Chapter 490: Patterns! III
Time passes differently for different souls.
For the condemned man counting down to execution, each second stretches into an eternity of dread, every tick of the clock a hammer blow against diminishing hope.
He feels time as a physical weight, crushing down with inexorable pressure, each moment stolen from a future that shrinks with mathematical precision.
Yet for the child counting days until their birthday, those same seconds sparkle with anticipation.
Time becomes a friend carrying gifts, each passing hour bringing them closer to joy. They wish it would move faster, embrace its passage, celebrate each sunset as progress toward their desire.
Existence finds this dichotomy amusing…the same river of time, experienced as poison by some and wine by others.
It all depends… on what waits at the river’s end.
—
In the Star Seas, time passed with its usual indifference to the concerns of those experiencing it.
Syl’thessara floated aimlessly across the cosmic expanse, her movement less like travel and more like drifting…the kind done by those who have nowhere to go and no reason to arrive.
Eventually, she came to rest on a radiant silver moon, its surface unmarred by the usual craters and scars.
This moon had been preserved, or perhaps created, as something purely aesthetic…beauty without purpose, much like herself.
Her figure looked serene and sorrowful all at once as she sat on the lunar surface, her form casting no shadow because shadows required light to care about obstacles.
She thought about her choice…the latest in a long series of choices that all seemed to lead to the same destination: nowhere.
Time passed.
She continued to contemplate.
After some more time passed…
In the midst of her contemplation, space rippled with familiar distortion.
The same butterfly-like Nar’Thyss who had come to her before materialized with less grandeur this time, as if even it was growing tired of the pretense.
“Why are you here again?” Syl’thessara asked, not bothering to look up.
The question carried no curiosity, only the exhaustion of someone who already knew the answer would be unpleasant.
The Nar’Thyss…its form shifting between dimensions in patterns that suggested irritation, bristled at her tone.
“Your disrespect grows tiresome, Syl’thessara” it said, its voice carrying waves of authority being questioned.
“The Constellation Nar’Thyss have not been able to locate any trace of the Nexus Deviation Point in the last day. Our searches have yielded nothing. Therefore, they have enacted The Scourge Fable Protocol in this Star Seas to poke and probe while continuing to collect the Existential Authority of Fables.”
The Scourge Fable Protocol.
Syl’thessara’s body shook involuntarily, her perfect control cracking at the mention of those words.
Memories flooded back…her own memories, and inherited knowledge of what that protocol meant.
She had seen it implemented twice before in her impossibly long existence. The Scourge Fable Protocol was the Nar’Thyss’s nuclear option, their method of generating maximum narrative energy while simultaneously testing every being in a Star Sea for hidden potential or deviation if things were heading in a negative direction!
It worked with horrifying simplicity: an outside force would manifest, openly attacking the Star Seas, crossing boundaries that had been considered inviolate.
But this wasn’t mere invasion…it was narrative invasion, a story forced upon reality with such weight that reality had no choice but to play along.
The Scourge itself was a lineage of a plague given consciousness and purpose. Not a disease in any biological sense, but a narrative virus that consumed others themselves!
Wherever the Scourge passed, civilizations didn’t just die…their entire history ended, their stories consumed and digested into raw Existential Authority of Fables.
Planets would resist, heroes would rise, desperate alliances would form…all of it generating tremendous narrative energy.
It was a protocol designed to squeeze the natives of a Star Sea like fruit in a press, extracting every drop of dramatic potential, every ounce of narrative weight.
The survivors would be stronger, more complex, their stories refined by survival. The dead would feed the Nar’Thyss’s endless appetite for Fables.
And hidden somewhere in that carnage, any Nexus Deviation Point would be forced to reveal itself or be consumed along with everything else.
“You,” the Nar’Thyss continued, its tone carrying cruel satisfaction, “will be one of the commanders. Two other Level Null Tier 9 Existences will take on the form of the narrative Scourges. The three of you will lead the scourge legions and begin warring with the top powerhouses in this Star Sea immediately.”
“No,” Syl’thessara said immediately, the word escaping before she could consider consequences.
“I won’t. I can’t. Not this.”
The Nar’Thyss’s form shifted, multiple eyes focusing on her with predatory attention.
“Cannot?” Its voice carried danger like a blade being slowly drawn. “How interesting. The betrayer who led her lover to death suddenly develops conscience? Or is it cowardice in a new costume?”
“I won’t lead a genocide for your entertainment,” she said, finding unexpected steel in her voice.
“Then your Fable will simply be ended,” the Nar’Thyss replied with casual cruelty. “Your long, tragic story will reach its conclusion…not poetic, not meaningful, just… over. Another will take your place, someone less squeamish about necessity. Someone who understands their role.”
The threat hung between them like a sword balanced on its point.
“So I ask again,” the Nar’Thyss continued, its voice carrying finality. “What will it be? Lead the Scourge and continue your existence, or refuse and cease to exist entirely? No tragic ending, no redemption arc, no final meaning…just erasure, like a story abandoned mid-sentence.”
HUUM!
Once more, Syl’thessara was given a choice.
She sat on her silver moon, surrounded by the vast indifference of space, and felt the weight of patterns asserting themselves.
Patterns.
Choices.
Every choice she had ever made had been about survival, about continuing to exist even when existence was misery.
This was no different, was it? Just another moment where she would choose the path that kept her alive, even if that life was poisoned by what she had to do to maintain it.
But something was different this time.
The words of the Ninth Adrastia Emperor King echoed in her memory.m.not the angry ones, not the accusations, but the simple question: “What choice will you make?”
The Scourge Fable Protocol would target everyone. The Infinite Radiance Sovereignty, the Void Dominion Empire, and… the Adrastia lineage.
Her descendant who had offered her redemption. His family. His people. They would all burn in narrative fire for the Nar’Thyss’s entertainment and investigation.
“I…need time to prepare,” she said finally, not agreeing but not refusing.
“Time?” The Nar’Thyss laughed, the sound like stories being shredded. “You’ve had millennia. You have one hour to report to the staging ground. Come as a commander, or don’t come at all…and we both know what that means.”
It vanished, leaving her alone again on her silver moon.
One hour. One choice. One chance to finally, after all this time, choose something other than survival.
She looked at the stars, each one representing countless lives that would be affected by her decision.
For them, time was passing normally…seconds of peace they didn’t know were numbered, moments of happiness they didn’t realize might be their last.
For her, each second was both dread and anticipation, poison and wine mixed in a cup she had to drink either way.
The countdown had begun, and for the first time in her existence, Syl’thessara truly didn’t know what she would choose when it ended!
1/1 Onwards!