why. He wanted to know, and quickly. Seeing her in such a state drained all the life from his body—every ounce of life. Even looking away made him feel like his life was draining away. He had to do something. He had to, there wasn’t any possible way he would allow the evils of burns and holes to infect her. He knew what it was like for injuries to get infected. He knew better than anyone else. Countless times he had been in a situation like that. Infected injuries were practically his life, and he didn’t want Gleam to be in the same situation because of him. He would never allow such to pass—it was never going to happen, it couldn’t. As life breathed its way back into his body, he thought about the nicest way to ask her about what happened, but fear and anxiety claimed every single thought, making the words he was planning to say sound enraged and hostile. Quickly, however, he snapped out of it. Gleam was far more important at the moment. There was no time to get lost in a sea of thoughts. He took Gleam’s arm and pulled her inside, slamming the door behind him.

Chime breathed, getting ready to say what he had to. It only came out in the form of a scream.

“What did you do?!” he cried and repeated. “What did you do?!” he tried his hardest to remain calm, but failed in doing so. “How did you get all these injuries?” he continued as the concern robbed him of all rational thought. “Your clothes and body are burned! There is a hole in your shoulder! What happened? Please tell me everything.” He changed his tone of voice to alert Gleam of what he didn’t want to hear from her. “And don’t you dare lie to me about it!” he breathed and tried to calm down, but failed again. Speaking like that made him feel uneasy. Entirely uneasy, but he couldn’t admit it, and he refused to believe it.

Gleam knew she wouldn’t be able to escape Chime’s worry, but she still couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell him that she killed Avangift—she couldn’t. There wasn’t anything she could think to say. No words came to mind. Nothing formed. She wanted Chime to calm down a little, however, and they were the only words that came into her mind—the only words she could get to work. She sighed and allowed the words to flow out of her.

“Chime, please calm down,” she said. “It’s not that big of a deal.” She knew saying that was a wrong move, however, it was too late to take it back.

Chime did not want to hear words like that come out of Gleam’s mouth. It was a big deal. It was a major big deal. He, however, couldn’t say that to her. He couldn't. He decided to allow those words to go into a lid inside him and be jarred into a container of everything else he couldn’t say to her. He couldn’t be calm about it; however, there was no possible way. Seeing her in a shape like that warranted him to not be calm. He couldn’t be—he knew if he was, that it would seem like he didn’t care and he would never allow himself to not care.

“How can I be calm when you return to me in shambles?!” he cried. “Change your clothes and then sit down so I can fix this.” He knew it sounded demanding, but he didn’t care—this was a time he needed to be demanding. “You need to be more careful! Some things aren’t temporary, you know!”

Gleam sighed. She knew he would be completely concerned. She knew he was right, however. She knew that what he was saying was right. She rummaged through her drawers and replaced her burned shirt with a clean shirt and sat in a chair quickly to get everything over with. She didn’t want Chime to return to a sea of fury. She didn’t want such to happen, so she did as he said.

Chime proceeded to his necessity cabinet and took out bandages and burn cream and walked over to the chair where Gleam was. He waited a moment before beginning to allow himself to calm down, but the attempt barely worked.

Gleam knew what Chime wanted her to do without even requiring him to say something. She held up the sleeve on her hole shoulder and sighed, preparing for her to be bandaged up. She didn’t think it was necessary; the bleeding had stopped and the injuries didn’t even hurt. She knew there was no need for Chime to do this.

“You really don't have to go to all this trouble,” Gleam said. “The bleeding stopped ages ago, and the burns are really no big deal.” She wondered if it was okay for her to say that, but she knew that Chime would get angry if she did, but it was already too late to take it back.

“Don’t start that again,” he said. “Hold still, please. I don’t want to mess up when I’m bandaging you.” Chime unraveled the bandage and gently wrapped it around Gleam’s shoulder almost perfectly. He then was ready to move on to the second part. “Part two,” he said almost out of nowhere. “This might hurt a little, so hold still.” Gleam had already been holding her shirt up so Chime could do what he had to. Within a moment, he opened the cap to the burn cream and rubbed it on Gleam’s burns. As he was putting on the cream, she was screaming; the burn cream, ironically, burned, but she kept still. “Gleam!” he cried. “I know it burns, but I don’t have anything else! Please calm down.” He then, finally unraveled more bandages and wrapped the bandage over the burns. He turned to Gleam, whom looked entirely puzzled. He then decided to explain the reason why it was a big deal. “The reason this is a big deal is due to the fact that the burns will never heal if not treated,” he said. He took a breath before continuing. “Cuts, well, holes rather, could get infected, and you don’t want that.”

Gleam now understood why Chime was so worried. She knew now, and it made entire sense. She remembered. Remembered what it was like to have infected cuts. She knew the feeling all too well, and the thought hurt her. She was always forced to live through the pain of infected cuts growing up at home. She was glad that time of her life was over, and hopefully it would be forever. She never again wanted to go through such pain. It hurt more than anything in the world—pain of such category. She wished, however, that she could learn how to take care of her own cuts. She knew that Chime wouldn’t always be there for her. She knew that nothing lasted forever. Nothing lasted forever, and she knew the truth more than she needed to.

“Infections,” Gleam whispered. “I know what that’s like.” She sunk her head low. “My entire life up until I came here in a nutshell…”

Chime patted Gleam on her non injured shoulder. “You have no need to worry about that anymore,” he said. “You’re not alone. I’m here for you.”

Gleam smiled lightly. “Yeah,” she said. “That makes me happy.” One the inside, she felt alone. More alone than ever before. She knew that Chime was there for her on the outside, but there was something eating at her—something major. She knew. Knew that as long as she was a Sovereign, she truly would always be alone on the inside. Always alone on the inside, but never on the outside. It made sense. Perfect sense; she knew she deserved to feel that way. She knew she deserved to feel alone. It must have been a feeling that only killers felt; a feeling that only someone like her felt. To feel alone inside, but not on the outside, she knew it was a feeling that only she felt. She wondered. Wondered if everyone who had killed felt that way. She knew there was no way. She knew there was no way she could ask anyone, especially society. If she had asked anyone in the ocean, that would give more of a reason for them to kill her. She wasn’t in the mood to tangle with the ocean anymore. She was tired of tangling with the ocean. Everything was getting tiring to begin with. The ocean. The Sovereigns coming after her all the time, and everything else. Alone. She felt alone. Despite the fact she wasn’t actually alone, she felt alone anyway. There was nothing that could save her from that feeling—not even Chime’s words could. The wall of hating her life returned once again, and she hated it. The wall of hating her life, and it was winning. The wall was winning again. Gleam was done with it all—everything. The feeling of being alone inside was taking over and becoming permanent.

Chime noticed Gleam had been lost in thought. He didn’t know what she could have possibly been thinking of, but he knew they were not positive thoughts. He then remembered that she had not gotten any sleep in a day or two. She needed sleep and plenty of it. He didn’t want her to get hostile or faint on him. He didn’t want anything worse to happen to her—he couldn’t allow such to befall, and he wouldn’t allow it. Quickly, he thought of ways to prevent the events. To prevent the events from happening. He knew that, and he had to take action. He had to. As long as he was alive, he had to protect her. Until he was to drop dead, he had to protect her. If he failed to do so, he was a failure as a person, and a failure as a friend. He didn’t want either outcome to become the truth. He stood up quietly and picked Gleam up, placing her on his back. Gleam thought it came out of nowhere—it wasn’t like him to do something without saying something first.

“Chime?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

Chime kept his head strong. “You need rest,” he said. “You haven’t slept in a few days, right?”

Gleam nodded. Who would be able to sleep after all that had happened? She wondered. She wondered how anyone could, and it bothered her. Anyone who would be able to was either sadistic, had malice deep inside them, or wasn’t human. She wanted to keep her humanity for a small while longer. Even though she hadn’t been able to sleep, she knew somehow, she would fall asleep anyway. She knew she needed it, but she wanted to stay human. Just a little while longer—a little longer before she became a permanent monster.

“I’ll try,” she said, lying again. “You should sleep, too, though.” She changed her tone of voice. “Things seem to be quiet, so we can sleep for a few days, even!” she was not proud of that sentence. It could become a lie within moments.
Chime looked at Gleam. He knew she was lying, but decided not to say anything about the lies. He removed Gleam from his back and placed her in a sleeping position. He took the blanket at the side and placed it over her. Lying. She was lying again. He wondered why, but decided to keep the decision of saying nothing.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll do you a favor and leave you alone for the night.” He gazed over her one last time before exiting the room. “See you in the morning, Gleam.” Quietly, he exited and went into his room. He hoped the other thing she had said; about things being quiet would be the truth. Trying his hardest, he attempted to sleep peaceful, only to fail miserably.

And as Gleam expected, no matter how often she attempted, despite not wanting to, she could not sleep that night. The night droned on slowly as the entire world came around again. When light finally peaked through the room, even though she figured she’d be alone for at least an extra three hours, she was wrong. Chime was already walking out of his room. As he was walking, she removed the blanket from her body and stood up. While she was happy to see him awake earlier than usual, there must have been something wrong—something terribly wrong about to happen. She couldn’t make out what it was. When Chime reached her, she decided to prepare. Prepare to ask. She knew that if he felt something was wrong, something probably was truly wrong.

Chime had gotten no sleep that night. What Gleam had said bothered him—about things seeming quiet. There were always a few days like that, but this time, it was different, and he had an extremely bad feeling about it. While he was used to nothing happening for a day or so, the abruptness of things being this quiet just seemed wrong. Something big was coming, and soon.

“Gleam, you know, usually when someone has a bad feeling,” he said to her. “Usually when someone has a bad feeling about something… usually, that feeling was right.” He gave her a quiet look. “I don’t know about you, but the bad feeling kept me awake last night.” He stared at her for a moment. “I hate to say this, but something bad is about to happen, Gleam. I have a hunch… a hunch that the creator is up to something.”

Gleam was about to answer when an almost expected announcement blared through every room in the program. It was expected, and everything Chime said was almost spot on.

The announcement’s voice was the creator’s voice. As expected as it was, it almost sounded friendly. Something was wrong about the voice’s tone. Something was not right at all.

“Gleam Noiyam, please come to the creator’s office,” the announcement said. The announcement repeated once before turning off. “Gleam Noiyam, please come to the creator’s office.”

Gleam turned to Chime. He was right. The creator was up to something. He was up to something—she was most likely going to die. Die at the hands of Ceetos Eetos, and right now. She just knew. Knew for a fact that he was going to. There probably wouldn’t be any other reason to summon her otherwise.

“What do I do?” she asked. “He’s a bad man. He…he probably wants to kill me, Chime!” she tried her hardest not to cry, for the moment, she was successful. Tears did not fall.

Chime knew this would happen. The creator of the program must have been after her too. He didn’t want to send her out, but he knew if she didn’t go that it would lead to suspicion. He then came up with some stupid, yet seemingly imaginative fantasy that would prove false. Maybe the creator just wanted to give her something. Something of which that would slowly kill her. The creator was sickeningly unexpected. Sickeningly unexpected. While he didn’t want to, he had to let her go. It was the only way. He walked to the door, and opened it. Trying to alert Gleam that he was letting her go.

“Go,” Chime said. “Maybe he just wants to talk to you.” He hoped his words to be the truth. “If you suspect at any time that he’s trying to kill you, by all means, run away. Don’t let him get to you.”

Gleam walked to the door, but did not say something back. She was hoping. Hoping he was right. Hoping that he merely just wants to talk to her. Something was wrong, entirely wrong.


The creator’s office was larger than it had seemed last time. Every time someone was killed in his royal throne, something must have been enchanted with the powers he had stolen from the countless people he murdered. She knew being sent there meant that her life wouldn’t last. Her life was about to end and she didn’t know whether to care or to be happy about it. She was waiting both anxiously and impatiently for the creator to come into the room. She waited for the worst to happen and the best to start. She wasn’t sure why she was called in there, but she knew that it somehow related to death. The wall of hating her life. It was already winning. It was taking her over. The wall of hating her life. The wall was surrounding her, getting in her space and closing in on her. Regardless, she waited. Waited for everything, waited for the practical inevitable to become a forced reality. As she sat in the chair and continued to wait, she, again, wondered why she was called down there. She knew what it had to do with, but was that the actual reason? She wondered. She knew that the reason would come clear soon, but no soon enough. Eventually, from what seemed like days, Ceetos had arrived.

Gleam analyzed Ceetos anxiously. She noticed that he had looked younger and less pudgy than before—in fact; he had almost looked completely different from last time. He was wearing a disgusting rainbow suit that made her want to close her eyes. The suit was blinding and absolutely a horror to look at. She refused to give in to his horrible sense of fashion and waited for him to speak. She tried to hide all her anxiety and fear. All of it, but she knew she was failing at such miserably.
“Hello, hello!” Ceetos said oddly. “Sorry for my lateness, sorry, sorry! I hope you weren’t waiting too long, I’m a very busy man, you know!” Ceetos put a fake smile on his face. Another victim, another day. He loved the moment when he tricked innocent people.

Gleam gulped. His attitude was already getting to her and fast. Why had he always acted that way around people? Was it all an act to get what he wanted? She knew it was—and she knew it would be dangerous to stay there long. Before showing fear in her voice, she answered.

“What did you call me down here for?” she asked, trying not to sound suspicious. “You’re not kicking me out, are you?” Gleam knew she shouldn’t have said such, but had said it anyway. She knew it was too late to take it back now.

Ceetos smirked. The question he wanted to hear had been asked. His favorite of all questions. The trap had been set. He was ready. Ready for a sight to behold. The sight of seeing hearts fly. He was sure his favorite part would come soon. The part of gaining a brand new power. It was only a matter of time before then. First came his least favorite part—the verbal trap. He prepared the fence and began the initiation of his plan.

“No, no, no! Of course not! Of course not!” he said. “I’m not kicking you out! No way, no way!”

Gleam could feel sweat go down her body. There it was again; that attitude. She couldn’t escape it; his attitude. It was too powerful and riddle with a false sense of security. His attitude, it was turning the madness switch inside her on. The madness switch was now in an on position. She was frightened by the feeling of a possible thrust or change in her. She figured for now it was best to ignore it and let the creator speak. She didn’t want to be in the room for long—she knew it would do her no good to stick around in there.

“Then why?” she asked. “Why did you call me in here?” she again tried to say such without suspicion.

Ceetos hated that question. What was with children wanting to know they were called down to his office? Still, the trap was already set, so he had to keep going with it. Praise. Fake praise. That would get him what he wanted. That would take him in the direction he wanted. Drowning the child in “praise.” Drowning her in “praise” that she was doing an amazing job in the program. That could work to make his trap fire. If she was drowned in “praise” she would suspect nothing of what he was doing. He changed his smirk to a hug tooth wide grin—it was all about the acting. Always, always was about the acting.

“The reason I called you down here,” he said. “Is to tell you about the excellent job you’re doing in the program!”

The madness switch. The madness switch had been switched on again. His attitude. His attitude had been getting to her. She had to remain calm; calm. Good job, he says. Good job, he says. She didn’t know yet if he was being practical or lying. She sat in the chair, puzzled, but tried her hardest not to look such. She kept on thinking of what to say back that wouldn’t sound suspicious, scared, anxious or like she was onto him. Still, good job, he says, excellent job you’re doing in the program, he says. The words were crawling into her body, living there. Leading her humanity to be drowned by the words. A little longer. Just a little longer to keep her humanity before she felt like she was going to lose it. Just a little while longer—a little while longer before everything would be over.

“Huh?” she asked. “What do you mean? I’m doing just a good job as anyone is doing here.”

Ceetos put his hands on his desk. His smile changed to a fake serious expression. More fake praise. He needed to give more fake praise. It wasn’t working. He had to give more fake praise until he would get what he wanted. It was bothersome having to do such, but in order to get what he wished for, he needed to keep going. Praise. Fake praise. Keep drowning her in fake praise that she was doing a much more exceptional job than anyone else in the program. It didn’t matter; it being all an act, after all. He had said those lines to many children there already. All his victims were completely tricked by his fake praise. He knew one other person would be no different. Diamond Dimension Manipulation and destruction would be an excellent addition to his ever growing magic collection. He went back to his huge grin, acting all fake again.

“No, no, no, you’re doing a far more excellent job! A far more excellent job!” he said, sporadically. “I’ve never seen someone do such a good job in my program before!”

There he went again. Excellent job, he says. Doing a better job than anyone else, he says. Gleam didn’t know how much more she could take of this. As he proceeded to the continuous praise, more of it was crawling under her skin, giving birth. Giving birth to the madness inside her. The madness. The madness was an embryo. Quickly, the madness was beginning to become more of itself. Just a little longer. She was surprised she had even lasted this long. She wondered how she hadn’t felt like she was going to snap earlier. She wondered why. The thought was also beginning to corrode her.

“N-no,” she said. “You must be mistaken.” Denying what he said was all she could do; all she seemed to be able to make out.

Ceetos saw now. It was far too early. Far too early to let his trap fire. He knew she was responsible for the Sovereign deaths. Useful—she would provide useful in his goal. One more compliment, however, before he sent her away. He wouldn’t have to get rid of her physically from the program now. It was too early. She was doing everything he wanted. Having her die now wouldn’t be a sane ideal. After she has destroyed all the Sovereigns, until all their powers are inside him. In all standards, that was the actual good job he was talking about. Children were stupid, so stupid. One more session of “praise” before sending her way. One more session of “praise.” He smirked, but changed the smirk to a huge grin quickly to create the atmosphere he wished for.

“No! No! I’m telling the truth! I’m telling the truth!” he said, repeating himself. “Keep up the good work! Keep up the good work!”

Gleam felt entirely uncomfortable. She had enough. Enough with being in his office. The madness. The madness was becoming a fetus in size. She couldn’t stand to be in there anymore. She had to escape. She had to escape somehow. There had to be a way. A way to escape Ceetos. She didn’t want to remain in there anymore. Amongst everything, she knew the conversation was almost over. There was no time left for her humanity. It was exiting her. No time left. She had to run away. She had to run away. Being in the creator’s office was ruining her. It may have only been twenty minutes, but the meeting had already ruined her entirely.

“I-is that all?” she asked.

Ceetos gave a fake grin. “Yes, yes, you are dismissed!” he said. “Keep up the good work! You’re doing a good job! Such a good job!”

Ceetos opened the door and escorted her out. After she exited his office, he grinned to himself silently. Fun. It was incredibly fun giving the girl fake praise.

Gleam had felt it more than ever now. The madness. The madness was overcoming her. No more. She couldn’t take it anymore. No more. She couldn’t take her life anymore. Living was pointless as long as she was only made for destruction. No more. It was over. Everything was over. Nothing had purpose anymore. She kept on walking until she came across her weapon of choice: the window. Within seconds, the madness returned robbing her of everything. Robbing her of her very identity. The madness. The madness was Gleam Noiyam. A gleaming glow of light robbed her. She didn’t care this time; didn’t care this time if the feeling of the Earth were to come into her hands. The feeling of the Earth being in her hands came. She would have hated it, but she didn’t care. A cluster of energy came into her hands. After the attack was done charging, she, for the first time, willingly released it. The attack travelled to the window, and the sound of glass shattering could be heard. The gleaming glow of light ended. She could feel a laugh coming on. As she ran to the shattered window, she laughed practically maniacally. She searched the floor for the sharpest piece and picked it up from the ground. As she picked up the glass, her eyes glowed red. Red, the color of blood. She was ready. All the preparations were complete. Over, everything would finally be over. The madness was now active. The madness was now her.

“Good job, he says. Good job, he says!” she cried, shaking violently. “I’ll give him a good job!”

Her eyes continued to glow red as she started to sprint to Chime’s room. The glass in her hand was a splendorous thing.


Gleam knew Chime wouldn’t approve of what she was about to do, but stupidly, she had forced herself to go back to his room. She knocked on the door, but hid the glass behind her back. Turned away. She would wait until Chime’s back was turned before beginning. Gleam could hear the sound of the door opening from the other side. As the door opened, Chime said nothing and let her in. Before doing what she had to, she looked at him. She was sorry, sorry things had to be the way they were shaping up to be, but it was too late for anything. It was too late.

Chime gazed at Gleam, noticing the glass in her hand. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. Gleam had been acting different. She said nothing walking into his dorm, nothing. Usually she greeted him, but not this time. Something was wrong. Definitely wrong. He wouldn't know for sure, however, until he talked to her. He breathed in and prepared to speak to her.

“Hello,” he said, trying to greet her. “How did it go with the creator?” he then noticed she was shaking, about to pick up the piece of glass in her hand. Something was definitely wrong. “Gleam?”

Gleam couldn’t hear him. She was lost. Lost deep within the contents of her mind. She figured now was a good time as any. Time to say goodbye. Goodbye to everything. She smiled to herself and picked up the arm with the glass in it. The dim world. She could finally leave the dim world behind.

“I’m doing what the creator wants!” she cried. “I’m doing what you want, Ceetos! Watch me!”

A vein. A vein, somewhere. Gleam motioned the glass over her left arm and kept on searching for a vein. The perfect escape out of the dim world. Away from Ceetos, away from the Sovereigns. A vein, a vein to cover in red.

Chime had noticed what Gleam was doing. No way was he going to allow it. He had to get the glass way from her somehow, he had to. He wasn’t going to watch idly by as Gleam was trying to destroy herself. He had to get the glass away from her, but it would require getting some sense into her. He would not sit by and watch her do what she was doing. There was no way such behavior was acceptable in any shape or form. If had had to, he would use force to stop her behavior, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Gleam!” he shouted. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop and think about this!” but Gleam couldn’t hear him.

Gleam kept on searching. Searching for a vein. Something, anything in the means for her escape. Anything. She kept on searching for a vein to find none. Regardless, the glass was beginning to get covered. The piece of glass was slightly painted as Gleam poked the sharp end of the glass at her left arm. A mess—she was a mess, and she didn’t care.

“Perfect!” she cried. “Perfect! Perfect!” she continued to search for the vein she wanted to destroy. The fury was now taking her over.

Chime stared in horror as Gleam was screaming and trying to destroy herself. He continued to try to scream sense into her, despite how it wasn’t working.

“Gleam!” he shouted. “You know causing bloodshed to yourself is no way to go!” Drop that glass now!” but Gleam still couldn’t hear him.

Gleam continued to search for a vein and kept failing miserably. Pathetic, she felt pathetic. She was even bad at finding a vein. As the glass kept on making contact with her skin, she smiled. It was what the creator wanted and she knew it. The words came to life, as she expected.

“I’m doing what you want, Ceetos!” she cried. “I’m doing what you want, right?” she smiled. The madness was in sight again. She laughed almost maniacally as the glass was becoming redder and redder with blood. Painted with her blood. Almost there, she had almost found it. The vein she had been looking for. She smiled and waited for the perfect moment to get her escape plan ready.

Chime was through. He was through watching Gleam try to destroy herself. Talking sense into her was not working. His biggest fear in all the drama was coming true. He had to use force. He had to use force to get her to stop. It was the only way—the only way to stop her. The only way to stop her. He didn’t want to resort to force, but he had to. He figured once would be enough. One use of force would be enough. With his resolve in mind, he walked over to Gleam, whom was still at it with the self-destruction. Enough was enough. Chime raised his hand reluctantly and made contact with Gleam’s face. Hard. The sound of a slap vibrated through the walls of the room. He swore that if he had done it any harder that the entire Earth would have heard it. He was sure the entire community in the program had heard it. Within a minute, he was able to get to the arm with the glass in it. He twisted her arm and pried the glass out of her hands. Never again, never again. He never wanted to raise a hand at Gleam again.

The madness. The madness was leaving her. She could hear the world around her again. The madness was dead now. She could feel the pain of Chime blow. It was only then she realized. She truly was doing what the creator had wanted. She looked down at her arm and noticed what she had done. Why? Why had she decided to attempt that? Why? She knew it was stupid. She knew she shouldn’t have attempted it, but it was already too late. She deserved it more than anything—Chime’s blow. She deserved it. Completely, entirely. What she had done was beyond unacceptable. It was too late, however, to go back in time and fix what she had done.

Chime looked at Gleam’s face. The marks from his slap were still there. He was sorry that he had to do that, but there was no time to feel sorry. He had to figure out why Gleam tried to destroy herself, extinguish her life. He had to figure it out. He had to ask her. There was no time.

“Can you hear my voice now?” Chime asked. He had been aware the entire time that she was too deeply lost in thought to have even heard him.

Gleam could hear Chime. She nodded to alert him that she was able to hear him. Unacceptable. What she had done was unacceptable. She knew she couldn’t promise herself that she wouldn’t do such actions again, but she hoped such would never have to happen again. Scars that never disappear because of her. Scars of a permanent mark. All because of her.

As soon as Chime was aware Gleam could hear him, he took the piece of glass and violently threw it at the wall. The glass shattered and he changed his expression to a serious one to show her that he wanted no nonsense from her.

“Never put me through this again, you hear me?” he said sharply. “Never put me through this again!” he shouted it as loud as he could to show her that he was cross with her. There was no nonsense right now. None whatsoever.

Gleam lowered her head. She had committed a sin. If she had any chances of making it into heaven, she had ruined all her chances. All her chances were ruined because of her. She knew that even though her sorry would mean nothing, she had to apologize to Chime.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, Chime.”

Chime proceeded to his necessity cabinet and removed the bandages and returned to Gleam. He wrapped the bandage around her arm before speaking again. He had to know what happened and why; as soon as possible. As he finished wrapping up her arm, he spoke to her calmly this time.

“It’s fine, Gleam. Don’t apologize,” he said. Saying it was fine, however, was completely wrong of him. “So, please tell me what happened with the creator and why you tried to kill yourself. And don’t lie to me about it.”

Gleam knew it was in her best interest to tell Chime. Putting him through that drama, he deserved to know every bit as to why she tried to do what she attempted. She spoke, but it only came out in a hoarse whisper.

“The creator of the program, he… he was giving me all these fake compliments,” she explained. “Saying that I was doing a good job, but he was lying, Chime! Lying!” she could feel tears stream down her face, but put a stop to the tears. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Something inside me snapped. I don’t know, maybe deep down I knew it was wrong, but I just wanted to escape.” She could feel tears stream down her face again, but this time, she couldn’t stop them. The tears were dominant. “I’m sorry, Chime. It won’t ever happen again, really, I promise.”

Chime had still been cross with her, but he couldn’t help himself. Chime pulled Gleam closer to him and hugged her. In one day she had regret living, all in one day. He couldn’t help it—he had to hug her. Maybe the warmth would protect her for just a little while. He could no longer be mad at her anymore.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here for you now.”

Gleam stayed in Chime’s arms for a while. There was nothing left for her, nothing. It was only then she realized. Chime wasn’t going to leave her. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone at all. As long as Chime was still there, she had nothing else to worry about for a little while. That’s what she wanted to believe, at least. It’s what she wanted to believe, and what she told herself over and over again until enough time had passed for her to be separated from Chime’s warmth. A hug was a powerful weapon.

End of chapter sixteen, next to come: a tragedy that can only be done one way. A tragedy bathed in past encounters. Chime is hiding the answer.


...Oh my god. This chapter always rips me apart because I had to describe a mental breakdown and suicide attempt. Building up to a suicide was really hard, okay? It was horrifying to write this at all.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


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Age 22
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This chapter is rated M. Extreme gore warning in effect.

I haven't gone through to find the typos yet, so typo police beware.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 17; Reminiscing equal to trauma.

After the events of drama Gleam put Chime through, she somehow had gotten sleep that night. Even though she didn’t have any thoughts that caused her nightmares, a rather extreme nightmare was sure to torture her anyway. It was as if the nightmares were an automatic response. Automatic—as if they were required to live in her subconscious until she died. Even though she didn’t want to think such, she knew she deserved the nightmare’s tortures. Maybe it would have been best to remain locked in her subconscious, but she stopped thinking about it. Any worse thoughts would make the nightmares she was having get entirely worse, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t. One of the many nightmares she was having at the time then, however, did not trap her deep inside her mind. It had given her the exact opposite result instead. Rather than being trapped, the opposite became the truth. Gleam woke up to the feeling of a scream, but the scream was useless. When she had woken up, the entire dorm room was dark. The darkness of the room was hurting her eyes, she wasn’t used to the feeling, and she never would be. It was one in the morning, and she knew not even Chime would wake up to save her. Save her from the memories of the nightmare. It was wishful thinking beyond belief and she knew it. Gleam sighed and proceeded to going back to sleep. As much as she didn’t want to, she had to. She had no interest in staring at the darkness of the dorm room for another six hours. The very darkness was enough to make her go blind. As she closer her eyes, within moments she had drifted off into sleep, and within moments, a nightmare was sure to torture her again. The nightmare was clockwork. Part of her torture was clockwork. As soon as she were to escape a nightmare, another would come. It was all clockwork, it all happened with reason and purpose. The nightmare she was having, however was barely as gruesome as most of the nightmares she had, in fact, she could classify the nightmare as a normal dream. As much as she wanted to classify it as a normal dream, she couldn’t. The atmosphere and setting still made it a nightmare. Unlike most of her nightmares as of late, there was a permanent setting. Gleam was in her house, sitting at the kitchen table. Apparently, she had reversed in aging. On the outside world, she was still twelve, but in the contents of her nightmare, she was eight again. She remembered the day she was dreaming. The worst day in her life. The day that her family had a big feast, and she wasn’t invited to her own family’s feast. The worst memory in her life, and she was having a flashback about it. The nightmare continued for the next few hours or so. Despite time moving differently in dreams, Gleam came to notice how normal time seemed to be moving. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream after all. Maybe, just maybe she was awake and she was a flashback while thinking. She tried to pinch herself, but her dream body would not allow it. Her body would only move according to the way it did four years ago. The worst part was coming. Her parents had come into the kitchen without earplugs in. For the first time since she was born, they had nothing in their ears. They looked at her and made disgusted faces, then made disgusting noises. The thing, the thing they had to make one night eight years ago was in the kitchen. It thought that it was invited to the big family feast? They laughed at each other. The thing thought it was welcome at the feast. The two of them walked over to the table where Gleam was, and lifer her out of the chair, carrying her to the door, literally kicking her out. She remembered her mother had carried her, her father had took his leg out and made her go flying. Flying to the stoop at the door. Her parents had then told her that she was not welcome at the feast and go play with the kids in the neighborhood. They told her that the only reason she was even allowed in the house was because they legally owned her until she was fourteen. After, they shut the door. Now Gleam was prey to the bullies in the outside world. As the bullies in her flashback had beaten her up until she shed blood, Gleam woke up, entering the real world, crying her eyes out. The day four years ago was still haunting her, even now.

Chime was having similar problems. Today was the day. Three years ago. The day three years ago that he wanted to leave behind. Three years ago. He wanted to forget, but he couldn’t. He knew that day was coming, and he felt powerless towards the trauma of the memories forcefully stitched into his mind. Today was a day he didn’t want to get out bed. A day he just wanted to sleep for an entire twenty four hours, but he couldn’t. He had to look after Gleam. After the events of the other day, he made the decision to watch her closely for any more signs of suicide attempts or suicidal thoughts in her. He had to keep on paying attention to her—he wasn’t important. He knew staying in bed, sleeping an entire day away was selfish. He had to stay by Gleam’s side, even if he was down. Chime climbed out of bed and rummaged through his drawers in order to get dressed. The sight of there being no long sleeve shirts or jean jackets left in the drawers angered him. With neither a long sleeve shirt or jean jacket to hide the scar on his arm, he was in jeopardy. Quickly, he got dressed and collected all his clothes in a basket. There was no way he was going to be without long sleeves for a long period of time. He sighed and walked to the washing machine he had in the closet. After putting the detergent in the machine, he carelessly dumped all his clothes in. After he was sure the washing machine was on, he exited the room and walked to the couch to see Gleam crying. Despite his inability at the moment to comfort her, he didn’t want to leave her like that. He scrambled for words until words finally came to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her. He took note of Gleam’s current features. Her eyes were red from crying. Redder than they naturally were. Seeing her in such a state worsened his mood. “Your eyes are red.” He then wondered. Wondered if something had been tormenting Gleam. His expression then changed to that of a depressed one. “Did you have a nightmare again?” he cowered at the thought of not being able to comfort her properly.

Gleam wiped her eyes and thought back. She didn’t know what to call it. What was in her mind while sleeping. Was it really a nightmare? Or was it just a realistic dream? She didn’t know what to call it. She didn’t know how to describe it, either. She knew, however, that she could not lie about it. She knew if she did that, Chime would scream at her for lying again. She thought about it again. It wasn’t exactly a nightmare, but it wasn’t a dream. She was sleeping at the time, however, so it made no sense to her. She then remembered. The nightmare was of trauma from the past. Trauma from when she was eight. A flashback in her sleep—a flashback nightmare. She knew she had to tell Chime about it.

She shook her head. “It wasn’t a nightmare,” she answered specifically. “It was a flashback of something I’d prefer to forget.”

Chime was terrified. Flashbacks. Gleam was having flashbacks. Just like him, she was dealing with the past now, too. Both of them were having the same problem at the exact same time. Now he didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do. He was hoping that Gleam wouldn’t have to deal with the same thing as he, but it was already too late. A part of him wanted to steer away from the flashback topic, but he knew if he didn’t ask her what it was that it would seem like he didn’t care. The other part of him knew he had to. As long as she didn’t ask about his past, he’d be able to ask her about the flashback.

“What was it a flashback of?” he asked expressionless and in a depressed tone. He then added, “Would you rather not talk about it?” as he said such, he could feel his body get heavy from trauma. Within minutes, he started to try to take back what he asked her, but stopped himself.

Gleam noticed the depressed tone is Chime’s voice. Something was bothering him, and she knew it. It was abnormal to see Chime even showing signs of depression. She didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him about the flashback. She knew if she did that, she would make his mood worse. She didn’t want that. She never wanted to be the harbinger of depression for Chime. She didn’t want that to happen—she never wanted things to be that way. She knew it was in her best interest to change the subject.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she answered, trying to change the subject. “It’s a memory I’d rather forget.”

Chime sighed. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that Gleam dodged the question or curious about the flashback more. It didn’t make sense to him, but he didn’t want to divulge too deeply into the topic. Thinking about it made him feel hopeless—and he didn’t want to show Gleam that side of him. He didn’t want Gleam to see his depressing side. One way or another, he knew that if he continued to talk about it that it would trigger something inside him. At all costs, he had to avoid it. He did not want Gleam to see that side of him. At all costs, he had to hide it, and he would do anything to keep on hiding his depressing side.

“I won’t ask anymore, then,” he said quietly. “Best you not talk about it if it hurts you to.” He sighed again. He didn’t know why he said that to her. He wasn’t making any sense. He wasn’t making sense to himself, and it bothered him. He wasn’t making any sense, and he knew it. While the thoughts damaged him more, he felt more pathetic and useless as a human being.

Gleam noticed more now. She noticed. Something was wrong. She knew that something was bothering Chime. She wondered how she could comfort him. She had no idea where to begin—absolutely nothing came to her. Nothing came to her. She knew, however, that she couldn’t sit there as Chime was all depressed. It hurt her to see him in such a state, and she didn’t want him to continue to be miserable, especially if she was the reason behind his misery. She had to make him happy somehow. She had to get him to smile. Even if it were to be for a split second, she wanted to get him to smile again. The words wouldn’t form. She couldn’t think of how to go about it. She knew that when people want to know what’s bothering someone, they ask. She figured that would be a good approach as any. Deciding it was the only way she could get Chime to smile again, she let the words flow.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You seem down, Chime.” She shook her head. That was not the direction she wanted to go in, but it was already too late. “You’re not acting like yourself. Is everything okay?”

Chime knew. Knew he was caught. Gleam had caught him. She had caught him. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her about the traumas bothering him. He couldn’t. He didn’t want anyone to know—especially Gleam. Telling anyone would lead to people feeling sorry for him or be freaked out by his story. It was too much. It was way too much for him, and he couldn’t handle it. Forever and always, he would keep his past a secret. Though, he knew that it would also be best to act like nothing was bothering him. It might have been a lie, but he had no choice; he had to lie to her for now to stay stable inside.

“Nothing,” he said, lying badly. “Everything is fine, Gleam.” He sighed. The lie he told was so blatantly obvious that it showed through his facial expressions. There was no way she would be able to make his lie seem better. He was locked down to his lie with chains.

Gleam raised an eyebrow. Was Chime lying to her? She knew then that something was certainly bothering him. She knew that it would be better to stay out of his business, but she was worried. She couldn’t stay out of it. Chime was lying, and she wasn’t used to the feeling. She wasn’t, and she didn’t want the feeling to last. She had to say something, and she had to say something now. She breathed in and prepared to say what she needed to.

“Are you lying to me?” she asked with suspicion. “That’s not like you.” She really wanted to back away. She could tell by the look on his face that he was uncomfortable. Gleam didn’t like the fact that she was making him feel that way. She knew now more than ever—she needed to lay off. She needed to stay out of it. She knew it was wrong of her, but she couldn’t help herself by trekking into forbidden territory. “…But I’ll stay out of it.” She smiled at Chime, hoping he’d smile back. The lack of a smile back worried her all over again.

Chime gulped. He was in jeopardy. How did she catch on so fast? He wondered how she had caught on. He then realized. He can’t hide anything from Gleam. He couldn’t anymore. He knew it was coming. He knew she would soon ask. Ask about his past. He didn’t know yet if he could tell her or not. He didn’t, and the very thought of not knowing was eating at him. The uncertainty was becoming Chime Nume. Since Gleam had caught his lie, he had no choice but to tell her the truth. He sighed and tried to steady his words.

“Yeah,” he said, drifting off a little. “I was. Sorry.” He remembered always telling Gleam to not lie about anything, and now he was lying to her. Hypocrite. He was the biggest hypocrite of them all. “Well, I guess that makes me a hypocrite, huh?” he laughed at himself. He was a pitiful excuse for a human being. “That makes me pitiful.”

There it was again. Gleam had seen the return of the behavior she did not want to see. Chime was beating himself up again, and she was getting tired of seeing that behavior. She was getting tired of it. Chime had no reason to beat himself up. He didn’t. There was no way she was going to watch as Chime did such. However, she tried not to look aggravated or annoyed by it.

“Don’t…don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said. “You’re not pitiful, Chime.”

Chime looked at Gleam. He knew that she didn’t want to hear him beat himself up. He couldn’t help it. More and more he was finding more reasons to be critical towards himself. More and more, every day, he was finding many reasons to criticize his actions. Pitiful, pathetic, a hypocrite, and more importantly, awful. He was amongst many other things, but he had to stop. He wondered if he could, however. He could barely remember the last time he could be easy on himself. He didn’t even remember. A time where he could would not come to him. Nothing came to him; it was all lost in a sea of self-disaster. It was lost, and it would never return to him.

“You’re right,” he said, fake laughing. “Thank you. You always manage to cheer me up somehow.” Though he was only telling the half truth, he meant it.

Gleam would have answered him, but the sound of a loud beep blasted throughout the entire dorm room. It was so loud that she swore if it were any louder, she’d go deaf entirely. The sound of the beep made her jump at least ten meters. It was so sudden, so unexpected. She wondered if that was the creator’s intention to scare everyone, then he had a good job of scaring her. She knew, however, that if that were the case there would have been an announcement afterwards, and since there was none, she knew it was stupid to think such. The sound still startled her, and the sound would not get out of her head.

“W-what in the world was that?!” she cried. “It sounded like nine hundred ovens going off at once…”

Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder. He knew where the sound was coming from. He knew that the loud obnoxious beep had meant his clothes were done washing. His time in short sleeves was over. It was finally over. He could go back to hiding the scar from the world. He could return to not having to look at the ugly scar on his arm. Being without long sleeves for even half an hour was risky for him. A secret he would keep from everyone. A past event that he wanted to keep in the closet. He would keep the past hidden until he was forced to talk about it. He sighed, and prepared to take his clothes out of the washing machine.

“That was the washing machine,” he said, reassuring her. “My clothes are done washing. I’m going to go get them.” He walked into his room slowly and quietly. He was ready while not ready at the same time.

Gleam came to notice. Notice the scar on Chime’s left arm. She had barely noticed it before, but now she had noticed its existence. The scar. It looked like it had been absent of activity for a long time, but it didn’t look like it would ever go away. A scar of a permanent mark, a scar that would never cease to be visible. A scar that would forever be a battle. She wondered if Chime had done it to himself, wondered if he was the one who caused the scar to appear on his skin. She knew it was possible, but she didn’t want to believe that he was capable of causing anything that dangerous to himself. She couldn’t imagine it, she could hardly believe it. However, before she was to jump to conclusions, she had to ask him. She had to know for sure before locking down her thoughts as the permanent answer. She waited for him to return anxiously, the curiosity was devouring her.

Chime returned within a moment. A jean jacket was sure to be glued to his skin in spirit. If Chime had it his way, he would permanently staple a jean jacket to his body, but he knew that was impossible. With laundry over with, he knew he had to do something, anything, to force time to move. Anything that wasn’t too risky. Something that wouldn’t draw attention to himself or Gleam. Something, anything to keep his mind off the past. He knew dwelling on the past would only drown him farther. He needed to do something, anything to take his mind off the past. Anything to avoid its existence.

Gleam turned to Chime, noticing he had returned from his room. Her curiosity peaked again, she couldn’t hold in the questions about the scar she had discovered anymore.

“Chime,” she said, breaking the silence. “That scar on your arm. How did you get it?” she changed her tone and expression to a serious one. “You didn’t do it to yourself, did you?”

Chime’s eyes opened wide. She asked. She asked the one question he never wanted to hear. The one question he never wanted to hear from her. Why? Why was she asking? Why did she want to know? Why did she want to know about the scar? He could feel his body ache as the images of the past started rushing back into his mind like a river flowing on the opposite end. The images were forcing their way back into his memory. Why? Why did she want to know? There was no way he could tell her, but he did not want to scream at her for asking. When he had been mentally calm enough, he spoke to her, trying his hardest not to seem harsh when he spoke.

“Please…please don’t ask that,” he answered. “The past is in the past.”

Gleam knew it would be useless to ask. She wondered why she bothered to ask, but she couldn’t just leave the subject alone. She knew something was bothering him, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. She didn’t’ like seeing Chime so miserable—she hated it. She hated it more than she hated herself. He didn’t deserve to be miserable; he never did. He never deserved such misery, only she did, and she knew it. She knew that she was the one who deserved to be miserable, but right now, Chime was the one and only focus. She wasn’t going to allow herself to think about her at the moment.

“But you look miserable,” she said. “It’s got to be bothering you.” She tried to think of something, but failed in thinking of anything to help hide her suspicion. “It hurts to see you this way, Chime.”

Chime sighed. His mood was dangerous. It was dragging Gleam into a spiral, and he didn’t want that. He had to come up with something, anything to escape the memories of his past. Something, anything, to force time to move. Maybe, just maybe, he could take Gleam and himself to the library. Something, anything, to make him forget the trauma of three years ago. The library. The library was his only bet. His only bet to forgetting everything plaguing him. He’d try something, anything, to change the direction of the day. With his resolve in mind, he walked over to Gleam and held out his hand, waiting for her to grab it. He waited for moments, yet it seemed like ages.

Confused as to what Chime was about to do, Gleam grabbed his hand. She wondered. Wondered why. She didn’t know what Chime was up to. She had to ask him, and quickly.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “Chime! Where are you taking me?”

Chime’s expression changed to that of a dark one. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He could hold back anymore with his words. “The library,” he said, shaking. “I don’t want to stay in my room right now.”

Gleam gazed at Chime. She saw how desperate he seemed. He was desperate, and she didn’t want to argue with Chime’s wishes. She wanted to do all she could to save him from insanity. She wanted to keep Chime from going insane; she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle an insane Chime. She decided to just roll with what he wanted. If it were to save him from the depths of insanity, she would do anything. She smiled to show her approval.

“If that’s what will make you happy,” she answered. “I just want you to be yourself again.” She would have blushed with embarrassment, but refused to give into her thoughts.

Chime said nothing and took Gleam and himself out of his dorm room. The time out his dorm room, the time away would take his mind off everything. As long as he was away from it all, away from everything, he could get a peace of mind. As he walked, however, people he recognized were block his way. Time, history was repeating itself. History was repeating itself. They were back, the people whom he wanted to forget the most—the people he wanted to run away from. The people who tortured him. They were there—in the program. No matter how many times he closed his eyes, their faces were still there. He wished it were an illusion, but it was too late for the sight to be a fake spectacle. Chime let go of Gleams’ hand and started to shake violently. The people from his past were back—back for history to repeat itself.


The hallway had been coaxed with evil. An evil force three fifteen year old boys. All of them had black hair the color of jet ravens. The boys wore leather jackets that had the words lethal printed on them. They were much taller than Chime, about two skyscrapers taller, as he saw it. The boys were ugly both on the inside and outside. Chime knew that if those three were there that his moments were numbered. All of it was coming back to him, everything. Seeing the three of them there together made him want to run away. Run away and never be seen again. He figured, however, that since he was there that he might as well settling things once and for all.

The boys glared at Chime. Paintbrush boy was right where they wanted. He had gotten far too out of control. It was time to teach him another lesson. A lesson in who belonged in the world. The boys formed in a triangle and snapped their fingers. They would teach him a lesson. They would remind him that they’re better than he was. They smirked as their invisible army surrounded the leader in the action. The canvas had been ready. The lesson was prepared, they grinned at Chime stupidly, getting ready to remind him of who they were.

“Hello, paintbrush boy,” the leader said viciously. “Remember us? You’d better.”

Chime formed his hand into a fist. Of course he remembered them. He could never forget them. He could never forget the people who tried to murder him. He would never forget. The thought tortured him. They were the reason for everything. Absolutely everything. He would never forget their faces or what they had done to him if his life depended on it.

“You know I would never forget your faces,” he said demonically. “How did you even get here? I thought your invitations were rejected.” He didn’t want to show this side of him in front of Gleam, but it was already too late. It was already too late to cast aside his dark side.

Gleam backed away. She knew that this was Chime’s fight. She had no right to get involved. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew it wasn’t her business in any shape or form. It wasn’t her business, and she had no right to get involved. She knew the boys were not after her. It was wrong for her to step back, but it was Chime’s fight, not hers, and she knew she had to respect that.

The boys glared at Chime evilly. What a moron he was. He had fallen straight into their trap. A trap for their lesson that they were better than him. A lesson that they were the Gods. A lesson to prepare to ride the sea of hell. They had unfinished business with the bastard who thought he had a right to live. The boys started to laugh at one another. This time, they would do it. This time, they would claim his dead body—they had failed last time, three years ago, but this time, they would succeed, and they were sure of it. They would make sure they would succeed this time in the claiming of Chime Nume’s body. A lesson from the past would be sure to remind him. Three years of waiting for this moment. Three years of waiting, and they could hardly believe it had been so easy to make contact with him. They were ready to teach him a lesson. A lesson that would ensure death. The part they hated came first, however, the pacing. They had to take it slow, they had to take the lesson slow, and they hated it. The pacing began; the leader raised his arms imperiously and began.

“Oh, you know, that same stupid cliché story,” he answered with a venomous tone. “Some man with an ugly rainbow suit came to our lair with a picture of you asking if we know you, see.” He forced himself to continue explaining to pace the plan. “Of course we told him that we did, and what do you know! The son of a ♥♥♥♥♥ invited us here.” The leader placed his hand on his chin and pointed one hand at the ceiling to make a lie appear before Chime’s eyes. “He must have wanted us bad enough after rejecting our invitations.” The leader walked closer to Chime in an attempt to forcefully corner him, but Chime backed away. “And you think you could avoid us forever, huh?” he asked sarcastically. “Sorry, buddy it don’t work like that.”

Chime was enraged. Beyond enraged. The creator. The creator brought the monsters from his hometown to the program. He brought them there. Never in his life had he felt that enraged before. The creator, Ceetos Eetos had brought them there. He had invited the people he wanted to forget to the program. He knew that if the creator had personally invited the group of monsters there that he was in danger of being exposed. He was in danger of having his true identity exposed. He was in danger of having his identity exposed; people would then go after him. He wondered in his current agony—how much did the creator really know? He must have known everything about the people he allowed into the program. The very thought that Ceetos knew such information enraged him even more. He knew—he knew his true identity. It was most likely the only reason he personally invited those monsters there. He growled at them like a wild lion ready to strike. He was beyond enraged and was beyond any ability to calm down.

“So, you’re here to expose me?” he asked carelessly. “Can’t you leave me alone for once?”

As Chime was going on about the vision he wanted, the boys noticed the girl in the corner. They laughed to each other. Paintbrush boy snagged a girl. And not just any girl, the Sovereign of Destruction. Her gold hair, her red eyes, everything about her. The paint brush snagged a girl. Yet another reason to teach him a lesson. He had gotten a girl before they did. A mere paintbrush was not allowed to get a girl first. They had to teach him a lesson. The same lesson they taught him last time. Paintbrush boy thought he could have a girl before they did. That was not allowed, and they were ready to instigate him about it. They dodged his question about exposing him, acting like they never heard his question. The lackey stepped in and spoke instead of the leader as the leader analyzed Gleam.

“More importantly,” the lackey said. “Who said you could have a girl? You’re going to need to learn a lesson for that!”

Chime couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand what the monsters were saying. They were trying to drag Gleam into the conflict. There was no way he was going to allow it. He wasn’t going to allow them to lay a hand on her. He didn’t care; no one was going to touch her. He knew they played dirty, but dragging Gleam in would be the lowest of the low. He already would never forgive them, but if they even so much as scratched her, he would go vicious on all of them. He didn’t care if it would be an ugly scene. No one is going to involve Gleam into a dangerous conflict of bloodshed.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” he shouted. “Leave her alone. Gleam has nothing to do with this!”

The lackey smirked. The boy was so stupid. He knew nothing. He knew nothing—soon he would see who she really was, and they would make sure of it. They would make sure that he would learn the true identity of the Sovereign of Destruction. However, to humor him, they figured it would be best to make it look like they were going to kill her. The leader told the group that anyone unnecessary is to be kept alive for now. The Sovereign of Destruction was unnecessary in their plan to teach paintbrush boy a lesson. She was unnecessary for now, but playing with Chime’s emotions was amusing. Amusing to all of them.

“Sure, whatever, we won’t touch her now,” he said deviously. “But after we kill you, we’ll dispose of her!” the lackey looked at Chime and waited for his reaction anxiously. His expressions were the most entertaining artwork the Earth had ever created.

Chime glared at the lackey. He had had it. Had it with them. All of them came back to kill him, and he was tired of them being there. He was tired of it. He wasn’t going to allow their instigation to continue, he was through. Magic—he had to use magic to get rid of them. A solar wind chime attack would be in order to destroy the group of monsters. He was tired of it. Tired of the group of monsters being there. He had to get rid of them quickly. He knew running away was cowardly, and he wasn’t about to become a coward. He wouldn’t resort to running way. As long as the monsters were there, as long as the monsters were in the program, he knew there was no safety net. He had to attack them, he had to destroy them. There was barely any time life. Barely any time before the monsters made their move. Chime was ready. Ready to end the conflict. Ready to end the conflict permanently. As he pointed his hand to ceiling, however, the sound of laugher could be heard. The laugher was wolf like and blood curdling, disrupting anything from occurring.

The leader smiled to himself. He was going to use magic; paintbrush boy thought he could use magic against them. That was what he wanted to see. It was what he wanted. It was finally time. Time to give paintbrush boy a lesson. A lesson they would never allow him to forget. He looked at his slave and motioned him to speak.

“You think you can attack us with magic?” the slave said with an ominous voice. “Who said you were allowed to do that, paintbrush boy? We’re going to teach you a lesson!” the slave cracked his knuckles to cloak what they were about to do. After cracking his knuckles, he turned to the leader, signifying that he was ready.

The leader smiled darkly and snapped his fingers. As the snap finished, seven boys emerged from the brink of invisibility. One of the boys held a sharp kitchen knife, another held a paintbrush, and lastly, one held up a painting canvas. Once again, paintbrush boy would be taught a lesson, and they were happy to be of use to teach him his place.

Chime could feel sweat pour down his body and flood the floor. All ten of the boys were there. Every monster he ever encountered, and they were all there at once, ready to take his life. He felt like he had to run away, but running away was the act of cowards. The thought of history repeating crawled under his skin and robbed him of everything he would ever be. History was repeating, and the feeling was impossible to describe. History was repeating, and there was no escaping the absolutely hopeless chain of events. It was a revolution. A crazy, human revolution. The revolution was active, and he was the center of it. It was a revolution, and it wouldn’t be over until everyone was certain to be dead. Chime accepted it. Accepted the revolution as the inevitable.

The leader stepped in front of Chime. He lifted his arms and violently plowed him to the ground, grinning as he watched him fall. He motioned his hand to the boy with the knife and backed away to make room for the main attraction of the lesson they were going to teach him. He looked at the lackey and gave him a gun signal. The lackey crouched down to Chime’s level and started unbuttoning his jean jacked, ripping it off his body. As soon as the jean jacket had been dangerously secured off his body, he violently picked Chime up, forcing him on his feet. When they saw the sight of him in short sleeves, they gave each other sinister smiles. Easy. Paintbrush boy was making their lesson easy. The leader made an imaginary gun sound to alert the knifeman to ready his weapon. They all smiled to themselves as their plan had been perfect.

As the boys cornered Chime and prepared to kill him, he remembered that Gleam had been there. Of the many things he didn’t want Gleam to see, an event of this category was high on his list. As the boy with the knife placed the sharp end on his scar, he opened his mouth to scream.

“Gleam! Run away!” he shouted. “Run away! I don’t want you to see this!”

Gleam would not move. She wasn’t going to leave Chime and abandon him. She knew if she did, she would be at traitor. She had to put a stop to what the ten boys were doing. With her goal in mind, she attempted to proceed to Chime’s side, but her attempt was caught within moments. Her attempt in rescuing Chime failed. The boy who caught her raised his hand to the ceiling. As he was raising his hand, a cage appeared above her head, locking her in deep inside a cage. The boy who trapped her obnoxiously ran to her side with a grin on his face.

“You’re not going anywhere, princess!” he said to her as he guarded the cage.

Gleam banged on the cage bars as if she was a slave or criminal being locked away. “Let me out of here!” she shouted. “Let me out of this cage!” she banged on the cage as every attempt became more and more useless. Magic. She needed to use magic to escape the cage. Gleam formed her hands into a circle. As her magic circle appeared, however, an electric shock dominated her body. The shock stopped her in her tracks within a millimeter of time, and a scream was sure to break loose from the chambers in her throat.

The guard laughed spontaneously. The girl thought she could escape the cage with magic. An idiot, the girl was a stupid idiot.

“Nice try,” he said at a preschool level. “My cage is magic repellent, princess!”

After the commotion with Gleam had ended, the knifeman prepared to cut him open. He started with the lesson within a second. As the knife made contact with Chime’s scar, the scar reopened. The knifeman made surgical size incisions as he cut open Chime’s scar. Blood could be seen pouring out of his body as the knifeman worked wonders up his arm. Then came his favorite part. The great migration. The knifeman placed the sharp end of the knife deeper and began slashing at Chime’s scar. As more blood was escaping his arm, Chime screamed as he was fading in and out of consciousness as he was being slashed and becoming a human paintbrush.

The knifeman ended the onslaught lesson. He backed away and made a gun signal at the paintbrush holder and canvas man. The two proceeded in front of Chime and prepared for the next part of the lesson.

“Now, paint us a pretty picture,” he said. As the paintbrush holder said such, he placed the paintbrush on his arm, placing the blood on the brush like paint. He rigidly placed the paintbrush in his hand and shoved him to the canvas violently. “PAINT US A PRETTY PICTURE!” he repeated.

Chime, too weak to argue, tipped the paintbrush and started painting. Tears rolled down his face as the red bleeding butterfly appeared on the canvas. The pain. The pain was degrading.

Gleam could not believe the ugly spectacle in front of her eyes. She had to do something, anything, to stop it. The boys were killing him. They were killing him, and there wasn’t any way she would stand there and be a damsel in distress locked in a cage. She gazed around her surroundings to see if there was anything within bar’s reach. Stupidly, right in front of her, the guard had something in his pocket. She noticed the guard had fallen into a slumber, so stealing the object was not even a challenge. Gleam quietly removed the item from the guard’s pocket—no one was paying attention to her. It was easy, incredibly easy to steal the guard’s weapon. She examined the weapon carefully. The weapon was unfamiliar and different to her. The weapon looked like a stick of some kind. On the top, a wick could be seen. She knew the wick had to be lit in order to work just from looking at it. Gleam checked the boy’s other pocket. Stupidly, a set of matches could be seen in the other pocket. Gleam removed the box of matches from the guard’s pocket, and quickly opened it. She removed a match and struck it against the front of the match box. The match was blazing and burning in her hand. To get it over with, Gleam lit the wick on the red stick and prepared to toss it.

“Lit the wick!” she shouted randomly.

Gleam threw the red stick at the group of nine boys forcing Chime to paint for them. The boys could hear the sound of burning and looked at each other, frightened. When they turned to see a stick of dynamite around their area. The group stopped in their tracks. The leader came into the center and removed the paintbrush from Chime’s hands and threw him at the cage the guard had locked Gleam in. They looked at Chime one last time. They gave him a look of revere as the wick on the dynamite got smaller and smaller. Letting the dynamite blow them up would be a good thing; murder. Paintbrush boy would be accused of the murder of ten fifteen year old males. It wasn’t perfect, but the Death Penalties taking care of him next worked for them. The leader picked up Chime’s jacket and tossed it at him. He said one last thing to him before the dynamite was to ignite.

“Paintbrush boy, our deaths will count against you,” the leader said. “Good luck with the Death Penalties! They’re coming next.”

Chime would have answered viciously, but the time had come. The dynamite stick ignited and burned. The nine boys in the circle were hopelessly cindered by the T.N.T. As the T.N.T reduced the boys to ashes, Chime stared. A stick of dynamite was the most powerful weapon, yet the most dangerous tool in murder. The dynamite had finished igniting, everything was over. Only one boy remained. Chime weakly stood up and conked the guard in the back of the head with his right hand. Within seconds, the cage dissolved, and Gleam was no longer held prisoner. Chime’s second wind was gone. Weak, he felt gravely weak. He fell back on the ground from the pain.

Gleam was beyond terrified. Scared, she was deathly terrified. Quickly she ran to Chime’s side. She could feel tears stream down her face as she saw the scar on Chime’s arm cut open. She decided to ignore the death of the nine boys for now as Chime was the only importance right now.

“Chime!” she cried. “We need to get your injury healed! Now!”

Chime weakly looked at Gleam. He knew. He pointed to his jean jacket pocket trying to alert here that there were bandages inside, but she did not catch him pointing, so he had to say something.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, shaking. “In my jacket pocket, there’s an adhesive bandage that guarantees the instant stop of bleeding. Could you take it out of my pocket for me?” he could feel his consciousness fade in and out again.

Gleam removed the bandage from Chime’s coat pocket without hesitation. She knew that it wasn’t going to be good enough; he was still bleeding. Chime needed a hospital—an adhesive bandage was not enough, and she knew it. She had to mention that to him. She hated seeing him suffer.

“With an injury like this, you need a hospital!” she cried. “What if you need stitches, Chime?”

Chime weakly smiled. “I doubt there’s a hospital around here,” he answered. “There’s definitely no infirmary here either, Gleam.” He looked at her. “This will stop the bleeding. I’ll guide you as you wrap the adhesive on.” He was well aware that Gleam had no idea how to bandage someone.

Chime explained quickly and Gleam instantly learned. As she wrapped the bandage on his arm, all the color returned to his face. The loss of blood still made Chime feel weak and anemic. Within seconds he realized Gleam had thrown the stick of dynamite. Pathetic. He felt pathetic. The girl he wanted to protect was the one doing the saving. He was grateful, but was disappointed with himself gravely. The girl he wanted to protect was doing a better job at protecting him than he was. He was a useless human being. However, he knew it was a bad move to think about it. He stopped himself and looked at Gleam.

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he said. “We’re done here.”

Gleam agreed. “Okay,” she said. “Stay on my shoulder. I’ll you help you walk.”

Chime walked weakly as Gleam held him up. He came to a conclusion. Gleam had seen everything. Everything. He knew it would be in his best interest to tell her, tell her the story of what happened three years ago. It was no use hiding anymore, now that she had seen it. It was okay to tell her. It was okay for Gleam to know what happened and why. He waited for the two to arrive at his dorm to announce his resolve. As his door came in sight, he said what he had to.

“I guess since you’ve already seen what’s happened, I can tell you about my past,” he said. “I suppose it’s time I told you everything about me, Gleam.”

As he entered the dorm room with Gleam, he was ready. Ready to tell her everything. Ready to remind Gleam that history never stopped repeating. He was prepared. Prepared for the worst. Prepared for the flashback to leave him. Ready for the flashback to be told properly. He was ready. Ready to begin. Ready for hell to rise.

Gleam was ignited on the inside. Murder. She had turned nine boys to ashes, and it didn’t even feel wrong. She decided not to think about it. The battle was over, and she wouldn’t allow herself to think about it. She was ready. Ready to hear the story of what happened to Chime. Deep down, she knew. Knew that she was in for a horrifying time.

End of chapter seventeen, next to come: every single moment of horror. Every single moment of hell. Hell rises, the gangs come. Chime’s flashback is the rising hell.


Yes, the first paragraph is large because I had a LOT to explain. I actually spent a long time mentally preparing for this chapter because it's gruesome. u_u This is a buildup chapter, btw. And entire chapter on buildup.

Paintbrush boy, the leader, the lackey, the slave, the guard, the knifeman the paintbrush holder and the canvas man are not capitalized for a reason. It's my preference.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
Posted 7 Hours Ago
4,569 posts
10.4 Years
This chapter is rated M. Same reasons as the last chapter.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 18; A heartfelt tragedy told only through past blood.

He had short hair, the length of a normal boy his age, luscious silver hair, and yellow eyes, the color of the glistening moonlight. He was twelve, and had only become such two months before. The boy bad magic inside him that no one else seemed to have been born with. The ability to use the winds combined with the force of wind chimes to attack anything in a thrust. That, of course, was not his true magic. It was far from his true magic as he was not a human, but he identified as human. His true magic was reversing cause and effect laws, but his powers were sealed by a strong lock deep inside his body. The lock was never to be undone, he was told, so he never searched for the lock for his own safety. He lived in a horrible neighborhood that his single mother chose for the mere reason that it was horrible. His mother hated him with every single hormone in her body. As far as she was concerned, the newspaper was her son. He had a father, but had not seen him since he was six—the family was never a happy one, and he knew it never would be. He knew his mother would never even look at him or say his name, so he was all alone in the world, he had no one. The neighborhood he lived in had been very infamous for crime, and all children in the small town had either been in a gang, group, band or clique depending on the circumstance. The adults did nothing to stop the high rate of childhood crime; no one cared to stop it—every adult openly assumed the children were playing. Playing dumb games for their amusement, but it was never like that. All the children had been very serious about their lives of crime, making banks and stores miserable with emptiness. All of it was serious business in the town, and the wind chime boy did not understand it. Today was the day, however, whether he liked it or not, he would have to understand it. He had no choice in the matter, for they were coming for him. A gang had sought interest in him, and he knew it. The boy waited anxiously as the world were to appear at the door for him.

The moment he waited for then came. The sound of the knock on the other end of the door. He knew the knock was for him and no one else. Anxiously, he walked to the door, waiting for the perfect instance to open it. He dragged his feet on the floor as he approached the door. Finally, someone wanted him. Finally, a group of people sought his purpose. Finally, he would have a greater purpose in life. He kept on dragging his feet to the door as the knocks started becoming as loud as police knocks. Eventually, from what felt like hundreds of hours, he had reached the door. Slowly, he turned the knob as the excitement overruled him. Finally, someone wanted him; finally, he would belong with a group of people. He kept on repeating that someone would want him as he slowly turned the knob to open the door. After spending an unhealthy amount of time opening the door, the door had finally opened. The boy was shocked to see ten boys standing there all at once. He wondered how ten boys could fit on one stoop—he had never learned about capacity due to his ban on education after the separation of his mother and father, so he just decided to roll with it and let it be what it had to be.

The boy examined the ten other children. They were fairly tall for twelve year olds. Almost too tall, even. They all had the same features about them. None of them had a lick of difference in their blood. The group of ten had black hair, the color of jet ravens. They were extremely tall—probably five feet tall. Compared to them, he was small and puny; his height did not measure up to theirs. They all wore jackets with the world lethal printed on the back. Everything about the boys shouted gang. He didn’t want to be part of such activity, but he didn’t care anymore. Someone in the world finally wanted him, and he was ready to seek full advantage of it. After deciding he was ready to come out to join the gang, he proceeded. The boy was ready. Ready for his life to change for the better.

The leader looked at the boy’s features to make sure he had been at the correct house. Silver hair, yellow eyes that glistened in the moonlight—everything about him had something worthy of being the one. The boy had been the one they had been searching for to recruit as a member of The Lethals. Perfect. Everything was becoming completely perfect. The leader smiled to himself and readied to introduce him and the gang to their new member. It took a practical millennium due to the impending fact that he was horrible with introductions.

“You must be Chime Nume,” the leader said in an official like voice. “Welcome to The Lethals, buddy.” The leader grabbed Chime’s arm tightly to escort their new member to their hideout. The other nine quietly followed behind him in pursuit. “You’re lucky, you know,” the leader spoke as he was escorting Chime. “It’s not every day that a guy catches my interest!”

Chime didn’t understand. He wondered about The Lethals before he was going to be a part of them. Nothing about their attitude—apart from dressing and looking the same—screamed that they were a gang to him. He did hear about all their unlawful activity, but their seemingly welcome personality made their actions seem fictional. There must have been other gangs with the same exact name and looks causing the crimes. As much as he wished that were the case, he knew it wasn’t.

The leader’s escort continued. As he came across the lair, he turned around the block. Doing things the normal human way without video game technology empowering the town made everything harder. No one cared to insert the video game technology. The world leader cancelled all forms of improving the town upon hearing how bad the crime rate was there. Isolated and primitive, the town barely even had any right to exist. The leader kept on turning each corner sharply and precisely. The nine other members pursued as they followed the leader to the lair.

Chime had still been confused. Where were the boys taking him? He knew every gang had their own individual hideout, but why was it so far away? He wondered. He also wondered why the leader was interested in him, but it could have possibly been because of his true identity. His true identity, that he wasn’t human, he didn’t know why, but he knew it wasn’t in his place to ask. He took the thoughts and placed them in a jar of things he couldn’t say to the leader. He knew, however, that he had to say something. He had to say something, but he didn’t have any idea how—he didn’t have the skill nor know how to engage in conversation with another human being. He was never taught how. However, since the situation called for words, he decided to roll with whatever words first came into his mouth.

“So, I can really be a member?” he asked almost cutely “You’re letting me in without a test…anything?”

The leader heard the boy talk. He had talked out of turn. He didn’t speak when spoken to. That was a major rule in The Lethals, and he had already broken the fourth rule. He didn’t care, however. He would let it slide for now. The child had purpose in their gang merely for what he actually was—one rule break could be ignored for the moment. As the leader thought such, the view of the lair was in his vision. Every member of the gang knew. Home. They were finally home. The leader looked at Chime as human as possible, trying to hide every single malicious intention he might have at moment to explain to their recruit as to where they had been.

“Welcome to our hideout!” the leader said enthusiastically. “The stairs to it, anyway.” He pointed to a door the stairs led to. “This will be your home ten hours of the day, buddy. Follow me so I can show you around.” The leader pulled on Chime’s arm tighter, leaving press markings around the wrist. It had been such a long walk that he had already forgotten that his circulation had been cut off by the tight grip. The leader sprinted down the stairs and energetically opened the door, entering the lair. When the other nine behind him entered, he loosened his grip on Chime’s arm as everyone reported to their assigned seat.

Chime examined the lair. It had black walls painted completely graffiti. The room was similar in the design of a cave, as if it were once a cave at one point or another. In the center was a large business table with at least thirty chairs in the surrounding area. He wondered if those chairs were there for decoration or for future members who would sit there. The leader pointed to a chair and Chime sat in the chair of which he instructed. The leader snapped his fingers into a finger gun to start the speech.

“Let me start by saying, welcome to The Lethals!” he announced. He turned to one of the members. “Conspiracy, get him a jacket!” the conspiracy did not answer and exited the room to get Chime’s leather jacket. After he was sure to be gone, the leader continued with the announcement. “I’ll introduce you to your new buddies,” he said. He pointed his finger to the member to the left of him. “That’s the lackey.” He then twisted his finger and pointed to the right to a boy with a chipped front tooth. “And him? He’s the slave.” He then rushed with his explanation by pointing at the other six boys in a propeller like speed. “The other six are the guard, the paintbrush holder, the canvas man, the knifeman, the watchman, the robber, and the guy who walked out? He’s the conspiracy.” He finished off by pointing at himself. “Obviously, yours truly is the leader!”

The conspiracy had then returned. The leader smiled and pointed at Chime. The conspiracy handed him the jacket and waited for him to show signs of awareness. They waited. Within a moment, the boy showed that he had been completely aware, the conspiracy returned to his assigned seat. All of the members waited. Waited for Chime to put on his jacket.

Chime still didn’t understand. He didn’t understand any of it. He didn’t understand the gang and why he was asked to become a member, but he knew trying to understand it was pointless. To get it over with, he put on the leather jacket. He wondered. Wondered if he looked good in a leather jacket. He noticed that everyone in the group was looking at him, examining him from their seats. He hoped that he looked presentable considering the fact that he looked nothing like the other members. He sighed, and waited for the leader to speak.

The leader examined Chime. Ugly. The boy was ugly in the leather jacket. Of course, for the sake of his first day, he had to act like he looked good in their signature look. He pointed his finger at the ceiling, getting ready to make a lie appear in front of the crowd.

“You look good!” he lied. “You look like one of us already.” He looked at his companions. The next part of initiation had to start. “Now, as a part of our gang, you will be given a codename,” he said. “Give us a moment so we can think of your codename, okay, buddy?”

Chime, puzzled, said nothing and gave a mere nod. He knew it was not in his place to talk at the moment.

The leader concentrated. The boy. The boy was the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect. That was the only reason, the only reason they had any interest in recruiting him. They would unseal his powers, and they were set on doing such. A name—a codename for their new member. Something demeaning, something low. The leader then came to a conclusion: scapegoat. The boy’s codename would be scapegoat. The person to make an example out of. The person to put the blame on when they were to play cops and robbers. Everyone would know that the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect was a part of a gang. Everything would be blamed on him. Perfect, the plan was perfect. The leader looked at Chime and began to announce the boy’s codename.

“You’ll be known as the scapegoat from now on,” he announced. “I’ll explain the rest to you tomorrow. Go on home now.” He motioned his hand for Chime to speak.

Chime let the codename sink in, scapegoat. He wasn’t sure what a scapegoat was, but he decided it would be easier to just roll with it. It was easier to roll with the new name, and he figured it to be the only way for now. He opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m an official member now?” he asked almost cutely. “Really, truly?” he had no idea. No idea how to speak to the leader.

The leader sighed. The boy was so stupid. He was acting as if he never engaged in conversation before. The boy was stupid, but regardless, he had to keep up with the first day atmosphere.

“Naturally, buddy,” he answered. “Tomorrow morning at nine, we will come back for you, so make sure you’re ready, scapegoat.”

Chime nodded to show he understood. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He exited the lair and ran for home. He still didn’t understand. He still didn’t understand anything. The gang, why he had been selected, anything. He didn’t understand any of it; he had no grasp on the idea at all. He wondered what tomorrow had in store. He still didn’t understand any of what had happened.

The leader smirked. Perfect. The boy was so stupid. He would be easy to manipulate. So easy to manipulate into unsealing his true powers. Easy to manipulate into taking the blame for their crimes. His silver hair was the key, the key to his plan. Perfect, everything so far was perfect, and he knew, tomorrow would be a good day to play cops and robbers.

He looked at his gang members and called for a meeting. A meeting to discuss what they must do.

“He seems pretty stupid, don’t he?” he asked, calling for a group holler. “Seems like it was a good idea recruiting him—manipulating a fool like him? Easy.”

The lackey spoke up, agreeing completely. “If anyone can manipulate him, it’s you, boss!” he replied. “He’s the dumbest human being on the planet, ain’t he?” the lackey looked at the slave, motioning him to speak next.

The slave clasped his hands together. He, personally, did not agree to the manipulation, but he remembered that he would lose his place as third in command if he stated he didn’t agree, so he forced himself to do such.

“Right, he sure is a stupid boy,” he lamented. “So, what are we gonna manipulate him into doing?” he turned to the guard as it was his turn to speak.

The guard knew. Knew what the leader wanted to do. Knew what the leader was thinking. He had been itching to play cops and robbers for weeks now. He knew that the leader was thinking about playing cops and robbers. He knew he had to hide his excitement, but he couldn’t hide it.

“Is it time to play cops and robbers again, king?” he asked, squirming in his chair. “We’re going to play cops and robbers, right king?” he then turned to the paintbrush holder to alert him that it was his turn to speak.

The paintbrush holder heard cops and robbers. He preferred to play purse looter, but cops and robbers was enough for him. He had no purpose. No purpose unless someone defied the leader. No one would dare to defy the leader, so he was useless. A useless member of the gang.

“Can’t we wait until he defies the leader?” he asked almost out of nowhere. “I’d love to see the poor idiot die like that.” He turned to the canvas man.

The canvas man thought the same. He knew that both their jobs in The Lethals were nothing more than the purpose to destroy any who defy the leader. He wanted action, but he knew he never would see such action.

“Don’t be an idiot, paintbrush holder,” he replied. “You know it won’t happen. No idiot would be that stupid to defy our leader. We’ll just have to let the game play out to see if he’s capable.” He turned to the knifeman, alerting him that it was his turn.

The knifeman smirked. Pleasant, how pleasant it was to finally be able to do something. To do something manipulative for a change. The world was a dim and full of idiots, and the world of idiots were beyond annoying.

“The boy is definitely not capable,” he answered. “We’ll see how long he lasts.” He gave a stupid grin. “Dirt like him get under your foot so quickly.” He banged the table and eyed the watchman.

The watchman sighed. Nothing. He never got to do anything exciting. The lookout. That’s all he ever got to be. The lookout for the police. All he did was that, and he hated it, but he couldn’t say that to the leader. He had nothing to say, and he remembered what one must say when they don’t have a thing to say during a meeting.

“I abstain from talking,” he stated. “I have nothing to state that will help or hinder this meeting.” He turned to the robber, ending his turn.

The robber had an ecstatic look permanently glued to his face. Cops and robbers was his specialty, he was in charge of robbing. He was always in charge of robbing and never skipped a beat. Robbing was his blood, robbing was him, and all he knew how to be. The new recruit mattered nothing to him—he would be kicked out within a week. He would lose to the geniuses like him. The perfect people such as himself. The idiot was not his concern as the gang would devour him sooner or later.

“Looks like I’m going to have fun stealing,” he coughed and went back to using codewords as according to rule. “I-I mean play cops and robbers.” He turned to the conspiracy and made a gun signal with his hand.

The conspiracy sinisterly smiled. Times were changing. He would no longer be the key plot point in plans anymore. He didn’t know why, but he had to thank someone, something, anything that wasn’t the leader. He didn’t have any idea what that something was, but he would figure it out, and quickly.

“Fascinating, fascinating,” he said sarcastically. “I’m ready.”

As soon as the conspiracy had been done talking, all nine members turned to the leader, and waited for him to speak once again. Cops and robbers. They were all going to play cops and robbers. They were all going to play cops and robbers again. The gang was ready—ready to once again play cops and robbers with a brand new addition: the scapegoat would be the one caught doing the act. The leader smirked at the thought of manipulating the poor idiot. His enthusiasm robbed him of his control. The robbed control overtook him, and the leader stood on the tale to shout.

“That’s right, buddies. We’re going to play cops and robbers!” he shouted with emphasis. “And the scapegoat will get all the blame!”

The gang all cheered in a unison cheer and waited. Waited for the time to come. The time came faster than expected, and the group had reached Chime’s door again completely at the time they had said. When he had opened the door, the leader did the new routine of grabbing the boy’s wrist and dragging him to their lair.

Chime didn’t understand. He didn’t understand the group’s motives, why they chose him or anything. He figured this time he’d ask as soon as he got to the lair. He didn’t understand. He failed to understand. He failed to understand the reason—the reason for anything. He still wondered what the purpose of this gang was. The purpose in it all. It got him out of the house, but he knew that had to be the only upside. The lair was then in sight—the leader dragged Chime to the inside and placed him in his assigned seat. The time had come. The time to get scapegoat to take the blame as they played cops and robbers.

The leader motioned his hand at Chime, allowing him to speak.

“So,” he said, playing with his hands. “What are we doing today?”

The leader glared. The boy was asking questions when he shouldn’t even be asking a question. While he wanted to show him that he had no right to question him, there was no time; he had to start with the important part of the day. He figured he could rat him out for asking a question later. The leader knew, knew how stupid the boy was, he knew he would probably fail miserably at cops and robbers, but it didn’t matter right now.

The leader smirked. “We’re gonna play cops and robbers,” he answered maliciously. “At our local supermarket.”

Chime couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Robbery. He was going to be a part of a robbery. He was going to be a part of a robbery, and he knew that could only mean illegal activity. He was going to engage in unlawful activity, and for some reason, he forced himself to not mind.


The supermarkets in their primitive city had extremely horrible business hours. The store was famous for being closed until one in the afternoon, so robbing it was a cakewalk. The supermarket was so awful with business, it was as if the employees didn’t care if their products were stolen, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew that no one cared enough. The supermarket was rumored to be going out of business due to an apparent spoiled food problem. The Lethals knew. Knew their cops and robbers days were numbered if that rumor was the full truth, but it wasn’t. There had always been a sign on the door saying they were going out of business, but it never happened. The store would forever be going out of business until the entire store had no products left to sell. It was the most stupid supermarket in existence. Why it was still even running was a miracle. A miracle and everyone in the town knew it.

The leader looked at Chime then at the rest of the members of the gang. He waited for everyone to look back at him. When everyone had been looking at him, he pointed at the hole in the window. Everyone but Chime knew why he was pointing at the hole in the glass window. To humor the others, he forced himself to explain why the eleven of them were standing at the window. He hated explaining anything as it was a waste of his time. He engaged in explaining right away.

“Now, everyone, get ready for cops and robbers!” he forcefully shouted. “We’re going to all go inside the supermarket to get some goodies.” He turned to the watchman whom was already aware of his absolutely pitiful role. “Watchman, you’re on watch for cop duty as usual.” He knew everyone but Chime was aware of what to do. He gave Chime a look to show him he was talking to him. “And you, scapegoat, your silver hair will serve as a distraction to either the cops or the manager. But don’t think you’re not going to get some goodies, too.” He placed his foot in the window, alerting everyone the plan was in motion. “Now that’s enough talking! Time to play cops and robbers, buddies!”

The leader took his body and jumped through the hole in the window and everyone else eagerly followed behind him. Finally, it was finally time. Finally time to play cops and robbers. Everyone entered the grocery store eagerly. Everyone except Chime.

Chime didn’t like the idea. He didn’t like the idea of this game. Robbery. He was going to be a part of a robbery. He didn’t want to, he wouldn’t be. There was no way he could be a part of a robbery. He couldn’t; he didn’t want to be involved in such affairs, but he knew he had no choice. Maybe, just maybe, this time, he could act like he couldn’t steal something in time. He wondered. Wondered if that would even work. With his resolve in mind, he climbed into the hole in the window and watched. Watched as the boy’s leather pockets had become filled with goodies. The scene bothered him. Something was not right. He wondered. Wondered when the police were going to come. Wondered when he would hear sirens. He continued to stare as the adrenaline of stealing had invaded the insides of nine gang members. Eventually, however, his wonder seemed to become the truth. The watchman whom was watching from the door had become incredibly anxious. The anxiety was completely out of place, but he knew the fate of gangs caught in the act. He knew all of them would be locked in a cell.

“C O P S!” he cried, spelling out. “The cops are coming! Some coward dialed the police!”

All nine boys stopped. Cops. The cops. Some cowardly citizen called the cops. Some low human who likes to be a good citizen called the cops. Disgusting. Human beings were disgusting. Their plan was ruined. Completely ruined. They were supposed to raid the store until the manager came in. The manager would ask who was the one responsible and everyone would then proceed to blame scapegoat. But no, some good citizen had to call the cops. The mission had to be aborted.

“Abort mission!” the leader cried. “Run! Now!” the others heard the call and instantly ran for the window. Feverishly, the boys ran, ran for their lair. Their home, their haven. Chime followed quietly as the boys ran for their reputation rather than their lives. No Lethal is getting into jail as long as he’s around. No one in his gang is going to be locked away. No one. He knew that if even one of their members were to be locked away, all of them would be. He was not going to take that risk. There wasn’t any way he would allow such.

The run from the cops continued. The sharp and precise twists and turns to their hideout became more and more frantic. Eventually, the hideout was in sight. The leader motioned his hand for everyone to speed. As everyone had successfully made it to the door, the leader opened it, and everyone proceeded to their assigned seats. With running from the cops over with, it was time. Time to show off their goodies. The leader banged the table to being the procedure. When everyone had heard the bang, the sound of stolen objects could be heard clanging on the table. All Chime could do was stare. So many stolen objects. Just how many stolen objects could one fit in those leather jackets? The thought scared him—he knew it had to be a large number. Amongst the many object stolen he noticed a common stolen object. The Lethals seemed to have a penchant for silverware. Never before in his life had he seen so much silverware in the same place. Stolen silverware, for that matter. The leader then turned to Chime and noticed there were no goodies at his side of the table. He knew it. Knew the boy wouldn’t be capable of stealing anything. Stupid, the boy was stupid. They knew now that force would have to be involved. Routine. They would have to make cops and robbers a routine until scapegoat stole something. It was the only way around anything. The leader glared at Chime angrily, trying to make it seem like he cared that the idiot failed to steal anything.

“Where are your goodies, scapegoat?” he asked in a demanding tone. “Why didn’t you steal anything?”

Chime wanted to tell him he didn’t steal anything because he refused to resort to law breaking activities, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t say that to the leader. He couldn’t. He knew he had to lie, act like he couldn’t find anything worth stealing. He couldn’t tell the truth, he couldn’t. He sighed, and opened his mouth to lie.

“There was nothing I wanted to steal,” he lied. “I couldn’t. There wasn’t anything I wanted.” The lie reeked of a liar’s scent.

The leader laughed to himself. He knew it. Knew the boy had no capability to steal anything. Idiot, the boy was an idiot. Regardless, it didn’t matter. One day their plan would succeed in putting the blame on scapegoat. He smirked at the thought. One day, one day.

“Next time,” he said. “Next time, I don’t care, you’re getting goodies. No failures are allowed in my gang.”

Chime knew. Knew that the leader wouldn’t give up until he had stolen something. As time went on, cops and robbers became more common. More silverware filled the hideout. More instances of almost getting caught became an every day thing. A few times he noticed. Noticed how angry the gang had become with Chime. All their plans failed to make an example out of scapegoat. Never had they been able to succeed as long as the good citizens kept on calling the cops. The leader was sick of it. Sick of being a failure. Sick of it. He knew that scapegoat was the reason for their failures. He knew that meant he had to get his gang to do something bigger than robbing a mere grocery store. Big, something big. Something bigger than robbing a grocery store.

The plan took a grueling month. It came to him. The big event came to him. The Lethals would play cops and robbers at the bank. He knew there was no way he could fail that. There was no way they could fail at playing cops and robbers at a bank. The leader banged the table to make his announcement.

“Okay, buddies!” he announced. “We’re going to play cops and robbers at the bank!”

Everyone except Chime cheered. Chime couldn’t take the gang anymore. All the pressure to steal from grocery stores, all the pressure being put him to stay behind to be caught. All the pressure. He couldn’t take it anymore. No more. He couldn’t take the pressure anymore. He didn’t care, he had to say no. He had to say he wasn’t going to play cops and robbers. He was sick of it. It may have only been a short amount of time since he was recruited, three months if he recalled, but he couldn’t take it anymore. No. He had to say no. He wasn’t about to be part of a bank robbery. He was against joining in on crimes, and he was against even being in the gang in the first place. The only reason he was even in the gang at all anymore was to get away from home long enough to get away from his unloving mother, to get away from everything. Stupid, pointless, there was no point in being a part of The Lethals shenanigans anymore. No. He had to say no. He had to speak up. He got up from his chair and prepared. Prepared to say the magic word, the word no.

“I’m not going to play this game anymore!” he shouted. “There’s no way I will help you rob a bank! I’m done being a part of this!”

The leader glared at Chime demonically. Scapegoat thought he had the right to defy him? Scapegoat thought he could defy the leader? The boy thought he could defy the leader. He had broken the sacred rule of The Lethals. The sacred rule of doing everything the leader said. The was it. No more. The fool had to die. Slowly, they would kill him. However, he had to continue. He had to respond to Chime’s inexcusable remark.

“I let you keep your hair color, and you think you can defy ME?” he asked imperiously. “Congratulations buddy! You’ve just made an enemy out of your own gang!”

The leader turned to the slave and motioned him to speak. The slave then removed a mini bat from his pocket. It was time. Time for fun.

“Now that you defied our leader,” the slave said. “We’re going to make your life miserable!” he formed a gun signal to alert the gang members to beat him along with the slave. All nine other members removed their bats and cornered him. “You’re nothing more than a scapegoat,” he said. “You were nothing more than a pawn. You were nothing.”

As the boys cornered Chime, he knew that he had made a huge mistake. A huge mistake in defying the leader. It was too late, too late to take it back. The leader and nine others crowded around him. The reflection of the bat making contact with his body could be seen in his eyes. The metal hitting his entire body, and the sound of softball seemed to echo through the room. Human softball and he was the ball. As the boy’s hits got more violent, he could hear laughter. He swore if he were listening enough that he heard one of the boys whisper home run. The hitting soon became bashing until the leader stopped suddenly. He looked at the gang and told them that was enough for the day. He glared at Chime with an evil smile on his face. They had beaten the boy so bad he couldn’t even talk, he couldn’t even scream. Perfect. It was all perfect.

“Remember this, scapegoat,” he said. “You’ll be tortured by us until you die!”

Chime knew from the beating that it was over. It was over. It was from there that he knew that he made a big mistake, a big mistake of defying the leader.

After the day of his first beating, the gang continued to beat him. In the beginning they would only beat him. From what would become beating however, slowly became much worse. Beating turned to cutting. The amount of cuts that had gotten infected was high. Fevers were common, infections were on the rise. After a while, the day then came. The worst day in his life. The day where he became a human paintbrush.

The leader knocked on the door violently, almost enough to break it that day. Even though he had plans of cutting scapegoat’s hair that day, he came up with a more fun plan. The Lethals were going to play a game. Human paintbrush. It had been particularly sunny that day. Perfect. His death would be a glorious one. The leader knew. Knew that this project had to succeed. If it didn’t, the gang they were affiliated with, The Death Penalties, would have to take over. This would be the final migration. The perfect game.

When Chime opened the door that moment, the leader took his arm and walked him over to the grass. As soon as everyone had gotten into their stations, the leader violently plowed Chime to the ground. He smirked and waited for him to notice the game.

Chime turned to notice the circle around him. Something he had never seen before made itself visible before his eyes. Three of the boys in the gang had objects in their hands. One of the boys presented a sharp kitchen knife, the other held a paintbrush, and lastly, one held a painting canvas. He gulped. Something was wrong. This was not normal torture. It was inhuman. Torture of the kind they were about to do couldn’t possibly have been human. As he proceeded to run away, the other six cornered him. There was no escape. He was being forced to stay planted into the ground until the leader forcefully picked him up for the event to befall.

The leader motioned his hand at the knifeman and the knifeman came into the circle. The knifeman placed the sharp end of the knife on Chime’s skin and prepared to cut him open. As the knife made contact with Chime’s left arm, blood poured out of him. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the knifeman continued working wonders up Chime’s arm. The knifeman then carved the knife in deeper. The cutting became slashing, and soon carving. More blood began to escape him as he continued to scream from the pain of a scar forming from his wrist all the way up to his shoulder. The carving continued as the knifeman made surgical size incisions. Puddles, beautiful puddles formed on the floor as The Lethals taught their scapegoat a lesson.

The knifeman ended the onslaught lesson and backed away. The paintbrush holder and canvas man walked into the scene. The two proceeded to Chime eagerly as they finally had use in a plan.

The paintbrush holder placed the paintbrush on his arm, the blood had been dabbed on the paintbrush as if it were paint. He then placed the brush in his hand violently and pushed Chime to the canvas.

“Now, paint us a pretty picture!” he said in a demanding voice. “PAINT US A PRETTY PICTURE!”

At this point, he didn’t care, he was too weak to argue, and too weak to care. As a feather appeared on the canvas, tears rolled down his face. Wrong. This was wrong. The pain was degrading, beyond degrading. He couldn’t take it anymore.

The paintbrush holder backed away as well as the canvas man. The final part came. The leader returned to the circle with the canvas and violently dragged him to the door, handing the boy the picture they forced him to make. The final moment was ready.

“Now, go inside and show your mother that painting,” he said demonically. He placed his and on his chin. Perfect. The plan was perfect. “Well, go in, paintbrush boy. Now!”

Chime decided it was too late to argue and just listened. His vision was beyond blurry, and he had been shaking, he could no longer hold out. He staggered to his mother. He didn’t know why, but he wanted her help. He wanted his mother to help him. For the first time, he needed her. He needed her. As he spoke, his voice grew weaker and shakier. He could not hold out much longer.

“M-mommy,” he said, shaking and weak. “L-look at the pretty picture I made.” The tears became more visible. The pain. The pain was overruling him.

The mother heard a voice. The voice belonging to her annoying child. To humor herself, she looked up from her paper slightly, not even seeing his heavily bleeding arm of painting. She didn’t care regardless. She knew it was another stupid game. But to humor him, she decided to act interested.

“That’s a nice picture,” she lied. “What color is it?”

Blood red,” he said, trying to get her attention.

The mother coughed and buried her nose back into her paper. It was just another stupid game. She shooed the boy away as if he were a solicitor.

“That’s very nice, Chime,” she said, shooing him away. “Now go back outside and play until it’s time to make your dinner.”

Chime sighed weakly, the one time he wanted help from his mother and she refused to help him. Alone. He was alone. He weakly laughed as he dropped the painting and lost consciousness. No one fussed over him as he blacked out, no one brought him to a hospital; no one did anything for him. Alone, he was alone. Alone with his brand new scar. No one ever told him that the bleeding eventually stopped, no one told him he had been blacked out for an entire week; no one told him anything. No one, he had no one.

The torture became mild again until about a week after he turned fourteen. Two years of torture and it was disgusting. The boy had been wishing The Lethals would finally get caught and taken in. It happened one day. Finally, they had been arrested. They had been caught. Freedom. He was free. He could finally be free.

Eventually, however, his freedom was gone. The boys returned. During the year they had disappeared, Chime had prepared. Prepared to learn how to deal with anything, and he had become a master. Now he would no longer have to deal with infections. Never again would he have to see cuts anymore. The time they were gone, the freedom. The freedom allowed him to study and learn about the entire world and basic human knowledge. A master, he was finally a master at treating wounds. He was finally prepared. Prepared to see a world where he wouldn’t have cuts decorated on him. Finally.

But he knew. Knew that knowing wasn’t enough. Away. He had to permanently get away from The Lethals. News had gone around that there was a new magic program under the name of Mariibo Rumaibo. The day The Lethals returned, he decided to apply. Apply for the program. Every child in the neighborhood applied for the program. Funnily enough, only Chime’s application was accepted. He was happy. For the first time in his life, he felt joy. True joy and he knew that he had every right to.

Mariibo Rumaibo. The program that would change his life. He knew it would be impossible, but his father told him that there was always one human being who would grow to love him, and there would always be one person he would want to protect. Constantly, he repeated the words, even the day he headed for the program. Constantly, he remembered his father’s words. The words stuck inside him like glue. He knew that it would be impossible for anyone to be drawn to him. Anyone. He knew he would always be alone. Alone for the rest of his life.

He would be alone for the rest of his life, until a twelve year old girl changed him. He didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but he knew. The gold haired girl—she was the one he wanted to protect.

End of chapter eighteen, next to come: with secrets revealed, the time has come, the truth must be revealed. Gleam’s lies shall die, but how will Chime respond?


This chapter was no fun for me, js. It was hard and annoying to write. u_u
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


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Age 22
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This chapter is rated M.

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Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 19; Love of two monsters where a gunshot goes mute.

Shocking. Gleam couldn’t think of any other words to describe Chime’s story. It made sense while at the same time, it didn’t. She wondered how something could be so simple, yet so intricate at the same time. It didn’t make any sense. A gang, Chime was in a gang? Though, she wasn’t aware what a gang exactly was, she knew it was not a good thing. However, the thought of him not even wanting to be a part of a gang changed her pace of thought. She knew the story was true, it could only be true. Anyone who would be able to make up something so simple, yet so intricate would be a sick and twisted person. She knew. Knew he was not that kind of person. The story was true. Entirely true, and she believed it. She believed the story. As much as it was hard to accept, she knew. Everything was true. Every word was the truth. There was no room for sugarcoating. No room for sugarcoating, and she knew it. She wondered, however. Wondered how one town could be so isolated and so disconnected from the rest of the world. She wondered. She sighed, she hated it. Hated the fact that Chime had to be subjected to such evil. He didn’t deserve it—he didn’t deserve such trauma. He didn’t. It bothered her that Chime had to live through that kind of evil—it wasn’t human, it couldn’t be human. There was no way evil of that category could have possibly been human. From there she wondered further and also realized. Chime wasn’t human. He wasn’t human. The thought—the thought that Chime was not human. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t true—it couldn’t be. No matter how many times she repeated that it couldn’t be true, she knew it was. She knew it was the truth. She knew it was the truth. She didn’t know. Didn’t know what a Principal was, but she knew it had some connection to Sovereigns. While it horrified her, she knew she had to ask. She had to ask about the Principals. Again, she wondered. Wondered what a human would do. What a human would do when they learned the truth about someone. A human would run away because they don’t understand, but Gleam understood. She understood. She understood everything. It didn’t matter to her what Chime was, she wasn’t going to run away. She wasn’t going to run away—she knew that would be a betrayal, and she wasn’t going to betray Chime. She would never do something so evil as to betray him. Ask. She had to ask him about the Principals. The Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect, for that matter. She needed to know. She needed to, and the thought slowly ate away at her.

Chime wondered. Wondered how Gleam was taking it. He wondered if what he said was too much. Most likely, it was. He knew. Knew it had to be too much for her take—it must have been. It could have been. Good. It felt good to get the past off his chest. The past could finally be in the past and nowhere else. He knew he’d never be able to get over it, but he also knew talking about it helped. Talking about it helped, and he could feel his blood calming. Enough time had passed for that to be allowed. Enough time had passed for everything to somehow return to normal. He still wondered. Wondered how Gleam was handling it. The truth had been hurled—his true identity was revealed. He wondered what could have possibly been on her mind at that moment. As clueless as he felt at the time, he knew. Knew Gleam wouldn’t leave him or change her attitude towards him over a small confession. He knew. He knew that only a cruel, sick and twisted person would do such a thing. Gleam was not such person, and he knew it. Still, he wondered. Wondered how Gleam was taking it. Taking his past. He figured it must have been hard on her to learn all that at once, but he knew. The only way he would be able to withstand it. Withstand the entire repeat of history.

Eventually, Gleam couldn’t hold it in anymore. She couldn’t hold in her wonder. The thoughts, the Principals. She had to know. The thought of it not being solved or even brought up had to be fixed. It had to, and she knew it. The silence. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She couldn’t. Everything may as well be released at once for all she cared, but she had to break the silence. She had to. Sense. Something had to be made sense out of the flashback story. The Principals, the bit about him knowing who to protect, everything. Absolutely everything. She sighed, forcing herself to tear apart the silence.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “So, you mean to tell me you’re the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect?” she changed the direction in which she was directing her tone. “What are the Principals? What do they have to do with?” she slowly changed the pace of her questions as they all flowed out of her at once. “Are they like Sovereigns? Just what are they exactly?” she would have stopped, but the questions wouldn’t stop flowing from her. “Chime, do you know? Do you know anything about the Principals?” she felt hot with saying the wrong thing. She knew it was not in her place to say that. Stupid. She had made it sound like Chime was stupid. “S-sorry,” she said, getting crimson with embarrassment. “I must have made you sound stupid.”

Chime sighed. Gleam was at it again with the apologizing. She had no need to apologize, but there wasn’t any time for that. There wasn’t any time for that, and he knew it. Despite his small pool of knowledge on the Principals, he knew enough about them to teach her. Even the littlest bit of information helped, and he knew it. Every little bit of information mattered, and it was that simple. He knew though, that this time, he could not hide the horrifying information. This time around, he had to say everything. He had to tell her everything he knew about the Principals. He breathed in five times before explaining anything. He turned to Gleam as soon as he had been ready to execute the explanation.

“That’s right, Gleam,” he said. “I’m the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect.” He changed his tone of voice to that of a lighter one rather than a darker one. “But my powers are sealed by a strong lock inside my body.” After saying such, he anxiously paced around the room. What he was about to say was complicated. “Gleam, this might be hard for me to explain,” he said quietly. “So, please, bear with me. I’ve never looked into this much myself.” He breathed three more times. He didn’t get it. Why was it so hard to explain this to her? He then, quickly went back to trying to explain. “Okay. I’ll tell you. The Principals are kind of like the Sovereigns, but, they truly have nothing to do with them.” He walked back and forth as anxiety started robbing him as the explanation continued to get more complicated. “The Principals, however, like the Sovereigns, have two magic powers, but I wouldn’t call the powers forbidden and illegal.” He breathed in again. “The Principals powers…the only way I can describe them is that, usually, they’re what make the world go round.” He changed his expression to that of a dark one. “There’s one big difference, though, Gleam,” he said hoarsely. “When a Principal is killed, the world will be severely affected. I’m not sure why that is, but that’s the major difference.” He looked at Gleam and noticed she wanted to know more. Not minding, he continued. “There are only three Principals,” he explained. “The two others are pretty important compared to me.” He continued. “The other two Principals are the Principal in the Creation of the World and the Principal in the Events in History. I highly doubt either of them are in the program, and I really hope they aren’t. If either of them are killed, this world will cease to exist.” He breathed one last time to finish the explanation. “That’s all there is to it, Gleam. I wish I knew more on the subject, really. He sighed quietly to himself as the explanation had ended.

Gleam blinked. How? How could Chime so easily admit he wasn’t human? She wondered, but figured it had been too early to ask. She knew that if she asked, it would involve her having to tell him she was the Sovereign of Destruction. She wasn’t ready. She was nowhere near ready to tell Chime. Despite her current thoughts, she could feel curiosity take her away for a joy ride. A seal that locked his powers? It was an interesting predicament. She wasn’t about to allow curiosity to take her for a joy ride.

“A seal locking your powers?” Gleam asked. “Where exactly is your seal?”

Chime placed his hand over his heart to show Gleam where his seal was. He wasn’t sure if that were the exact place, but he had felt something practically button like in that area, so he knew. Knew he had to right about this somehow.

“Right over here, Gleam,” he said. “Next to my heart, inside my body.” He tried to put emphasis on the words to separate them.

Gleam continued to wonder. How would one activate the seal? The curiosity had still claimed her as she wanted to know more about the seal inside him. She knew it was horrendously wrong to be asking such stupid questions, but she knew it didn’t matter. As long as Chime didn’t become uncomfortable, she knew it would be okay to ask. She needed to ask about how the seal is unlocked. Considering the location in which it had been. She knew she already could think of how it could be unsealed, but regardless, she couldn’t help but ask Chime how it came to be.

“But how do you unseal the lock?” she inquired.

Chime looked at a wall and tried to think. He tried to remember. Tried to remember how to seal gets unlocked. Poking. It had something to do with poking. Something that had to do with poking, and that’s all he could remember. He didn’t remember the precautions, didn’t remember what it would be like what it would be like when the seal was undone, he remembered none of that. Poking. Poking the seal. That could only be the way to unlock it. The only way, and he knew it was the only answer.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But, I think you poke it with something to unlock the seal.”

The curiosity inside her peaked again. More. She wanted to know more. Only a little more, but, she felt like it would be okay to keep asking. As she kept on asking questions, she did wonder. Wondered if she could tell Chime. Tell Chime everything. Tell Chime she was the Sovereign of Destruction, the twenty one people that died at her hands, everything. She didn’t want to tell him—she couldn’t. There was no way could tell him she was the Sovereign of Destruction. She didn’t want Chime to hate her for the high amount of people she killed. For her own desire of remaining friends with him, she couldn’t tell him. Coward, she was a huge coward trying to keep it a sworn secret. She sighed and continued to ask questions.

“What happens when the seal is undone?” she asked. “What would happen to you?”

Chime sighed. The one question he couldn’t answer, and Gleam had asked it. He didn’t remember. He couldn’t remember. The memories of that explanation were lost at sea along with many other memories that were lost from his childhood. He tried thinking back, but failed to think of anything or remember anything. He, however, did remember one thing. It was foggy, but he remembered. The memory was finally somewhat clear. Despite it not being a huge memory, he knew. Knew that the question probably wouldn’t be answered properly. It wouldn’t be answered properly, but he knew. Knew the answer somewhat worked in his favor. He wished the topic were an easy one, but it was too difficult; it was too difficult to learn about something he was himself. He always figured he was better off not knowing, but was already too late. It was already too late to not know anything. He sighed again and began to explain once more.

“Well, Gleam,” he said. “Before daddy left mommy, he took me to a doctor about my seal.” He started pacing around the room again as he continued explaining. “The doctor said that once the seal is undone, it can never be sealed again.” He breathed in again. “The seal is a one shot deal, Gleam. Once unsealed, you can never seal it again. And another one can’t be placed.” He breathed in again. Nothing. Nothing else was coming to him.

Gleam noticed how much Chime had been breathing almost forcefully during that entire explanation and beyond, and it worried her. It worried her. Her worries only became worse as she wondered further. She wondered if, wondered if sapped his energy to explain. She doubt that were the case, but knew it might have been a cause. She wondered if it could have been something else as well, but nothing came to her mind. Still, she knew it couldn’t be nothing, and it was nothing. She knew it wasn’t nothing—it couldn’t be.

“Are you okay?” she asked worryingly. “You’re breathing heavily an awful lot.” She changed her tone of voice and diction of which she said her words. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Chime didn’t know how to describe the feeling he had been overcome with. It made little sense. Little sense to him as to what to tell her. Hopeless—the conversation was quickly becoming hopeless. Gleam was worried about him, and he didn’t want that. He had already worried her enough today. He had already worried her enough, and it bothered him. The morning was full of depression and loss of hope. The night had now become the same. He didn’t want her to worry about him—the look on her face. The look of worry was a face he did not want to see. The face hurt him, to see her with such a look.

He patted Gleam on the shoulder. “I’m fine,” he said. “I need to breathe in order to remain calm, Gleam. This topic is really hard on me.” He tried to smile, but no smile would from. No smile would grace his face. He was again expressionless and depressed looking. “But, it’s okay. This day will always be hard on me. I’m sure everything will be alright tomorrow.” Again, he tried to smile, but no smile would form. It was as if his lips were frozen. As if his body wouldn’t allow him to smile. He didn’t understand; it shouldn’t have been impossible. He knew that it took fewer muscles to smile. “Really, it’s okay. This day always ruins me. It’s not much to worry about.” He knew, though, that saying that would only lead to panic. He wondered why he would crack such a stupidly double edge sword line such as that one. He quietly laughed to himself. Stupid. He was so stupid. Stupid, he couldn’t stop calling himself such.

Gleam couldn’t let the matter drop. As much as she wanted to, she knew. Knew he wasn’t okay. Maybe she could convince him. Convince him to stop pushing it. She knew that it would be a hard thing to put into words. The situation called for a sentence, but the right words didn’t come to her. Nothing came to her. As hard as it was, being mute was pointless. She knew that it had been a long day for both of them especially Chime. It was a long for both of them, and tensions were lingering, and the situation wasn’t than it could have been. She knew that now—that the tensions of the day couldn’t possibly go away overnight, but Chime was already pushing himself way too hard, and Gleam didn’t like it.

“Don’t push yourself so hard,” she said, blushing. “Please, Chime. I know you want the best, but…” she started to stare into space a little, but stopped herself. “Chime, we all have to slow down a bit sometimes. Please don’t push yourself so hard.”

Chime froze to the spot of which he had been standing. Stupid, he was so stupid. Why did he say that to her? Why would he say something like that to Gleam? Now she was entirely worried the entire time, but he didn’t want her to worry too much. The atmosphere, even the atmosphere was worrisome. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he hoped that somehow, the atmosphere would change, and it had to. It had to change—the depressing and worrisome atmosphere only made everything worse.

Gleam stared. She knew she wasn’t worth being pushed over. She knew that she didn’t deserve for Chime to push himself so hard over her—she didn’t deserve it. She barely deserved it. She didn’t deserve his kindness and constant help. She still wondered. Wondered what he would think if she told him the truth. The truth of what she really was. She knew that deep down, she would instantly be alone. No one would want to be with the Sovereign of Destruction. Not even Chime and she knew it. No one would want to—everyone else had abandoned her, and she knew Chime would too. She knew it. She knew no one would want to be with the Sovereign of Destruction. No one.
“I’m not…” she began suddenly. “I’m not worth pushing yourself over.” She covered her mouth with her hand. She said it. She didn’t mean to say that. Why? Why would she say that to Chime? She wanted to take it back, but it had already been too late—the words were formed.

Chime looked at Gleam. What she said was unacceptable. She was worth it. She was very worth it, especially since all they had was each other. But he knew. Knew that it still had to do with the day being a hard one on both of them, but he still couldn’t accept what she said. He couldn’t say that to her, however, he couldn’t. It wasn’t a good idea, and he knew it. It was far from being a good idea. The words he wanted to say went into a jar of the things he couldn’t say to her and bottled up inside him. Other words came to him instead, and he decided to just roll with it.

“What are you saying?” he asked. He looked at the expression on her face. Something heavy had been on her mind—he knew it and felt stupid again for not noticing. “Gleam? What’s on your mind? Something is bothering you. I can tell.”

Gleam could no longer escape. No longer escape from telling Chime. Everything. She had to tell him everything—that she was a Sovereign, about the twenty one people murdered by her own hands, everything. She was ready. Ready for everything. Ready for Chime to abandon her and hate her after she told him. She was ready. Ready to stop hiding the truth. Ready to get the weight off her chest. She was finally ready. She breathed silently to calm her thoughts as she spoke.

“Chime,” she said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Chime knew it. Knew something was bothering her. He knew that it would help her to get whatever was bothering her off her chest. He knew that it helped her—and he was willing to listen for the entire time, even if it was something he didn’t understand. He looked at her with a look of readiness.

“What is it that you want to tell me?” he asked. “Go right ahead.”

Gleam closed her eyes and quickly prayed that the confession wouldn’t drain all of her energy. The time for hiding from the truth was over. She couldn’t back away from the confession. She opened her eyes and showed an extreme dark expression. She was ready.

“Chime,” she said quietly. “The truth is…” she breathed and tried to control herself. She didn’t want to lose it now. Calm. She had to remain calm. “I’m the Sovereign of Destruction,” she confessed. “And I…I’ve killed twenty one people.” Calm, she had to remain calm. She continued as she tried to keep herself calm. “I’ve killed so many people,” she whispered. “My power…it…it’s horrible.” She couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears. The tears were coming back. She could feel the tears flow out of her like a river, and they wouldn’t stop. The tears had no pause button. They were full functioned. Hate her. Chime had to hate her now. As the tears continued to rob her, she spoke through the tears to end the sentence. “Now you probably hate me, right?” she hoarsely asked. “You want me to leave you and die now or something? Right?” the tears got more ferocious as Gleam’s nightmare fear continued to play in her mind. She knew that Chime probably hated her now.

Chime believed Gleam. But, he would never, in his life, hate her. Seeing her in such a devastated state—he knew he had to tell her his true feeling. Save her, telling his true feelings would save her. But how would he tell her? How would he tell the truth about his feelings? Three simple words, and he didn’t know how he could say them, but he knew—knew he had to. Gleam needed to hear his true feelings. He knew if he didn’t, all would be lost. He had to tell her his true feelings. He knew, deep down, the fear of not being able to understand what he’s telling her, and the fear of her not feeling the same way would somehow be the truth. It mattered nothing to him what Gleam was, or what she did. He had to tell her how he felt about her. Now could be the only time to. He didn’t want to hear Gleam ever talk like that again. Never in his life. He wondered if what he was about to tell her would stop that. He began, began to reveal. Reveal his true feelings.

“Human, Sovereign, the people you killed, none of that matters. At least, not to me, anyway,” he confided. “I love you.” He did not blush. He tried not to blush. He couldn’t. He would have if he said it any sooner, but he knew that he couldn’t blush. Not now. “I don’t know when I realized,” he started. “But I knew when I saw you being bullied by those boys about three months ago that you were the girl I wanted to protect. You’re the girl I’d die for if I couldn’t protect you.” Almost automatically, he turned a very pale shade of pink. “I could never hate you, Gleam, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Gleam could feel the faucet of tears stop. Love? Chime loved her? It didn’t make sense while at the same time; she knew it did make sense. It made almost perfect sense. She wanted to tell him. Tell him the other truth. She felt the same, but in a place of death and murder she knew a relationship would be highly inappropriate. She remembered on a television show she watched that something like that did once happen, but this was not a fantasy world. It was reality—reality. She had to tell him. Her feelings. It only made sense after Chime told her his feelings. She could feel herself blush as she was about to confess.

“I… I love you too,” she stammered. “But… this really isn’t the place where we should have that kind of relationship.”

The confessions were then rudely cut off. A violent sound could be heard at the door. Violent knocks that could rip the door off were coming from the other end of the door. The knocks were louder than a jet plane and police officer combined. Something wasn’t right. The knocks were frightening. Frightening, and probably would break a hole in the door and if the people had kept it up, the door would break apart as well. After at least a dozen knocks, a loud booming voice could be heard at the door. Something was terrifying and wrong. The suddenness of it all made it hard to believe.

“OPEN THE ♥♥♥♥ING DOOR, MAGGOT!” the voice cried. “Open this ♥♥♥♥ing door before I break it open and kill you, Lethal!”
Gleam’s face became pale. The Death Penalties. They were at the door. Just as the leader of The Lethals said, The Death Penalties really were next.

“They’re here, Chime,” she spoke weakly. “The Death Penalties are here!”

The knocking became almost terrorist and harassment loud as Gleam revealed who was at the door. Chime knew what he had to do. Despite not wanting to, he had to deal with The Death Penalties now before they killed either of them. Chime proceeded to his necessity cabinet and removed a sharp and long metal weapon and a black circular explosive object. He didn’t want to resort to bloodshed or utter obliteration in front of Gleam, but this was the final score he had to settle. The last score he had to settle with his gang past. He didn’t want Gleam to be involved, but he already knew she wouldn’t stay hiding in his dorm room.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I’m not going to let them lay a single hand on you. They’ll show you no mercy. Please, Gleam, stay hidden.”

“But Chime,” she said. “You’re severely injured!”

Chime patted Gleam on the shoulder again. “Don’t worry,” he exclaimed. “I’ve come prepared in case the bleeding restarts.” He made way for the door as the knocks only got louder and louder in audio. “Come on, quickly. They’ll keep on torturing us if we don’t exit.”

Gleam followed Chime quietly. Inhumane. Gangs were beyond inhumane to every single person a part of an affiliation. Inhumane, even, and Gleam couldn’t stand the evils of gangs—it was a cloud of viciousness, and the cloud never ceased to kill innocent people. Gleam couldn’t to follow behind Chime into the hallway. Inhumane. The violent knocking torture was inhumane.


The hallway was again coaxed by evil. The source of evil was seemingly smaller than earlier that day. The source of evil had had been diminished to five boys. Five boys who were supremely vicious. Vicious and deadly, hence their namesake. They were ready. Ready to kill the former Lethal who was responsible for the deaths of their brotherhood gang. Death. The boy would die at the hands of all five of them. Simple. The boy’s death would become so simple. It would be as easy as robbing toys from a blind three year old. They didn’t care how of which wind chime boy would be killed—as long as he died at their hands, they barely cared.

The evil source had an almost ironic appearance. All five of them looked almost beautiful, but were truly ugly due to the evil coursing through their veins. Each of them wore a colored suit depending on their rank. One wore a gold, regal suit, the second wore a silver suit, the third wore a bronze suit, and the other two wore a black suit and white suit. On the back on their suits was an image of an old guillotine crashing a human sized mouse. Their hair was shaggy, shaggy and lacked any color. They were godlike tall; if it made any remote sense, the boys were maybe six feet tall. All of the boys were different. Different—freedom of dressing must have been a thing. The boy with the gold suit looked at Chime sinisterly. Paintbrush boy had to die. He had to die now. The gold suit Death Penalty cornered him in form of intimidation.

Chime backed away as the gold suit came into his space. No words could describe how powerless he felt against the gold suited member. Frightening. The fact that he was being cornered made it hard for him to escape. Powerless. He was horrendously powerless to the new people after him.

The boy in the gold suit spoke to intimidate. “Why, look who it is,” he said exponentially. “The murderer who killed my wingmen!” he continued to corner Chime as the intimidation continued. “You must know what that means already,” he said in a criminal tone. “That means…we’re going to kill you!”

Chime continued to back away. His presence; his presence was terrifying. As he backed away, he didn’t realize—realize that he had fallen directly into the leader’s trap. As he continued to back away, he could feel it. He could feel the concrete wall against his body and the leader’s cold breath on his skin. A trap, a trap, and he didn’t know how to escape it.

The gold suited boy smirked. Perfect. Everyone in his gang knew—everything was going according to his plan. Perfect. The against the wall death plan was perfect. He turned to the other four members and placed his thumb and index finger in his mouth. The sound of a chirp let loose from his mouth. The other four removed their weapons right on the signal. The shape. The shape of the weapons were that of a knife and a gun. It was complicated. The leader smirked as his members removed their knife guns. As he waited for Chime to show fear on his face, he rummaged through his pockets and presented an inhumanly large knife. Again, he smirked as he saw the plan become perfect in his mind.

Out of fear, Chime gulped. Painting—they were going to force him to paint with his blood again. This time he didn’t want Gleam involved. This was his fight, no one is going to lay a hand on her, nobody. As frightened as he was, he knew if deadly came to more deadly, his weapons would come in handy to retaliate. Regardless, he couldn’t think—all his thoughts were gone. Gone from the fear robbing him.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked randomly. “You’re going to make me paint with my blood, aren’t you?” sweat invaded him. He knew that it was going to be a violent punishment. The fear. The fear was robbing him. Robbing him of every rational thought he had at the time.

The gold suit boy laughed maniacally. Stupid. The boy thought he was going to get it off easy. They were not about easy punishments. Painting with his own blood was so Lethal punishment and twelve years old. That wouldn’t teach him anything. Amputation. Amputation would be the perfect punishment. The leader lifted his hand and raised the inhumanly large knife above him. He cracked a maniacal laugh as he thought of how perfect everything would become.

“Oh, please,” he said in a vicious tone. “We’re not going to make you paint with your blood, that’s so twelve years old!” he gave a sinister, full tooth grin. “We’re going to amputate it.”

Chime’s sweat sped up as he could feel the fear completely loiter outside him. Amputation. He would lose his arm through amputation. He hated being so powerless, and hated that Gleam had to watch. He knew that if he told her to run away, that it would call attention to her—he couldn’t do that. There wasn’t any way.

Gleam backed away. She couldn’t watch. She couldn’t watch the horrors about to befall. She closed her eyes and kept them closed—she couldn’t watch. She couldn’t watch the onslaught. She knew it was wrong of her to hide, but she couldn’t watch. The horror. When the time came, she would help him, but she knew Chime did not want her involved. She opened her eyes lightly, but closed them again. She couldn’t watch. Frightening, it was so frightening to have to view bloodshed twice in one day. She couldn’t. There was absolutely no way. It was frightening. How could she? Tears of fear rolled down her face—inhumane, this was inhumane.

The gold suited boy smirked. He turned to his members and gave an intricate symbol that only they understood. The four others raised their weapons and placed them in an active position. The amputation assassination was ready.

Chime stood there, robbed of all movement. Death. Death was coming. Death was about to greet him. As frightened as he was, he knew there was no way to avoid it. He closed his eyes at the thoughts of dying by amputation corroded him. He knew. Knew that when push came to shove, he had weapons. Provided he was to live through the onslaught, he would retaliate. He knew, however, that it would only be impossible for him. Powerless, he was powerless.

The gold suit was ready. Ready to being the assassination amputation. Blindingly, he removed a second weapon from his pocket. The weapon was fairly long and piercing in appearance. It had a violent and slashing look about it. It was obvious to Chime that the gold suit boy had many weapons up his sleeve. He stared at the inhumanly large knife in his left hand and then at the long slashing object in his right. He wondered. Wondered which one he would use. After about a moment, the gold suit boy raised the long slashing object above his head and released it from his hand, hitting the ceiling as it travelled upward. A sword rain was sure to befall later if he chose to let the sword hit him from the ceiling. The preparations were then complete. The gold suit boy was ready. Ready to perform assassination amputation.

The gold suit boy leaned in closer and prepared. When he had picked the perfect spot on his arm to amputate it, he placed the inhumanly large knife on Chime’s forearm. As the inhumanly long knife made contact with Chime’s skin, he shook weakly. The injury, the injury was about to get worse. The suit dastardly slashed at Chime’s forearm, attempting to get the arm to fall off. Nothing, not even signs of bleeding heavily were seen. He growled under his breath and tried again. The slashing quickly became attempted carving. Carving deep into his forearm, and only a small amount of blood dropped from him. Again, he growled. It wasn’t working—the amputation wasn’t working. He figured one more time would be able to get the arm off. One more time. He placed the knife back on the boy’s forearm. Just above the adhesive bandage. Just above the adhesive; this time, he knew he would succeed. Succeed in the amputation of the Lethal’s arm. The carving quickly became stabbing as the gold suit boy hopelessly tried to do what he had to in order to win in the battle of murder. As he continued to stab the boy’s forearm, he noticed how nothing was falling yet again. No blood, no arm, nothing. Amputation mission failed. The gold suit boy removed the inhumanly large knife from Chime’s forearm and rubbed the sides of his head with his hands in an alleged fury. His inhumanly large knife wasn’t sharp—he made a huge mistake. He failed his crew. Assassination. It was time for their assassination part of their plan. He took the inhumanly large knife and threw it at the wall to the west of him. Useless, the weapon was useless. He turned to his gang members and gave them an intricate look that only they understood. Out of a rage from failure, he spoke.

“That sword was a dud!” he shouted. “Shoot the ass! Show him no mercy!”

The silver suit stared. Shooting. They had to resort to shooting. He liked the idea, but was clueless as to where to shoot the paintbrush boy. It would be perfect. A perfect way to kill the killer.

He turned to the gold suit boy. “Where?” he asked. “Where do we shoot him?”

The gold suit boy glared. No one dared to question him. He didn’t care what the question was—no one questioned him. Nobody. This was not even time for questions. It was only time to kill—nothing else. Killing, and that was it. He changed his expression to an imperious one and showed that he would punish the silver suit later for questioning him.

“Do NOT question me, you cockroach!” he viciously said. “Shoot the ass on his hip! SHOOT HIM!”

The silver suit nodded and snapped his fingers at the other three members to alert them that it was time. The four placed their fingers on the trigger. As their finger pulled the trigger, three bullets from each knife gun as the bullets travelled their way to Chime. Chime stared as the bullets were about to make grace with him. He gulped as he could see the bullets come at him. The bullets then completely made grace with him. Metal—metal jamming him. Metal jamming him. Something jamming his side. He couldn’t describe the content of the pain. Biting—metal jamming his sides. He couldn’t describe it. The pain. The pain of the hit—it was degrading. As he could feel blood drip from his side, he let out a tear stricken scream. Metal. Metal bullets biting him. He wondered how long he would remain conscious this time.

The four Death Penalties laughed sinisterly as they dropped their knife guns. Perfect. The shots were perfect. They looked at their leader whom was still standing over the boy like a police man frisking him. They wondered. Wondered what else he had in store to kill the boy.

The gold suit boy got nothing. His murder attempt failed. He was a terrible leader, a terrible leader and he knew it. One trick left—only one trick had been left up his sleeve. Choking was all he could think of. Robbing the boy of oxygen, that was his last resort. As he came to his last murder resolve, he placed his arms around Chime’s neck and prepared. Prepared to choke the boy until he died mercilessly.

Chime knew that it was time. Time to initiate his side of the damage. As the bleeding from the shot continued, he rummaged through his pocket and removed the long metal object. He placed it at his side and prepared as his right arm was ready to commit a defensive death. Chime closed his eyes. He didn’t know if he could do this. Murder; he would resort to murder. He knew it was too late—they struck first, it was only because he had to. He had to. Blankly, he took the long metal object and placed it above his head, shaking. Again, he closed his eyes. Could he do it? Could he kill a human? He knew if he thought about it that it would delay his action. He sighed and placed the long metal object in a dangerous position. The heart, he would pierce the heart. Chime moved the long metal object behind him then thrust it forward, piercing the boy’s chest as the metal object had made contact with him. He watched in horror as the gold suit boy fell to the ground from the pierce of the sword. His blood decorated the floor beautifully as his eyes become pupilless and his body showed no signs of life. His heart. His heart was dead, and he was no more. No more—the gold suited boy was nothing more than a lifeless body. He tried to remain calm as he realized what he had done.

The other four members cowered. Their leader. Their leader was dead. Dead. Dead because of the person they were trying to kill. The person they were trying to kill murdered their leader. Pay, the boy was going to pay.

“You’ll PAY,” the black suit shouted. “We’ll shoot your brains out!”

The white suit boy spoke next. “You heard him, you’ll PAY!”

Chime sighed and didn’t answer the boys and knew that they needed to join the leader in the death circle. He had to use the second object. The second object to end them. He didn’t want to, but he had to. Chime removed the second object from his pocket within seconds. The black round object had many complicated settings to activate it, but he knew how to use it. He didn’t want Gleam to get caught in the blast, however. He tinkered with the buttons on the circular object and set a time. Electric denotation—he barely knew how to work it, but he knew, knew it just required to throw it at a person. He looked at Gleam and let out a weak scream from the continuing blood dropping from the attempted assassination.

“Gleam!” he cried. “I need you to head for cover! Please head somewhere safe! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Gleam knew. Knew Chime was about to use a bomb to obliterate his assailants. She knew that she didn’t want to get caught in the blast. Run, she had to run. She nodded and ran away as the plan to retaliate was about to unfold. Style, she would get Style to help fix Chime’s injuries. She didn’t want to run away. It wasn’t running away, cover; she was heading for cover as Chime did what he had to. She knew. Knew everything would be okay. Okay, and over within four seconds. She ran to Style’s room quickly to find her.

Chime scoured the area to see if Gleam had gone for cover. When he knew she was, he was ready. As he threw the bomb, he waited. Waited for the time to reach zero. He breathed and waited. He waited impatiently.

Finally, the bomb had reached zero. The four members that remained in the Death Penalties looked at their feet. They shivered a little as the bomb began to detonate.

The bomb was ready. As the clock beeped red, the bomb went off and made a large ear deafening boom. As the boys got caught in the explosion, the bomb smoked and disintegrated the four boys’ lives. The explosion was violent, violent and deadly. Within seconds, the explosion ended, and before him was the four boys whom were on the ground, covered in unrecognizable blotches of explosion patches. He stared as the four boys did not breathe, did not open their eyes, nothing. No response. There was no response. Darkly, Chime stared. Murdered. He killed the five of them. The five of them died at his hands, and he couldn’t forgive himself, even if they were after him. Absolutely horrible, he was absolutely horrible. He could feel a sudden weakness overtake him. He could no longer stand. He could feel the weakness rob him as he fell to the ground. He wondered if he’d join The Death Penalties in their death circle.

Gleam returned soon after with Style by her side. Help, she needed to help Chime. She knew Style had nothing to do with the situation, but she felt like she needed an outsider’s help for now. As Gleam approached Chime again, Style poked her. The girl noticed. Wrong, something was wrong.

“Woah!” she cried. “Your guy buddy is down!”

Gleam could feel tears stream down her face. No. No. She couldn’t believe it; Chime had fallen to the ground. The injury or two he sustained, they were going to kill him. She had to help him, she had to. She wasn’t about to let Chime die from a gunshot. She ran to his side, Style followed.

“Chime!” she screamed hoarsely. “Chime! What happened? I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching!” she could feel tears drop down even more as she could feel more apologizes come out of her all at once. “Chime! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching! I should have stopped it!”

Style looked down at Chime’s side and noticed the red blotch of stained blood vacantly decorating him. She turned to Gleam and placed her hands on her hips seriously.

“Your guy buddy needs patching!” Style announced. “I’m glad you called me, I got just thing—magic!”

Gleam shook her head. No. She couldn’t use magic, there was no way she could use magic on Chime. She didn’t want to disagree, but she had to, even if she was a mere outsider.

She tugged on her red long flowing shirt to get her attention. “No, Style,” she said. “No magic.” She let go of the girl’s shirt and stared at the barrettes in her hair. “Style, please! Please help me bandage him! I… I can’t bandage sides… I don’t know how.” She knew she was awful for saying that, but she had no knowledge. No knowledge as to bandaging a side or hip. She turned to Style again and gave her a ready look. She hoped she knew what she was about to do.

Style smiled. She could do it. She remembered everything Eggshell taught her about patching up a person—she knew how to do it. Even though it would be hard to get to the side of his body, she was confident. Confident she could get there. She removed and adhesive bandage and began, began to save Chime.

“No problem,” she chirped. “Seriously, I can do this!”

Style took the adhesive bandage out as she crouched down by Chime, who was in a daze. Slowly, she placed the adhesive on the white covered the red stain remnant on him. As she finished, she backed away and looked at Gleam, readying to go back to her room. She wanted to help more, but knew the two didn’t need her to be around anymore. She once again smiled at Gleam before heading back. She was thrilled. Thrilled to help the cute girl out.

“Okay, my work here is done!” she cried. “I’m going back to my room. If you ever want to hang out with me, my door is open, sweetie.” She waved to her and ran back to her dorm. She knew that Gleam knew what to do next. “She’ll be alright,” she whispered to herself. “She’s a good kid; I know she knows what to do!”

As Style headed back to her room, Gleam ran to Chime and held out her hand. Weakly, Chime grabbed it knowing that the short walk back to the dorm would feel like an entire ice age. Somehow he managed to break out a few words, but they were almost inaudible.

“That was Style, wasn’t it?” he weakly asked. “Gleam; did you thank her for helping you?”

Gleam blushed. She didn’t. She didn’t thank the girl for helping her. Rude, she was beyond rude. She knew that Chime, however, shouldn’t have been talking. Not with an injury of the kind he currently had.
“D-don’t talk so much. Your wound will reopen!” she cried. “Anyway, I… I didn’t get to; she left before I could thank her.”

Chime sighed. It didn’t bother him at all. He wondered why he even asked. Then he remembered. He had one more thing to say to her. Something related to Sovereigns. Something that had to do with the boys being reduced to ashes by her earlier that day. He breathed in before he explained to get Gleam’s utmost attention.

“Gleam there’s something I forgot to tell you,” he said. “Earlier today when you threw that stick of dynamite at The Lethals, the reason they were reduced to ashes was because of your passive magic. All Sovereigns have passive magic, Gleam.”

Gleam blinked. It made perfect sense now. All of it made absolute sense. Passive magic, she didn’t understand it, but she couldn’t ask. Chime’s condition would worsen if she did, and she didn’t want that. She never wanted that. She would wait until he was better to ask. She couldn’t ask, there was no way she could ask him seeing the condition he was in now.

After she was sure the two of them were at the door, she quickly opened it as she helped Chime walk. She took him into his room and somehow managed to get him to lie down after she successfully escorted him to his dorm bed. A look of worry decorated her face as she worried even more about Chime’s injury.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked. “You were shot by twelve bullets! How are you going to recover?” worry robbed her as she continued. “Chime, please! Please rest, please!”

Chime smiled almost inappropriately. He knew he would be okay. He hoped nothing would happen to him. He didn’t want Gleam to worry any more than she already was, deep down, he knew that it was all over with for now. He also knew. Knew he would be useless for a week. Useless at being able to help Gleam. He hated the thought—hated it more than anything. The thought of not being able to do anything for her made his body ache in a different way than he knew. Three days, he didn’t care, he would only allow three days of being practically bedridden.

“I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “Give me three days, Gleam. I promise I’ll overcome this quickly.”

Gleam sighed. She knew Chime would say that. Knew Chime didn’t care what would happen to him. She wanted Chime to worry about himself at least by three percent, but she couldn’t force it. Three days was not enough time to recover. She wished she had a doctor or a professional decide such, but she remembered what he said earlier: there was no hospital around there or an infirmary. Judgment, she had to use her own judgment. She had no other choice, she had to go with what she thought was best for him.

“Three days isn’t enough!” she cried. “One week! Please, Chime…”
Chime couldn’t argue with Gleam. He knew she was right, a week. A week of rest. There was no room for discussion or argument, and je knew it. In the middle of it all, he wanted Gleam to rest, too. He didn’t want her to get ill. He knew, knew Gleam would come down with a serious stress related illness, and he didn’t want to see her like that. He didn’t want her to fall ill because of him—it happened once before and he never wanted to see that again, not if his life depended on it.

“You should rest too, Gleam,” he said. “I don’t want you getting an illness from extreme stress.”

Gleam nodded, but did not agree. She didn’t want to leave Chime alone when he was almost deathly injured—she couldn’t. It was wrong.

“Someone has to help you,” she said quietly. “I can’t rest, I…”

Chime smiled at her. Even though he knew he shouldn’t have, he did anyway. Gleam knew there was no contest and decided resting from the long day was her best bet.

As Gleam placed herself on the couch, Chime could feel something tick inside him. Murder. He killed five boys. The revolution. The revolution had ended. It was no longer a revolution, it was over. The revolution, just like he predicted, was over when everyone had been dead. There was no more revolution. The revolution, he caused it to end with his own two hands. A monster, he knew that he was a horrible monster. The revolution had ended, and it was because of a monster like him. He was a monster, and he would never be anything more or anything less. He kept on repeating the phrase as he drifted off to sleep and began resting. A monster, he was nothing more than a monster, and he knew the truth more than he wished to believe.

End of chapter nineteen, next to come: in an escapade of helicopter stellar, the demon escapes. The world falls apart as the ocean woefully lets out a sadistic plea.


Is everything becoming clear now? Yup. I bet it is. Wait until you see chapter 21. B]

You knew Chime loved her, didn't you?

Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


Has sent out Pikachu!

Age 22
Seen 4 Hours Ago
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This chapter is rated M.

I have just done this today. There might be tyos.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 20; Sadistically woeful. As a God rises, a demonic departure rattles the sails.

Two weeks passed by as if the entire world were normal again. Nothing had happened. No events occurred in the outside world, it was as if the entire planet were paralyzed by a broken rotary wheel that could no longer turn. The lack of people coming after Gleam, strange tactics to get her into Ceetos’s office, and the lack of Chime coming out of his room were really getting to her. Gleam knew—knew something had to be amiss. No one had come to try to kill her in two weeks. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or scared to half death over it. Two weeks, and she had been alone. She wanted to check up on Chime, but she was told to rest as well. The door to his room had been shut tight, and she knew that meant she had no right to be in there when the door had been closed. Even though she had been told to rest for a week, she couldn’t. She couldn’t—the paranoia. The paranoia of what had happened only kept on bothering her. All she could do was think about it for two weeks. The very thought corroded her, and the solitude was barely making it any better. She knew she had every right to be in solitude, however. She knew she didn’t deserve it, Chime’s kindness, help, anything. She knew she didn’t deserve any of it. The two weeks of solitude proved it. Instead of thinking it was because she was a Sovereign, she decided to wonder. She wondered. Wondered how the Sovereign of Solitude, the late Soullim, handled being alone. She wondered if he was lonely when he was still alive. She knew, however, she had no right to compare herself to other Sovereigns. She was not them, and she refused to compare herself to such low and insane people. She wasn’t them, and yet, she wondered how she could suddenly compare herself to other Sovereigns. In two weeks of solitude, she had seen things about her that she would have never seen before her two weeks of alone time, and never in her life had she loathed herself so much. Never in her life had it been so hard to like herself. She then figured. If she was going to be alone for at least another week, she may as well go out to go do something with herself. She knew the solitude wasn’t intentional. Chime needed to recover. The library. She could go find the library. With her resolve in mind, Gleam left the couch and attempted to head for the door, but she couldn’t. Weakness, dizziness, something was in control of her as she tried to walk. As she tried to walk to the door again, the dizziness had completely won. Within moments, the ground became her best friend as she fell to the rug. The sound of a loud crash could be heard before she was invited by the blackness of nothing. The darkness of being unconscious was somewhat inviting to her. Maybe she could stay that way forever. She somehow, hoped it would be true.

Chime, on the other hand, had not been able to move for the duration of two weeks. Incapacitated. For two weeks, he had been incapacitated, and he knew that it would remain that way for a while. He knew that Gleam being alone was not a good thing. It was not a good thing, but due to his inability to move, he couldn’t check on her. Constantly, he had tried to move and failed miserably. He hated it. Hated being confined to his bed from the lack of the ability to move. He wanted to be sure, however, that he would be able to recuperate enough to help Gleam later. He, thus, ordered her to close the door. Solitude, complete solitude from the world. He hated it. Hated the solitude. He wanted the solitude to be over, but he knew it would last until he could move his entire body again. Every day, as of seven days before, slowly, but surely, he had been regaining mobility. Useless, he was useless. Somehow, he knew, knew he would never fully recover. Even at the very moment, he knew that even if the scars faded, the mental scars wouldn’t. The mental scars would be eternal, and he knew it. The mental scars would permanently remain, and the memories would haunt him. The memories were permanently protruded into his mind, and there was no escaping them. From the two weeks of solitude, he had been trapped. Trapped with the visions of all his darkest memories. No amount of screams, crying, and writhing would help him. The memories would not leave him. He knew. Knew that it was true pain. He knew that it must have been what true pain felt like. The two weeks of incapacitation had taught him what pain truly was. True pain. True pain was writhing. True pain was emotional.

Eventually, the solitude had broken. The sound of a loud crash could be heard coming from the other room. Wrong, something was wrong. He knew something had happened to Gleam. It didn’t sound normal; it could have only been her falling. Falling on something. Falling. Save her, he had to save her. Now was not the time to be in bed, not being able to move much. He would drag himself out of there if he had to. Save her. He had to save her. He moved his body forward as he picked his body up. The pain. The pain was barely there. Move, he could finally move. Chime removed the covers on him and lightly jumped to his feet. The worry .The worry was empowering his every move. Walk. He could feel it, he could walk. Never in his life had he felt so relieved that he could walk. Quickly, he turned the knob and opened the door. He wondered. The crash. What could that crash have been? He knew that it wasn’t a good thing. Within moments, he could see a horrifying sight. The sight of a fallen over Gleam had burned into his mind. Wrong, something was wrong with her. As the worry empowered his movement, Chime ran to Gleam’s side. Wrong, something was wrong with her. The pain. The pain of not preventing the outcome had gotten under his skin. Tears had automatically rolled down his face. Useless, he was useless.

“Gleam!” he shouted, tears painting his face discretely. She wasn’t conscious. He had to get her to come to. “Wake up, Gleam! Wake up, please! You have to wake up!” tears had continued to fall from his face as he continued to shake her only to fail miserably. He continued shake her in hopes he would somehow get her to come to. Again, he tried to scream in hopes of breaking her free. “Wake up! You have to wake up! Please, Gleam! Please, wake up!” the screams. The screams were failing. Failing miserably, he had been failing to save her from the dark depths of blackness. He knew that he couldn’t give up, he couldn’t. Harder, he had to try harder. As the shaking became harder, he could see signs of success. Gleam’s vital signs were returning. The tears continued to paint him even in the relief of her being alive. He couldn’t hide it. Couldn’t hide the emotions from her. He couldn’t remain calm, he couldn’t. Despite her being conscious, he knew—wrong. Something was wrong with her. There wasn’t any time to waste. There was absolutely no time. Calm, he had to become calm before it would be too late.

Gleam’s vision had slowly returned to her. Instantly, she had noticed Chime had been standing over her, completely full of tears and emotion. She was not used to the sight, and it made her feel like she had caused it. Her fall—her fall had caused everything. Seeing Chime up and about made her completely worry. She wondered. Should he have been moving around? It had been two weeks, two weeks of separation, two weeks of solitude, and it had been hard on her to cope. Something, she had to say something. In her weakened state, nothing came. She could only say the first thing that came to her mind. Weakly, she let the words form as weakness overrode her.

“Chime, should you be moving around?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you still be in bed?” the words. The words came out weird. They didn’t sound right. She wondered to herself. Was she delirious? Was she hallucinating? She didn’t know—she knew she was aware, she knew that could not have been it. “I just fell over…I, you… didn’t have to…” no words would work. Strange, she felt strange.

Chime did not like the sound of what Gleam had said. He was not important now; his mobility was not important. The bottom of it, he had to get to the bottom of what had happened to have caused her to faint. Gleam should not have been moving around if she were in that kind of state and he knew it. He was not important right now. He had to tell her that, he didn’t care if what he was about to say would sound harsh, he knew the situation called for him to be harsh.

“I’m not important right now!” he cried. “You shouldn’t be moving around! You just fainted!” he tried to calm down, but failed almost miserably. Yet another failure had infiltrated him. Focus. He had to focus on the main subject. “You need to tell me,” he said desperately. “Do you feel ill? Do you need me to do anything for you? There’s definitely something wrong with you!” as he finished with the questions, he quickly picked her up and placed her in a bedridden position. He placed the blanket over her as if by clockwork. He waited. Waited for Gleam to answer him.

Gleam could feel bewilderment invade her. She barely understood. Barely understood why Chime as so worried. She knew, somehow, if she had said that, Chime would only worry more. She couldn’t. Couldn’t say that to him. She didn’t think anything could have possibly been wrong. Something couldn’t have been. She knew. Knew it was only a sudden weakness, a sudden weakness. It could have been, and it could only have been. She knew. Knew it was nothing. She had to admit that to him.

“I’m okay,” she said weakly. “Really, Chime, it must have been weakness or something.”

Chime sighed. Gleam was denying it. She was denying it, and he hated the sound of it. The harshness had to leave him this time. Somehow, he had to get the truth out of her, he had to. He couldn’t sit by idly and accept the answer she gave him. She was not okay. She wasn’t. She wasn’t okay at all. He knew it. Knew the two weeks of solitude would do something to her. He knew, knew keeping the door closed was a bad move. So many bad moves, and they were all his fault. Everything that had happened had been his fault. It had been his fault for he had not been able to move. He could only blame himself. Himself and no one else. If Gleam had fallen ill from the solitude, he only had himself to blame, and he knew it better than anyone. He looked at her with a serious look on his face before he became lost in a sea of self beating. He couldn’t focus on himself, Gleam was of the only importance.

“You’re not okay,” he said firmly. “I think you’ve come down with something. Really, this is all my fault, Gleam.” he kept a serious expression on his face as he continued. “Please stay n bed. You’re obviously not well.”

Gleam sighed. He was worrying over nothing. It was not his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. She had worried him again. The solitude had been over, but the pain of solitude was not. Being alone for two weeks; the pain it left behind. It hurt, hurt beyond belief. Did she feel ill? She didn’t think so. She knew it could have only been a sudden weakness. Chime was worrying too much. He had definitely been too worried. It was uncalled for. She hated it. Hated worrying Chime as much as she already did. She wished, for once, that he would worry about himself. Gleam didn’t like the idea, the idea of being confined to the couch. The thought of staying put, not moving, completely bothered her. All she had done for two weeks was think to herself. No more, she couldn’t stand being confined to the couch for another day—she could not handle it. Move—she had to move around. She knew that with Chime up and about, she probably would be forbidden to move. She knew Chime shouldn’t have been moving around, either, but she was sure now that he wouldn’t stand down. Regardless, she needed to repeat herself.

“Are you sure you should be moving around?” she asked again. “What about your injuries, Chime?” while she was happy he could move again, the first thing she didn’t want was to worry him, but it was already too late to change it. It was her fault such had befallen, and she knew it. She knew it could have only been her fault; it could only have been. She could feel a light sigh overcome her as she continued to quietly bash herself in the contents of her mind. “Really,” she said. “I’m glad you’re moving around, but….” There was more. More she wanted to say, but the weakness overtook her. The next words wouldn’t form. They stayed sealed inside her permanently as if locked in her throat. She decided it would be best to just give up for now—there was no way she could win.

Chime indirectly glared at the words Gleam said. Yes, he should have been moving around. It was his fault all of this happened and his fault only. The time fir solitude and recovering was over. Two weeks was too much time for himself. He had taken too much time for himself—he knew what had happened was the world’s way of telling him that he was selfish. He had taken too much time for himself, and he was selfish. Utterly selfish. Completely, utterly selfish. He knew. Knew what had happened was the world’s way of telling him such. It was a completely deserved outcome; he knew he deserved it more than anything before. Rather than wallowing about it, he knew now was his chance to show the world he was not selfish. Now was the time. Time to show the world. He would put it upon himself. Put it upon himself to take care of her. The world. He would show the world he wasn’t selfish. He looked at Gleam quickly.

“Yes, I should be,” he replied. “I’m not going to leave you alone, Gleam.” He would not blush. He kept a constant serious expression. A serious expression. Clam. He had to remain calm. “I’m going to take care of you,” he told her. “Is there anything you need?” he knew, that no matter what he did, it would not make up for the two weeks of solitude. Nothing would make up for the solitude. The world could not forgive him; he didn’t deserve to be forgiven, and he knew it. He knew the world would have no right to forgive him. He knew. There was no room, no room for forgiveness. He sighed, snapping himself out of it. There was no time to worry about himself. Gleam was of the only importance. He couldn’t think of himself, there was no way.

Gleam couldn’t think of anything. She had no idea, no idea. She didn’t want to feel weak anymore. She hated the feeling, and she didn’t want to feel weak anymore. She didn’t want to feel weak anymore. She hated being fussed over so much. It couldn’t come to pass. She knew. Knew it couldn’t. She just wanted it to be over, over. Something, anything, to make her regain strength. Something, anything. She didn’t want to remain weak, something; anything, to help her regain all her strength. She knew there wasn’t anything, but she knew it had to be worth a try. She knew she had to try something, anything; anything to somehow be normal again. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Can I have some water?” she asked. She couldn’t think of anything else. Nothing else came to her. There was nothing else she knew that would help her in any least bit possible. Water was the immediate solution. The only solution. She wondered. Wondered if it were too much to ask for. She wondered if she seemed like and invalid unable to do anything. Pushy, she was being pushy, and she knew it. “If it isn’t too much to ask…” she said under her breath. “Am I being too pushy?” she could feel it again. The weakness. The weakness was living up to its name. Pushy. She was being pushing. Too pushy. Completely pushy. Should she have even asked for anything? She wondered. Wondered if it were wrong to ask. Somehow, she knew it had to be wrong.

Chime looked at her. Why was she saying that? She wasn’t being pushy. She wasn’t being pushy at all—in any way. In any way. She was not being pushy. As much as he wanted to say that to her, he knew it wouldn’t be a good thing to pile anything onto her. He knew it would be in his best interest to keep it inside him. No more. He couldn’t do that after what had went on during the two weeks. Nothing could make up for the stress he caused her, nothing. Nothing would make up for what he did, and he knew it. Despite that, it had to stop. The thoughts had to stop. Standing there and thinking wasn’t going to help Gleam become better. He couldn’t dawdle. He had to cut it out with the dawdling. A habit—the dawdling was now, somehow, a habit. A habit he had to break.

“By all means,” he answered, killing the dawdling. He proceeded to a cabinet and removed a small glass from the top shelf. After removing the glass, he placed it under the faucet and ran the water. After the glass had shown signs of being three quarters full, he turned the faucet off and walked over to Gleam, motioning her to sit up slightly. He hoped in the corners of his mind that the water would breathe life into her.

Gleam sat up slightly as Chime had instructed. She removed the glass from his hand and added it to her own. In her bewilderment, she stared at the glass. The water, would it really help her? She wondered. Wondered if it would do anything. To find out that answer herself, she took the water and began to drink it. Strange, something was strange. The water. The water looked cold, but it didn’t even taste like anything. Nothing. The water tasted like nothing. After finishing the glass of water, she realized that she felt no different. Weakness still had been coursing through her, dizziness was still there. There obviously wasn’t any way—any way she could win today.

Chime noticed. Even after the drink of life bringing cold water, she still looked ghostly pale. Something was wrong with her, but he couldn’t make out what it could be. Hopeless. He felt hopeless to himself and hopeless to the world’s force. Useless, he was entirely useless. Still he had to ask her if there was any change in her of any kind, it would be wrong not to, and he knew it.

“Did the water help you?” he asked with instinct. “Do you feel any better?” he could feel the worried tone sound more worried than it usually sounded, but he didn’t care—he was far too worried to hide it. He couldn’t hide the absolute worry in his voice.
Gleam weakly shook her head. No. She didn’t. She didn’t feel any better at all. The water provided nothing for her. It was no different. No different. There wasn’t any change. She didn’t want to remain that way, if not for a long time. She wondered what hurt more, the weakness or what was about to come later. She couldn’t distinguish it—nothing was working. Her mind wasn’t even working. It was as if she was weak everywhere. She wanted to hate it, she wanted to, but, she felt too drained. She was too weak to hate anything at the moment. It took too much energy, and she didn’t want to waste anymore energy. Everything. Everything was slowly becoming too much—weakness was more powerful than anything. The weakness, the weakness was winning. It definitely had won, and she had decided. Decided to completely admit it.

“No, Chime,” she answered. “I really don’t feel any better.” Rest. She needed to get rest. She didn’t exactly think it would work, but she knew. She couldn’t cling to Chime, she knew. She knew that would be selfish, she knew it. She knew. No more clinging. She didn’t need to continue to cling to him. Rest. She would rest. She knew it was all she could do. She looked at Chime almost bewildered. “I’m going to rest now,” she answered weakly. “Sorry, Chime….”

Chime knew that Gleam had something on her mind again, but he figured it would be best not go on about it. He didn’t want to leave her alone, but he knew that it would be best to let her rest. Solitude. Solitude was killing her. Solitude really was hurting her. Solitude was hurting her, and it was his fault. It was his fault, and he knew it. Never again would he leave her in the cold world of solitude. Never again. He would never again do that to her. Everything, he knew was his fault. Everything that would happen later would be punishment. Nothing, he deserved nothing anymore. Did he deserve anything anymore? He wondered. The pain. True pain and Gleam had to be subjected to it. Horrible. He was horrible. He knew that if he let her rest, it would help her. Never. He could never forgive himself. The world, the world had every right to mock him.

He patted her on the shoulder. “It’s fine,” he said. “Don’t apologize. Please, Gleam.” He backed away a little to give her space. Did he have any right to pat her on the shoulder? He knew he probably did not have any right to. He looked at her. He wondered. Wondered if sleep was all she needed. It was going to be a long, agonizing night. He knew, somehow, that the agonizing night prediction would become the truth. It would become the truth. It would become the truth, even if he didn’t want it to become such. “I should be the one apologizing,” he darkly replied. “It’s my fault and my fault alone this happened.” He walked over to her and tucked her in more. “I promise you that I’ll never leave you in solitude again. Please rest. I really hope you feel better by the morning.” His fault. It was all his fault that everything had happened. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault. Gleam had to get better. Everything had had to get better. He wanted to show the world he was better than that. He was better than that, and he knew it. He backed away. He had to let her rest. He knew being there would not help her, it would hinder her. One way or another, it would be a hard night. A hard night to live through and it could only have been a hard one. He looked back at Gleam one more time. Sorry, he was sorry.

Gleam weakly smiled. “I will,” she replied. “Chime, it’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.” She knew Chime was taking her faint too heavily. She needed to figure it out: was Chime going insane? She didn’t want that to be the truth. Rest. Chime needed to rest as well. Insane. She didn’t want that to happen. It couldn’t happen. She didn’t want Chime to become insane. “You need to rest, too. I don’t want you to get to my level.” She knew that was not the right words she was looking for, but it was already too late to take it back.

Chime said nothing and nodded. He needed to sleep the day off. He had to. Even though he had slept the entire days away for two weeks, he could only sleep again to get rid of the feelings. He had to get rid of the feelings so he could prepare tomorrow. As he retired into his bed, he thought about it once again. Horrible, he was horrible. He continued to call himself horrible as he was tortured by a nightmare in the confines of his subconscious. Nothing could save him as a nightmare he knew he deserved more than anything.

When morning came around, Gleam felt no better. Burning. She felt as if her whole body was burning. She knew it—knew that resting wasn’t going to help. Worse, she felt worse. The time of nothing happening in the program did not make her feel any better. Something had to be cooking in the ocean—something. As bewildered as she was, she knew, knew somehow, she was right. She knew something was going to happen today, but could not think of what. Today. Something would happen, but she could barely think. Her body, her body was burning when it really wasn’t. Was it due to the two weeks of solitude? She didn’t feel like wondering. It took far too much energy. It took too much energy to wonder. The burn. The burning feeling wouldn’t stop. Such a powerful illusion—she couldn’t hate it. The burn. The feeling. The feeling was ruling over her.

Chime entered the room a short while after. Quickly, he walked over to her in order to see how she was feeling. Within minutes, his eyes lost all signs of life in them. No. No. There was no way. Gleam looked worse. The world was mocking him, mocking him, and he couldn’t win against the world. He noticed, Gleam looked feverish. He knew it. Knew something worse would happen, and he deserved it. He deserved every minute of it. He was being punished, punished for leaving her alone. He knew that it was the world’s way of mocking and punishing him. Horrible, he was horrible. He had to take care of her. He didn’t care if she would say no—his fault, it was all his fault. He had to be responsible. He had to be held responsible. He looked at Gleam worriedly as it was the only look he could provide.

“You look feverish,” he said quietly. “You definitely have a fever today.” He then realized—there wasn’t anything left he could give her to lower it. The painkillers in his necessity cabinet were expired as of two months ago, and he wasn’t going to give her expired pills—that was poison. No. It wasn’t happening. It could be happening, it couldn’t be true. There was nothing her could do to save her, nothing. Nothing he could do to save her, and he felt less than alive about it. The world. The world was punishing him, mocking him, and he knew it. He knew the world was punishing him. Still, he figured, he’d ask what kind of pain she was in. Maybe, just maybe, he could find something or be able to make a medicine. Something, anything. “Is… is there anything hurting? Any specific areas?” calm. Why was it so hard to remain calm? He couldn’t; he could remain calm. It was as if he had lost the ability through punishment.

“My whole body feels like,” she started, but corrected herself. “I feel like my whole body is burning.” The burn. The burn was winning. The burn was winning. No thought. There were no thoughts that would shine through.

Chime couldn’t hold it. Couldn’t hold the scream inside him. No. Gleam was doing incredibly poorly, and he had nothing he could do to help her. Useless, he was completely useless. No. It wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t happening. He didn’t know, but he had to help her. Something, there was something he had to be able to do, anything. He changed the expression on his face—it was time to help Gleam. He extinguished all his self thoughts instantly; he had to focus on Gleam. Gleam and nothing else.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he said. “I won’t leave you alone, Gleam.” He hated having to tell her to stay put; to stay lying down, but for now, that’s all he could think to say. “I’m going to take care of you…so please, Gleam, stay in bed.” He could feel his body shaking. Something. There had to be something he could do. Something, anything. Anything—anything to help free her. Anything to free her, anything. “So, is there anything I can do? Anything?” shaking. He was shaking. Constantly, he shook, and wouldn’t stop. Useless, he was useless.

Gleam didn’t want to. Clingy. She did not want to become clingy. She knew—asking for anything was too much. She couldn’t ask for anything; anything was too much. Too much. She didn’t want to ask for anything, she knew. Selfish, asking for anything was selfish. Asking for anything was absolutely selfish. She would argue, but couldn’t win against the arguments inside her. Chime seemed to be on edge, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like seeing him like that, but the burn. The burn. She couldn’t take the burn anymore.

“Cold,” she replied weakly. “Something cold to counter the burn….” She didn’t know what that was called, but the burn. The burn was torturous. She wanted separation—separation from the burn. Something to separate her from the burn. Anything.

Chime sighed a sigh of relief. Ice pack. He actually did have an ice pack. He proceeded to his freezer and removed an ice pack from the top section. He walked over to Gleam and placed it on her forehead. He hoped, hoped it would help her. Somehow, he knew it would be okay now—okay to become calm again, and he knew it. However, he figured, figured there had to be something else he could do. Something else, anything.

“Anything else I can do?” he asked. “I might have some herbs I can mix into soup. I just have to check my cabinet.” Confident, he felt confident again, confident that he could do anything. His smile. His smile was internally returning to his face. “Though, it’s going to be pretty bitter. Are you okay with that?”

Gleam nodded. She quickly noticed. Noticed that Chime seemed much calmer now. While she hated bitter herbs, she didn’t want Chime to worry anymore. Over, it was over; the solitude could finally end. It was only a matter of time. The solitude. The solitude could finally be over. She looked at Chime and answered him quickly. “Really, Chime, thank you for all this. I appreciate it.” She weakly smiled. While she hated the bitterness, she couldn’t tell him. It was a nice offer, a nice offer, and she knew that all her negative thoughts were what truly made her worse. She nodded one more time to alert him. Alert him that she was ready.

Chime saw her nod. He proceeded to his necessity cabinet and removed a can of broth and medicinal herbs. He then crouched down into another cabinet and removed a pot. He placed it over his dorm stove and turned the left dial. The fire underneath the pot ignited, lighting the pot. After he was sure the pot was heated enough, he removed the top of the broth can and poured it into the pot heating on the stove. He, lastly, opened the cap of medicinal herbs and placed two into the broth. For five minutes, he stirred the broth until there was enough broth and herb in it. When he knew it was done, he turned the left dial on the stove to off and waited again. After a few moments, he went over to another cabinet and removed a bowl and soup ladle. When everything had been done and over with, he clamped the ladle and placed the broth into the bowl. He could feel it—feel his blood calming. He walked over to Gleam and placed the bowl of medicinal soup onto her body. Finally, he was useful again. Finally, in two weeks of being selfish, he was useful.

Gleam took the spoon in the broth and proceeded to digesting it. As she ate the broth, she could feel the bitterness. The bitterness in the broth. The bitterness; the bitterness was too much. The bitterness was controlling. The taste, she hated it. Hated the bitter taste—the taste was beyond too much. She knew she had to bear with it, however. She had to bear with it. She continued to digest the medicinal herb until there was neither any herb or broth left. When everything had been gone, she handed the bowl to Chime, and he placed it in the sink, running the faucet to clean the bowl. When everything had been finished, he returned to Gleam’s side.

Gleam could feel it—the burn that had been coursing through her body was leaving. It was leaving her. Somehow, she had felt better. Chime had done a nice job. She noticed. Noticed that Chime was acting like himself again. Chime was acting like himself again, and she felt like she could smile again. Compliment. She had to compliment Chime. She wanted to see a regular smile from him. Just a little more. Just a little more time before something was to happen. Compliment, she had to compliment Chime. There was barely any time like the time the two had at the moment. One compliment. One compliment to turn around and save Chime. She hated seeing him look so worried and dead inside. Gleam removed the ice pack freezing her head and sat up. Compliment—she had to compliment Chime.

Chime saw Gleam had moved and quickly placed her back in a lying position. He didn’t want to see her up and about yet. She shouldn’t have been, and he had to say something about it to her.

“Hey, hey!” he cried. “Don’t try escaping! You still have a fever!” he changed his expression to a more serious one. He had to keep her lying down. He knew, by now, that his work was almost done. Though, he knew, there was no more solitude allowed, and he knew it. He knew, as long as he could keep on protecting Gleam, everything would be fine. It didn’t matter as long as he could continue protecting her. He gazed at Gleam quickly. “I think,” he said. “All that’s left for you is to rest. I’m sure by the time you wake up, the fever will be gone.” Somehow, he had been able to smile. Smile a small fraction. A small fraction and he could finally feel the entirety. The entirety of his blood calming.

Gleam saw the opportunity now. Now was the time to compliment Chime. She prepared. Prepared to compliment him. “You know, Chime,” she spoke in a light voice. “You’d make a good doctor.” She smiled obnoxiously to alert him that she was complimenting him, a normal Chime. She wanted to see Chime be himself again.

Chime heard the compliment. He knew—knew that he didn’t deserve any compliments, but he didn’t want to return, he didn’t want to return to killing himself with his thoughts. No more. Not now. He knew Gleam did not want to hear him talk like hat. He knew she didn’t want to see him in that state. He knew. Knew that one reason for worry in Gleam was that. No more. He couldn’t. He couldn’t anymore.

“You think so?” he questioned. “Hmm, maybe I would be. I think I can see that in my future, Gleam.” He gave her a smile. His first smile in weeks. It felt different, but he knew. Knew he had to get used to the feeling. “You know, Gleam, I—“ he would have finished the sentence, but the sound of a knock could be heard on the other end of the door. No. The time of nothing happening, the time of nothing happening was about to cease. Chime’s smile died and his expression changed to a blank one. The time. The two weeks of nothing happening had ended.

The knock. The knock returned. The knock was quiet, not violent. The knock. The knock was gentle. Entirely gentle. Something was wrong. Familiar. There was something familiar about the knock. There something familiar about the knock, and Chime couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about it. As he proceeded to the door, he thought about it. The knock was familiar. The knock was familiar, and he knew it.


On the other side of the door, was a timid, recognizable face. A face that could only belong to Seriphard. If the boy had been there, it could not have been a good thing; it was not a good thing. It was not a good thing, it couldn’t have been. The two weeks of nothing were about to come to an end. He knew Seriphard was there to take that away. He was there to take away the days of nothing, and Chime did not like it. He did not like that the boy was there. It could only mean for disaster. Disaster and he hated it. He knew, somehow, that the boy secretly could have been after Gleam. He could have been after her secretly, and he knew. He knew he couldn’t trust the boy. He couldn’t trust Seriphard. There wasn’t any way he could trust him. He could never trust him, and he never would, but he couldn’t admit that to Gleam. He couldn’t admit that to her; he would keep the fact to himself as it was all he could do. Silently, he studied the boy’s appearance again. His cadet blue hair. His cadet blue hair was horribly suspicious. The color was suspicious. His ink colored eyes, he was hiding something. He was definitely hiding something. His white clothes covered with red splotches—he was dangerous. Definitely dangerous. Perfect reason to send him away. It was a perfect reason to send him away. He looked at his back. The angel wings. Definitely artificial implants. They were definitely implants, definitely fake. He knew that if the boy was there, it was a sign of bloodshed to come, and he did not want that. A perfect reason to send him away. As Chime was about to close the door, he could hear Gleam shouting in the corner mercilessly.

“Seriphard!” she shouted. “Seriphard, hi!” she waved at the boy stupidly to make him feel welcome. She knew Chime was about to send him away. She turned to him. He must have forgotten that Seriphard was not one of the people who were after her. “Chime, let him in, he’s here for a reason.”

Chime sighed. He couldn’t say no to Gleam. Reluctantly, he swung the door open all the way and let him in. As the boy walked in, Chime again noticed the angel wings on his back. He wondered. Wondered if they could have possibly been real, but he knew that was impossible; no one could possibly have had angel wings. After Seriphard had been deep enough inside the dorm room, he closed the door behind him and continued to stare at the child. Why? Why was he here? He didn’t like it. He didn’t like him being there, either. Something was going to go wrong, and he knew it. He continued. Continued to stare at the boy.

Seriphard looked at Gleam and noticed the redness in her face. Quickly, he took note, despite already knowing. The girl was ill. As much as he wanted to delay the warning, he couldn’t. Timidly, he backed away and prepared, prepared to give his warning. First, he knew he had to ask. Ask a question or two. A mere question or two.

“A-are y-you alright?” he asked Gleam. “Y-you l-look a little ill.” Shaking, the boy was shaking. As much as he practiced, he could only shake. He must have had a permanent switch that was always on and making him shake like a dog. Like a dog of which he never learned the name of.

Gleam quietly smiled. “I have a small fever, but I’m better now, I’m pretty much over it,” she replied. “Thank you for your concern.” Gleam looked at the boy. She wondered. Wondered what kind of news the boy had. She knew it couldn’t have been a good thing, and it wasn’t. It wasn’t good news. She’d wait. Wait. Wait for him to tell her and Chime.

Chime glared at Seriphard from a distance. He didn’t want him there much longer. He had to get him away quickly. Bloodshed—he foretells bloodshed. He didn’t want him there much longer. A rift, the child caused a rift in the program. Over with, he wanted this explanation over with. He wondered. Was he being too cruel? We he being too critical in his judgment on Seriphard? Deep down, he knew. Knew he was being way too cruel, but he didn’t care, he would never admit that to him. He wouldn’t give up to the thoughts of him being too critical on Seriphard.

“What do you want?” he asked in a pestered tone. “Is there any reason you’re here?”

Gleam noticed. Noticed that Chime still didn’t trust Seriphard. She thought she told him last time that they could trust him. Seemingly, Chime had forgotten such. He had forgotten Seriphard was trustworthy. He was trustworthy, but Chime didn’t think so. Chime seemingly didn’t trust Seriphard. While it bothered her, she knew now was not the time for such. Now was not the time to wonder why Chime couldn’t trust him. He had something important to say, and it had to be said. It had to be said, and now. Completely. Now was the time for Seriphard to explain.

Seriphard prepared. Prepared to explain. Prepared to warn the two of them. To warn to two. The two about what was about to come. The boy stopped, breathed and prepared. Prepared to explain what was about to happen.

“P-please l-listen to my w-warning,” he said, shaking. “T-the c-creator of the p-program, he….”

Chime blinked. The creator. The creator of the program had to be up to something. It must have been another rumor; there was no time to think about it. Despite the suspicion, he had to listen. It was obvious—obvious the creator was going to do something at any moment. The creator was up to something. Suspicion—he couldn’t get over the suspicion boiling deep inside him. The suspicion. The suspicion was beginning to get to him, but he couldn’t allow it to. The creator, what was he up to? He had to continue listening, and he almost forced himself to. He was going to force himself to listen; he didn’t care, care if the suspicion was residing in the boy.

“Go on,” Chime said. “What about the creator?” he kept an expressionless face. He knew what he was about to hear was not a good thing.
“T-the creator, h-he,” Seriphard said, shaking and stammering. “He-he’s on the r-roof.” He paused for a moment. “T-the c-creator...he h-he might be planning s-something.”

Gleam froze. The roof. The creator was up to something on the rooftop. Gleam couldn’t. Couldn’t stand it. Rooftops were horrible. She couldn’t—couldn’t be on one. But, she felt a sense of wonder break loose inside her. Why was the creator on the roof? What was he planning? That could not have been a good thing; it wasn’t a good thing. Something was wrong. That couldn’t have been a good thing. Wrong, something was wrong about the warning.

Chime’s suspicion rose. The roof. The creator was up to something sinister on the roof. The creator was up to something on the roof. He knew his suspicion was right. Right from the very beginning. Was he up on the roof throwing people from society off? He figured that it could have been it. Ceetos Eetos was a sick and twisted man. Throwing people off the rooftop. That must have been it. He knew his suspicion was correct. Distrust roared inside him—he couldn’t trust Seriphard. He was leading Gleam to bloodshed. He was already sick of it. Sick of having her see bloodshed.

“And?” Chime asked. “Why is he on the rooftop?” the obvious suspicious tone of voice had shown through. He refused to hide it this time. “Tell me, is he throwing people off the rooftop?” Chime was onto him. Obviously, he was trying to horrify Gleam, and he wouldn’t stand for it.

Seriphard showed no understanding or acknowledgement of what Chime was claiming. He knew that he did not trust him. He didn’t have to trust him; it was important, important that the two understand what was about to happen.

“N-no! Nothing like t-that!” he cried nervously. “H-he isn’t t-trying to t-throw people o-off the rooftop, p-promise!” he could feel the shaking again, but calmed down. “Y-you s-should r-really c-come to the r-roof and s-see. I-I think you really s-should.” He couldn’t stop shaking. He knew Chime did not trust him that much. His suspicion would not make anything easy, but he had to get it over with.

Chime sighed. He didn’t want to, but he figured that if it would let him know what was truly happening. He knew he needed to know what had truly been happening. He had to know what the creator was up to, it was the inevitable. The inevitable. He had to know. He had to know what truly was going on and why. He walked over to Gleam and removed the blanket from her body. She knew that Chime was ready and stood behind him with suspicion as to what Ceetos was up to.

“Arlight,” Chime said. “Take us to the rooftop.” He glared at him suspiciously. “This had better not be a trap, you hear? You’d better not be doing this to get Gleam into trouble or pain.” He said it with a vicious tone. He meant it, meant it more than anything. Never. He would never once for any beyond reason, trust the boy. Never. Seriphard blankly blinked and lightly held onto Gleam’s wrist.

“N-no, n-not at a-all,” he answered, shaking like a dog again. “I-I’ll escort you t-two to the r-rooftop, s-so, follow me!”

Chime gave up. No more, he couldn’t be suspicious any longer. Seriphard stepped in front of Chime and opened his door, breathlessly running for the long staircase. The run. The run had been a short one, it had seemed. The staircase, the staircase had only been nine doors away. Nine entire doors away. Gleam looked at the boy’s back and noticed the angel wings on his back as they approached the stairs. Did he ever fly with those wings? The thought of him possibly flying rather than climbing the stairs frightened her. She hoped, hoped that she would not get above the ground for even a second. She had to ask Seriphard. Ask him if he was going to fly as the fear boiled inside her. Seriphard placed one foot on the stairs. Gleam proceeded to ask.

“You…you aren’t going to fly, are you?” she inquired anxiously. Flying; flying was frightening.

Seriphard shook his head. “N-no, why? I c-couldn’t p-possibly…” he replied stealthily. “W-we don’t have t-time. H-he’ll be doing something a-any second!”

As Seriphard stopped talking, he rushed Gleam up the three hundred sixty steps up to the rooftop, and Chime ran after. Long and unusual. Why there were so many stairs made no sense. It made no sense and made the trip longer and further. Eventually, Seriphard had reached the three hundred fifty ninth step. He hoped. Hoped it already wasn’t too late to show the two. Show the two what had really been going on. Without saying anything, he pushed open the metal door to the rooftop and led the small parade of Chime and Gleam to the scene.

Gleam’s eyes grew small as she let go of Seriphard. Everyone remaining in the ocean had been on the roof, including Ceetos. The wind could be felt thrusting her as she continued to examine Ceetos from afar. Again, his appearance had changed. He was perfect looking, and omnipotent. His suit had been completely normal. No. Something wasn’t right; his suit shouldn’t have looked normal. What was the man up to? Why did he look almost omnipotent? She examined further; she noticed something large. As soon as she saw it, she could feel her eyes break. A huge vehicle with a single propeller on the top could be seen next to Ceetos. The vehicle, interestingly, was of a rainbow color. She remembered. Remembered the name of the vehicle. A helicopter had been next to Ceetos. What was the man planning?

The ocean did not seem to know, either. As Ceetos made his way, the ocean began to hit shore. The loud voices of one hundred people boomed and roared, distracting Gleam. The ocean, the ocean was even clueless about what was about to happen. Bad, this was bad.

The creator stomped on the rooftop lightly; however, it came out as a violent, earthbound shockwave. The ocean instantly calmed. The creator was about to speak. Instantly, the entirety of the ocean quieted. The stomp. The stomp wasn’t human, it was God. God, the stomp was a God’s stomp. The remaining ocean members cowered at his power. Ceetos Eetos was not human anymore.

Ceetos smirked. Everyone had his eyes on him. Scared. They were scared of his godliness. That was what he always wanted.

“Hello, hello!” he announced sporadically. “Congratulations, living one hundred three children! You have survived my program!” He started to move. Move into the helicopter.

The ocean began to hit shore. The creator. The creator was entering the vessel. Entering the vessel. As much as they were actually scared, they couldn’t show it. The ocean became a tidal wave, voices crashing the sand. The creator. The creator was entering the vessel. He was entering the vessel. He was entering the rainbow vessel about to operate it. He was going to operate the vessel. The ocean continued to form a tidal wave of voices. They couldn’t accept the face as true.

Ceetos could not keep a fake grin. The children. The children would not shut up. Stop them, he had to shut up the pesky remaining alive children. Ceetos’s body glowed gold. The aura got blinding and flickery as he continued to power up the move. The gold glow then became eye whitening as coins began to rain from his palms. The coins struck at least ten children, forcing their stomachs open as the coins hit them like they had just been hit by coins high up from a sixty five story building. The ten children bled violently as the eye whitening glow faded along with the coins. The ocean shut up as the sight of blood pools formed all over his roof. His beautiful, almost always clean roof, and now it had been ruined. Ruined by ten idiotic children. He smirked and continued.

“Now that I got your attention, I’d like to say a few words!” he announced out of nowhere. “Congratulations, ninety three remaining children, you have turned me into a God!”

Gleam blinked. A God? Was she delirious? A God? Did Ceetos just say God? Soullim. Soullim was right. Ceetos was intending to become a God. All along, the Sovereign of Solitude was right. He was right—Ceetos was trying to become a God. Gleam couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand the fact. Disgusting, evil, inhumane. No word described the spectacle before her at all. The creator had become a God. There was no way. No way any of this could have been happening. A nightmare, it had to be some kind of nightmare.

Ceetos smirked and continued. “Congratulations, fools! Congratulations, fools! You have killed so many people that I have collected enough magic to become a God!” he said, completely changing his attitude. As he continued, he placed his other foot into the vessel. Escape. Leave the remaining ninety three there to die. First, he had to rattle the children up. Kill each other; he would announce that they could kill each other. “And, as my parting gift, I give you FREE REIGN TO KILL ALL!” he boomed. “Sayonara, children! You’ll never get help, ever, ever!” he closed the door to the vessel and said nothing else. Within seconds, the violent sound of a propeller could be heard against the deadly force of wind. No one stopped as the creator’s escape plan succeeded. Everyone watched in complete horror as the helicopter got smaller and smaller on the horizon line. Ceetos Eetos was gone. The ninety three remaining—the ninety three remaining were on death row, and they knew it.

Gleam tried to make sense of everything that just had happened. Free reign to kill all. Mass murder. The creator was about to allow a mass murder to take place. Why? Why would he escape? Why would he leave everyone there to die? Why now? Why so suddenly? No question would ever be answered. The questions were lost. Lost to the ocean of people. She turned to Chime. Chime had become extremely pale. Nowhere had there been any visible color. Terrified, Chime was more terrified than she was. Regardless, she had to ask him—had to ask him what to do now.

“Chime,” she asked. “What do we do now?”

Chime knew. Knew the answer to that question. Hide. The two of them had to hide. The announcement. The announcement, free reign to kill all. He knew what that meant. More people were going to try to kill her. He couldn’t allow society to try to kill her anymore. They had to hide. Had to hide. The four words the creator said—free reign to kill all, rang in his ears, and they would not stop ringing in his ears. The words. The words were parasites eating away at his mind. They would not leave him—the four words. Hide the two of them had to hide. Hid before it was too late. They had to hide, there was no choice; it was absolute instinct.

“We hide!” he cried. He looked at Seriphard. Apologize. He had to apologize for how he treated Seriphard. “Seriphard, sorry. Sorry for distrusting you. It was so wrong of me.” He got on his knees, begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Seriphard, my suspicion got the best of me. I really thought that you were one of them. That was wrong of me, and for that, I apologize.” He got off his knees. The apology, the apology was the hardest one he could give.

Seriphard shrugged. “I-it’s okay,” he gristly answered. “N-no one e-eve b-believes me a-anyway.” Seriphard grabbed Gleam’s arm and escorted the two back to Chime’s dorm room. The climb back. The climb of three hundred sixty stairs felt like a complete millennium. After a certain amount of time, Seriphard had reached the end of the staircase. He quietly escorted Gleam in front of the door and spoke one last time. “I-I h-hope,” he stammered nervously. “T-the next time w-we meet… i-it will be f-for a p-positive reason. I-I h-hate it here. I-it isn’t a good place.”

Gleam blinked darkly. She agreed. It was not a good place. She remembered, remembered when she had arrived at Mariibo Rumaibo, she remembered wanting a change in life. She hoped somehow, she’d become free from the reasons she wanted to run away. She was wrong. She was in a place, a place where she now wanted to run away. The truth was ugly. The real Mariibo Rumaibo was finally devised. The program. The program truly was a fake. The words Soullim had said before he died. They were finally hitting her now.

“No, it’s not a good place,” Gleam answered. “This place…it’s equivalent to a torture chamber.” Gleam could feel tears roll down her face. The tears. They wouldn’t stop. The tears became evident that they had to be there, and they would not stop. “I… I thought I could be happy here… away from everything… but this entire place is a lie! A lie! Why? Why did I want to come here? Why?” only now had she truly seen. The meaning. The true meaning of everything.

Chime patted her on the shoulder. For the first time, the pat failed. Gleam was in extreme hysterics, and nothing he could do would fix it. Nothing. The program being entirely fake—he believed it. The thought had crossed his mind a numerous amount of times. He knew. Knew, somehow, the idea would come up one day.

He turned to Seriphard and gave him his first trusting look. Now he was sure. Sure he could trust him. Trust him completely, entirely. Entirely with his entire body.

“Seriphard,” he said. “I’m taking Gleam inside to rest. I really need to look after her. This must be too much for her to handle.” He gave him a serious look. “Keep up with what you’re doing, young man. It really helps.”

Seriphard nodded. Chime opened the door to his room and placed Gleam in a sleeping position. Hard. She was taking this escape harder than anyone. He hated the sight. The sight of the girl he wanted to protect breaking down. It hurt him—it hurt him to see her like that. He did remember that she was only twelve. There was no way. No way any twelve year old had the capacity to handle that. Sovereign, or not, no twelve year old could handle such stress; none could. He prayed, prayed everything would somehow turn out alright tomorrow. He knew, however, that it was mere wishful thinking.

Gleam couldn’t take it anymore. The creator escaped. Die, he was leaving everyone there to die. The thought hurt her to think of. No. The creator. The creator is leaving everyone there to die. Her eyes had lost all pupils. She had lost all life in her eyes. She then wondered, maybe it would be for the best. Maybe it would be for the best to become a corpse, too. She could escape the program. The building, she could escape. A corpse. She wished to become a corpse. She wished to become a corpse. She was tired of it. Tired of the program. Free reign to kill all, the words, the words carried no meaning to her anymore. A corpse, she had to become a corpse. She had to become a corpse. She had to become a part of the collection of corpses. Free reign to kill all—she wanted to become a part of the corpse collection. No more—there was nothing left to save her. She couldn’t take her life anymore. She shed life-like tears. She decided to let the death thoughts go. She had no ounce of care left inside her to keep her mentally alive.

End of chapter twenty, next to come: the wind chimes sing through the paradox! Ah, how lovely they are! The wind chimes sing through the paradox! Come on, here them call! Nestle Mantle! Hear the call!


Welcome to the next plot twist.

I applaud your effort if you made it this far without screaming or having a nightmare.

Just so you know, Seriphard is pretty important.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


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Age 22
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This chapter is rated M. You know the drill by now.

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 21; Wind chimes so beautiful that no paradox can halter their song.

Three days swung by abruptly. Gleam could barely live or accept anything at all. She accepted nothing; food, water, nothing. All she could do was unconsciously cry. Unconsciously cry as she lived through the shock over and over again. The words, the words still ringed in her head constantly. Free reign to kill all. The words were now permanently secreted in her mind. Free reign to kill all—mass murder. Nothing else would go through her mind—nothing. She couldn’t pull it together, she couldn’t. She tried to, but it was as if she had forgotten how. As if she had completely forgotten what it meant; what it meant to be in the actual outer world. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like the outer world anymore, and she didn’t like her inner world, either. Neither world could hold her. Neither world meant anything to her. Escape. She had to escape both worlds. Escape the outer and inner world, she knew. Knew the only way for that to be accomplished was to become a corpse, a corpse. She longed for it—to become a part of the collection of corpses. It was the only way, the only way she could escape the building, both words, the only way, and she knew it. She knew that the only way to escape the building, both worlds, was to become a part of the collection of corpses. She longed for it, wanted it, she wanted it more than anything. She longed for it more than anything, and the thoughts completely stuck inside her. The tears had shed for the past three days were numb; numb. They felt like nothing. Nothing. She felt nothing. Nothing except the feeling of longing. Longing to become a corpse, a corpse. She felt numb. Completely numb, and it didn’t matter, even to her anymore. As the third day was about to wind down, she knew, knew she had to cut it out. Enough was enough. Somehow, she had to. Had to snap out of it—temporarily become a part of the real world again. She breathed, forcing herself to be a part of the outer world once again.

Chime tried with all his might to leave Gleam be for the time being. He knew. Knew that she was having an extremely difficult time handling it. A difficult time handling the truth of the creator’s intentions. The announcement. The announcement had to be hard on her. All he could do for now was let her be; let her think to herself. As much as he wanted to comfort her and save her from the pain of learning the truth, he had no way of breaking her free from the shock she was going through. He felt useless. He couldn’t break her free—a failure, he was only a failure and nothing else. Three days later, and he still had to let her be. He wanted to help her get through it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He had never dealt with it—never dealt with people in shock before. He wish he knew. Knew how to help Gleam. Help Gleam be free from shock. While the shock did allow the illness she had received from solitude leave her, she now had to go through even more evil. He realized. Realized how horrible he had been. Not helping her—not trying to set her free. Horrible, he was horrible, and he knew it. He cared no longer; he couldn’t let her be any longer. He had to help her. He had to do something for her. He told her that he would never leave her in solitude again. He was doing the wrong thing; he was leaving her in solitude. Hypocrite, he was such a hypocrite. He was leaving her in solitude again, and he said he wouldn’t do that anymore. Check on her, help her, he had to save her. Not knowing how to help someone in shock or not, he did not care. He had to help her, he had to save her. He couldn’t let her be alone, alone with her thoughts. Dangerous, it was dangerous. Chime exited his room quickly. He needed to; he needed to be there for her.

As he saw Gleam in his line of sight, he noticed. She had finally been sitting. Her eyes did not look so dead anymore. Alive, she finally looked alive again, she looked like her again. He knew that despite her visually looking like herself again, she probably had still been in shock, one way or another. He noticed. Noticed she looked dehydrated—like she hadn’t had a drop of water in days. She looked almost without nutrition, like she also had not touched food in a while. The sight. The sight of her looking like that. The sight. The sight was appalling. Beyond appalling. Feast—he needed to provide a large feast for her. He didn’t care if it took him all day—he didn’t care if he would have to make her everything in the kitchen leaving nothing for him. He walked over to her and glued on a firm face. Now was the time. The time to begin.

“Dining room table,” he said firmly. “Now.”

Gleam heard what Chime had said to her. Rather than wondering why of which she had been summoned to the dining room table, she decided it was in her best interest to just listen to him. She quickly stood up to get it over with only to feel something for the first time in three days. As she tried to walk, nothing moved. Stuck; she had been too weakened to move. She said nothing and stood on the rug, not moving. She couldn’t; she couldn’t move. She continued to stand there, trying to move, only to fail from the lack of food inside her body. It only came to her now: she used up all her strength to stand. She used all her strength to stand, and she quickly realized. She realized she could not do this to herself. She couldn’t anymore, corpse thoughts or not, she knew. The painful way to become a corpse was not the way to go. The painful way of becoming a corpse was stupid, and she knew it. She, again, stood there, completely unable to move from the seventy two hours of no water or food. She hoped it did not show she wasn’t listening to him. She hoped it did not appear that way to Chime.

Chime sighed. He could tell she could not move. Upon noticing, he walked over to her and placed her on the chair in the front edge of the dining room table. After everything had been settled, Chime walked into the dorm kitchen and removed a large glass of from a top cabinet and placed it under the faucet as if by routine. He ran the faucet until the glass showed signs of being seven eights full. Quickly, he walked over and placed the glass onto the long oval table, and waited. Waited for Gleam to consume the water. Eventually, Gleam consumed the entire glass of water. In the back of his mind, he realized. Realized the difference it had made when someone deprived of liquids had inserted liquids into their bloodstream. He realized. Realized the entire difference it made. The entire difference it made for anyone. He then wondered. Wondered what he could cook in the form of a feast. He didn’t care if it took him all day. He didn’t care if he cooked everything in the entire kitchen of food, leaving nothing for him; he didn’t care—he wasn’t going to allow malnutrition to exist within her. It could never happen. He couldn’t allow it.

Gleam stared at the empty glass before her and said nothing. She tried her hardest. Tried her hardest to make sense of what Chime was about to do. Whatever he was about to do, she knew, knew it would take hours. She didn’t want Chime to waste any hours on her, but decided to stay mute. She did not want to say anything; she preferred if she didn’t as she didn’t want her voice heard. She wanted to stay quiet, completely quiet until she somehow lost—lost the ability to use her vocal cords. To never be heard from again. To never be heard from again, perfect, it sounded perfect. To never be heard from again—she enjoyed the sound of it. To never be heard from again. Pleasant, it sounded supremely pleasant. Gleam sighed and stopped herself from continuing her now almost permanent death wishes. She didn’t want to become like other Sovereigns. Ridiculous, she was thinking ridiculous thoughts, and she knew it. She knew it was pointless to continue thinking about it. It would be better. Better to think about nothing. Nothing for a while, but it would be impossible. Impossible for such to become a truth. She continuously stared into space. Freedom; freedom from the inner world was impossible.

Chime walked back into the dorm kitchen and prepared. Prepared to create a fest. Half of what he had in the kitchen would become a feast. He would enjoy it more if he could cook everything in his entire kitchen, but then remembered. Remembered there was nowhere to barter. Nowhere to barter for food or ingredients. Dangerous, going outside was dangerous. He went back to his mad cooking scientist preparations. Eggs first. He would make eggs first. Chime removed a green pot and placed it under the faucet, turning the knob labeled with an H. He watched as the pot had been filled up with steaming water. After the pot had been filled up to the red line painted explicitly to the pot, he placed the pot on the stove almost like clockwork. He turned the left dial on the stovetop and watched as the green pot had a burning fire underneath. After the preparations had been completed, it had been time. The final step. The final step in mad scientist cooking plan. Chime walked over to the refrigerator and removed two eggs from the egg carton. He placed the eggs in his hand and into the pot almost perfectly. He watched as the shells boiled to hard as the eggs looked more and more appetizing. After ten minutes of watching the eggs boil, he removed the eggs from the pot and placed them on the plate. He smiled to himself and decided. Two eggs just wasn’t enough for a feast. All the eggs. He would use all the eggs in the refrigerator to make a huge, egg themed feast for Gleam. With his goal in mind, he removed twelve more plates from his cabinets and began. Began to use his twenty two remaining eggs to cook twelve different dishes. And egg feast, he would create an egg feast. For the next two hours, Chime continued to make egg dishes while preserving the heat in the ones he had made hours before. As he had finally finished using up all the eggs in the dorm room, and various other ingredients to place the eggs in, he turned the dial on the stove to off and cleaned the green pot in the sink until all remnants of food traces had been gone within it. He then took the pot and placed it in his dorm dishwasher and prepared. Prepared to take everything he made for his egg themed feast and place it on the oval shaped table for Gleam. The mad scientist cooking kitchen became a normal kitchen again as Chime made three trips to the oval shaped table. Proud, he had been proud of himself. Useful, he had done something useful in the three days of being horrible. He wanted to remain of use somehow and all he needed to do was figure out—figure out what that would be. Chime walked next to Gleam and waited. Waited for all thirteen dishes to be empty.

Gleam blinked at the spectacle before her eyes. A feast. Chime had wasted two hours of his life to make a feast for her. He wasted two hours of his lifespan to make a feast for her. In her current line of thinking, she deeply abhorred it. She hated seeing Chime was two hours of his lifespan on her. She was sick of it; sick of having Chime do things for her. Using him, Gleam knew she was using Chime. She knew. Knew that the feast was a result of her using him. She was using him, using him to do dirty tasks for her. She didn’t want it; didn’t want the dirty food she had used Chime for. She knew it, she knew it. Gleam stared at the dirty food she obtained through using him. She couldn’t eat it. Couldn’t eat the food she somehow forced Chime to make. Dirty, she was a dirty, horrible person, and she knew it. As her decision to not eat the food had been clear, she picked her body up and removed herself from the chair. Escape. She would escape the table.

Chime lasered eyes at Gleam. He could see what she was about to do, and he wasn’t going to allow her to escape. He had already been aware. Already been aware that something was trapping her in her mind. He wouldn’t allow it. He would not allow Gleam to starve. It didn’t matter to him—he wasn’t going to let it happen. He wasn’t about to let her leave the table. He would keep her there. Keep her there until every single speck of food had left the plate. He wouldn’t allow her to leave the table. No way would that come to pass. Chime grabbed Gleam’s wrist. Hard. Quietly, he placed her back into the seat. In one way, he wanted to make it so she couldn’t leave the table, but knew that would be horrible and harsh. He wondered what that had to be called, but refused to get lost in a sea of thoughts for now.

“Absolutely not!” he said, with an almost sadistic smile. “You’re not leaving this table until I see all the food from these plates gone.” He glared at her and at the location underneath the table. He knew that she would try to hide the food underneath the table, acting like she ate it, but he would watch her until she ate everything he made for her, regardless, he had to remind her of what he didn’t want. “And don’t even think about hiding it underneath the table because I’ll know, so don’t even try to do that.” Two hours, two hours of cooking for her, and all she could do was stare at the plates. He knew. Knew there was more on her mind than he already thought. The incident three days ago had obviously been hardened into her mind and would not exit her thoughts. Regardless, he wasn’t going to allow her to leave the table until everything was finished, and he wasn’t going to help her digest it. He also had to admit that to her. “I’m not helping you eat it, Gleam. So, if I were you, I’d eat it now.” He hated taking that tone of voice with her and acting the way he was towards her, but he had to. He had to; the issue presented before him had been insanely serious.

Gleam again sighed. She couldn’t escape. She couldn’t escape the table. She couldn’t win against win against Chime and his power. She wondered if it were a secret kind of magic he had, but she knew. Knew it couldn’t possibly have been such. If wasn’t magic. It wasn’t magic; it was a hidden quality that only he had. Defeated in her next escapade, she stared at all the dishes made from the two dozen egg cartons. Why would he go to all that trouble to keep her on the planet? She decided not to think about it—it would not be a wise move. After staring at the plates before her for another five minutes, she gave up—the smell—the smell of the food was defeating her. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to consume everything on the plates. As she had done so, she noticed—sand. Everything tasted like sand. She laughed to herself. She figured. Figured it would be that way. She wished she could at least taste the food a little, but she lost her sense to taste anything far too long ago. Gone. Her sense of taste gone and she knew, somehow, it would never return. Lost, it had been lost from the moment she found out about what she truly was. She wondered if it also had to do with when she had been poisoned. She knew, knew both instances had to be it. She disliked losing the sense of taste, but knew it was something that could not be changed. Something that couldn’t be changed and she had to accept it. After all the plates had been emptied, she thought again. Using him, she was using Chime. She hated it, hating using Chime. She continued to stare at the empty plates while remaining silent. The silence, the silence had to become golden.

Chime’s eyes had confirmed. Confirmed that Gleam had consumed all the dishes of food. When all had been established, he removed all the plates from the table at one time, and placed the plate in the sink, spending five minutes on each plate, scrubbing the remnants of food away. When all the plates had been clean, he opened the door to the dishwasher and placed the plates inside. He removed a gel patch and placed the gel patch underneath a hatch and placed the hatch above the gel patch to allow the dishwasher to clean, clean everything of which he used to create the feast. He closed the door to the dishwasher. His hand cruised the buttons on the machine and pressed down on the button that allowed normal wash and heat boost. He turned the silver dial to the left, and within minutes, the sound of a working dishwasher echoed throughout the room. All had been said and done, Chime returned to Gleam’s side and gave her a quiet look. The look of allowance.

Gleam removed herself from the chair and left the dining room table. Sleep. She wished to sleep and escape to the world of nightmares. It was easier, easier than being a part of the outer world. The inner world was far worse, but it was an escape. And escape from the world where there had been free reign to kill all. Her nightmares—her nightmares were that only provided escape. She said nothing, and placed herself under the blanket. Saying nothing again, she tried to escape. Escape the world of nightmares. She tried to escape, and failed. Wide awake, she was far too wide awake. She was too wide awake to escape.

Chime had come to notice the despair locked inside Gleam. He knew he had to—had to break her free. Break Gleam free from the despair weighing her down. Gleam was not herself, she was not herself. He knew that this was not the real Gleam. It was a foreign person who was taking Gleam’s place. It was not Gleam. Free, he had to completely break her free. He wanted her to know. Know that he was there for her. He wanted to give her something. Something more valuable than he could ever hope to be. The despair, the despair wasn’t Gleam. Gleam wasn’t there. He wanted to bring the real Gleam back. The Gleam that made him smile. The Gleam that allowed the sun to brighten his world. He wanted to bring her back—back from the despair hiding the true her. Something to give her, something to get her free from despair. The girl that made him smile for real. He wanted her back. The girl he wanted to protect—he wanted to see her again. Something, he had to give her something, something of value to remind her, remind her he was always going to be there for her. Something that would provide for high value. He didn’t know what to give her, but he would figure it out. Sit, he had to request for her to sit up.

“Gleam,” Chime called. “Could you sit up, just for a moment, please?” he smiled to try to break her free. “I have something for you,” he stated. “Let out your hand, okay?” value. The most valuable object there was. He would hand Gleam something to break her free. Free from the despair hiding the true her. Her voice—everything had been lost. Lost to an evil monster. An evil monster called despair. An evil monster named despair could not win, back; he wanted the real Gleam back.

Gleam said nothing again and obeyed. She figured it was something small, but she didn’t want to open her mouth to speak or ask. Mute, she would remain mute. She continuously wondered; why? Why did he want to give her anything? What purpose would it serve to hand anything to her? A Sovereign, she was still a Sovereign. Her magic—her magic would probably shoot off and destroy whatever it was that he was about to give her. Despite that, she held out her hand quietly. She hoped, hoped her Sovereign magic would not flare as she proceeded to take the object he was about to give to her. While she had seen no reason for Chime to even be giving her anything, she knew she would have to open her mouth and lose her muteness. She wanted to remain mute, even though she didn’t know why it was so important to her.

Chime rummaged through his pockets to look for the object he had been seeking. When he had come across the object he had been searching for, he looked at it to make sure it had been of which he had been looking for. He stared at the platinum framed shaped emblem. He nodded to himself as it had been the right one. Quietly, he handed the emblem to her. He knew, knew Gleam had no idea what he had been handing her. Since she wasn’t speaking or even asking what it was, he decided. Decided to explain to her the value and importance of what he had given her. Why was she so quiet? He would find out later. Explain, he would explain the importance of the amulet he had given to her.

“That’s my family crest,” he told her. “I’m giving it to you.” He stared at the emblem in shape of crystal. To give away such an important symbol of blood meant something of greater value. To give away his crest; feelings. It had connection to his true feelings for her, but he couldn’t repeat them. He couldn’t say them twice. Not until the despair had left her. He would not tell the despair how he truly felt about Gleam. He continued to speak. “Mommy may have rejected me,” he said. “But I’m still a Nume.” He tried to smile again. Free, he wanted to break her free.

Gleam stared at the symbol that had been placed in her hands. A gift, Chime had given her a gift. A gift she didn’t deserve. A family crest? Wasn’t that a family symbol? She didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why she would be given such a gift. She couldn’t take it anymore. Speak, she had to speak. She couldn’t stay mute anymore, She had to speak—she had to. She couldn’t stay mute anymore. Speak; she had to open her mouth. She couldn’t continue, continue to stay mute anymore. She opened her mouth to finally say a few words.

“Chime, you don’t have to give me any gifts,” she answered without much expression in her voice. “Please, I think you should take it back.” Gleam motioned her hand to try to give it back to him, but Chime would not take it. She sighed, wondering again why he was giving away his family crest like that. “Why are you giving it to me all of a sudden?” her voice was slowly picking up curiosity and expression again. Something inside her felt at ease. The symbol had still been in her hand, not destroyed. Ease, she felt at ease. Lighter, she felt lighter in spirit. Her voice continued to gain expression again as she could feel less boiling inside her. “Really, Chime, why?”

Chime lightly smiled, but changed his expression to a more serious one. It was not a gift, it was a memento. He had to explain that to her.

“No, Gleam,” he explained. “This is not a gift, it’s a memento.” A memento, a memory of him in case he ceased to exist. It was more than that, but he couldn’t tell despair that. He couldn’t tell despair the other reason he had given his family crest to her.

Gleam blushed quietly to herself. A memento. A memory. Was Chime planning something? A memento, a symbol or memory of someone who had become a member of the afterlife. Die, was Chime planning to die? Was he planning on dying to protect her? She hated it. Hated the possibility for that to have been the truth. It couldn’t happen; it couldn’t.

“But a memento,” she started. “Is supposed to be a memory. I’m not going to forget you, Chime! I couldn’t do that!” the possibility, the possibility that Chime was going to die to protect her, she couldn’t say such. She couldn’t—couldn’t work death into the conversation. She had to keep her death thoughts a secret. They could not leave the chambers of her throat. “There’s no way that I’d forget you, Chime,” she said. “I could never forget you!” the entire expression in her voice had come back. Somehow, the expression in her voice had come back. Somehow, the expression returned, and she barely understood why.

Chime smiled. The despair, the despair had left Gleam. The real Gleam, the real Gleam had finally returned. Wonderful, it was wonderful to see her again and not despair. Despair had lost. Gleam had emerged victorious. He hated it. Hated seeing her the way she had been. Successful, he had succeeded in breaking her free.

He patted her on the shoulder. “Ah, there she is,” he exclaimed. “The real you.” He looked at her calmly. “I missed the real you. It was as if you weren’t here, Gleam.” He didn’t know why, but he wanted to hug her. He knew, knew something was bothering her gravely. The bottom of it, he had to get to the bottom of it. Chime walked closer to Gleam and hugged her. A while, it had been a while since he had done such. “What’s bothering you?” he asked. “I know something is bothering you, Gleam. I can tell.” He knew he didn’t have to, but he felt like he had to remind her. Remind her that he was there for her. “I’m here for you. I’m not going to leave you alone to drown in despair.” He knew. Knew there had been more than he would there to be. Listen, he’d listen.

Gleam stared off into space. Could she tell him? Could she tell him her desire to become a corpse? She couldn’t; attention—it would seem like she wanted attention. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want it to seem like she wanted attention. She could tell him everything that had been bothering her, but she couldn’t tell him—couldn’t tell him her desire to become a corpse. She couldn’t, she didn’t want it to seem like she wanted attention. She knew, knew she would tell him everything but that. She couldn’t, she couldn’t tell him that. If it weren’t attention, it would turn into worry, and she was sick of worrying Chime over and over again. She couldn’t do that anymore, and she knew it. She knew that would she would worry him when she told him what was bothering her anyway, and she knew, knew she couldn’t lie about it, either. She placed the crystal shaped Nume crest in her pocket and joined in on the hug. No tears, she could not shed any tears this time. Clam, she had to remain calm this time.

“Free reign to kill all,” Gleam answered. “What the creator said, I can’t take it.” Calm, she had to remain calm. She could not fall to tears. She couldn’t. “The words, Chime, they still ring in my ears. I don’t know why, but the words just sting me.” Die. He was leaving everyone there to die. His departure, everything was frightening, but she refused, refused to cry this time. “He’s leaving us here to die. I already knew that this place wasn’t for real, but to learn that is just too much,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s too much, Chime. I really can’t take it. I wish there were a way to get out of here! I completely hate it here, Chime. I really do. I thought for a little while, I could pretend none of this ever happened, but the events play through my mind. It’s like this is another thing the creator wants—for his words to ring in my ears.” She breathed. Lighter, she felt lighter as she told him everything that had been holding her down. She wondered. Wondered if she could tell him. Tell him she wanted to become a corpse. She wondered if she could, she wondered.

Chime knew. Knew she obviously couldn’t handle it. The shock she had already gone through had made it evident to him. He knew, however, that Gleam was hiding something. He knew there was more—more to what had been bothering her. Regardless, he had to find out. Find out what she was hiding before he clarified and comforted her. He had to find out what she was hiding. As long as it didn’t hurt her to talk about it, he would ask. He knew that at this point, she could not take too much more.

He backed away and ended the hug. “Gleam,” he said sharply. “You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?” he looked at her eyes, he knew, he knew she definitely had been hiding something. “If you’re going to deny that will be lying,” he pointed out explicitly. “I can tell by your eyes, so please don’t hide anything.” He gave her a serious expression. “Tell me what else is bothering you. Is that okay with you?”

Gleam was trapped. Trapped again. She wondered how Chime had come to know all this by just gazing at her. Could she tell him? Would he freak out if she told him? She didn’t want to tell him her desire, her desire to become a corpse. Worry, she couldn’t worry Chime anymore. She knew, however, that since Chime was onto her that she couldn’t hide it anymore. She could no longer hide it. She wondered. Wondered if it would seem like she was seeking attention. She didn’t want to seem like that, but she knew, knew it would seem like such. She breathed to prepare. Prepared to say—say what she needed to.

“Yeah, Chime,” she answered in almost a whisper. “I am hiding something from you, sorry.” How? How could she tell him her strong desire to become a corpse? How could she tell him that without worrying him or causing him to scream at her? How? “The truth is… I want to escape,” she answered. “I want to become a part of the collection of nine hundred seven corpses.” She tried to reword it, but she didn’t want to seem like she wanted attention. She knew, knew she had to reword it regardless. “In other words,” she whispered. “I… I want to die.” Attention, she knew it made her seem like she wanted attention. She could feel it—herself darkening. “I seem like I want attention now, don’t I? I’m sorry, Chime.”

Chime already knew. Knew she had wanted to leave the world. No, she did not seem like she wanted attention, he had known. Had already known such to be a fact. He had already known, he been paying close attention. Console her, he had to console her. Feelings of that category were no joke, and he knew it.

He pulled her into a hug again. “Of course not. I know you wouldn’t say anything like that for attention,” he replied. “Look at me.” He waited for Gleam to look at his eyes before continuing. When he had noticed she had been looking at him, he continued. “I know. I know you want to die,” he said quietly. “I’ve known for a while. You tried to kill yourself right in front of me, remember?” he glared at her. There was no way she would remember. Out of sorts, she had been completely out of sorts then. He knew she wouldn’t remember the event.

Gleam had no idea what Chime had been talking about. She didn’t remember; she remembered the moment Ceetos had sent her out of his office, but didn’t remember further. A gap, a gap between leaving his office and the moment of waking up at one in the morning. She didn’t remember, remember what Chime was talking about. Hazy, the memory was hazy.

“I don’t remember,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.” She knew. Knew Chime would think she was lying again. She hoped, hoped it didn’t seem like such.

Chime knew she wouldn’t remember. He had to tell her. Tell her he didn’t want to lose her to the hands of self murder. She couldn’t; he didn’t want her gone. He knew, knew it she had left this world, he would lose—lose to the monster named despair. He wanted her to stay a member of the world. She couldn’t, couldn’t leave the world. Protect her. He needed to protect her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to remember, you were out of sorts then. I didn’t expect you to remember.” He had to tell her, tell her he didn’t want her to leave this world. He had to. “Listen, Gleam.” He pulled Gleam closer to him. “Death is a one shot deal. I don’t want to lose you.” He could feel his eyes almost glow yellow, like a Sovereign, but it was an inside illusion. “Okay? So please, Gleam, don’t think about it. I don’t know what my life would be like without you inside it.” He refused to blush. Serious, he was entirely serious. “Actually, I don’t want a world where you’re not in it.” He didn’t know, didn’t know what to say next, but he had to continue. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to lose her. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said abruptly. “I don’t want a world without you. I’m telling you, in the end you’ll see it’s not what you really want.” He couldn’t continue; nothing else came to him. He knew, knew if he continued, it would all sound the same.

As Gleam proceeded to answer back, the sound of a violent knock could be heard at the door. It could only have been someone after her or Chime, she knew. Knew it had to be such. The lack of constant knocking changed her mind otherwise. It must have been a knock and run, a knock and run, but something wasn’t adding up. Used to it, she had been used to violent knocks, she turned to Chime.

Chime looked at Gleam. Quickly, he proceeded to the door and opened the door, looking for anyone in the area. Nothing, nobody—nobody had been around. Something had been familiar about the setup. He knew something had been on the other side of the door. He walked onto the outside and noticed. A note had been pounded onto the door. He removed the note from the door and read it to himself. The note said:

To the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect and/or the Sovereign of Destruction,

If you two don’t fight me within twenty hours, I’ll kill you both! So, I suggest you get your asses down here and fight me if you want to live!


Nestle Mantle, the Sovereign of Paradox.”

Chime’s face darkened. A Sovereign, a Sovereign was after Gleam. He had to fight them. He couldn’t let Gleam get destroyed. Destroyed by another Sovereign. Within moments, he returned inside with the note. He couldn’t, he couldn’t let Gleam get hurt. He had to protect her. He had to protect her at all costs. The sound of this Sovereign. The sound of Paradox, it was not a good sound. It was a deadly match, and he would keep her away from the battle.

Gleam noticed the dark expression on Chime’s face. She noticed something had been familiar about the setting presented before her. “That note in your hand,” she pointed out. “What does it say?”

Chime gave a dark expression. “…A ransom,” he replied. “A ransom from the Sovereign of Paradox…” his voice drifted off a little. A Sovereign, another Sovereign had been after her.

Gleam’s eyes widened. Why now? Why, of all times, would a Sovereign come to ruin everything? Why? She knew, knew she would have to deal with this Sovereign before it was too late. She would have to, she didn’t want the Sovereign to get anywhere near Chime. She had to take care of the Sovereign of Paradox before it was too late, before it was too late, and she knew it.

“If it’s a Sovereign,” she began. “Let me—”

Chime cut Gleam off. “No, Gleam,” he answered. “Let me take care of the Sovereign of Paradox this time.” He knew. Knew if he let Gleam battle, she would die. He couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t let her battle knowing that was a possibility. “Gleam, I’ve failed to protect you so many times, so please, this time, let me protect you! I promise. I won’t let them get anywhere near you, so, please let me handle this battle.” He changed his expression to that of a fighting expression. “I’ll handle this Gleam. You’ve battled enough. I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore. I promise I’ll defeat them, even extinguish their life if they tried to go after you!” he lowered himself to his knees. “Is that alright with you?”

Gleam sighed, she couldn’t say no to Chime—she guessed it would be okay, okay to let him battle the Sovereign of Paradox instead of her, but she knew, deep down, she would battle alongside him if he would be gone for more than two hours. Regardless, she didn’t want to admit such. She had to roll with whatever words she had left.

“Okay,” she said. “Fight them and win!” she could feel a smile on her face, but wiped it off. Serious, this was serious.

Chime walked over to her and hugged her for a third time. “Gleam,” he said. “I love you.”

Gleam blinked. Why was he saying those words to her again? She guessed it was a male stereotype. She didn’t understand, but decided not to question it.

“I know you do,” she answered. “I do too, really, but, not here at Mariibo Rumaibo. We should wait to make this more than friendship when we leave this place.”

Chime agreed, but said nothing else. He would wait. Wait until Gleam was asleep to battle the Sovereign of Paradox. After a long while of waiting, Gleam had fallen into a slumber. He knew, knew he would have to leave a note in case he wouldn’t be back in time of her awakening. He walked over to his kitchen and removed a pen and index card and began to write the note. When the note had been finished, he placed it onto the blanket covering her and exited the dorm room. Protect her, he would defeat the Sovereign of Paradox, and he would show Gleam he had what it takes, what it takes to win against a Sovereign.


The hallway Chime had found the Sovereign of Paradox in was blacker than night. The walls were black as if shadows, but the entire room was burning with sunlight. Chime disliked the sunlight, stronger; the sunlight had been stronger due to the black walls. He turned to the walls around him. The walls seemed to harbor an explicit message of which spelled out ghost and you shall become in a wrong order. The hallway—it must have been a hideout. A hideout, a Sovereign hideout. Eventually, he gazed eyes at the Sovereign of Paradox. He stared at the person’s features as they stood there with a sinister smile on their face. The appearance, the appearance bothered him. The Sovereign. The Sovereign was a female. She had orange hair, the color of peaches. Her hair had been tied back as if the girl were innocent. The girl’s hair had been molded into pigtails that lengthened to about the chest; she had dark green eyes, the color of poisonous jewels. Her eyes, her eyes looked as if they were beautiful, but they were not. They had seen something, something explicit. Her eyes, her eyes were sadistically woeful. She was about a year younger than he was, he could tell. The girl had that used to being a teenager look about her. Her clothes made her look innocent; she looked almost too innocent. Chime gazed at her clothes, they were blacker than night, blacker than the walls. She had been wearing a black blouse with a red sewed ribbon in the center, and a black skirt that could have once been plaid. Chime knew. Knew from the appearance, dangerous, the girl was dangerous. Dangerous and beautiful. The girl’s eyes glowed green as she proceeded to speak. She was disgusted. Disgusted by the sight of the silver haired boy.

The girl laughed maniacally before speaking. Alone, the idiot came alone. “Hello, Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect!” she greeted sarcastically. “What a surprise! One of you actually came!” she evilly glared at Chime. Skin, she had to get under his skin. “If neither of you came, I would have killed you both!” she announced explicitly. “Congratulations, you ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥, guess who picked the half correct choice. You should have brought the Sovereign of Destruction with you; I thought I made it sufficiently clear! I asked for both of you, but I guess we all don’t know how to read properly, now can we?” a faint singing voice could be heard as she finished speaking.

Chime grunted. What a piece of work she was. He couldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow for this person to get to Gleam. He remembered the note. The note had said and/or, not and. And/or. If anything, she was the one who couldn’t read properly. It was obvious to him. She thought she was a genius when she had been anything but. Counter, he had to counter her words. The piece of work had to be countered.

“No, you’re the one who obviously can’t read properly!” he replied in a venomous tone. “It said and/or, not and.” He darted eyes at the girl. “Leave Gleam out of this! I’m fighting you! I’m not going to allow you to even so much as get near her!” he stared at her darkly. He wouldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t allow the girl to get near her. Fight, this was his fight. It was his fight, and he wanted the girl to remember that.

The Sovereign of Paradox laughed a sadistic laugh. Idiot, the boy was an idiot. Properly introduce herself, she had to properly introduce herself before the battle. “Whatever, uptight wannabe! Let me introduce myself properly,” she said with emphasis on properly. “I’m Nestle Mantle!” as she said such, she spun in a circle and pointed at the ceiling and danced inappropriately. “Better known as the Sovereign of Paradox!” she wanted to get under his skin. Bring up, she had to bring up something that would anger him beyond belief. She began to do such. “Remember those eight girls that poisoned the Sovereign of Destruction?” she asked. “They worked under me.”

Chime remembered. How could he forget the eight of them? They poisoned Gleam; he would never forget such event. The eight girls who tried to kill Gleam by poisoning her, she was behind it. She was responsible. She was responsible for Gleam’s poisoning. That was it. He had to defeat her. She had to be completely defeated. The fact, the fact that she was behind it made everything seem dim. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, he had to scream. He had to scream at her.

“Do you really think I would forget something like that?” he shouted, voice rising. “You were the one behind it!” his temper was boiling. “Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to do that, you monster? She’s a nice girl!”

Nestle smirked. That’s what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear him scream and cry about the Sovereign of Destruction; defending the Sovereign of Destruction. More, she had to get under his skin more. More, she had to completely rob him of his free will. She would rob him of his free will until she would unseal his lock sealing his powers. She would do so, and she was determined into doing so. Continue, she had to continue getting under his skin.

“Oh, please, you uptight child,” she said disrespectfully. “All Sovereigns have people under them. I’m not limited to that.” She stretched her hands out imperiously as she continued. “Soullim Garaoudim had ten people with black reaper coats under his control, Numboil Turmoil had three people whom he labeled his slaves under his orders, Avangift Sarogroft was rumored to be working alone, Tainted Pureled has three scared children under her belt, that Sovereign of Prosperity probably has people under her too, but I’ve never seen her, and I had my eight girls in dresses under my control. I wasn’t behind it. I told them to do whatever they please. I didn’t say ‘go poison the Sovereign of Destruction,’ I said ‘Do whatever you please.’ So, you ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥, before you go accusing me of being behind things I’m not even doing, get your facts straight first!” she then obnoxiously pointed at him. “And it’s pretty obviously to me, who you’re working under. What was her human name, Gleam Noiyam? You’re working under her! She using you!” she placed her hands on her face attempting to sound all cute. “Aww, poor ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥! He doesn’t know he’s being used by the Sovereign of Destruction! You’re going to end up just like the eight girls who were under me!” as she finished leering at Chime, she broke into maniacal laughter. That should have been enough, been enough to get under his skin.

Chime hated it. Hated how Nestle had been acting towards Gleam. Making her seem like she was evil and like everyone else. Gleam was not like that; she was not evil, he wasn’t being used by her. He wasn’t about to listen as she demeaned and antagonized Gleam right in front of his face. Insulting, it was absolutely insulting, and he couldn’t sit by idly as she demeaned Gleam. Unacceptable, insulting. It was absolutely insulting.

“Don’t you dare demean and insult her like that!” he cried. “She’s not like you! She would never use me! She wouldn’t!” his voice had again been rising as his temper flared. “I’m not working under her. Did you not hear me? I said I came here on my own accord!” shouting, he had been shouting as he continued. “Do me a favor and focus on me! Gleam has nothing to do with this!”

Nestle smirked again. That face, that face of fury. She loved it. Loved the look of fury on his face. She loved it, that face. That face of fury. Attack, she would while his fury only grew. It would only be a matter of moments. Continue, she had to continue to get under his skin.

“Speaking of people under me!” she said, clapping her hands together like a child. “When all eight of them failed to poison the Sovereign of Destruction, I killed them!” she placed her hands in a meditating position as she prepared her attack. “And how did I kill them? It looked something like THIS!” Nestle’s hands began to glow red as she concentrated lowly to herself. As the red glow became fiery and more violent, a large rock with craters appeared in her hands. As the rock had gotten larger in size, fire surrounded the black rock filled with craters. After it had gotten large enough, Nestle winked and released a small giggle. After the small giggle, Nestle released the burning rock and sent it flying, charging at Chime. She laughed maniacally as the attack were about to burn him. Burn him alive.

Chime stared as the meteorite was about to make contact with him. He watched as the space rock was about to make complete contact with him. He laughed to himself. What a sadistic attack she was about to hurl. As the meteorite sped to Chime’s hip, he could feel it, the entire world, the heat of space fire burning his clothing; burning his already crippled hip. That was it. That was it, that was it. He had to destroy her. Planetary winds, he had to use a planetary wind chime attack. He wasn’t going to let her continue. Continue to attack him and insult Gleam. He looked at the girl viciously. No more. He could feel it. Feel his body shake, shake from complete fury. He formed his left hand into a fist and clenched his teeth as the anger only rose inside him.

“That’s it!” he shouted. “I have had it with you!” Chime pointed his finger to the ceiling. From his hand emerged planetary winds the speed of a level five categorized hurricane. Within the planetary winds came even stronger planetary winds. The winds were strong enough to blow him away. With his free hand, he snapped his fingers to create the next part of his attack. As a set of black wind chimes in the form of how the planets appeared, Chime could feel his eyes glow yellow as he screamed and hollered. His eyes glowed as if he were actually a Sovereign for a few moments. After everything had been done charging, the planetary winds took the wind chime attack into a spiral and charged violently at Nestle. The attack made grace with Nestle as the wind of the planets blew her to the black walls and the wind chimes hit her face, leaving a nasty metal marking deep on her skin. Chime smiled as a wind surrounded his body, taking over his insides. As the wind overtook him, he walked closer. No control, corrupting him, the magic was corrupting him. Sovereign, it was almost like a Sovereign’s magic. As the wind chimes kept Nestle staked to the wall—control he had absolutely no control. His eyes continued to glow yellow as if he were a Sovereign. As the wind continued to surround him, he could feel it, the recoil. The recoil was getting to him. As he completely and hopelessly lost control, words that did not seem like his own formed in his mouth. “So, come here and fight me,” he said. His voice had two voices in it as he became less and less like himself and more like the Sovereign he wasn’t. The wind surrounding him only got stronger as the recoil became even more of a problem. “Get down here,” he called without any control. “Down here, coward!” he removed the wind chimes sticking her to the wall and watched as the girl smiled. Corrupting, the attack was completely corrupting him. Graces, he was falling from his graces. After a little while, the wind left him after what would seem like sheer luck. The ground would be his best friend if he allowed it, but he couldn’t. No fainting, Gleam was on the line here. He couldn’t faint, he couldn’t faint; there was no way.

Nestle laughed maniacally as the wind left Chime’s body. The boy had an edge, a major edge, and he was hiding it. He was hiding major power inside his body. She had to exploit such until she unsealed his powers, and she was determined to do such. She would unlock his seal and soon. Intimidate him; she had to intimidate him more. Intimidate him to the point of not knowing that she had gotten him. She smirked as her plan was about to become perfect. Perfect and she knew it.

She looked at Chime childishly. “Aw, look who can’t control his own magic!” she giggled again, and placed her hands behind her back. “Why don’t I show you?” she preached. “What a powerful attack in control looks like!” her hand glowed black as she said such. As the glow got stronger, a white star like figure appeared in her hands. When the white star got to the size of a white giant, she released it, shining in Chime’s eyes, perpetually blinding him for a few moments. As the star swirled around Chime’s body, the star became his back’s best friend, leaving burn marks carved into his back, forcing a scream he had never screamed before to let loose from his throat. Nestle brushed her hands together and the star back dropped a light behind her, ending the attack. Sadistically, she spun around in a circle cutely. Winning, she was winning. “That’s how you control a powerful attack! You’re not all that after all, are you?” she ran over to him, placing her foot on his burned back and kicked him in the back until she heard him scream. Scream from the writhing pain. She laughed maniacally as the boy had been writhing.

“You fight dirty!” Chime cried. “You don’t fight fair!” he could feel the writhing pain overtake him as the kick absorbed him. The burns of the star writhed. The pain was nothing like he had ever felt before. Nothing had ever been worse before. Losing, he was losing to a horrible Sovereign. He continued to scream as the burn began to travel up his entire body.

Nestle smirked sadistically. Now it would be easy. Easy to unlock his seal. The burn would eat him away as she proceeded to unlock it, unlock the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect’s seal. Again, she smirked as the burn ruined him. Dirty? She wasn’t fighting dirty; she was fighting like any Sovereign did. The poor, hopeless boy understood nothing.

“Fighting dirty?” she questioned. “Oh, please! I’m not fighting dirty! You’ve got a lot to learn, kiddo! All Sovereigns fight like this, so get used to it!” she maniacally glared at him. Stupid, the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect was so stupid, nothing, he understood next to nothing. She knew, knew that would be his downfall. His stupidity would be his downfall.

Meanwhile, back in Chime’s dorm room, Gleam had been waking up. A nightmare had been sure to grace her as she woke up suddenly. A nightmare, a nightmare about Chime had graced her subconscious. As she proceeded to remove the blanket covering her, she noticed. A note, a note had been left for her. She removed the note from the covers, and read it. The note said:


I have gone to fight the Sovereign of Paradox. I will defeat her, do not worry. You’ve changed my life, and taught me what happiness is. You’ve taught me how to smile. I want to be able to return that smile to you since you lost it. I love you. And whatever you do, don’t come out of my room. This Sovereign is dangerous!

- Chime Nume.”

Gleam stared at the note and completely fell to tears. Something was about to happen to Chime, something. She couldn’t stay there as the Sovereign of Paradox was possibly killing him. Gleam crushed the note and rummaged through her drawers to find the weapon she had on her since the magic test. She took the weapon and hid it in her inside pockets. She hoped it wouldn’t come to such, but regardless, she hid the item discretely.

Gleam ran for the door and picked up the pace as she came across a completely black hallway drenched in the sun’s influence. She saw Chime and the Sovereign of Paradox in the center, clashing heads. From what it appeared to her, the Sovereign was winning. She had to join in; she couldn’t sit by as she was defeating Chime. She violently stepped into the field to show, show she had arrived.

Chime turned to Gleam and noticed, she had come by. No. No, she couldn’t have been there. She couldn’t have been. Leave, she had to leave. She couldn’t be there. Nestle, Nestle would kill her. Send her away; he had to send her away.

“Gleam!” he cried. “I thought I told you not to come! Run away, Nestle Mantle will kill you!”

As Nestle had heard Gleam arrive, she knew—now was the time. The time to unlock his seal. Stab him, she would stab him. With the Sovereign of Destruction right where she wanted her, it was time. Time to stab him. Sovereign magic, she would use her Sovereign magic to unlock his seal. Now, she had to do such now. She smirked. Time, it was time.

She smirked again and began. “Nestle in the Mantle!” she chanted. “Play in the core! One, two, three four!” she ran over to Chime and picked him up from the floor. Her left hand held him up as she was to begin, begin the stabbing. She laughed maniacally—perfect. The Sovereign was watching, and the boy was scared. She moved onto the second part of the spell. “To live is to die, and to die is to live!” as the chant ended, Nestle’s hand changed into a metal sword as long as a sword from olden times. As her right hand had been done becoming a sword, she placed her hand between her neck and head, and thrust it forward. Her hand sword made contact with Chime’s heart, opening a hole inside it. She pierced further until she slashed all the way through his chest, leaving a hole all the way through. She then took the hand sword out and placed it next to where his heart was. She could feel it with her nerves, a button, a button was there. She backed the hand turned sword away and thrust it forward as another hole formed inside Chime. She could hear a click as she removed the sword from his chest. She smiled evilly. Did it, she did it; she unlocked his seal, and made it impossible for him to live.

Chime could feel it. Feel the click of the stab. No. No. He couldn’t protect Gleam. His seal, his seal was unlocked. Gleam, he couldn’t protect Gleam. His heart, his heart was stopping. As he could feel the entire effects of the stab, he could feel it; all his pumping blood, all his pumping blood was dropping. As he could feel his life escaping him, he fell to the floor; his eyes lifeless, as he dropped to the floor, his blood decorated the floor beautifully. Stopping, everything was stopping. As he left the world, he looked at Gleam one last time before becoming a member of the afterlife. He couldn’t protect Gleam; he was going to die, at least protecting her for a little while. Somehow, if the afterlife were true, he would watch over her. As all eleven pints of blood decorated the floor, he closed his eyes forever, somehow, he knew, knew he could watch over Gleam as a ghost.

Gleam stared in horror. Dead. Chime was dead, dead. Chime was gone, dead. Dead. Dead because she was stupid, her fault, it was her fault. Dead, Chime was dead, dead. She could feel all strength leave her legs. It couldn’t be true; Chime couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t be dead. No, he couldn’t be dead. This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t happening. A nightmare, it was a nightmare. As the visions of a dead Chime burned into her brain, she screamed the loudest scream her mind would allow her to do. No. Chime couldn’t be dead, he wasn’t dead, there was no way; an illusion, it was all an illusion. As she kept on repeating those words in her head, she could feel it—revenge. She had to get revenge. Revenge, she would get revenge and avenge Chime. Everything was gone, nothing was left. She had nothing left to save her. Save her from her Sovereign nature. A corpse, she would turn Nestle Mantle into a corpse. The corpse she deserved to be.

End of chapter twenty one, next to come: leering comes and goes. Nestle Mantle won’t last long to a completely changed Gleam. Revenge will parry, revenge shall become victorious.


Why did I kill off Chime, might you ask?

Because his death symbolizes something. It symbolizes a permanent change in Gleam. A change that won't really show up until chapters 22 and 23. And also, he was never supposed to work up to the ranks of main character, but I fell in love with him, so he did.

I DID NOT KILL HIM OFF FOR KILLING'S SAKE. There was a reason behind this.

And that reason is that it only makes sense for this to happen. The story is ending soon, and I want the readers to get that sense.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


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Age 22
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This chapter is rated M. Do I even need to explain?

Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 22; In complete petrifaction. What it means to Nestle entirely in the Mantle.

Petrified beyond petrification. No. He couldn’t be dead. Chime couldn’t be dead. Chime couldn’t be dead—he couldn’t be. As Gleam had realized, realized it had been the entire truth, she had come to a realization. Avenge, she had to avenge Chime. Revenge, she had to get revenge against the Sovereign of Paradox. Entire revenge. There was no way, no way she could remain alive. She couldn’t; there was no way. The witch—the witch killed Chime. She killed Chime, she killed Chime. The witch, the witch. The witch killed Chime. She didn’t care anymore—she could no longer cling onto it—her humanity. Her humanity she seemingly wanted to keep. Gone, it was completely gone. No longer had it been inside her. Lost, her humanity had been lost. Sovereign nature, it was time to be in touch with her Sovereign nature. There is nothing left to save her, she couldn’t resist it anymore—she couldn’t be saved from her Sovereign nature. There was nothing left; nothing left to keep her sane. Nothing. She realized—sacred, the something sacred she had been looking for, the one thing she wanted to find. Something sacred, something that was sacred to her. She had found it. Found what had been sacred to her. Now it was too late—if only she had realized sooner, if only she had realized sooner that Chime was sacred to her. Nestle Mantle robbed everything from her, everything. No longer could she be what she once was. Kill the witch; she had to kill the witch. A corpse. Nestle Mantle had to become a corpse. A corpse and nothing else. Despite everything, she knew, knew she couldn’t kill the witch right away. Maybe there was still time, maybe there still had been time. Time to get Chime back amongst the living. She was up against a supreme ruler of paradox. Life, there had to be a way to bring him back to life. There had to be a way, there had to be. There had to be a way to bring him back to life. There had to be. Force it out of her; she would force the witch to bring Chime back. She knew, knew everything was over. Now was the time to destroy, destroy the witch. Finally, she had figured out her resolve. Finally, everything had been final. She jumped to her feet. Destroy; destroy the witch that killed Chime. She would destroy and kill the witch that killed Chime. She could feel it—the hunger Avangift once mentioned. The hunger to destroy, she was hungry to destroy the witch. Hungry to destroy the witch that killed Chime.

Nestle smirked silently to herself. She knew the connection between the Sovereign of Destruction and the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect. Now that the connection had been severed, it was time. Time to further end the connection. One kill wasn’t enough. Under her skin—she had to get under her kin. She had to get under the Sovereign of Destruction’s skin as well. Pleasant, pleasant, it would be so pleasant; so pleasant to kill the girl. A roll, she was on a roll. The girl probably wasn’t going to live much longer, anyway, not if she could help it. Completely sever the connection; she would completely sever the connection. The girl, the girl was such an idiot. Clingy, annoying, emotional. She wanted to destroy it, destroy the girl’s emotions. Force her into a puddle of her emotions and sever her when she wasn’t aware. Under her skin, she had to get under her skin. Considering how the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect had fallen right into her hands, it would be easy, so easy. So easy to kill her. She would enjoy it; enjoy killing the Sovereign of Destruction. It mattered so little to her as she had known the girl was responsible for killing the other Sovereigns. The streak of killing would end now. Human magic, she would use human magic to kill the girl. Weak, the girl was too weak; the girl was too pathetic to kill with Sovereign magic. Five shots would be enough to kill her. Five shots of scorching stars to burn her to death. She could feel a maniacal laugh coming, but held the entire laugh in. No, it was too soon. It was too soon to break out in a well deserved laughter. Later, she could laugh when she killed the girl. Too soon, it was too soon. She proceeded to continue smirking and waited. Waited for the little girl to make her first move to learn her battle style. Weak, the girl is so weak. Fun, it would be so fun to exploit it—her weakness.

Gleam stared at Nestle viciously. Smirking, the witch was smirking. She wanted to rip it—rip the smile off her face. The witch, the witch was smirking, she was smirking; she was smirking. She couldn’t stand the sight of it—that smirk. Die, the smirk had to die. Rip it; she had to rip that smirk off the witch’s face. She had no right to be smirking, how sadistic. How disgusting, she could feel it—the crack. The crack was going to get larger. Begin, she had to begin to turn the witch into a corpse. Sick of it, she was sick of the witch standing there, marveling the murder she committed; marveling the sadism she craved for. Marveling everything she robbed from her. No more. The witch needed to atone for her sin. Time, it was time to get ballistic.

“You killed Chime,” Gleam said, shaking meekly. “You witch! You killed Chime!” as her voice had gotten in overdrive she could feel the overwhelming desire. The overwhelming hunger for destruction. “You killed Chime!” she repeated in a louder voice. She could feel her voice rise as she continued to get lost in her fury. “Give him back to me.” Again, she could feel it, feel the overwhelming desire. Desire to destroy. Desire to destroy the girl. “Give him back to me!” as her voice raised, she could feel it get stronger, the desire. The desire was getting out of control. Just a little longer. Just a little longer before charging at her. Just a little longer. Hold it in; she had to hold in the desire. “Give him back to me! Bring him back to life! I know you can do that! Give him back to me! Give him back to me!” the crack, the crack was getting larger. She could hold it no longer. Attack, she had to attack. Gleam placed her right hand in an onslaught planked position and charged at Nestle. As she had gotten closer to her face, she placed her nails on the right side of her face, near her cheek, right below her right eye. The pretty face, the pretty face needed to go. As she thought such, her eyes glowed red. Perfect, everything was perfect. As her nails carved deeper into her face, she noticed. She noticed the lack, the lack of blood coursing on the witch’s face. White scratches, white marks, but no red. Why? Why wasn’t there any red? Why did her face stay pretty as she added her decoration to it? Why? Why? Harder, she had to carve harder. Gleam pressed inward and tried harder to ruin the pretty face, only to fail miserably. She smiled to herself as she continued to fail. Pathetic, how pathetic she was. Giving up, she wondered how hard nails were on the Moh’s Hardness Scale. Two point five? She didn’t care; she didn’t care how hard they were. She couldn’t. She finished off with, “I know you can bring him back to life! So, give him back to me, you witch!” control, she had to maintain control, but it was too late, she knew she had already lost all of it—all of her control.

Nestle’s smirk only became larger. As the girl had been done with her pathetic little hysterics, she made a decision. Nestle grabbed Gleam’s arm that had assisted in attempting to ruin her gorgeous face. She made sure her nails gripped the arm sharply. As soon as the arm had been nailed, Nestle used all the strength inside her body and swung the girl around until she had enough strength to plunge her. When such had been established, she tossed her and watched as the little girl travelled to the wall behind her. As the girl made grace with the wall, she smirked. Wonderful, how wonderful and splendorous. How wonderful and splendorous the sight was. As if she would bring him back to life. Why would she, why should she? How stupid, the girl is stupid. Why was this man so important to her? She would have killed him by accident sooner or later, anyway. Why bring him back to life? Of course she wouldn’t. Not for the Sovereign of Destruction’s sake. She would sever it further—their connection. The connection between the two had to permanently die just like the man himself did. The scratches the feral little girl made on her face, the scratches, how annoying. As she had decided to sever the connection further, she slowly walked over when Gleam had been on the floor. She devised the exact same punishment she had given Chime. She ran over to her, placing her foot on her back, kicking the spot where her lungs were and continued obsessively until she heard her scream. After about four kicks, she again nailed her arm and forcefully picked her up from the ground. She stretched her arms out imperiously and prepared to counter her feral scream fest.

“What are you, four and three quarters or twelve?” she asked with entire fake exasperation. “I can’t bring him back to life, and even if I could, I wouldn’t do it for you, Sovereign of Destruction!” she placed her hands on her skirt and pranced around inappropriately around Chime’s dead body. After her small, inappropriate frolic, she returned facing towards Gleam. “Besides, even if I did, he lost all his blood, remember? It will only cause him extreme pain if I brought him back. Would you want that, Sovereign of Destruction?” she gave a catty grin. Perfect, she picked a perfect counter argument to her little rampage. Perfect. It was a perfect argument. A perfect excuse to shut the girl up.

Gleam clenched her first. Disrespectful, how disrespectful this witch was towards death. How disgustingly disrespectful she was acting. Who did she think she was? She had no right to act that way. Tired of it, she was already getting tired of the girl’s behavior, but it was too early, too early to turn her into a corpse. It was too early. She couldn’t, couldn’t afford it, couldn’t afford to make a mistake now. Wait, she would wait until the right moment, the right moment to turn the disrespectful witch into a corpse. She would wait. Wait until the perfect moment, the perfect moment to turn Nestle Mantle into a corpse. She would wait until the battle would flesh itself out enough. She would wait. No magic, she would use absolutely no magic. With her decision in mind, she smiled to herself. Treat her the way the ocean treated her. She would treat the witch the way the ocean did. Pay, the girl would pay.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” she said. “But, why don’t we just settle this with a battle?” Gleam proceeded to act like the other Sovereigns. The madness, the madness was beginning to break loose inside her, and she could feel it. “I’m getting tired of looking at your pretty little face.” She could feel a small laugh inside her and decided to embrace it. “Why don’t we see what it feels like to be patronized and put down by another Sovereign? I’d love to show you how that feels, Nestle Mantle!” again, she laughed, laughed until she could feel a crack form again. It was all so annoying—no magic, she would fight without any magic. Decided, she had decided.

Nestle’s eyes glowed a green color. Perfect, how incredibly perfect. The feral girl was finally doing everything she wanted. A battle, they would battle. Finally, she could sever the connection between the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of cause and Effect and the Sovereign of Destruction. It was time. Sovereign magic, she would get rid of her using Sovereign magic, but human magic came first. Five shots or less, she would kill the girl in five shots or less. Pacing, she would stealthily pace the battle. She would get under her skin and demean her, demean her to the point of unawareness. Perfect, everything was becoming perfect, and she knew it. She would demean the girl. She would demean her. The Sovereign of Destruction had no right anymore, had no right to live.

Nestle smirked. “You want to fight that bad?” she asked sarcastically. “Fine by me, Sovereign of Destruction! You’ll end up just like your friend over there, anyway!” she obnoxiously pointed to Chime’s dead body. Leer, she would leer the girl until she would kill her. She would leer her until she was unaware. In the end, it would all work, and she knew it. Leer, she would leer the girl until she was dead. As she thought such, she smirked again. Kill, she would kill the girl, and she would do so in five shots. Five shots and nothing more. She would do it in five shots while completely getting under her skin. She would get under her skin, and she would do it with everything her body lets her do. She would get under her skin, and she would show the ignorant fool what it meant to be better than a feral child. “What are you waiting for, Sovereign of Destruction? I’m waiting for you to attack! Unless you’re a coward! That would make you less than, what was his name, Chime Nune, right?” she smirked. It has started. The leering. The leering has begun. She waited. Waited for the girl to come after her.

Gleam was slowly beginning to feel the words hit her in all the wrong places. How dare she compare the two of them? Equal, the two were equal. Though, she knew, knew that was a pity insult. A pity insult and she knew it. Nothing to get worked up over, it was nothing to get worked up over. Slow and painful, she would cause a slow and painful death for Nestle Mantle, and right away. She would provide a slow and painful death to show her—show her what death feels like. What it feels like to die. She wanted to show her. Show her how Chime felt. How Chime must have felt when she murdered him. As she closed in on the terror she wished to bring to Nestle, she placed her arm into a locking position and charged at the girl’s legs. As she ran to her, she could feel it again, the madness, the madness was in overdrive. As she was right in front of Nestle, she formed a fist. Within seconds, her fist and Nestle’s knee met. As her fist picked up more durability, she pressed in harder until she could see a purple swirl form around her knee. As she could feel the rush, she continued. Continued to force her way into turning Nestle into a cripple. As her first continued to make contact with the witch’s knee, she smirked. How good it felt. How good it felt, how good it felt to mutilate, to mutilate without magic. How good it felt. How good it felt to mutilate the killer’s knee. Good, it felt so good. After doing some final punches, she backed away and marveled what she had done. Beautiful, it was a beautiful sight to splendor and behold.

Nestle maniacally glared at Gleam. Was that all she got? Punching? Her knee until it got black and blue? Pathetic. The girl was pathetic. Was that all she got? Pathetic—the girl was pathetic. She had less potential than her late minions did, and it was amusing. It was amusing. Screw brute force, she would use magic—the girl was pathetic using brute force over magic. She would show her. Show her true magic. Show her five shots that would extinguish her. Extinguish her. She had no right, no right to live. Was that all she had in her? Pathetic, her fighting was pathetic. Pathetic, pathetic, it was extremely pathetic.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she asked in a childish manner. “You’re so pathetic! I bet the boy protected you only because he felt sorry for being so pathetic! I know that’s probably why. He protected you only because you’re weak, pathetic and a little girl!” she clapped her hands twice, making extremely obnoxious faces. Attack, she would send off her first shot. “Perhaps I should show you,” she said in a vicious tone. “A marvelous attack that’s POWERFUL!” Nestle pulled on the red ribbon on her black blouse and placed her hands in a charging position. As she placed her hands in the charging position, her hands glowed a rainbow color. As she concentrated, the glow became larger and more violent. As the glow became overwhelming and blinding, a spiral almost larger than her hands appeared in her palms. As the spiral became larger, the spiral changed to an almost ultraviolet color. When it had become the right color, Nestle jumped into the air and spun in a circle. After the little performance, Nestle released the spiral and sent it charging at Gleam. She smiled to herself and watched as the small galaxy would make her burn and freeze. This was it—the first attack had been shot. Four shots left, it was time, time to add the girl to the death collection. Four shots left until it was time. Time to add the girl to her precious murder collection.

Gleam watched as the mini galaxy was about to join with her body. She would run away or dodge the attack, but it was impossible. It was impossible to dodge. It couldn’t have been dodged. The attack, the attack was mesmerizing. It was a mesmerizing spectacle. She snapped out of it, no. She couldn’t. She couldn’t think that. Evil, the attack was evil. Evil, it was an evil attack. As the attack came closer, she stared at the spiral again. It was still mesmerizing to stare at. She, again, snapped out of it and closed her eyes. She couldn’t look anymore as the attack was about to make grace with her. Within seconds, she could feel it—the attack. The attack had felt absolutely devastating. She had never felt anything like it before. Cold, the attack was freezing. Freezing; below freezing. Freezing. As the attack had felt like she was being eroded away, she felt a scream louder than anything screamed before. She grunted. Grunted at what Nestle had said.

“How dare you!” she shouted. “How dare you say that about Chime!” as she got into the extremes of shouting, the second part of the attack had occurred. Heat over four hundred degrees coursed through her body. She could feel another scream embrace as deadly heats broke through her body. The burn, the burn was extreme. Extreme, the burn just wouldn’t let up. She couldn’t, she couldn’t give into the burn. She continued. “You don’t even know him,” she stated devilishly. “He didn’t feel sorry for me! He didn’t! We were friends! Stop pushing around your disgusting little logic! You’re a witch! You killed him! You know nothing about him! So, shut up, shut up; shut up!”

Her scream had ended within moments. As such had been established, Gleam had been ready, she charged at the girl yet again, and as soon as she found the perfect shot, she raised her leg and thrust it backward. The hip, she would kick her in the hip. As she had found such spot, she pushed her food inward and pressed her food into Nestle’s hip—hard. She waited. Waited for the girl to scream only to hear no scream. One more kick, one more kick. She had to, had to kick again. She would show her, show her the way, the way it felt when Chime got shot. The way it felt. She backed away and kicked harder. When she had noticed the girl was not even screaming or flinching she made a face. Why? Why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t anything working? Why was everything failing so miserably? Why? She was failing, failing so miserably to avenge Chime. Miserably.

Nestle grabbed Gleam’s ankle with her nails. Hard. As she dug her nails deep into the skin of her ankle, she smirked. Simple, killing the girl was going to be so simple. More insults, she had to continue. Continue to get under her skin. After she had gotten a firm grip on her ankle, she released the girl and tossed her to the wall. She could hear the crash and smirked. Weak, the girl was weak. It was time, time for the next shot.

“You. Are. So. Pathetic,” she sang childishly. “My, my does being pathetic run in your blood or something? Your punches, kicks, scratching and other brute force attack are so pathetic!” under her skin. It was time to get under her skin again. “That’s why you were using that so called friend of yours! You wanted to feel less pathetic, so you took him under you. You were using him! I get it now! You were using him!” she clapped her hands together and prepared, prepared her next shot. “People who use others, how low! I’ll show you! Show you a PUNISHMENT YOU DESERVE!” she smiled sadistically and placed her hand on her shoulder. As her shoulder glowed a white color, a wing appeared within seconds. She removed her hand from her shoulder and appeared to be above the ground at about approximately six feet above. After the distance had been final, Nestle swished her hands as a large, blinding, orange fireball appeared in her hands. After the orange fire ball had been big enough, Nestle released it and made it circle around Gleam. After she finished forcing it to circle, she pointed at Gleam’s center. The fireball obeyed and made grace with Gleam. As the attack began to burn the center of her clothes, Nestle motioned her finger at the fireball. The fireball travelled behind her and created an orange blinding light behind her. She embraced the light, and like a fairy tale princess, she used her singular wing to fly in a circle. After a giggle embraced her, she snapped her fingers and appeared back on the ground. She smiled evilly as the girl screamed freakishly.

Gleam huffed an angry huff. She wasn’t using him. She never used Chime. Never, not once. She had never used Chime. She had no idea, no idea what she was talking about. Disgusting, insulting, she insulting, absolutely insulting. She was tired of it. She couldn’t out up with much of her anymore. Pace it, she still had to pace the kill. She would pace the kill until the exact moment. The exact moment, and it wasn’t time yet.

She created and almost cynical look on her face as she countered her insults. “Who do you think you are?” she cried. “I never used Chime! Not once! I never used him! I’m not your kind! I wouldn’t resort to your tactics!” as her fury began to build again, she thought to herself. There was something disturbingly familiar with the string of insults she was hurling. Something familiar and she couldn’t get over it. She had to try harder. She couldn’t just punch, kick and scratch her. Toss, she had to toss something at the witch. She stared at her feet below. Shoes, she only had her shoes. Destroy. She would destroy the witch. Gleam removed her left shoe and swirled the object around, turning it into a weapon. As the acceleration had been enough, she released the shoe from her hand, making sure it had hit her face perfectly. After the shoe had traveled far enough, the once worn by her feet object kicked the face of Nestle leaving a red tinged bruise as if hitting or being slapped by her. She laughed practically maniacally as the bruise had been almost glowing. She smiled to herself. Good, she had done well.

Nestle walked over to Gleam and pushed her down to the ground. The attack, the attack was so stupid. It didn’t even faze her. How stupid. Did the girl seriously think that she had done a powerful attack? Pathetic; the girl was so pathetic. Throwing a shoe. Throwing a shoe, how pathetic. Third attack, it was time for the third shot. Two shots left. Two shots until the girl were to die.

“Aww. What a little ♥♥♥♥♥ you are!” she said in an overly high pitched voice. After sarcasm lived inside her, she returned the shoe to the pathetic little girl and smiled sinisterly. Under her skin, one more vicious episode of getting under her skin before tacking her insults to the next level. She smirked and started speaking again. “I bet he told you, didn’t he?” she inquired. “That he loved you, didn’t he? Well, let me tell you that the boy was definitely faking it, and you know it! He was faking it the entire time! He felt sorry for you. He only pretended to like you. I mean, come on. Anyone liking the Sovereign of Destruction? Wow! That must be a new fad! I didn’t know ♥♥♥♥♥es actually thought people liked them! The Chime boy was faking it. He was faking all his love for you.” She placed her hand on her heart and closed her eyes. “Would you like me to ENLIGHTEN YOU?” Nestle backed her hands three centimeters away as she gave space from her chest and hands. After the gap had been established, a yellow glow appeared in her hands. As the attack had been charging, a small, yellow oblate spheroid appeared in her hands. When the oblate spheroid had been large enough, Nestle raised her hands above her head as the yellow oblate spheroid appeared above Gleam’s head. Nestle proceeded to snap her fingers to initiate the next part of the attack. When the snap had finished, a mirror like forced had surrounded Gleam’s body, hitting every single spot there had to be. After every single body part had been hit, the attack ended. Nestle snapped her fingers and the yellow oblate spheroid inched five inches away from Gleam, shooting off another mirror like force by the floor. Within seconds, a completely replicated image of Gleam appeared right in front of her eyes. The image smirked as it locked eyes with her.

Gleam sweat in an almost immediate panic. A live reflection, a live reflection of her had been there. Right in front of her, a live reflection. What was she planning? What was she planning on doing? Was she trying to force her to forget the insults she just fired? No, she refused to forget them. She wouldn’t, and as she thought such, she was out of luck. She wouldn’t forget. Wouldn’t forget the insults. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. No way.

She glared at her live reflection, then at Nestle. “You must think I would forget all you said now by creating that reflection of me didn’t you?” she asked with a poisonous voice. “Well, no way! As if you would understand! He didn’t pretend to like me! Who do you think you are?!” Gleam watched as the reflection moved in closer. Dirty. The girl fights dirty. “Who do you think you are?” she asked, backing away. “You don’t know anything!You don’t know him! How dare you! How dare you say all that when you killed him!” she could feel it again. The madness. The madness inside her about to break her. She hated it. She was disgusted by the witch and her disrespectful insults, but there were more important things to do at the moment. The live reflection. The live reflection was the main issue at the moment. How? How does one fight a reflection of themself? How?

Nestle smirked. Scared. The girl was scared of her own reflection. Wait. She would wait to get under her skin. She would send the reflection after her. The reflection would fight her. She smirked, and snapped her fingers at the reflection. Time, it was time to send it after her.

The reflected bared an evil smile and placed herself in front of Gleam. Cut. She had no free will of her own. The live reflection of Gleam raised her left arm into the form of a chop. As her gamma ray glass hit Gleam’s body, she let out an almost guttural scream. The reflection of her continued to shoot glass upper cuts around her guts as she only continued to attack. Her orders were quite strict.

As the upper cuts continued, Gleam managed to find an opening in the mirror color reflection of her. The stomach. The reflection’s stomach. As the reflection continued to with the uppercuts, Gleam waited. Waited for the moment. The moment to kick the live reflection’s stomach. As the wait became longer, and the upper cuts only became stronger, Gleam gave into her desires. Destroy, destroy the reflection. Destroy the rive reflection. Gleam placed her hand on the uppercut hand and held it captive. The reflection struggled and squirmed as she held onto the upper cutting arm. After a few moments, she placed her leg behind her back then thrust it forward into the live reflection’s stomach. As her foot throbbed with absolute pain, the reflection let out an almost mute scream. Within seconds, the reflection appeared to snap in half, and before anything else could be said or done, the reflection became nothing but mirror shards in front of her. Gleam smiled to herself as she picked up a half dozen of the mirror shards. Cut her, she would cut the girl to ribbons. Cut her. She would cut the girl.

Gleam charged at the witch. As the mirror shards had been locked into her hands, her eyes glowed red. Hungry, she was hungry. Hungry to destroy the witch. As she had gotten closer to the witch’s arm, she locked eyes at the vein. A vein, she would show her. Show what it felt like—what it felt like to get cut by the vein. What it felt like. Gleam smirked almost sinisterly as she placed the mirror shards onto Nestle’s arm. As she had found a vein, she placed the glass into a carving position. Gleam began. As the mirror shard made contact with Nestle’s arm, Gleam smirked. As a scar began to form, Gleam worked wonders up Nestle’s arm. As a large cut opened up on Nestle’s arm, Gleam removed the mirror shard and watched as the blood dropped from her. She would regret becoming like the Lethals, even for a moment. No, this couldn’t be happening; she couldn’t become like everyone else. She couldn’t but it was already too late to go back to what she once was. There was very little time life. She could stand less and less of herself as she became more and more of the monster the ocean was. She sighed internally. It was almost time, almost time to end the fight. Almost time to end the fight once and for all. She was getting sick of it. Sick of being a stranger to herself. She hated it more than everything that had already happened.

Within a moment after, Nestle grunted. The girl was no longer pathetic, she had done the unthinkable. Cut, she had cut her. Sovereign magic. She had to use her Sovereign magic to transfer the injury over. Transfer the injury over to the little feral girl’s arm. There was no way—no way she would allow such to happen.

She smirked and began the spell. “Sovereign of the Paradox!” she chanted. “Sending words opposite and more! One, two, three, four!” she placed her hand over the injury and began to prepare. Prepare the transfer. She moved onto the next part of the spell. “To heal is to injure, and to injure is to heal!” as the chant ended, the long scar on Nestle’s arm vanished. As the scar vanished, a piece of a mirror shard appeared in her hand. When the shard had been sharp enough, she ran over to Gleam and did the exact same procedure of which Gleam had done to her, only one and a quarter times stronger. She smiled evilly as the exact same amount of blood dropped from here. Did it; she had done it. Die, the girl would soon die. Proud, she was proud.

As Gleam soaked the attack in, she realized. Deserved, she deserved the strike. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t give into her thoughts. Not during battle, she couldn’t. Not now. Too soon, it was too soon to do such. She knew—magic. She had to use her human magic to heal the cut. To heal the cut before it robbed her. She couldn’t die now; she still had to get revenge. She had to. Heal; she had to heal her arm before it overtook her. Gleam formed her hands into a circle. In between the ceiling tiles and wall, her magic circle appeared. She wrote the words heal and poison enemy onto the magic circle. From the magic circle emerged two diamonds of different colors. A diamond colored light pink travelled to her side and over to her arm, producing a small light over her injured arm. As the entire scar vanished, the other diamond travelled over to Nestle’s side and close to her heart. Gleam watched as the diamond created a poison inside her heart. She watched quietly as the girl’s face in hopes of it becoming dead white, and for a purple aura to alert her that the poison had gone through. Time, it was almost time to kill, kill the witch for killing Chime.

Nestle laughed maniacally. Poison? How stupid; poison. Did the girl seriously think she could poison her? How stupid. She was stupid. Under her skin, she had to, yet again, get under her skin. Torment. She would again demean and insult the Chime boy. One shot left. Only one shot left until her death.

“Ha, ha! Did you really think poison would be enough to get me?” she asked childishly. “Thin again! Poison is a weak attack!” she pranced around and danced in a circle as she thought up her final insult before her fifth shot. As she had thought up the perfect insult, she inappropriately jumped up and spun in a circle stupidly. Get under her skin; she still had to get under her skin. Nestle smirked again and began. “This is ironic, really,” she said. “Reminds me of when I sent my eight girls in dresses after you! That poison was supposed to kill you, and it should have done so!” she giggled like a little girl. “Then, what do you know! The boy saved you!” continuously, the girl giggled disrespectfully. That should have been enough. Enough to get under her skin. “You should have just died then, Sovereign of Destruction. That would make everything so easy on me!”

Gleam formed her hand into a fist. She was behind her poisoning. The girl, the witch was behind her poisoning. She was behind it. Behind her poisoning. She couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand to see her there in front of her face anymore. Corpse, she had to turn her into a corpse. She could feel her entire body shake with hostility. She was behind it. She was behind her poisoning. The eight girls in the dresses. The eight girls in the dresses were under the control of the witch. She was behind it. She was behind her poisoning. She could feel it more than ever before—the hate. The hate she felt towards her. Corpse, she had to turn her into a corpse, but no, it was too soon. More, she had to find out more—more before she turned the witch into a corpse.

Gleam changed her expression to a face of fury. “So, you were the one behind my poisoning?” she asked with hostility. Unbelievable, this witch was unbelievable. “You’re unbelievable!” she could feel tears stream down her face, but wiped them off quickly. No. No crying allowed. She couldn’t cry—she couldn’t. “I hate you! I hate you! Why would you do that? You should have just come after me like everyone else! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I’m going to make you pay! I’m going to make you pay, you witch!”

Nestle smirked the way she had done when the Chime boy reacted to her words. Perfect, the girl’s reaction was perfect. She could say the exact same thing to the Sovereign of Destruction that she said to the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect. She initiated the same explanation as she had said before.

“Oh, please! What are you, four and three quarters?” she asked disrespectfully. “You know Sovereigns like us have people under our control. I had eight girls in dresses under my control. I wasn’t behind it! I told the girls to do whatever they please, and it just so happens that they chose to poison you! I had nothing to do with your poisoning! Don’t be a ♥♥♥♥♥! Before you go assume things, get your facts straight!” she did exactly what she did when she was leering Chime. She placed her hands on her face, attempting to sound cute. “You’re no different than me. You were using that Chime boy! He was working under you and you know it! And he ended up just like the eight girls who were under me!” as she said such, her eyes glowed green. Perfect, it was all leading to a perfect point.

There she went again. Went again with saying she was using Chime. She hated it. Hated the sound of it. The insults, she could barely take anymore insults. If she had said another, that would be it. No more, she couldn’t take the girl anymore. All she had done was demean and insult Chime. Disrespectful, the girl was so disrespectful. Why? Why didn’t Chime kill her when he got the first chance? How could he stand it? How could he stand by as she insulted him? How? She put her hand into a mutilating position and viciously glared at her. Sick of her, she was sick of her.

“We were friends!” she cried, fury rising inside her. “I’m not your kind!” she repeated again. “I would never resort to tactics like yours!” she could feel it. Feel the fury continue to rise in her voice. She was trembling inside. Afraid, she was afraid. Afraid of the monster she was becoming. “I didn’t use him! He was trying to protect me through and through! I wasn’t controlling him! He was my friend! How dare you demean us! How dare you!” she could feel her fury destroy her. Crack, another crack was forming.

Nestle smirked evilly. History was keen on repeating itself when two people were the same kind of moron. Same attack, she would send the same attack after her that she sent to her minions and Chime. Her final shot—her final shot before killing her.

“Speaking of which! You’ll love this attack I killed my minions, and what the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect was hit with!” she said, clapping her hands together like a two year old. “When the eight failed to kill you, they had no use to me!” she placed her hands into a meditating position to create her attack a second time in one day. “And since you look so desperate and eager to know how I killed them, it looked something like THIS!” Nestle’s hand began to glow red as she concentrated to herself. As the red glow became fiery and violent, a large rock with craters appeared in her hands. As the rock had gotten larger in size, a blue fire appeared over a red fire and surrounded the black rock filled with craters. After it had gotten large enough, Nestle winked and released a small giggle. After the small giggle, Nestle released the burning rock and sent it flying, charging steadfastly at Gleam. She laughed manically as the same events happened again.

Gleam stared at the insane, larger than life boulder on fire. She stared and noticed. Noticed how mesmerizing it was. As the space boulder began to make grace with her, she only stared. The space boulder was mesmerizing. As the space boulder made complete contact with her skin, she could feel a scream let loose inside her. Burn, the burn of the entire world could be felt in her body. She could feel it, feel the burn. The burn had felt nothing like she had ever felt before. Quickly, she snapped out of it, however. No time to feel a burn, there was no time for such. No weakness, she couldn’t show any weakness.

As Nestle was about to smirk demonically to prepare her killing blow, an abrupt luscious silver light shined throughout the entire hallway. The light, it was coming. The change in the entire world, anything, everything being possible, everything was about to happen. The reason. The reason she killed him was finally happening. It was finally happening. The silver light, the silver light was a sign. A sign of everything she could make possible into possibilities. Cause and effect. Cause and effect were about to go haywire. Anything, she would be able to do anything. One last session of getting under her skin. One last session. She smirked and decided. Decided. One last session. On last session of getting under her skin before killing her.

“Cause and effect are about to go haywire,” she said in a serious voice. “That means in twenty four hours, anything will be possible!” she glared at the girl evilly and began. Began the final session of getting under her skin. “Considering the fact that he fought your battles for you, Chime deserved to die! He deserved to die at my hands!” as she finished the final session of getting under her skin, she let out an extreme maniacal laugh. Perfect, it was perfect. Such a perfect way to get under the girl’s skin. Perfect, the choice was perfect. Die, the girl would die the same way. The same way the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect did. Perfect. Everything so far had been perfect.

Gleam held in her anger this time. Enough. That was enough. She couldn’t take her anymore. Enough. She had enough of the witch. Corpse. It was time. Time to get rid of the witch. Her life could no longer be allowed to continue. One insult too many, it was just one insult too many. It was time; time to unveil her hidden defense.

“You know what?” she stated. “I’ve had enough of you.” As she said such, she rummaged through her inside pockets until she could feel the object she had been looking for. When she had come across the object, she smiled. Time, it was time. “And just so you know,” she said. The sound of a gun cocking could be heard as she removed the object from the insides of her pockets. “I’m not going easy on you.” She pointed the gun and prepared. Prepared for her glorious moment.

Nestle smirked and then changed such to an even bigger devious grin. Nice girl, the boy said. What a joke. “And to think he called you a nice girl!” she cried sarcastically. “I didn’t know nice girls carried around guns!” she knew. Knew this was the end. Her only weakness had been revealed. Late, it was too late to run.

“Goodbye, Nestle Mantle.”

After a moment’s thought, Gleam decided. The stomach, she would aim for the stomach. When such had been established, she placed her finger on the trigger. No regrets no regrets. As she breathed in one more time, she was ready—ready to kill the witch. Gleam nailed the trigger. As she let go of the trigger, three bullets raced from the gun and charged at Nestle’s stomach steadfastly. As the bullets made grace with Nestle’s stomach, she watched as the blood from the gunshot became evident. She had no need to use the weapon again. Three bullets, three bullets had been enough. She watched as Nestle Mantle’s body had been lifeless. Successful, she was successful. There was no possible way the girl could be alive anymore. The battle was over. Gleam placed the gun into her back pocket and walked over to the corpse of Chime Nume.

“Thank you, Chime, for everything,” she said to Chime’s dead body. “Enjoy the afterlife. I’ll be joining you soon…”

End of chapter twenty two, next to come: a tainted innocence of one once lost. Tainted Pureled enters and divides. One will be led to believe she was pure as windpipes fall short of being useful.


Remember that gun from chapter four? I never did say what happened to it, now did I?

Surprise, surprise.

Why is it possible for Gleam to have killed Nestle with only three bullets?

Go back to chapter 19, I 'm not spilling out answers here.
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green


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Age 22
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Standing Creation - Vanguard Duosoard.

Chapter 23; Led to believe she was Pure when in the end, she was merely Tainted.

Two days flowed by almost undeniably slow. It was almost as if every minute was a day and every day had been a year. Two days of slow moving. It was as if the world died. It was as if the entire world died, and Gleam wanted it. She wanted the world to die—wanted the world to rot away. She wondered, wondered if she could use her magic to make the world rot away. She sought to cause the world to rot. She wouldn’t have to be in a world without Chime anymore. If the world were to rot, she could be with Chime. She laughed to herself in the despair of it all. Rot away, the world should just rot away. She wondered in her further despair—what would a rotted world even look like? She craved to see the result. But she knew. Knew that her power wasn’t making objects, or a planet for that matter, to rot. She knew that wasn’t possible. So, she wondered. Wondered why she thought it were a thought in the first place. Stupid, it was a stupid thought and she knew it. Still, she knew. Knew it was what she wanted. The world, the world needed to rot. She was sick of it, sick of being in a world where there was nothing sacred. A world where everything is robbed from her. She hated it. Hated the world, she was sick of the world and wanted it to rot. Rot and stay rotted. A world that didn’t exist. A world that was entirely rotted. There was nothing left. There was nothing left to save her. Nothing left to save her, and she knew it. Rot, the world had to rot—there had to be a way. A way to make the world rot. She knew, knew that it wasn’t possible. Stupid, the thought was stupid, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered so as long as she was alone. She knew there was nothing left, absolutely nothing left. Nothing left, there was nothing left. Tedious everything was tedious.

She was forcing herself to sleep on the outside of a random dorm room. She couldn’t. Couldn’t—couldn’t go back into Chime’s dorm room. There was no way. She lacked the key, and she knew, knew if she even were able to get inside, she knew; knew she would wait for something that would never come. She had no right to go back into his dorm room. The room did not belong to him; it did not belong to her. No right, she had no right to dominate his room. Behind, all she could do was leave the room behind. She made a decision to stay away. Stay away from her dorm room, however. There was no way. No way she was going to go back—go back to her old doom room. Room 372, Room 372 no longer existed. Room 372 was gone from her mind—it never would exist again. In the absence of Chime’s existence, she had only one option. She had no choice. Room 372 does not exist; the key to her room did not, either. As soon as such was determined, she removed the key from her pocket and watched as it fell on the gravity of the entire world. Watches as the key that didn’t exist float down into the crack in the cement two stories down. The key had been no more—there was no chance. No chance for her to sleep on a couch anymore. No chance to return her into her no longer existing room. There was no chance to return. No chance to go back. Back into any dorm room. No memories would trigger. No memories would flow back. The floor near a random dorm room. She cared too little—cared too little to look, look to see the number of the dorm room. All she knew was that it was nowhere near the room that no longer existed, and nowhere near the room of memories. Over, nothing had been left standing. Nothing was left anymore. Everything was robbed from her, everything.

She still remembered. Remembered everything. Remembered everything about Chime. She remembered everything. She knew that two days was not enough time. It was not enough time to forget. It was not enough time to forget he ever existed. The memories. The memories of him stung. The memories stung insanely. It hurt—the memories. The memories hurt too much. Blood, the memories were stained with blood. The most recent memory stung. It would not leave. The memory, the memory was trapped. She couldn’t escape it—the memories. The memory had too firm of a grip. Too firm of a grip on her. Flashbacks, the flashbacks wouldn’t stop. The memory—it was as if she wasn’t allowed to forget it. It was as if she was stuck with the memory. As the memory continued to brush into her mind, invading her, she could feel a scream come inside her. Why did it have to be this way? The memories stung. All the memories stuck. Was it all a nightmare? Was it a permanent nightmare? She knew if it was, she wanted to escape it. She wanted to escape the nightmare. The memories, the memories would never stop—stop stinging. Even the memories filled with happiness had stung. She wondered, wondered if Chime would mind. Mind if she forced herself to forget. Forced herself to forget him. Selfish, the very thought. Selfish—it was a disgusting and selfish thought. As much as she wanted to force herself to forget, she knew that to be selfish and disgusting. There was no way, as much as she wanted to force herself to, the memories were engraved—engraved into her cerebrum. It was too late, too late to erase the memories. Erase the memories from her cerebrum.

Save him, she could have saved him. Why? Why didn’t she save him? She could have saved him. She could have sacrificed herself to save him. She could have saved him, and she knew it. She knew she could have. She should have died instead. Died, she should have died instead. She should have been the corpse. She should have. She should have been turned into a corpse and released from the world. Dirty, her life was so dirty. Her life was a dirty life. She got to live while Chime was dead. Dirty, her life was dirty. Dirty, her life was dirty life that she knew she didn’t deserve. Her life—her life was a dirty one. Robbing the future of others while hers only continued. Dirty, her life was dirty. Taking the life of others while hers shined. She wondered if the ocean felt any sympathy for those they killed. To steal the future others. Did the ocean feel any sympathy? She knew—knew that could not have been possible. The ocean, the ocean was not like that, and she knew it. She knew such had to be the truth. It was the cruel and horrible truth. It was the cruel and horrible truth, and she knew it.

Gleam remembered five days ago. The announcement still had rung wired into her mind. Five days later, and the words were now of complete permanence. The words were a towel ring; she was the towel. Five days and nothing was becoming better. She soon realized, realized it was somehow going to remain the way it was permanently. The creator was gone. Everyone had been left there to die. With each day, the program had less and less people within. Even the ocean was a collection of people out to get her; she knew—knew that there had to be some people who were nothing like that. She wondered, wondered if the person who could have been in the dorm room she had been standing near was part of the ocean. She wondered. She knew, knew the room was empty. The room was empty. The room was empty, and she knew if it wasn’t, someone would have come out of the room to kill her by now. Obvious as obvious came—not a single human had existed. Existed in that hallway. It was obvious. She wanted to be shocked, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel such. Too late, it was too late to feel utter shock. She could not unsee. She could not unlive the moment. The moment was robbed from her. The creator, the creator stole the good moments she almost craved for. The creator’s announcement was disgusting, and she knew. Knew that he would never return. Over, it was all over.

She noticed, noticed the lack of people. The lack of people going after her at that point of time. Day by day, the number of people had to have been getting smaller. The population, the population had to have been less than seventy five. Five days, and the number of people had to have dropped by at least twenty. She didn’t understand, didn’t understand where the assumption came from, but something was biting at her. Something she understood none. The permanent and cruel alone time didn’t help her, and she knew. Knew it wasn’t ever going to. It was never going to be of help to her—being alone. It helped none. It helped none to be alone, but she knew. Knew it would forever remain that way.

In the two days without anyone, she did not once reflect on the murder she committed. She refused to, refused to even think about it. She was already used to the hell, already to the torture. Twenty two people. Twenty two people killed by, killed by her hands and magic. Twenty two futures stolen. Twenty two lives completely mutilated and removed from the planet. She wondered what to call the feeling she had been experiencing, but she didn’t care to name it. Massacre machine, she was nothing more than a massacre machine. Twenty two people, despite all of it was the same to the creator, it was still a massacre. Massacre machine, she was a massacre machine.

A massacre machine and she knew it. She was a dirty, massacre machine. She figured, figured all Sovereigns had to be like that. She was no better anyone anymore. The program—the program destroyed who she was before. Even if she could, she decided against it, decided against thinking about how it used to be for her. The time to be a little over excited girl with a dream was gone. The dream she had, for her life to change had most certainly come true. Her life had changed, changed into a life she hated. She could feel herself taking back her original thought about not regretting to be born. She felt it, the regret; the regret of being born. She regretted it—regretted being born entirely. Pointless, she knew by now that being a Sovereign was her fate that had been carved into stone. Her fate to have been a Sovereign was obviously no accident. It was the one thought; the one thought that rarely raced in her mind. If she was not a Sovereign, if was not a Sovereign, her existence would have never had happened. She decided it was the truth, the cruel and absolute truth. There was no avoiding it—no avoiding the truth.

The truth, the truth was an evil creature that would always live. The truth, the truth was the absolute inevitable. The truth, the truth would always be there to ruin everything. She wished. Wished it were all a lie; wished everything was a lie. A thought she had to cast aside—a lie. Everything being a lie. She couldn’t give into the thought; the truth. The truth had chained her. The truth was a controlling mastermind, the truth, the truth had tyrannical properties. Tyrant, the truth was an absolute tyrant in disguise. The truth was the worst tyrant. A tyrant, the truth was a tyrant.

A lie, why couldn’t it all have been a lie? Why couldn’t everything have been a lie? The truth, the truth was a tyrant. A tyrant she could never escape from. The truth, the truth would always win—she barely had an escape. A lie? Why couldn’t it all have been a lie? Why couldn’t the program have been a long, coma state nightmare? Why couldn’t everything she had experienced have just been a fabrication? She wished it to be, craved it to be; wanted it to be the answer. A coma nightmare, why wouldn’t it have been such? A come, why wouldn’t it be a coma? Why couldn’t it all have been a vivid nightmare?

A nightmare. It should have been a nightmare. The thoughts—the thoughts inside her were in entire overdrive. Nothing—nothing could block the thoughts from flowing, nothing. Stuck, she had been stuck with the thoughts that had been the current bother. She had too much—too much on her mind, and it transcended. Transcended into something more. There was nothing to calm her down. Nothing, nobody, to comfort her. Nothing to save her from the swirling black hole inside her. Crashing, everything was crashing, everything was burning. Everything was crashing and burning inside her, and she had nothing, nobody to save her, comfort her, nothing, nobody. Loneliness, she finally understood what it truly meant—meant to be lonely. The loneliness had been absent for almost four months, and it had come back, come back with a blood draining vengeance. A blood draining vengeance and she had been forced to experience it all over again.

Gleam rubbed the sides of her hair with her hands and screamed out of nowhere. Torture, standing there, in a random hallway near a random dorm room alone with her thoughts. Watching her, someone had to have been watching her. Away, she had to run away. She couldn’t stay there—couldn’t stay where she had been grounded. Watching her, someone was watching her. Run away, she had to run far away. Gleam rose to her feet staggered weakly for a moment as she had become mobile. Within a moment’s calling she could feel the freak feeling again and continued to run frantically. Away, she had to get away. Stupidly, however, she did not notice, notice the disgusting truth in front of her. A group—a group of three had been lurking, lurking in the shadows of a corner. The three watched as Gleam had come entirely close to their range. Before Gleam could find the group of three watching her, she again felt the feeling—watching her, someone was watching her.

The group of three spiritually gulped. Lord Tainted, Lord Tainted would be proud if they hit the Sovereign of Destruction in the back of the head. Tell her once they constrained her, tell her the challenge Lord Tainted had settled before it was too late to tell her. Seeing the girl had run there meant she had fallen into their lord’s trap. The mini leader in the group of three sighed and picked up the shovel a monotonous gulped. He did not feel his heart stop, all had been good. As the boy Gleam had no awareness of had gone behind her back, before she could run, the boy took his metal shovel and violently thrashed the back of her head. Not knowing what hit her, Gleam dropped to the ground. As her body dropped, the group of three took the limbs of the girl and placed them in her arms as they kidnapped the girl reluctantly. Familiar—the world had been in repeat, repeat, and the unconscious Gleam was not aware of any of it. The lair, the lair would abuse. Abuse the term familiar.


Gleam had come to practically four hours after. As she had been brought back into the world, she could feel the bash in the back of her head. As she had regained consciousness, she studied the location she had been brought to. She noticed the very home style features left behind. The place of which she had taken to had no windows. Dark, the room had been very dark. There had been no signs of a sun’s influence in a practicality of a creation of the program. The room—the room looked like a den. A den she had seen when she looked around at houses through windows one time when she went through a looking through window phase at age seven. She continued to examine the room further. The room still had many den qualities. A television had been in the corner, on with images of grey snow in constant on the screen. She could hear the sound of static on the television. She looked down on what she was constrained to, and from something familiar, something soft. When she had been placed in a sofa bed, she held in her scream. A sofa, she was on a sofa, not a couch. She looked around and examined the room more—there had been a long, dark blue rug covering the floor, but nothing else seemed to exist within the confines of the place of which she had been abducted to. She had also noticed, dress—her body had been no longer covered by her usual clothes, but a dress. Undressed her—the people had undressed her. Dirty, the abductors were dirty; she noticed, however, the lack of ropes or chains restraining her. Freely, she could move freely. She wondered, wondered how come her abductors didn’t tie her up. Strange, it was all too strange. She decided not to think about it—it was best to leave it be for now. She would wait, wait until the people had come back to ask them—why they did the vile act of undressing her and putting her in a white dress. She wanted to know why. Why would they do such a vile act?

Eventually, a set of three people’s footsteps could be heard. Three—three people. Connection to a Sovereign. They had to have a connection to a Sovereign. They had to have. Gleam gulped. Another Sovereign, another Sovereign was about to ruin her again. She remembered out of nowhere—two, there had only been a total of two Sovereigns left. Two Sovereigns left, and that was it. No such thing, there was never such a thing. Never such a thing of being free from people after her.

Eventually, the people and she met. Gleam examined the people of which abducted her. The abductors, the abductors had practically white hair; it was as if they had grown old at age eight. The three, the three had seemed slightly younger than her, maybe eleven, but older than Seriphard. The three were about the same height as her, but from her angle, she could not tell. The three wore practically white clothes, it was as if everything was had lost its pigments from the lack of sunlight. The abductors did not look aggressive. They, in fact, looked intimidated by something. Intimidated by something—intimidated by a larger force. She knew it more than ever before now—a Sovereign, they were working under a Sovereign. As a scream was about to become hers, however, the child in the middle had begun to speak. The voice, the voice had been male.

“P-please don’t freak out, okay?” the boy said. “W-we have our reasons for doing this.” He tapped his foot on the ground anxiously. Freak out; the girl was going to freak out. The boy turned to the female in the group. The girl would be better at handling this, and he knew it.

Gleam further stared at the girl. The girl also had white hair. She must have been eleven—the look on her face told her. She wanted to know—wanted to know why would children younger than her undress her? The girl had long, wavy hair and had looked deprived, deprived of anything. She wanted to know, know why these children, why these children would remove her clothes and redress her, vile, it was vile.

The girl spoke timidly. “Yes, p-please don’t freak out. We don’t’ want to hurt you,” she whispered. “Please just give us a minute to tell you why we kidnapped you…” the girl waved her hands back and forth as she attempted to make sure the girl remained calm. She could tell by the look on her face—could tell she was going to freak out. It was a strange sensation. A strange sensation to see someone older than her someone older than her to freak out. A sensation—a strange sensation, it was a strange sensation. A strange sensation to have been experienced.

Gleam couldn’t not believe the words she had just heard. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out. How couldn’t she freak out? Undressed her and changed her into a dress. Unacceptable as unacceptable came, it was unacceptable as unacceptable came. She wasn’t’ about to listen—wasn’t about to listen to the people who knocked her unconscious and changed her clothes in such time frame—answers. She wanted answers—she needed answers. She was not going to listen, not going to listen to their answers until they told her why. Why they changed her clothes. Gleam changed her expression to an exaggerated gesture before speaking. Not willing to listen, she was far from willing to listen.

“I’ll only listen and give you a minute when you tell me why changed my clothes,” she replied apprehensively. “Tell me why you would do that to me! I’m older than you, and yet you undress me and change my clothes! That’s vile!” if they had no reason—Nestle, they would end up just like Nestle Mantle. A corpse, the three would become a corpse. “Depending on your answer,” she said. “I might destroy you.” As she said such, her eyes glowed a red color. Red, the color of blood. Nature, she was already acting like her Sovereign nature. She couldn’t—couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape her Sovereign nature. She shook her head as she thought such. No, calm, she knew, calm. She could not lose it now—later, she could scream later. Now was not the time. She had to remain calm, she had to. Answer, how would they answer? She waited, waited on the group’s answer.

The girl turned to the member next to her. She couldn’t answer, could not answer the question. The agendered one of the group, the agendered one of the group was the only one, the only one of which who could provide the answer. The agendered member, they were the one. The only one of which who could provide the answer. The agendered member, they were the one. The one who changed her clothes. She could not answer the question. The agendered member, the agendered member had to answer the question.

The agendered member placed their fingers in their hair and groaned. Why? Why did they have to answer the question? Why in Milaturia did they have to? Vile? It was anything but vile; her clothes were vile. The clothes stunk; orders, it was orders.

In fear of saying the wrong thing, they answered quietly. “It was our orders,” he answered. “Her Lordness Tainted disapproves of dirty clothes.” They removed their hand from their white hair and put on glasses to make his vision become stronger. “If you woke up naked, you would scream,” he answered monotone. “We put you in a dress to prevent the travesty. We’re sorry. We were ordered to clean your clothes and redress you. If such angers you, we’ll give your clothing back now.”

Gleam blinked—ordered to clean her clothes? The three people, the three people didn’t have a will of their own. Evil, turning the three of them into corpses would be unjust and cruel. It would be unjust and cruel. She couldn’t; couldn’t even so much as touch them. Listen, she would listen to what they had to tell her. It was obvious to her—obvious to her that they were being forced to do everything that had befallen. She could tell—tell it wasn’t of their choosing, wasn’t of their choosing to try to hurt her. Benign, the three were benign. She sighed, she couldn’t destroy them—they weren’t dangerous enough.

“Okay,” Gleam answered reluctantly. “I’m willing to listen.” Her expression changed almost instantly as her face darkened. “Tell me what you need to.” Lord Tainted? She wondered. Wondered who this lord of which the agendered one spoke of. She knew, however, that was the least of her business. She did not need to know—did not need to know who this Tainted lord was. She only needed to know the reason: the reason of which she had been kidnapped. She knew, knew whom of which they had been speaking of was not her business. Out of it—she had to stay out of it. Listen, she would listen to the reason of her abduction and would not ask further questions. She wouldn’t. “I won’t…” Gleam said, drifting off. “Destroy you, depending on your answer, promise.”

The three looked at one another. Who? Who of them would tell her? Who would tell the Sovereign of Destruction? Who would tell the Sovereign of Destruction why they had abducted her? Who would tell her? They stared at each other; it wasn’t easy to say what they were about ti—it wasn’t easy to give out the challenge. They knew, knew it would be difficult. Correctly, they had to state Lord Tainted’s challenge correctly or it would be curtains. They looked at each other. Who? Who was going to tell her? They couldn’t—couldn’t leave it in the dark. They had to—they had no time to waste. The boy in the center stepped forward and prepared almost out of nowhere, without even thinking it over. He had to explain, he had to. The presiding fact that time was ticking, the fact that time was ticking meant for action.

“P-please listen carefully,” the boy in the middle answered. “Lord Tainted told us to tell you…” the boy dropped into thought and carefully worded, carefully, worded carefully what he wanted to say in his mind. He had to, had to say exactly, exactly what Lord Tainted had said. He knew. Knew he had to copy, copy the words she had said exactly. He breathed one last time to state perfectly—state perfectly what Lord Tainted said. “Lord Tainted says,” the boy started to say. “She says… ‘Sovereign of Destruction, I challenge you to a battle in the Attic of Secrets. You had better come, or die from my powers, huzzah.’ She says… you need to come within forty five hours or she’ll kill you by making you swallow your teeth.” Perfectly, had he replicated Lord Tainted’s words perfectly? He wondered, wondered if he had replicated the words—the words correctly. He knew, knew if he didn’t, Lord Tainted would be furious. Lord Tainted, Lord Tainted would kill them. Kill them, mutilate them, and they all knew. The middle boy breathed and spoke last time before stopping. “S-she has instructed me to give you this map to get into the attic,” she answered. As he had said such, he removed the map given to him to hand to the girl. With force, he handed the map to her. Perfectly replicating what had been instructed. Had been permanently perfect in being the leader of the three? He knew that it would not become true; his positive qualities—his positive qualities were stolen and added to Lord Tainted’s power. He would never be perfect. He would never have a good quality as long as he lived. “W-we’re sorry for kidnapping you. We couldn’t say no to Lord Tainted. S-she is a really frightening S-Sovereign.” He could feel himself continue to cower. Should he have said that? Should he have went and revealed Lord Tainted’s true identity? He could hear the sound of a tick near his heart. No, it was a bad move, a very bad move, a stupid move. His moments, his moments were becoming supremely limited. Less time—he had done a supremely stupid thing.

Gleam stared at the white haired boy. Tainted, the person they had deemed their lord, Tainted had been a Sovereign. Tainted was a Sovereign—after her, the Sovereign had been after her. She was sick of it—sick of the Sovereigns coming after her. There wasn’t a need. Wasn’t a need for it anymore. Wasn’t a need for her to fight the Sovereigns anymore. She wondered, wondered which Sovereign this Tainted person had been. She looked at the three cronies. Could she ask? She shook her head, not her business, it was not her business.

“I can’t believe this,” Gleam said. “She could have just challenged me in person! Why couldn’t she have done so?” completely missing the point, she knew she was completely missing the point.

The girl looked at the boy. She remembered, remembered Lord Tainted had told her. Told her to be in charge of the clean clothes retrieval. Before anything had been done, the girl walked over to the washing machine in the other room and removed the single pair of clothes inside. As the clothes had been dried and clean, she returned to the room and handed Gleam her clothes. Speak, she had to speak.

“She wants you to fight in the clothes you came her in,” she said with no personality or diction in voice. “We’ll turn around so you can change.”

Gleam sighed. Why was it so important? Why was it so important what she wore into battle? As the moments passed, Gleam removed the dress from her body and placed herself back in her regular clothes. Better, it had felt better to be in her own clothes. She hid her personal smile to be allowed to come onto her face. She glared at the eleven year olds—why? Why had they looked so weak and in pain? She knew, knew she couldn’t question it—not her business. It was not her business.

The boy in the middle shook harder. The ticking, the ticking in his chest had begun to get louder. His time, his time was almost up in the world. Leave, he had to get his abductee out of there before it would be too late.

“U-um, Gleam, right?” he asked. “G-Gleam, ma’am, we’re sorry, but the playdate is over.”

Gleam tilted her head in the confusion of what had been said. Playdate, playdate? She didn’t understand, codewords—it all had to have been a codeword. Codewords of the eleven year old society. She decided, decided not to question. Decided not to question what had been said.

“Pl…” she said, stopping mid sentence, correcting her word flow. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “You’re not going to kill me, right?” her voice almost raised into a fury. No, she couldn’t, benign, the children were benign. “Why are you saying that all of a sudden?” she asked, correcting herself.

The boy in the middle placed his hand over his shirt tenaciously. With all the strength in his beaten body, he ripped the shirt off as if he were ripping a telephone book in half. As there had been less shirt and more body, a sight to horrify appeared on the body of the boy. As Gleam examined the body, she noticed—wires, wires were placed inside the boy’s body. Inwardly towards the chest, Gleam could see a black screen with the numbers zero, zero, zero, five, zero, zero, three and six. A timer, the screen was a timer. Behind the screen—behind the screen had to be a box, a box. As she had realized to of which the object had been, she screamed at the top of her lungs. A bomb—the Tainted person they had labeled their lord had implemented bombs—bombs into their bodies. Cruel, that was too cruel. How could anyone do that to anybody? Inhumane, it was perfectly inhumane, and should have been against the law. Gleam could feel a shout about to steal her. No, cruel, that was too cruel.

“Why?!” Gleam cried. “Why would she strap bombs to your chests?! That’s awful!” she could feel tears ruin her face. Cruel, it was all too cruel. “You’re doing everything she said, right? So, why? Why would she do that to you? Why?! It’s inhumane!”

The main boy did not even have to ponder about the answer to such question. “She wants us all to die,” he answered expressionless. “She stole everything there was to steal. This was all a game to her.” As the clock’s time accelerated, the boy flinched. “…We… don’t have much time left. This is all we have to say, so y-you can leave.”

Gleam got off her feet and quickly headed for the door of the lair she had been taken into. She ran as tears struck her face adeptly. Cruel, Sovereigns were cruel to humanity. While she understood why, she still deemed it was wrong. Innocent people did not deserve, innocent people did not deserve the torture they were given. A lesson, she would teach this Sovereign a lesson. As her goal was settled, she proceeded to find the Attic of Secrets. A lesson, she would teach this Sovereign a lesson.


The Attic of Secrets was bare. Nothing representing a secret had even been left behind. All and all, she knew. Knew the name was a direct lie. The name was a direct lie. It was all a lie, no secret, there were no secrets. Gleam had studied the attic as to best her ability as the light would allow. The attic was a common practice in most old houses. Wooden, the entire attic was of a wood setting. There was nothing unusual about the attic; it had been the most common example of a hideout she had ever laid eyes on. The name, Attic of Secrets, lie, it had to have been a lie. It was a bare attic, there was nothing in it. It was obvious, obvious that the secrets were removed. The secrets had been removed when the creator had escaped five days ago. The attic, the attic must have once been the location of the creator’s hidden stashes of documents or something else of such category. Sense, it made sense as to why a Sovereign would pick such as their lair.

As the clock beat, a figure had walked up the stairs of the attic. As Gleam noticed the figure coming in contact with her, she stayed put. Not enough space, there was not enough space to run away. As the figure came into contact with her, the hand of the figure pushed gleam onto the ground and placed themself on Gleam in an almost explicit manner. Due to how close the person had been to her, she could not get a clear description of her appearance. Within moments, the figure spoke to her.

“Hello, Sovereign of Destruction!” she called, holding her down. “I’m Tainted Pureled! The Sovereign of Innocence and I’m anything but!” the expression, the expression of her voice had a high ego, and Gleam disliked it. “Seems like my cronies wasted their last moments in life telling you my challenge! Wonderful!” inwardly, she pressed herself in, she loved the sound, the sound of her struggle.

Gleam struggled and squirmed as the Tainted person had hoisted her. Her eyes became as large as she had learned the girl’s identity. Tainted Pureled, the Sovereign of Innocence. Responsible, she was the one responsible for placing bombs in the eleven year olds chests. Innocence, virginity, the girl was trying to rob her of her virginity. No, no way, she wouldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t allow the girl to do such to her. Innocence, virginity, just what was the girl planning? Off of her, she had to get the girl off of her.

“Get off of me! I’m twelve!” Gleam cried. “A-and besides, I’m not your kind!” Gleam blushed slightly out of embarrassment. Too much, the last line was too much.

Tainted laughed maniacally. Innocence as in virginity? Fell for it, the girl fell for the trick. The girl fell for the trick. Before removing herself, she felt the urge, the urge to correct. “Oh, please!” she cried. “Did you think I was the Sovereign of Sex? I have nothing to do with that!” as she finished her sentence, she removed her body from Gleam’s and stood. “My power is to steal good qualities from people and feed off of them, sweetheart! I did just that to rile you up!” she cracked yet another laugh. Priceless, the look was priceless.

As there had been enough space between the two now, Gleam could get a clear picture of what the Sovereign of Innocence looked like. Tainted had medium length hair that was tapped at about just above the chest. Her hair was obnoxiously wave; she had outer space colored her that sparkled beautifully like it had done so on the outer space color crayon from her childhood. She had violet eyes, the color of an aurora borealis. Her hair further spouted a side ponytail in a mini format—she bet that the males in the program swooned at the site. The girl was extremely tall, almost feet from her standpoint. The girl was seventeen, oldest, she was the oldest Sovereign. He breasts had been huge, as her ego had been. Gleam’s eyes travelled to the girl’s clothes. The girl had been wearing extremely lacy clothing, almost silk. Lingerie? Was it lingerie? The girl must have had a lot to say. A lesson, she had to teach the girl a lesson. Human magic, they would fight with human magic, she would demand, demand for the use of human magic.

“I don’t care!” Gleam cried. “Tell me why you planted bombs in those people whom you call your cronies chests!” she made sure her voice sounded demanding. “When we battle, we will use our human magic!” Gleam demanded again. The Attic of Secrets, the Attic of Secrets would be too dangerous to destroy. “Don’t give me fake answers,” she said. Destroy threat, she had to make a destruction thread. “Answers like will lead to the destruction of your lungs!” her eyes glowed red as she said such. No, no she was giving in again, giving into her Sovereign nature.

Tainted laughed to herself. Simple question, what a stupidly simple question. She could answer such a simple question. She could answer that within moments. Human magic, however, she had not used once in her life, but that would be for later. Such a simple answer. Easy kill. What an answer. She wanted to see, wanted to see how the little girl would react. Would react when she told her. Told her why she did it. She loved it, loved how she would react so stupidly to such. Ready, she was ready to see, see the Sovereign of Destruction reaction.

“Why did I plant bombs into my crony’s chests?” she asked in repeat. She could be seen playing with her fingers as she asked herself. “Simple, really!” she formed her left hand into a huge pointer finger. “If I strap bombs into their chests, everything they say will count against them, and I can smile in their faces when they die!” not what she had in mind, not what she had in mind, but the words worked. “You don’t understand what it means to be a Sovereign, do you? Humanity deserves bombs strapped to their chests!” human magic. How would she show her the correct human magic to steal her positive qualities? She smirked to herself. She would wait until the girl shot off again, bite, she would bite the girl.

Gleam growled and balled her hand into a fist. It didn’t matter what humanity did to people; it didn’t matter—those specific people did not deserve it. The three cronies didn’t deserve the fate she had forced upon them. Cruel that was so cruel. She barely understood, however, what she had what it meant, what it meant to be a Sovereign. She knew, knew that this was not about that—she wouldn’t fall for that, she wouldn’t.

“Still,” Gleam said. “It’s inhumane! You can’t do that to a person!” she could feel a shake embrace her. An overwhelming feeling to use her Sovereign magic against her, she had an overwhelming feeling to use her Sovereign magic against her.

Tainted smirked. What a wonderful reaction. Trembling, the little girl was trembling. A perfect time to attempt, to attempt to use her magic before she continued to entertain herself with the little girl’s dumb reactions—her reactions, her reactions entertained her.

Tainted could only think. Think of two spells. As she waited for eyes to be on her, she drew a triangle with her fingers against the air. With her other hand, she tugged her hair. As such had been established, Tainted’s right hand and arm began to transform into something of a monster. On her head appeared a fin that had been timberwolf grey. After the fin had completely appeared on the head, the second transformation of the monster began. Tainted’s eyes shimmered and had only gotten brighter as the transformation continued. Within seconds, the shape of her hand changed into a sea creature, as the transformation ended, Tainted’s arm had been an actual hand. The arm had been shaped to an almost three dimensional triangle elongated into a sharp end. On the sides appeared gills. On the center of the timberwolf triangle appeared forty five fangs smirking. The eyes, the eyes were barely visible, but they had been there. The arm, the arm of the Sovereign needed to be broken. Broken to bits. Tainted placed her transformed arm behind her back and charged at Gleam relentlessly. As her body had been in front of hers, she placed her new arm from in front of Gleam’s arm. She pets the sea creature in place of the limb, and the sea creature viciously smiled. Tainted placed her arm over Gleam’s and the sea creature’s fangs clamped down on Gleam’s arm. No escape, there was no escape from the sea creature’s grip.

As the idea she mentioned human magic hit her, Gleam realized, not expecting what had just emerged. She did not expect the attack. The fangs were sinking deep and she could feel it. She could feel the fangs ripping—ripping her arm off—the fangs, the fangs were causing havoc. As the fangs continued to break into Gleam’s skin, she screamed. Breaking apart, it was as if her arm was going to be ripped off, ripped off by a shark. A shark, the holes left behind were going to bleed, bleed, and she knew it. To the humiliation of dying from a sharp bite, she forced herself to struggle. Get it off, she had to get the fangs off of her before she died. She had to.

“Get it off me!” she cried weakly. “Stop it! Get it off me! You’re going to rip my arm off!”

Tainted gasped a fake gasp. Powerful, the attack was too powerful. She had every right to rip her arm off, but didn’t want to, didn’t want to her, didn’t want to hear the girl’s constant complaints. She pets the sea creature and within moments, the fin cascaded onto her head faded along with the shark. As such now was normal, she backed away. She smirked, smirked a malicious smirk. Now she could teach her—teach her how, how humanity, humanity treated her.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she said, providing a broken grin. “What you just felt was an example of how disgusting humanity is!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. She’d show her a world and get her to understand, understand what a Sovereign goes through. She had no idea. No idea. No idea of the hell, the hell she went through pre Mariibo Rumaibo. “You may not agree, Sovereign of Destruction, but after what humanity did to me, I’d strap bombs to everyone’s chest!” as the approach to of which the conversation was going, it was time—time to mention her Sovereign magic. “And those few people who have good qualities? Those people are my food! Humanity doesn’t understand what a Sovereign is, and neither do you.” A hint of sarcasm could be heard at the end of the sentence.

Gleam stared at the holes bleeding in her arm. The pain, the pain of the blow, the pain of the chomp. All the way through, the attack had pierced a hole entirely through the skin of her arm. Before collapsing, she did what she had to. Gleam placed a bandage over the hole formed. She wondered, wondered if she had done the correct bandaging, but now was not the time, now was not the time to decide such. Lesson, she had to teach the girl a lesson. No, she couldn’t, she couldn’t believe, she couldn’t believe the girl’s logic. Counter, she had to counter the logic. Gleam tried to form her hands into a circle, but no attack would form, nor would any magic circle appear. The pain, the pain of the hole, the hole was preventing anything—any attack from occurring. She could feel a scream hurl as she continued to be weakened by the holes. No, she couldn’t give in, she couldn’t give into the pain.

“Don’t say that I don’t understand!” Gleam cried. “You have no right to put words into my mouth!” destroy—she could feel the overwhelming desire again—destroy she had to destroy her. “Stop this, will you? Innocent people do not deserve torture! That’s so cruel!” she repeated. “You’re going about everything all wrong!” more, there was more she wanted to say, but nothing worked.

Tainted smirked. Wonderful, the fury was wonderful looking. She had to continue, had to continue causing fury inside her until it led to her perfect performance, her stealing of the girl’s good qualities. Continue, she had to continue the conversation. The conversation at hand.

“I am not putting words into your mouth, sweetheart!” she answered sarcastically. “Funny how you don’t understand. You’ve seen the brutalities of humanity—they’ve been brutal to you, too; don’t deny it!” she had remembered, remembered the talk around the program. The Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect had saved her life many times. What was his human, name, Chime? Bring the boy into the conversation; she would bring the boy into the conversation. “I know you know,” she said. “Other Sovereign cronies went after you, and it had only been due to the boy of whom you knew as Chime saved your sorry butt! If he wasn’t a Principal, he would do the same thing to you that society did to us!” she stopped. Wait, she would wait for her reaction. Take her good qualities; she would take her good qualities. Within a moment’s time after, as the thoughts sedated, her eyes glowed violet. Easy, all of this had been so easy.

Gleam could feel the ever stronger desire. Lesson, she would destroy her, Chime was brought into the conversation. Chime was slipped in. No, wrong, she was trying to get under her skin, Nestle, she was just like Nestle. No, she wasn’t going to let her demean Chime. No way was that happening, no.

“Shut up!” Gleam cried. “Don’t you dare bring Chime into this conversation! He would never do that, so shut up; shut up, shut up—now! Why even bring that up, just stop it! You all make him out to be a horrible person—stop antagonizing him or I’ll kill you! You hear?”

Tainted sighed. She noticed how defensive she had gotten about the Principal in the Reverse in the Laws of Cause and Effect. Perfect time to attack a second time. She changed the flow of her sigh and turned such into a snicker.

“Not if I kill you first!” she barked back.

Tainted readied the formation of the next attack. Tainted drew a circle in the air with her fingers against the atmosphere. With her other hand, she tugged her lacy clothing. As such had been established, Tainted’s right arm had become a catalyst as it transformed into something of a lion. From her back appeared an orange tail with black stripes. After the tail had finished, the second transformation of the lion began. Tainted’s hand glistened and had only gotten shinier as the transformation continued. Within seconds, the appearance of a lion’s paw appeared in place of her hand. As the transformation ended, Tainted’s hand had only slightly been shaped differently, shaped to a paw. Internal bleeding, she would cause the Sovereign of Destruction to bleed internally. Tainted placed her paw into an upward position and charged at Gleam’s stomach. As the claws met Gleam, she placed the claws over her stomach and started to slash the stomach with her transformed claw. As the claws sunk in, she smirked. After three major digs inside, Tainted ceased and waited, waited for the girl’s reaction.

Gleam could feel the secondary pain. The stomach, Tainted had hit her stomach. No, she couldn’t, couldn’t give in; give into the pain she had caused within a moment of time. A lesson, there had to be a lesson for this.

“That’s stupid,” Gleam replied weakly as the pain struck her in the stomach. “Animal Genetic Magic isn’t enough to take my mind off what you said!” she could feel the desire, the desire to destroy more than ever now.

Tainted smirked. Where had this been taking her? She did not know, but she had heard, had heard the girl had down two days ago. Exploit, she would exploit the situation.

“Isn’t this how you killed Nestle?” she asked in a stupid tone. “Now you know how it feels—feels to be hit in the stomach! Hurts, don’t it?”
Gleam had been disgusted further. What was her game plan? What was she planning to accomplish by bringing such words onto the battlefield? Not making any anymore, she was not making any sense anymore. It was aggravating how quickly the conversation, how quickly the conversation had changed. Was she trying to force her into understanding—force her to understand what she felt? She wouldn’t, wouldn’t force herself to get so low as to be at this Sovereign’s level. Never—she would never lower herself.

“Shut up!” she merely answered.

Tainted sighed. Nowhere, this was going nowhere. The Chime person, she had to bring the Chime person back into the conversation. A lie, she would come up with a lie. Crack the boy’s windpipe, she would make a lie of which had to do with the windpipe of the late boy.

“Don’t have to, sweetheart!” she answered sarcastically. The lie, she had to start the lie. “Just saying, if Nestle Mantle hadn’t killed Chime, I would have cracked his windpipe and killed him instead!” she smirked—that would let loose fury. Perfect, that was perfect, the perfect approach, and she knew it—she knew the approach had been solid, solid.

Gleam could feel a crack rupture repeatedly as she heard the words individually in her mind. It that was it. Lesson, she had to teach the girl a lesson. Whatever message she had for her mattered none. No one, no one would be allowed to say that. Corpse, Tainted Pureled deserved to be a corpse. She would do what Taitned said she would do to him. The crack, the crack shattered inside her as she could feel the overwhelming desire—the overwhelming desire to give the girl, give the girl what she deserved. Gleam ran over to Tainted and plowed her on the ground, placing her body over hers. Within moments, she placed her hands on the Sovereign’s throat—the end. This was going to be the end.

“HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF CRACKED YOUR WINDPIPE?” she shouted, trying to emulate Tainted’s personality perfectly. “How would that make you feel?!” she placed her hands deeper into the girl’s throat, readying to kill her entirely.

Tainted sweat and squirmed as her actions backfired. Seriously, she was taking the joke seriously. She was taking it seriously. She had felt it right there, frightened, she was frightened as to what was about to happen to her.

“Hey, I… I was joking!” she said with a supremely nervous voice. “Get off of me, please! I’m sorry!” ask for help, she had to ask for help. She had to get loose—now. “Help! Someone get her off of me! She’s insane!”

Gleam let out a small snicker. Help her, as if anyone was going to help her. “Don’t you remember?” she asked with a complete sadistic tone. “You said humanity is disgusting and that means they’re not going to help you!” her eyes glowed red repeatedly as she continued to get ready—ready to destroy her windpipe. “And, oh, that’s right! Your cronies are now, so why would they help you?” one last moment, there was one last moment before it as time. “Isn’t it fantastic? You’ll die at the hands of me, the Sovereign of Destruction!”

Gleam took her hands and shook Tainted’s head back and forth as she pressed harder and harder into the girl’s neck. As she continuously pressed harder, the girl made foreign sounds she did not understand. Attention the girl must have wanted attention. Eventually, she pressed in even harder and shook—shook the head back and forth as if she were a baby. After a while, she could hear a crack in her throat. That was the noise, the noise she wanted to hear. As the end had come, Gleam looked down. No pulse, the girl had no pulse left. Done, it had been done.

As she had finished, she could feel an even further crack. As she removed herself from the dead Tainted’s body, she let out the most maniacal of laughs. Her eyes glowed redder than they ever had done so before. She finally understood what it meant, finally understood what it meant, finally understood what it meant, what it meant to be a Sovereign.

End of chapter twenty three, next to come: hallucination, hallucination, here there everywhere! Stealing lighters, attempted setting selves on fire, one could say, there will be a saving, a saving in style.


Okay, one grammar nazis, if you see that I don't capitalize a word when it's not a speech tag, unless it's a period after a my dialogue THIS IS MY PERSONAL PREFERENCE AND WRITING STYLE! I know, the narrator repeats everything like James Bond repeats his name, but I do that on purpose.

So, yeah, you knew Gleam would choke someone eventually, didn't you?

Well, you got your wish, sadists.

Three chapters left. Can you imagine how it'll all end?
Theme: Mafuyu Sato
Pair: Green