Ouroboros

I have done this before.

On Lazara I met with The Lord of Light. He claimed to be descended from The Beginning Of The Cosmos. He sought The Purity Of Light that would help him rule his worlds.

On Rellious-15 I allied myself with The Slight One. I learned that we were part of a shard from the first moon in the world, destroyed by aliens from the fifth world.

On Kluum-ta, I encountered the Klanj-a-el. It told me of it’s divinity, and how we must seek magical talismans made from the petrified shells of the Holy Tortoises that pull the universe in their wake.

On Universe-7 I teamed with 84739612. He was but a program run from the ship made by his Great Master. His Master was destroyed by The Random Ones, who sought to unmake The New Universe this Great Master had created.

In my old world’s Chi-Town I met one who lived in filth who called herself The Createss. She shat the universe from her arse and claims a roid revolution will destroy all things, but can only be quelled with a few bits of credit.

I have heard such Jotan Juice many, many, many times before, and now I live it again.

Every religion has an origin story, every one has a destruction story. The only difference is that they get more and more stupid as I travel. So far the only Destroyer of Worlds I have encountered is me.

Hrm.

Which brings me to two:

The Mad One. I have not spoken with her without an argument. I have no good words to say to her, though she seems more diplomatic in her insults than I. I have thought much time on this. It is obvious: A stalemate. I am too important for her to destroy. She is too much of a hassle for me to attempt to destroy. And so I find myself in an unusual place: Servitude for another, but not seeking to destroy her.

This is new to me, and I have done things I have never thought I would. I have talked to another as an equal without plotting their destruction. I don’t agree with anything she says or does. But for some reason, I enjoy fighting with her.


Then there’s the Pure One. I know he doesn’t understand why I call him that, but my explanation would only make him more confused. I like him. He reminds me of me when I was younger. Of course, there are many differences, but I still remember being a young savage frightened and confused by powerful beings. I remember thinking them gods.

Mouths Talk

Ratling Feces.

Spent Cartridges.

This was my last few nights.

I was told of plans to test my horde in a foreign land. Only to find this land a playpen for children. Yet The Mad One wanted the test.

Fine.

A nobler test would be to ask if they could tie their shoes. Or shit in places not laden with food.

But The Mad One insists.

I begin to feel pity for this Artiste, this one from the land, as he is unique. He’s one of the most human I’ve seen in a long, long time. But then I realize he’s as difficult as The Mad One. Should I blame him as he was merely trying to save him world? Or is it my anger speaking?

But truly, he’s human. More human than any.

More human than me.

What have I become?

Then there was a Mudman with Arrogant Tongues and paintings.

My hordes we’re as victorious as they could be against such children. I had stopped paying attention.

Perhaps I should move on.