Defeat The Godmodder

[D'znn-Xy'lll MetaChthonia]

Godmodder is massively more vulnerable to attacks for one turn!

...

*Ahem*

DO IT NOW! TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE OPENING! USE YOUR BEST, STRONGEST, MOST POWERFUL ATTACKS AND COMBOS NOW! DON'T LET THE SACRIFICES OF RANGER_STRIDER AND STRIDER626 BE IN VAIN!

DEFEAT! THE! GODMODDER!

Click to shrink...

"O_O"
Caught completely off guard by what is happening I impulsively use two Actions to Charge then one to throw a rubber duck like a grenade. Just a rubber duck. Literally nothing special about it. It is yellow with an orange beak and squeezing it makes it go "quack". The only special thing about It is that it is named Le Quack. I just am hoping it can hit something.

Le Quack, on the other hand, is no mere rubber duck. Having been a goose that was a right bastard to some higher powers he was doomed to reincarnated as a rubber duck. Ever since he was born from the vinyl plastic presses of the duck factory, was never content to be merely a recreational bath toy, racing piece, or a Carnival Game for this Reason. Mayhaps he would have enjoyed being a hood ornament but that would be unlikely to ever come to pass. So, sitting upon a shelf in a store, waiting to be bought, he would seeth with rage at not being made into something useful for battle let alone a glorious goose of war. When he saw me approach on the day I had bought him and stuffed him in my Archive he knew his day had arrived he felt it in his yellow plastic body that his dream of ruining someones day in a comedic fashion had come. So now, here he is, sailing through the air, arcing towards the Ultimate Target as it is made vulnerable, he feels his life come to completion. Thus ends the Consciousness of a Goose trapped in a Rubber Duck's body named Hjönk the Destroyer, using all his rubber duck and goose bastard powers to maintain an arc that will see him through even if his soft pliable body will do nothing but add insult to injury. Verraad may not be the higher power that did this to him but that does not stop Hjönk from feeling sweet satisfaction and revengeance in his last moments of Conscious Thought.

OOC:
I'm going with this Song List instead. Although good choice.

Spoiler: Video

Undertale - Heartache 【Intense Symphonic Metal Cover】

▷ SUBSCRIBE FOR MORE ► http://bit.ly/FalKKonE_SUB ◄ Intense Heartache (Toriel Dreemurr battle theme) from Undertale. That bass tho. What a pain. More like He...

www.youtube.com

Dragonforce - Soldiers of the Wasteland

Album: Sonic Firestorm

www.youtube.com

Dragonforce - Cry for Eternity

Album: Inhuman Rampage

www.youtube.com

Dragonforce - The Fire Still Burns

Album: Ultra Beatdown

www.youtube.com

King Dedede Theme - Drum & Bass

Part of a 3 song EPDOWNLOAD: http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/download/522107My Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/AcidNotationBackground image: http://ac...

www.youtube.com

 

[EternalStruggle]

"...yeah I've forgotten who you are." ES said to Cybil. "We've been kinda busy so if you were someone we've met, sorry, no clue."

He turned to Amelia. "Well I recall there being some kind of plan for when we got to this stage so I see no reason to mess that up." With a snap of the finger, ES summons a small camera setup. "But you better believe I'm gonna record this for later. This should be good."

A second snap, and he held a shuffled deck of cards in hand. "Since we can multitask, solitaire in the meantime?" Amelia simply nodded in response.

 

[FlamingFlapjacks]

I draw a gun. It's time.
I lift the gun, and fire. ..nothing happens.
I glance at it, and realize I'm.. finally out of ammo. After all the guns I've gone through.. I sigh, and reach for a laser gun. And I'm out of those. I reach for a rocket launcher, a slingshot, a grenade launcher, a pie flinger, a KO cannon, even a bow. Nothing. No ammo left. Everyone looks at me, anticipating a attack. Instead, I step back, and discard my gun to the side. Then I discard another gun. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another.And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another-
After a while, every projectile weapon ever used in this Godmodding War lies in a giant pile next to me, towering into the sky. The snap my fingers. The weapons turn a tornado, with me at the center. Flying up, the tornado rotates, pointing at Verrad John. With a dash forward, it turns into a huge drill, piercing the sky, and with the power of gun behind me.. I.. oh my god.. I.....


I stab the Godmodder with my guns.

The power of this anticlimax hurls him into the sky..
..where he is hit by a rain of bows...
...knocking him into a ravine where a group of grenade launchers beat them up...
...then a group of slingshots knocks him back into the sky,..
...which he's then knocked out of by a barrage of hand mortars..
...the throw through the elemental plane of fire by nerf gun..
...crushed under a rain of spud launchers...
...filled with splinters by a well-placed shot of trebuchets..
..bombarded with siege cannons..
...crushed by catapults...
....assaulted by crossbows..
...and hit by hwachas.

I reach for more... and I'm out of projectile weapons. Out of ammo, out of weapons, there's only thing left to do. I look to the sky, and apologize to the long deceased god of guns.


And... I stab the Godmodder with a sword.

I throw the Retcon Shell, taken from TOG IIIIIII(more), to Piono, then hurl the Soul Orb Magnum to Karp.
"He's stunned, don't mess up!"

retcon shell goes to piono
magnum goes to karp

 

[Karpinskaya]

/placehioder

retcon shell goes to piono
magnum goes to karp

Click to shrink...

I catch the Soul Orb Magnum (hereafter just Magnum) from FlamingFlapjacks. It's going to need some work, though, so let's get down to it. I'll be working on the aiming mechanism, some small modifications to the ammunition, and the grip. A gun like this, you can't afford to have your hand slip.
I start with the barrel of the gun, checking its dimensions carefully. Looks like it'll do what we need it to. But it's missing something. Something that'll make sure it does damage. So at the tip of the barrel, I apply a single effect: Sting-LiteTM​. Sting-LiteTM​ functions sort of like its big brother, Sting, in that affected projectiles will go straight through most obstacles. Unlike its big brother, Sting-LiteTM ​doesn't have the same inviolability. The more powerful magic effects will stop it. But in general, bodyguards, shields, and deflecting weapons won't do any good. Sting-LiteTM ​is notoriously difficult to apply, though, and it takes me a few dozen tries before I get it right. Of course, you still have to aim the darn thing.
To ensure that the Magnum's aim is sure, I add a few things. A standard aimbot, which gets rid of the fiddly things like adjusting for wind. Carving Verraad's name into the outside of the barrel, so that it's marked to kill him. Unfortunately, when I'm applying the aimbot, the first five attempts all create rogue AIs, and the next eight simply refuse to point at Verraad. And when I get that to work and try to carve the barrel, it messes up the Sting-LiteTM ​and I spend forty more attempts getting it all to fit together.
For the finishing touch, I add an enchanted arm strap. The Magnum's wielder will not drop it, lose it, or otherwise find it not in their possession without actually giving it away. And it makes your breath minty fresh as well, which is nice.
I toss the finished Magnum – Sting-LiteTM​, aimbot, name carved on, armstrap – to Piono for his use. But now I have to do something with all the prototypes. Every time I messed up, I got a new Magnum from the shop and set the broken one aside. Now there's easily a hundred of these flawed guns sitting around, cluttering things up.
So I do the logical thing and load them all into a Magnum Gatling Gun, which shoots Magnums, and fire them at Verraad. The goal is not to hurt him per se but to keep him off balance long enough for someone else to step up.

 

[Crusher48]

Focused Action: Kill Verraad.

Verraad is one of the worst monsters of recent memory. Not quite as bad as a God of Torture we fought once (even if his appearance strongly resembles that bastard), but still a horrible monster.

He has committed acts of torture against thousands of individuals that attempted to oppose them. His prisons in the Shadow Realm, his afterlife-inside-an-afterlife, have drained the minds of individuals over a drawn-out, agonizing process. He could have easily left the prisoners unconscious for the entire process, but he decided to leave them in prisons, forcing them to keep themselves awake as long as possible to mitigate the drain, purely for his own kicks. And possibly to give his wardens entertainment, even though he would not need wardens if he had a proper harvesting system in place.

He has also waged a war against Earth that left it in an almost-apocalyptic state, the sort of state you'd expect out of a dystopian superhero novel. Even once he is stopped, cleanup will take years. Maybe the number of years can be reduced drastically if we maintain our player powers to fix things, but it will still take a while to fix every single problem.

However, Verraad made a key mistake. He gave us too many chances. He sent us to the hexagonafield for reasons that are still unclear to me, giving us the ability to wear him down from the inside while he battled the next wave on Earth. Then, he sent us to his Shadow Realm prison, expecting us to die. Or, more accurately, be tortured to death by enslaved overseers such as Cybil. But with our determination, we escaped, and fought through everything he put against us to try to stop us again.

And now, he pays for that. He pays for everything.

But first, I have a gift. One of the first gifts I ever gave, in fact. A psychic amplifier, capable of unlocking the latent psychic ability in any individual and allowing them to channel it to perform amazing feats. Now, normally, developing the ability to perform such amazing feats would requires years of training, but there's a curious loophole. When I mind-control someone, if they have an amplifier on them, I can use the amplifier to channel their psychic potential using my training. It's not fully effective due to a lack of soul development (in the same way that an athlete's mind in the body of a mall cop wouldn't be as effective because the mall cop's muscles aren't trained for the sport), but that's where player powers and raw determination will make up the difference.

Obviously, I'm not going to mind-control an ally. I disagree with Piono on some key issues (most notably, I want player powers to remain after the end of this war to let us work to ascend humanity), but it would drain both of our abilities in a key moment. So I merely give him access to all of my knowledge, and let him figure out how to harness the psychic amplifier for his own ends.

As a side note, we don't actually have a psychic amplifier on us at the moment. But, I can build one in about five seconds of work. So, I construct it, and hand it to Piono, as Annabelle shares her knowledge. Then, I create a factory that can automatically produce these independently. Maybe it will serve some use after this war is over.

Now that we've handed off the gift, it's time to take down Verraad.

I catch the Magnum from FlamingFlapjacks. It's going to need some work, though, so let's get down to it. I'll be working on the aiming mechanism, some small modifications to the ammunition, and the grip. A gun like this, you can't afford to have your hand slip.
I start with the barrel of the gun, checking its dimensions carefully. Looks like it'll do what we need it to. But it's missing something. Something that'll make sure it does damage. So at the tip of the barrel, I apply a single effect: Sting-LiteTM​. Sting-LiteTM​ functions sort of like its big brother, Sting, in that affected projectiles will go straight through most obstacles. Unlike its big brother, Sting-LiteTM ​doesn't have the same inviolability. The more powerful magic effects will stop it. But in general, bodyguards, shields, and deflecting weapons won't do any good. Sting-LiteTM ​is notoriously difficult to apply, though, and it takes me a few dozen tries before I get it right. Of course, you still have to aim the darn thing.
To ensure that the Magnum's aim is sure, I add a few things. A standard aimbot, which gets rid of the fiddly things like adjusting for wind. Carving Verraad's name into the outside of the barrel, so that it's marked to kill him. Unfortunately, when I'm applying the aimbot, the first five attempts all create rogue AIs, and the next eight simply refuse to point at Verraad. And when I get that to work and try to carve the barrel, it messes up the Sting-LiteTM ​and I spend forty more attempts getting it all to fit together.
For the finishing touch, I add an enchanted arm strap. The Magnum's wielder will not drop it, lose it, or otherwise find it not in their possession without actually giving it away. And it makes your breath minty fresh as well, which is nice.
I toss the finished Magnum – Sting-LiteTM​, aimbot, name carved on, armstrap – to Piono for his use. But now I have to do something with all the prototypes. Every time I messed up, I got a new Magnum from the shop and set the broken one aside. Now there's easily a hundred of these flawed guns sitting around, cluttering things up.
So I do the logical thing and load them all into a Magnum Gatling Gun, which shoots Magnums, and fire them at Verraad. The goal is not to hurt him per se but to keep him off balance long enough for someone else to step up.

Click to shrink...

Karpinsky's Magnum Gatling Gun is an overwhelming barrage, but one the Godmodder is currently capable of barely defending against. Let's change that.

Phase 1: Ballistic Alteration:

Hello. I have returned from recruiting an army of Shadows and enslaved Players to kill the Godmodder. And, given the stakes, I'm willing to do you a favor.

Mind merge with me. I have an idea. No, I have the best idea. We currently have the power of the Infinileaf Clover with us, granting perfect luck. When I'm creating a plan, I normally scan through several random alternate futures to find the one where my actions are most effective. But with the Clover, I only need to check one to get the optimal plan of attack. Although, executing it is going to be a problem.

You know what, this sounds fun. Let's do this.

I initiate a mind-merge with Wormhole. We are now one, at least for the next minute or so.

Alright, the plan is simple. We combine my telekinetic manipulations and precognition with your portal barrage to manipulate the trajectories of projectiles to maximize the threat to the Godmodder. The pattern's 'random', which in this case means it will be the pattern that maximizes the destructive potential of the barrage.

I've heard of something similar in a story once, where a portal expert combined forces with a bug-controller who recently got a power upgrade to control anyone and used it to create thousands of portals to expand her control range. The thing is, Taylor had a powerset that was capable of multitasking to the obscene degree requires to micromanage thousands of simultaneous portals, but you don't.

Well, I've got a trick for that.

I pull about a hundred alternate personalities from the future, in a mental overclock maneuver. It's going to lead to a power crash in a few minutes, but for now, it provides exactly what I need.

Hey, you're having a mind-merge party with me. I'll join in to take the strain of the overload, and support with ten iterations of Omega.

Yeah, because I totally enjoy being cloned ten times and then asked to do work that should take a hundred of me to do.

I need to harvest mental overload for the next stage of the attack. Sorry.

Well, now that I have access to just barely enough resources to do this, it's time to execute.

As Aster's alternate personalities load in the list of portal coordinates, I execute on my power to open the necessary portals. These portals are placed to change the trajectory of projectiles in an optimal manner so as to maximize the hits on the Godmodder and minimize the amount of evasion he can perform.

I also use any spare energy I have to telekinetically manipulate some of the projectiles to increase their effectiveness. I also pull the trigger on some of the Magnums, causing them to open fire and blast the Godmodder with extra projectiles. Wormhole is also fed information on those secondary projectiles and how to redirect them to optimize their accuracy and damage.

The end result of this is that the Magnum Gatling Gun's barrage turns from a mild inconvenience into a lethal threat.

Phase 2: Mental Overload

That maneuver overloaded the Omegas and Asters, causing a severe amount of mental stress. I supported them through that by absorbing that mental overload into myself. They may not have the mental fortitude to withstand it, but I do. And, I have the capability to launch it at another.

So, now the Godmodder is feeling all the strain of calculating thousands of ballistic trajectory adjustments. But that's a mild disruption to him. Let's crank up the pressure even more.

I follow up the opening salvo with a penetrating mental assault, all of my rage, all of my anger, focused into a single point. The Godmodder's defenses were most likely spread thin to cover the massive mental DDOS I just tried to subject him too, giving me a window to penetrate through. Even if they do hold firm,, I'm still hitting with the force of a mental freight train focused into a mental pinpoint made out of adamantium.

Oh, he probably just has a secondary defensive scheme up. Which, he does. Now what?

Well, now that I've beaten his initial defenses, I have control of a miniscule fraction of his brain. And, now I can start summoning inside his mind.

So, I summon a mental construct of the infamously overpowered entity (and my favored starship) known as the Hyperstorm/Supernova to draw aggro and then evade incoming damage with its 5-layer defense system (out of which, 4 layers involve various forms of dodging attacks or sending them to a different dimension, which in this case means sending them outside the Godmodder's mind to attack his physical body). I support it by pushing some of my own mental barriers to the front, providing cover that the Hyperstorm/Supernova can duck behind to use its regenerative tech and also protecting my follow-up forces.

Interlude: Mass Resurrect

While that's going on, I use Mass Resurrect on all Shadows here, causing them to regain physical bodies. Since it's just been shown that Shadows still retain enough traits of their former selves, this has to work.

These new bodies should make the shadows much more effective at kicking the Godmodder's ass.

That brief distraction keeps the Godmodder busy for long enough for me to drop down a snowball and wall strategy, evolving an army of psychic monstrosities to wage war inside the Godmodder's mind. The Godmodder realizes what is going on and fights back, but it's too late. My psychic monstrosities have evolved the Physical Immunity ability, and now they can only be defeated in mental combat. Yes, even though they're already inside a mind. It's called minds within a mind.

Or, in more general terms, the Godmodder's going to have to enter Inception to fight this. Especially since each psychic monstrosity is evolving its own mental defenses involving more internal mental monstrosities that each have their own minds that need to be destroyed protected by their own mental monstrosities, and so on and so forth.

And, if he digs too deep into a mental monstrosity's mind to try to kill it, he'll end up digging too deep into his own mind and becoming trapped. So, at a certain point, these psychic monstrosities become immortal monsters ravaging through the Godmodder's mind, wreaking havoc on him.

Phase 3: Precognitive uplink

And, now that the Godmodder's busy defending against a potent mental attack, he won't be able to disrupt precognition as effectively. So, I initiate a mind-link with everyone on the field and start feeding them information on the exact actions the Godmodder's about to take, giving them the ability to work around whatever counters the Godmodder scrounges up and hit home with their attacks.

Now, the Godmodder's motion is predictable with precognition, and he won't be able to compose estoteric defenses as effectively with my assault on his mind. That should make him much more vulnerable to attack.

 

[Ranger_Strider_]

....FIGHT ON CAPTAIN! KILL THE SCUM WITH YOUR MIGHTY SPEAR! PRAISE THE SUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I cheer on the good captain.cat

 

[Ender_Smirk]

Focused Action: Kill Verraad.

Verraad is one of the worst monsters of recent memory. Not quite as bad as a God of Torture we fought once (even if his appearance strongly resembles that bastard), but still a horrible monster.

He has committed acts of torture against thousands of individuals that attempted to oppose them. His prisons in the Shadow Realm, his afterlife-inside-an-afterlife, have drained the minds of individuals over a drawn-out, agonizing process. He could have easily left the prisoners unconscious for the entire process, but he decided to leave them in prisons, forcing them to keep themselves awake as long as possible to mitigate the drain, purely for his own kicks. And possibly to give his wardens entertainment, even though he would not need wardens if he had a proper harvesting system in place.

He has also waged a war against Earth that left it in an almost-apocalyptic state, the sort of state you'd expect out of a dystopian superhero novel. Even once he is stopped, cleanup will take years. Maybe the number of years can be reduced drastically if we maintain our player powers to fix things, but it will still take a while to fix every single problem.

However, Verraad made a key mistake. He gave us too many chances. He sent us to the hexagonafield for reasons that are still unclear to me, giving us the ability to wear him down from the inside while he battled the next wave on Earth. Then, he sent us to his Shadow Realm prison, expecting us to die. Or, more accurately, be tortured to death by enslaved overseers such as Cybil. But with our determination, we escaped, and fought through everything he put against us to try to stop us again.

And now, he pays for that. He pays for everything.

But first, I have a gift. One of the first gifts I ever gave, in fact. A psychic amplifier, capable of unlocking the latent psychic ability in any individual and allowing them to channel it to perform amazing feats. Now, normally, developing the ability to perform such amazing feats would requires years of training, but there's a curious loophole. When I mind-control someone, if they have an amplifier on them, I can use the amplifier to channel their psychic potential using my training. It's not fully effective due to a lack of soul development (in the same way that an athlete's mind in the body of a mall cop wouldn't be as effective because the mall cop's muscles aren't trained for the sport), but that's where player powers and raw determination will make up the difference.

Obviously, I'm not going to mind-control an ally. I disagree with Piono on some key issues (most notably, I want player powers to remain after the end of this war to let us work to ascend humanity), but it would drain both of our abilities in a key moment. So I merely give him access to all of my knowledge, and let him figure out how to harness the psychic amplifier for his own ends.

As a side note, we don't actually have a psychic amplifier on us at the moment. But, I can build one in about five seconds of work. So, I construct it, and hand it to Piono, as Annabelle shares her knowledge. Then, I create a factory that can automatically produce these independently. Maybe it will serve some use after this war is over.

Now that we've handed off the gift, it's time to take down Verraad.



Karpinsky's Magnum Gatling Gun is an overwhelming barrage, but one the Godmodder is currently capable of barely defending against. Let's change that.

Phase 1: Ballistic Alteration:

Hello. I have returned from recruiting an army of Shadows and enslaved Players to kill the Godmodder. And, given the stakes, I'm willing to do you a favor.

Mind merge with me. I have an idea. No, I have the best idea. We currently have the power of the Infinileaf Clover with us, granting perfect luck. When I'm creating a plan, I normally scan through several random alternate futures to find the one where my actions are most effective. But with the Clover, I only need to check one to get the optimal plan of attack. Although, executing it is going to be a problem.

You know what, this sounds fun. Let's do this.

I initiate a mind-merge with Wormhole. We are now one, at least for the next minute or so.

Alright, the plan is simple. We combine my telekinetic manipulations and precognition with your portal barrage to manipulate the trajectories of projectiles to maximize the threat to the Godmodder. The pattern's 'random', which in this case means it will be the pattern that maximizes the destructive potential of the barrage.

I've heard of something similar in a story once, where a portal expert combined forces with a bug-controller who recently got a power upgrade to control anyone and used it to create thousands of portals to expand her control range. The thing is, Taylor had a powerset that was capable of multitasking to the obscene degree requires to micromanage thousands of simultaneous portals, but you don't.

Well, I've got a trick for that.

I pull about a hundred alternate personalities from the future, in a mental overclock maneuver. It's going to lead to a power crash in a few minutes, but for now, it provides exactly what I need.

[Insert more nasty attacks here]

Now, the Godmodder's motion is predictable with precognition, and he won't be able to compose estoteric defenses as effectively with my assault on his mind. That should make him much more vulnerable to attack.

Click to shrink...

The Heir rushes in from wherever something started to lag him out (This is my excuse for not posting, and I am sticking with it, because I have no better IC reason for college OOC.), or whatever was stopping him. "Heh, looks like it is time to finish this, huh? Yup, looks like it. Well, guess it is time to do this."

He then pulls out his sword once more, and the green and purple sun energy begins to radiate from him. "Didn't think this went away, did you? I made it an inherent trait when that whole bit happened, not just some random 'this will go away' power up." His hoodie begins to shift, yellows and oranges, purples and greens, all forms of color combinations begin to swap randomly along it. A gust of wind shoots out behind him as he rushes towards Verraad once more.
As he rushes, Verraad suddenly finds any remaining mental defenses filled with another wave of mental force, as one half of the Heir's hoodie solidifies as a teal for a second. That turns out to be just a ploy, however, as he then finds a pillar of green and purple fire, coming up around him, and his actions moving incredibly sluggish, with the Heir's hoodies' other half turning a red hue. He then feels the wind around him begin to encapsulate him, likely making him struggle once more to escape this, as half of the Heir's hoodie turns light blue. Then, as he finds a way out of the wind vortex, he begins to feel slight bits of his energy seeming to be tugged by the shadows around him, as the other half of the Heir's hoodie turns a dark pink. The Heir then quickly changes one side of his hoodie a brown color, and the shadows seem to feel renewed vigor at this, putting them in an even better position to beat Verraad. They then suddenly find themselves in possession of green and purple crystalline weapons, as the Heir continues to work his magic. A darker red rushes onto one side of his hoodie, and a purple onto the other, with which the Shadows all suddenly rush at Verraad with a fire in their eyes. His hoodie then changes to a yellow and an orange, with which the shadows keep hitting the Verraad harder and harder. Then, everything seems to stop, as Verraad no longer feels any of the shadows hits. Then, he sees the Heir with one side of his hoodie a dark blue, and the other a black. The Heir spins his blade around him, and an army of clones of him all surround Verraad, which then all crash into him with all manner of force. This then ceases to be in a void, and the shadows and clones of the Heir continue beating him, and as this happens, he tries to shove away the whole lot of them, giving the Heir the moment he had been waiting for. As Verraad's hands stretch out, he suddenly feels two spires, one of green, and one of purple, suddenly stab through his wrists, holding them in place.
(End music)
With that little bit out of the way, he walks over to Piono, and hands him a purple and green crystal, with an indent shaped like two swords, one glowing, the other dormant. "A little gift, after our duel. Try to crush it, and the dragon of crystal I used during that battle will form around it. I think the odds are that you could use that."

 

[Gnich]

.....Blackness....
.......
I could not see....

but i felt them.

All of my fellow players, rising up to do something against the godmodder.
I could feel the vestiges of one of my fellow player's power in me. Healing me.
I opened my eyes to see shadows upon shadows piling atop the godmodder.
Barely is he kept away from firing his gun.
They restrained his body, but left his face for all to see.
I look around to notice two more players are down.... permanently.
I turn back to to face the godmodder with anger and fury in my eyes. The Left eye turns a blazing blue, the other a scorching orange.

"....heh, this was a weird, and short time to meet. But I believe in you bro. Go on and beat that bastard down."
"Nyeheheheheheh, HUMAN, IT WAS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU. I WISH WE COULD CONTINUE TO CHAT OVER SOME NICE SPAGHETTI, BUT THAT CAN WAIT ANOTHER TIME. GO ON AND DEFEAT THAT NEFARIOUS VILLAIN."

With their support, I immediately call upon the greatest weapon that i could think of at the moment.

Focus: A bad time

A large, behemoth ghaster blaster appears above me. Much more sinister looking, it seems on the edge of being completely ravaged by time, but is still persisting. The large amount of power coming from it is so potent that its dripping liquid power from the corner of its mouth. A small packet of information enters my mind right there.

Experimental ghaster blaster. Class: �̄̀̍͆̒̉͏̱̝̝͚͞�̢̋͌̋͊͡҉͔͉̗⚐̧̤̭͚͚͓ͨ́͟☼͍̤̺̾ͩ̾ͥͪͅ☼̏ͮ͑͗̊ͮͣͭ̚͏̖̤͔͚̦�̖̱͚͇̥̲̌̈́ͨͤ͒̽͛̔ͩ͟�̸̵̜̩̳͙̓̒ͨ̿�͓̥̥̞̺ͦ̑͆̓̚�͈̜̅ͮͦ͆̆͗͢❄̵͚̝͇͔͍͍̰̓̓͢☜͉͙̯̹͚͍̮̄̅̎͛̀͒̋̆ͥͅͅ�͎̬͍̦̤̥͔̱ͥ̉͛̿̓ͧ̑̀̚�̴̹͍͈ͤ̾̿̓̎̆ͤ̑͡


❄⚐⚐ 🏱⚐🕈☜☼☞🕆☹.
❄☟☜ 💧✡💧❄☜💣 🕆💧☜👎 ☞⚐☼ ❄☟☜ ☜✠🏱☜☼✋💣☜☠❄✌☹ ☝☟✌💧❄☜☼ 👌☹✌💧❄☜☼ 🕈✌💧 ❄⚐⚐ ☜☞☞✋👍✋☜☠❄📪 ☹☜✌👎✋☠☝ ❄⚐ ☜✠❄☼☜💣☜☹✡ ☟✋☝☟ ☹☜✞☜☹💧 ⚐☞ 🏱⚐🕈☜☼ 👌☜✋☠☝ 🏱🕆💧☟☜👎 ✋☠❄⚐ ✌ 👌☜✌💣 ❄☟✌❄ 👎☜💧❄☼⚐✡☜👎 🏱✌☼❄💧 ⚐☞ 💣✡ ☹✌👌📪 👌🕆❄ ❄☟✌❄ 🕈✌💧 ☠⚐❄ ✌☹☹. ❄☟☜ 👎☜☝☼✌👎✌❄✋⚐☠ ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ ☝✌💧❄☜☼ 👌☹✌💧❄☜☼ ☞☼⚐💣 💧🕆👍☟ ☟✋☝☟ ☹☜✞☜☹ ⚐☞ 🏱⚐🕈☜☼ 🕆💧☜👎 💣✌👎☜ ✋❄ ☜✞☜☠ 💣⚐☼☜ 🕆☠💧❄✌👌☹☜📪 💧⚐💣☜☟⚐🕈 ✋☠👍☼☜✌💧✋☠☝ ❄☟☜ 👎☜💧❄☼🕆👍❄✋⚐☠ ❄☟✌❄ ✋❄ 👍✌☠ 👍✌🕆💧☜. ❄⚐ 💣✌😐☜ 💣✌❄❄☜☼💧 🕈⚐☼💧☜📪 🏱✌☼❄💧 ⚐☞ 💣✡ ☹✌👌 ❄☟✌❄ 🕈☜☼☜ 👎☜💧❄☼⚐✡☜👎 👍⚐🕆☹👎 ☠⚐❄ 👌☜ ☼☜🏱✌✋☼☜👎 ☜✌💧✋☹✡📪 ❄☟☜ 💧🏱✌👍☜ 💧☜☜💣✋☠☝ ❄⚐ 👌☜ ☠⚐☠📫👍⚐☠☞⚐☼💣✋☠☝ ❄⚐ ☠⚐☼💣✌☹ 🏱☟✡💧✋👍💧.

✌☞❄☜☼ 👍✌☼☜☞🕆☹ ⚐👌💧☜☼✞✌❄✋⚐☠📪 ❄☟✋💧 💣⚐👎☜☹ ☟✌💧 👌☜☜☠ 👎✋💧👍⚐☠❄✋☠🕆☜👎.

☠🕆💣👌☜☼💧 ⚐☞ ❄☜💧❄ ☞✋☼☜☹ 📂

I point at the godmodder, the blaster follows.
I cock my thumb back, the blaster opens its maws and charges.
I tense up my hand, the inside of the blaster begins to emit a keening sound
...
...
...I push my thumb forward. the blaster fires

 

[Exoskeletal65]

"Hahaha... what did I tell you? You thought you had us, didn't you? Well, I'll spare you the reminder of what overconfidence does to you. Right now...

"Your time has come to die, John."

Action 1:
"If I have to live with this cursed meta, then so do you."

I snap my fingers, and the godmodder and I are transported to Piccadilly Circus. He finds himself lost in a labyrinth of buses and blown out storefronts, and soon loses the ability to tell which way is up. He gets pulled out of his confusion and into the land of the dead when I tap him the head exactly twice with a kitted out M4A1. He respawns in a barricaded subway entrance, spends four minutes fumbling about trying to get out, and then gets cracked through the skull by a sniper who only appears as a faint glimmer off in the horizon. He respawns again, and gets banished into the shadow realm when he trips a claymore. He respawns once more, and gets his brains blown out by a corner camper with a 725.

It's at this point that he realizes he's been spawning in the same place every single time. The spawns never rotate, even though me and my five identical clones have overrun his spawn point, and have him surrounded on all sides. He tries, but he never makes it out. He steps on claymores and proximity mines. He gets melted by M4A1s and 725s. He gets his throat slashed by karambits. He gets headbutted into oblivion. He gets punched to death, shot, stabbed, bludgeoned by riot shields, exploded by rocket launchers, and mercilessly curbstomped (both literally and figuratively).

Then we bring in the chopper gunners and juggernauts...

After a thorough round of thrashing, I snap my fingers again, and we end up at Euphrates Bridge. This time, I have nine clones on my side, and we're all hunkered down on the bridge. He watch him from every possible angle, picking him off with M4s and sniper rifles. He falls into more claymore traps, gets cross-mapped by throwing knives, and mercilessly obliterated by VTOL jets and AC-130s. He never breaks out of the spawntrap. His screams of helplessness echo all the way back to Piccadilly.

I snap my fingers once more, and we end up in Karst River Quarry. The godmodder is alone against me and 31 clones. All of us are in tanks perched on the ridge, taking potshots at him. He can't hide anywhere; there are too many of us. He gets killed through walls, floors, ceilings, and entire buildings. He gets so thoroughly annihilated that he forgets his own name for a few minutes. Once he gets his bearings, he finds we've dominated the battlefield and a tactical nuke is on the way.

Kaboom.

Action 2:
"You like that? Well, you're gonna love this. Feel the might of the Traveler!"

My fists surge with electricity, and I lay into the godmodder. Bones break and flesh tears with every punch I land. I punch him until he has no teeth left, and his skull has been split wide open, finishing with an uppercut to the chin. While he's still airborne, I fly through the air like a missile, crashing into him with a meteoric impact that shakes the battlefield. With the two of us still in the air, I call forth a massive flaming hammer, and strike him down into the earth. I slam the hammer down into his face, splitting it into smaller flaming hammers, which I throw at him in the same way you'd throw tomatoes at a bad actor. Next, I create a shield of void energy, and slam it down on his back with enough force to cut his spine clean in two. I finish my Titan-themed assault by slamming the shield into his face.

Moving onto Warlock supers, I conjure a flaming sword and use it to slice the godmodder to ribbons, while simultaneously giving him fifth-degree burns. I slam the sword into the ground to create a well of radiance and start gathering void energy. I concentrate it into a nova bomb, which I throw at him. It detonates with enough power to tear reality itself asunder, but the destruction is all concentrated on the godmodder's exact location. Once the rift mends itself, I use my excess void energy to assault the godmodder with a nova warp, breaking his body down on a molecular level. Once nova warp runs dry, my hands surge with electricity, and I electrify the godmodder. I shock him until he holds enough electrical charge to power Russia for a year, then concentrate my arc energy into a chaos reach, which tears through him.

Channeling yet more void energy, I loose a shadowshot into the godmodder, before drawing a pair of spectral blades. I use them to tear into the godmodder. Afterwards, I start smacking him around with an arc staff, breaking whatever unbroken bones he may have, and bashing his head in. Doing a 360 for unnecessary flourish, I toss a few fans of flaming explosive knives at him, engulfing him in an enormous surge of fire. I saunter over to him and pull him up by the collar, then draw my golden gun. I fire a shot into each of his knees, and he drops to his blown out knees. I shoot each of his shoulders, and he leans back. I fire another shot through his chest, finishing off with a shot right between the eyes. Then, just to flex on him, I create a gust of wind to make my fancy Hunter cloak flow in the wind.

Action 3:
Once the wind dies down, I walk over to the godmodder's broken body. I kneel down beside him.

"Y'know, you were never going to win, John. It's not a matter of strength, it's not a matter of intelligence, and it's not a matter of godhood. It didn't matter that our powers were fading, or that you overthrew God Himself, or that you had us on death's door. You know why you were never going to win?

"Because we're defending reality, and you're trying to destroy it. We're the heroes, and you're the villain. And justice will always prevail in the end. It doesn't matter what kind of impossible odds you put us up against. It doesn't matter how powerful you become, or how weak we become. We'll always find a way to stop you. Only fear and defeat what is right. And guess what?

"We're not afraid of you. We're not impressed by you. We never were, John.

"You've failed."

I plunge a knife into the godmodder's chest, and stomp it deeper. I draw another knife and slash his throat, then stab it into his head.

"That's for Ranger_Strider."

I take off my gloves and crack my knuckles. I grab him by the throat and give him a few firm punches to the jaw. I hardly use any player power; I want him to feel my anger. I punch him until I'm satisfied, but give him a quick kick to the head as I stand.

"That's for Strider626."

My hands start glowing bright blue. The glow gets brighter, yet brighter, until it engulfs my entire body. I let out an anime-style scream as I slam into the godmodder with the fury of a thousand suns, shaking the battlefield with a blinding explosion. Once the smoke clears, there's an enormous crater, with me and the godmodder's remains at the center.

"That's for everyone else who bled and died by your filthy hands."

To wrap things up, I curbstomp him for several minutes.

"That's just for my own satisfaction."

 

[Paradoxdragonpaci]

The Heir rushes in from wherever something started to lag him out (This is my excuse for not posting, and I am sticking with it, because I have no better IC reason for college OOC.), or whatever was stopping him. "Heh, looks like it is time to finish this, huh? Yup, looks like it. Well, guess it is time to do this."
He then pulls out his sword once more, and the green and purple sun energy begins to radiate from him. "Didn't think this went away, did you? I made it an inherent trait when that whole bit happened, not just some random 'this will go away' power up." His hoodie begins to shift, yellows and oranges, purples and greens, all forms of color combinations begin to swap randomly along it. A gust of wind shoots out behind him as he rushes towards Verraad once more.
As he rushes, Verraad suddenly finds any remaining mental defenses filled with another wave of mental force, as one half of the Heir's hoodie solidifies as a teal for a second. That turns out to be just a ploy, however, as he then finds a pillar of green and purple fire, coming up around him, and his actions moving incredibly sluggish, with the Heir's hoodies' other half turning a red hue. He then feels the wind around him begin to encapsulate him, likely making him struggle once more to escape this, as half of the Heir's hoodie turns light blue. Then, as he finds a way out of the wind vortex, he begins to feel slight bits of his energy seeming to be tugged by the shadows around him, as the other half of the Heir's hoodie turns a dark pink. The Heir then quickly changes one side of his hoodie a brown color, and the shadows seem to feel renewed vigor at this, putting them in an even better position to beat Verraad. They then suddenly find themselves in possession of green and purple crystalline weapons, as the Heir continues to work his magic. A darker red rushes onto one side of his hoodie, and a purple onto the other, with which the Shadows all suddenly rush at Verraad with a fire in their eyes. His hoodie then changes to a yellow and an orange, with which the shadows keep hitting the Verraad harder and harder. Then, everything seems to stop, as Verraad no longer feels any of the shadows hits. Then, he sees the Heir with one side of his hoodie a dark blue, and the other a black. The Heir spins his blade around him, and an army of clones of him all surround Verraad, which then all crash into him with all manner of force. This then ceases to be in a void, and the shadows and clones of the Heir continue beating him, and as this happens, he tries to shove away the whole lot of them, giving the Heir the moment he had been waiting for. As Verraad's hands stretch out, he suddenly feels two spires, one of green, and one of purple, suddenly stab through his wrists, holding them in place.
(End music)
With that little bit out of the way, he walks over to Piono, and hands him a purple and green crystal, with an indent shaped like two swords, one glowing, the other dormant. "A little gift, after our duel. Try to crush it, and the dragon of crystal I used during that battle will form around it. I think the odds are that you could use that."

Click to shrink...

As the Godmodder is pulled to the ground, a shadow is cast onto him.It's Me.

I am ready.

"Let's begin"

I pull out the Envelope, and pull it out for everyone to see.

"EVERYONE IS HERE!!"

UNDERTALE

I summon the Undertale Fandom from the Greater Self!! A person bearing Papyrus's Scarf, san's Jacket, Asgore's Crown, Alphys's Glasses, Toriel's Dress and Undyne's eyepatch materialises beside me…unfortunately, I'm still unable to summon them in their Full Form due to still having...other activities occurring, but this should be good enough.

The Undertale Fandom nods at me before looking at the Undertale Fandom, they summon the ghostly versions of their Own Characters. Asgore, Toriel, sans, Papyrus, Frisk… even Gaster

But they don't stop there, they summon AUs of Undertale is drawn and summoned, a small army of sans. A legion of Papyrus and all the other characters form. Inktale, Underswap, Underfell, Finaltale…

With a glance, the first Assault on the Godmodder is held, well it's more like a few petty attacks, but the UT Fandom was never one for a Direct Attack.

I bring out my Ultimate Weapon, the Hammer of Imagination, a Pure White, Glowing Hammer, and a card is created, representing the UT Fandom, Glowing as Red as the most Determined of Souls and place it onto the Hammer, where it is absorbed.

As the Godmodder shakes off those Petty Attacks and realised that, no, you can't harm Ghosts, and try to rush me, the Hammer smacks him into the Face.

HOMESTUCK

With this Distraction, I call upon the Homestuck Fandom, and it's Corresponding Card. The Fandom appears in Spirograph, invoking the 12 Aspects, and is a Troll, as expected, they bear the 12-fold blood and the candy cane horns.

I send the Card flying to the Hammer, where it fuses with it as well.In a Burst of eye-searing colours, the Hammer invoked the Ritual of the 12 Aspects and manages to Overpower the Godmodder, sending him flying.

The HS Fandom summons forth their own Characters!! John, Rose, Dave, Jade, Jane, Dirk, Roxy, Jake, Karkat, Vriska, Terezi, Aradia, Tavros, Sollux, Equius, Nepeta, Eridan, Kanaya, Feferi, Gamzee, Calliope and somehow Caliborn enters the Fray!!

The UT Fandom synergises, creating the Understuck AU, sending them into the Fray.The HS Fandom synergises, bestowing God Tiers onto the rest of the Entities in the fray.

The Godmodder tries to snaps his fingers to destroy all the entities, but Aradia, Dave, and Caliborn and their Doomed Counterparts stop that with Temporal shenanigans.

GRAVITY FALLS

As Aspects and Bullets fly, I call upon the next Fandom, that of Gravity Falls!!

They can upon Bill Cipher and immediately, he imitates Weirdmaggedon!! As more ghostly characters pop up, the Godmodder finally fends off the Hammer of Imagination… only to run smack into a Bubble where he experiences weird surreal things… meanwhile, the Card of Gravity Falls enters the Hammer, and when the Godmodder finally exits the Bubble. He's faced with the Hammer invoking the Zodiac x3!! Gravity Falls Synergy!! Zodiacs are formed in each Fandom!! The Homestuckian, Undertale and Gravity Fall Characters form a circle around the Godmodder and the Hammer swings down. He blocks it, but the Seal x3 has been applied and more seals will now be applied automatically when the zodiac for further Fandoms arrive, further weakening him!!

Recovering from the Seals, he attempts to grab the Hammer and unleash a Spin Slash onto all the Characters.

However, a purple light surrounds the Hammer and pulls it free from the Godmodder's Grasp where it then continues its umbrage of Blows. He gives a quick Glance which is all he can spare, and he beholds true Terror.

MY LITTLE PONY:FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

For the My Little Pony Fandom has Descended, Hyped from their FINALE and all the more powerful for it. The Mane 6, the Princesses and Discord have joined in the Chaos!!

Shields blocking the Godmodder from harming others, Telekinesis of any object the Godmodder is holding away from his grasp. A few Powerful Kicks ands Cyclonic Storm convinces the Godmodder to STAY PUT.

Another card enters the Hammer, and it glows even brighter, in all the colours of the Rainbow. Its blows now are planet-busting.

The Godmodder thinks to exploits the current tendency for most characters to SPARE him instead of trying to seriously cause him harm. He manages to place himself in a pitiful position and causes the characters to hesitate. He then launches towards them in a Sucker Punch… but he falls flat onto his Feet. He looks back, spider webs bound his foot to the ground. He easily removes them… but then it's too late.

Worm

The counter-balance to the Brightness of the MLP Fandom has arrived. The Worm fandom has arrived and Skitter is in Play. Insects fly at the Godmodder. Surrounding him, biting him, stinging him, entering him through his mouth and nose to sting him from the inside…


Let's take a quick step back shall we. The current Battlefield has been divided into two sides, the Fandoms(and me) and the Godmodder. The Godmodder has quickly learnt the trick to hurt Ghosts, but even if they die, the Homestuck Fandom has Long broken everyone's Judgement Clock, granting Unconditional Immortality. The Homestuck Characters, while their Aspects aren't doing much to the Godmodder due to the Curse of Repetition, still are able to radically change the Battlefield terrain to our advantage as well healing and doing all sorts of support roles. Their Weapons have also been upgraded and… Dirk, Alt!Calliope, and the Homestuck Fandom may or may not be subtly (or not so subtly) changing the course of the story with their Narration Powers granted due to the Homestuck Fandom granting a safer form of the Ultimate Self to all of its characters.


The Undertale Fandom is in deep consultation with some of its most powerful characters. Core!Frisk pops in and out of existence. The Anomalnexus is with it .Ink!sans and Error!sans are with them. Together, they chart the course of all Timelines and create and destroy new ones all to guide this Battle to its Ultimate Conclusion.

The Undertale characters, while not the best at fighting the Godmodder head on, are busy supporting, creating openings and weaknesses as well as healing everyone who isn't dead in one punch. Chara of course, being the exception, breaking the Godmodder's Armor of Invincibility over and over again with their Knives.


The Gravity Falls Fandom has been summoning even more characters, like the Transcendence AU. The various dream demons are feeding on the Godmodder's worst nightmares, turning Reality inside-out and is taking the fight quite well.


The ponies are doing rather well, all things considered, through it's mostly the Princesses and Discord that are doing the work. However, every now and then, a huge spell is cast from the Fandom, that distracts the Godmodder for some time having to parry its unique effects before resuming defending himself from the Hammer and other Characters.

The Worm Fandom comes… and with it, a plethora of Taylors and other characters. The Godmodder awaits. He unleashes a mighty shockwave that knocks all the other characters as well as the Bugs and begin knocking the Parahumans!! The Endbringers (sans The Simurgh) Attack him as well as the Triumvirate!! ItGetsWorse!Taylor stands by, and suddenly all the things that could go wrong for the Godmodder starts happening!! The Entities smack him before he suddenly realises that Imp is right there in front of him holding a knife to his throat. He smacks it out and knocks her down, but it's already too late, for Flechette has already sent her arrow, which ignores all Physics and even some of his Godmodding to strike at him.

Then… Consensus appears, and communication!Taylor arrives..


The Godmodder is left stunned!! Which allows for a quick few more stabs and smacks to be dealt in, before he shakes off the incredible beating he received and continues ravaging the fray.

The Worm Fandom's Card enters the Hammer and the ability to strike down even the Beings beyond Gods becomes imbued into its Being

The Fallen London Fandom has been summoned. A few characters have come in, the most notable of which is the Protagonist… they won't be doing much now but soon… a reckoning.
However, the Godmodder is still probed by some Watchful Inspectors, Weakened by the Persuasive Singers, have some of his stuff stolen by some Shadowy Thieves before being beaten up by some Dangerous Sailors.

It's card enters the Hammer, and the power of All Judgements flow through its Liquid Starlight Veins.

The Nethack Fandom arrives in its Silent Glory, a Founder of an Archetype of Rougelikes. They come equipped for direct battle (or as direct a Nethacker would ever deign to) and promptly bombard the Godmodder with a multitude of potions, scrolls, magic, and weapons while reflecting, blocking, or otherwise letting their Dragon Scale Armour and high stats block incoming attacks. The Godmodder, reeling from the bombard of attacks and still being hit by the Hammer, summons a Octillion Liches to bodyguard him… but the Nethack Fandom takes out a certain Scroll, and in a bright flare,all the Liches are gone.

The Godmodder takes the brief second of recovery to Flashstep towards me, in the centre of this chaotic maelstrom, but the Nethack Card enters the Hammer and it teleports the Godmodder right into firing range of the next Fandom.



The Plants vs Zombie Fandom… do they count as a zombie or a plant?? I'm pretty sure there was a mini game revolving about zombies with plant heads. Either way, they fire a rapid volley of peas, spores (I Guess they are part Fungi too), explosions and a few more things that are lost in the barrage. The Godmodder is at once accosted with a flurry of blows and engages Samurai Techniques to block all of them. However, when he opens his eyes, the Fandom has disappeared, and the entire Battlefield has instead been covered with a checkerboard made of grass… a Strong Sunlight suddenly falls, and in a patch of lawn… a Sunflower takes root, and a Zombie rises from a tombstone… seems like the Fandom has turned into the very Battlefield itself.

The Hammer comes back to me, and I call out for an assault, as I turn the Hammer into a Rapier briefly and engage in 5th Dimensional Speed Trickery, managing to pierce the Godmodder with my Rapier Thrusts (though still not doing enough) before I hit him, resulting in my Rapier being guaranteed to hit him to pierce him. Dave and Dirk flashstep,freeze and otherwise CUT at the Godmodder while John and some Clovers blow some more Insects, Projectiles, and Karma-Drenched Bones at the Godmodder… the PvZ cards land into the Hammer and it glows with solar fury even as a storm appears on the Horizon.

The Infinity Train Fandom arrives, newly birthed and still quite weak, it shall not personally do much, but it's characters in the other hand… The Infinity Train takes the role of Truck-Kun and in an uncharacteristic moment for the Conductor, rams the Godmodder straight into the train. It then leaves for the Dimension it usually resides in, the Godmodder finds himself having to transverse multiple Cars, all made of the same indestructible material with a theme, his number approaches TREE(3), and his entire body is filled with Planck-sized Numbers… making his entire body glow. After an Eternity of Unrepentance, he finally makes it to the Engine, where he is bombarded with Conceptual Guns of Truth and Love before being violently Ejected back into The Battlefield for the Zombie/Plant/God-Tiers/sans/Judgements(oh hey the Fallen London Player finally Ascended and then dominated them)/Pony Army to converge onto him.

The Infinity Train Card infuses the Hammer with another degree of Conceptuality… Now its strokes are really beginning to hurt the Godmodder.

A small break is agreed between the Fandoms to which i agree, the Characters take a step back as I summon a few mes from within the Greater Self. First of all, the archetypal Red Mage, Paul, who focuses mainly on Healing, but can take a few punches and deal back some. Secondly, Wansot, the Troll who had broken Alchemy over his Knee and transcended the usual boundaries of the session, causing it to be finished within a week afterwards. Lastly, we have the Observer of Realities, a direct tiny part of Greater Me. In an instant, Paul is up high in the sky raining down Illusions, Elementals, Buffs, and Debuffs before firing off his Signature Elemental Missiles. Wansot have thrown thousands of Aspect-Suns-in-a-Jar at the Godmodder and is preparing the Book of TRI to make a Weapon that will lead to the defeat of the Godmodder, and the Observer of Realities has decided to perform a Touhou Bullet hell sequence with increasingly intricate Mathematical Bullet Sequences as well as clone himself 4 times. Observer #2 is currently using some Subtle Knives to attempt to draw some blood via Dimension-Puncturing. Observer #3 is summoning the Illuminati and failing, thus summoning a few fake Gods, a Cthulhu and some Tonberries… oh they have joined the Sans army and are using their OHKO Knives on him… Observer #4 is cleaning up the other Observers' mess. Observer #5 is just happy to be here you know. The Godmodder attempts to attack Observer #5 but the Observer immediately serves him Armageddon-R dealing 99999 damage to his Psyche.

The Break is over, and the Fandoms return while my alternates dissolve back to the Greater Self.


The Legend of Zelda Fandom leads the charge, yelling a fierce Battlecry as it and all Links charge to face the Godmodder, Light Arrows piercing him, Master Swords slashing at him, even Magic being utilised by a few Links. The LoZ Fandom then hangs back, and summons Ganodorfs, some of which transform into Ganons… before Demise pops up and 1V1s the Godmodder for a brief minute or so. The Zeldas pray as Goddess Hylia Herself Descends, and a miracle is brought forth. The Triforce has been assembled, and in the possession of the Fandom, will recharge and grant some True Wishes every so often.

The Fandom's Card enters the Hammer, and now it gains the ability to annoy the Godmodder via it's newly gained telepathic voice as well as fly more sustainably.

The next Fandom arrives and tosses Red and Green People at the Godmodder at which the Godmodder is treated to 4x9999 combo jumps before the hammer is smacked into him. It's a them, the Mario and Luigi Fandom. With a Copy Flower, thousands of copies are formed, and each quad of Marios and Luigis use their own Bro Moves, leading to an escalating offensive blast.

The Fandom shimmers… and another Mario Fandom arrives, the Paper Mario Fandom brings Paper Mario into the fold and with the power of Stars,Hearts, and Stickers as well as the duplication Machine, he engages in Trio Attacks as well as walloping the Godmodder with his many, many selves.

The Godmodder splits into a million pieces but with the sheer Cascade of Characters as well as the occasional Mini-Scratches, Retcons and SAVEs, all of them are forcibly damaged and the Godmodder rejoins to 1.


The Pokemon Fandom arrives from the Depths of Greater Me, and it throws out all the Legendaries as well as some kind-of-busted Pokemon… Shedninja immediately joins the Sans brigade. The Legendary Pokemon Master Ash Ketchum and all his friends come forth, Ash's Pikachu receives a great surge of Power as his Power Level scales to how close it is to the Ending and the Strength of the Foe. With some Inspiration from an alternate Self, United under the Banner of a Realisation of One, he forms 3 rings of Lightning and uses the Special Move: "VOLT CRASH!!" frying out the Godmodder Bots that the Godmodder replaces himself with. Time, Space, and Dimensions are rigid. With Time blocked 5 times over, the Godmodder can no longer abuse it. In a reversal, Ash leads the Pokemon as he's the one they trust the most and has a Protagonist Shenanigans certificate for his capabilities with Legendaries.

The cards for the Mario Games and Pokemon, enter the Fandom, it gets a Twin equal to it, and a Godly Aura surrounds them both as they smack the Godmodder.



The Cardfight Vanguard Fandom arrives, bearing the best deck in the Meta. They quickly toss their Card to the Hammer, causing it summon more cards rapidly, as the cards fall onto the ground, an Army is Sprung as all combatants of a distant Planet arrive… A vast war is fought between the Godmodder and the Characters but eventually, he has to concede that he can't use normal means to beat this and is forced to unleash another Mass Attack to briefly stop the advance and buy him some Time…

Time enough for the first reaches of the Storm to arrive, starting with a Light Drizzle as the Mother Fandom descends slowly in a corona of Gentle Light as they play the 16 melodies… the Godmodder can feel his Will being sapped… let this hateful mission go…

…


...But unfortunately, he has come too far, and can't stop now. He slashes at the Fandom and it explodes bearing the last notes as it turns into Sunflower petals before reforming, now with all of the characters at its side.

Ninten heals and supports. Loyd performs a Weapons run. Ana invokes the Elements and Teddy closes in with a sharp blade. Ness performs PSI Rocking before adding Ninten in Healing. Paula sends even more Flames and Ice and prays. Jeff unleashes his greatest Item, the Multi-Bottle Rocket and all of them hit the Godmodder!! Poo faces the Godmodder and performs PSI STARSTORM.

Claus and Lucas perform PSI LOVE… and awake the Dark Dragon who attacks the Godmodder in in its unthinkable ways

The Mother Card enters the Hammer, and a brilliant light shines forth from it.

As the Drizzle intensifies slightly, a sudden burst of Light arrives, it's the Naruto Fandom, and by their side is the titular character, Sasuke, and Sakura. With a few nods, they proceed to obliterate the Godmodder with 5000 various tricks, attacks, and Jutsus. Let's just say they finished it off with Sakura punching the Godmodding into the Face followed by Naruto and Sasuke performing the Six Paths — Chibaku Tensei Seal, sealing the Godmodder inside a Moon, where his Power is being drained… He gets out but not without a significant portion of his Power lost.

The Hammer takes advantage of this and wallops him, aided by the Naruto Card entering it and granting the greatest usage of chakra. More than 50% of its previously white surface has been coloured in now.

The Godmodder readies a weapon against the characters, but a burst of Red Light Disarms him!! The Harry Potter Fandom has arrived with their Wand, a fusion of all wand woods and cores slightly smoking from where it cast an Overpowered Disarming Charm.

The forces of Magic collide with the Godmodder in blasts of Light streaming from wands, though none used the Unforgiveables, they do manage to support the other characters with suppressing fire and other ways for their curses and jinxes to hurt whatever ways the Godmodder is using. The Death Eaters, of course, are using the Unforgiveables at every opportunity, though they are also given a wide berth by everyone else.

The Harry Potter Card enters the Hammer, bringing the Magic that brings both Wonder and Ruin into it.


The Hammer hits the ground and a large spire rises, atop this Spire, the Slay the Spire Fandom resides inside with a Deck of Cards and a Large Grin. The Ironclad, the Silent, the Defect and the Watcher climb ever upwards, all the while, attacking the Godmodder with their Weapons. They enter their respective forms, and proceed to defeat the Heart of the Spire, escaping as they cause Mass Destruction which damages the Godmodder inside the Spire, slowed heavily by the Fandom. The Variouses Bosses of the Spire spill out, and they also inflict their own Status Ailments onto the Godmodder, forcing him to be more careful in how he acts or else these Bindings will suffocate him.

The Card enters the Hammer, and the Hammer becomes one with the Heart of the Cards, allowing all Card Players to draw the best card at the right time.

The storm intensifies and Lightning now strikes the Battleground as the rain becomes heavy.

The Celeste Fandom speedruns the spire to land onto the Godmodder and Dashing straight into him. They then respawn further away where Madeline is. The Terrain shifts, and the grassy terrain metamorphoses into a Mountainous Obstacle Course. Madeline and the Godmodder race to find the Perfect Strawberry at the Heart of it and Madeline, of course, gets it first, absorbing it into herself for the fabled Triple Dash, she then confronts the Godmodder in an epic battle of dashing into him rapidly. Afterwards, she gives it up to grant double dash to everyone else.

The Players of the Game step forth, and with precise inputs and speedy tactics continue to ambush the Godmodder's every steps. Locking him further into the Path ordained by the Undertale Fandom and their Characters as well as the Skaia Ball held by the Homestuck Fandom.

The Hammer takes in the Celeste Card and it now reaches FTL+++ territory, dashing so fast it's effects are retroactive and it hits the Godmodder before it actually starts striking him, preventing the Godmodder from being able to defend against the Assault.

The storm rains on… and the Godmodder remains firm...

The Eleventh Hour is here… the World- All Worlds, stands on the precipice of Destruction… At Another Place, far from this War…

The OneShot Fandom anxiously sits by.. .although their power is great, they are not really the kind suited for battle… Niko and the Residents of the Computer World as well as the AI sustaining it are waiting for… something, but nobody knows what it is. There is an Urgency here, but nowhere to channel it.

The Night in the Woods Fandom arrives, bringing forth an Idea, even if they cannot do anything much, they can still assist the Battle from here by assisting Paradox manipulate the Tropes as is their Nature, as well as call for further Help… The OneShot Fandom Agrees.

With their Power, the OneShot Fandom asks you, Moniker, Arbiter of this Battle, for one last push… y/n??

With their Power, the NiTW Fandom invokes the 3 Deities who are and beseech them to find others to Aid the Battle… asking Reality itself for Aid...

While Calls for Help are sent to Reality and the Arbiter. The SU Fandom appears in the Battlefield, with the Power of Song on their side.

With the aid of all Gems, and a Series Finale on their side, they rush the Godmodder with White controlling some of the Godmodder's Minions, Blue Diamond stopping an emotional Bomb on them, Yellow Diamond Destroying most of them with her Powers, and Pink Diamond… healing those who need it. Steven fuses with literally everyone after an intense heart-to-Heart session and the new fusion, big enough to move a mountain in one hand, form the Multitool… and proceeds to destroy the Godmodder with all possible weapons and powers and combinations thereafter of them.

They hand me the Multitool before de-fusing as the Steven Universe Card enters the Hammer, granting it the ability to Change, and evolve… becoming stronger and more resilient to all future attacks as the Godmodder's fist shatters as he tries to strike the Hammer.

The Multitool manipulates Reality, allowing me to counter the Godmodder's Godmodding, defusing even more of his ability.

From the Ruins of the Spire, a 200 story Tower forms as the Storm approaches the Peak of its Power, suddenly, all colours become tainted a yellowish-Green as the Dark Hour appears. A Moon approaches…

Makoto Yuki and the rest of S.E.E.S perform an Ascend as they dance with Death, defeating the Full-Moon Shadows that seem to be more powerful, possibly because the Godmodder has accidentally given them a power boost due to his power coming from Shadows… but that connection means that when they beat the Shadows, his powers also Dwindle…

As Nyx's Avatar descends from the Moon, a chant is Invoked:

0 - Fool/I - Magician
The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge,
he sealed his fate... Entrusting his future to the cards,
man clings to a dim hope.
Yes, the arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
Attaining ones,
dream requires and stern will and unfailing determination.

Eternity awaits.

II - Priestess
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
The silent voice within one's heart whispers the most
profound wisdom

Eternity awaits.

III - Empress
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
Celebrate life's grandeur,
it's brilliance,
it's magnificence

Eternity awaits.

IV - Emperor
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
Only Courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer

Eternity awaits.

V - Hierophant
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
It is indeed a precious gift to
understand the forces that guide oneself.

Eternity awaits.

VI - Lovers
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
There is both joy and wonder
in coming to understand another.

Eternity awaits.

VII - Chariot
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
One of life's greatest blessings is the freedom
to pursue one's goals.

Eternity awaits.

VIII - Justice
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
To find the one true path, one must seek guidance
amidst uncertainty

Eternity awaits.

IX - Hermit
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
It requires great courage to look at oneself
honestly and forge your own path

Eternity awaits.

X - Fortune
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
Alongside time exists fate,
the bearer of cruelty

Eternity awaits.

XI - Strength
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
Only with strength
can one endure suffering and torment

Eternity awaits.

XII - Hangman
The arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
In the face of disaster
lies opportunity for renewal

Eternity awaits.

XIII - Death
The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge,
he sealed his fate...
Entrusting his future to the cards,
man clings to a dim hope.

Yet arcana is the means by which all is revealed.
Beyond the Beaten Path lies the absolute end.
It matters not who you are, Death awaits you.

But Makoto takes in the power of the Messiah, and Beats Nyx's Avatar, before ascending to the Moon where he faces Nyx and it's endless Death pulses. But the Bonds he has created sing, and he takes hold of the Power of the Universe and casts it, creating the Great Seal between Nyx and Erebus, humanity's desire for self-destruction…

The Great Seal also affects the Godmodder, sealing away even more of his Godmodding away as well as destroying his selfish desires for the Destruction of Reality.

The Tower crumbles… but a Thick Fog soon leaks into the Battlefield, obscuring the Godmodder from sight. He grins… empowering Izanami-no-Okami… yet, in the Battlefield, The Investigation Team arrives, Yu Narukami and his team set out to investigate the Midnight Channel and the TV world behind the screen. After facing numerous Trials and Tribulations, they confront the True Killer as well as defeat one of the 3 pieces of the True God… Ameno-sagiri. The Godmodder winces as some of his Power is again lost… Marie goes missing but the Investigation Team finds her again in the Hollow Forest, transformed into Kusumi-no-Okami who will absorb the Fog and kill herself… but they stop her from doing so, reasoning that there must be a better way.

On the Last Day, Yu Narukami finds and confronts Izanami-no-Okami, who falsely believed Humanity's True Wishes are of Emptiness, although he and his friends are felled by her in her True Form after he used the Orb of Sight to see clearly and she used her Thousands Curses to drag everyone to their Deaths. His Bonds with everyone empowered him, transforming Izangai into Izanagi-no-Okami with the Power of the Myriad Truths, the Word of Power that banishes all the World's Curses and Falsehoods, and with a shattering Light, Izanami-no-Okami is destroyed.

All 3 pieces of the True God are reassembled, Izanami-no-Mikoto is reformed under the surging personality, Marie's. She takes revenge against the Godmodder by using her powers to grant The People's Wishes and to protect them by sealing away even more of the Godmodder's Power.

The Fog dissipates, but another event still occurs, Mementos appears… the Godmodder once again boosts Yaldabaoth, the Demiurge, God of Control.

And once again, an intrepid team of meddling kids rebel against this. Donning the masks of the Phantom Thieves of the Heart. They steal the Cardinal Sins of their Target's Distorted Desires through stealing their distorted object which is the focus of their Desire.

Changing those whose power and status would have prevented Society from going after them due to the shared Desire for Social Harmony, a Virtue… but distorted to an Extreme. They take care of each and every sin except for Sloth…

The Demiurge reveals himself, at the peak of his power, he not only represents the Sloth of the Masses who wish to have somebody else make their decisions for them, and their Despair and Apathy to making a difference, he represents all other Cardinal Sins…

He exiles the Phantoms Thieves from regular reality, before using his God-like powers to convince everyone they don't exist, causing them to suffer greatly in the Metaverse, which is ruled by the Perception of people as they are viewed as [[NOTHING]]...

But, those who have formed the deepest of bonds with the Phantom Thieves, especially Joker, cannot forget him, and they remind everyone else who they are and what they are doing, turning everyone to their cause and granting them great Power… this Power, focused to Joker, grants him the ability to Evolve Arsene into Satanael, the Rebel Archangel!!

He casts Sinful Shell, a Bullet from a Gun that invokes the Cardinal Sins to destroy Yaldabaoth. With this death, even more of the Godmodder's Power is sealed away and lost… as Satanael gazed over and shoots a bullet into him too before disappearing…

The Persona Series Fandom arises from the Sea of Souls, they fix the Godmodder and call forth the last character, Philemon, embodiment of Humanity's Goodness and he casts Armageddon-R and utterly obliterates the Godmodder some more.

The cards of the Persona Fandoms enter the Hammer, it's now nearly fully coloured and it's Strikes the Godmodder's very Soul with each swing…


The Peak of the Storm is upon us…

The Last two Fandoms exits, the Terraria Fandom, with the Calamity Mod installed, and the Minecraft Fandom, twin Fandoms of Creation.I nod at the Terraria Fandom, and they begin a play though of Calamity. Through numerous bosses and uncountable trials, they grow stronger with Armour and Weapons as they confront the Devourer of Gods and Providence, the Profaned Goddess before finishing it off with The Jungle Dragon, Yharon. The battles shake the very Battlefield, and they all happen to have the Godmodder become the one in between the 2 Opposing Forces, dealing even more punches to him as his power continues diminishing trying to stop it.

The Minecraft Fandom, modded to the Gills, fights through all the Bosses the Game and the Mods gave to offer, growing stronger which each defeated, as more materials become available and their Redstone Contraptions and Modded Industry really takes off, complementing the Magic Moss and turning the Fandom into a near indestructible God, and in a single tick, they fire all the Infinite Arrows from all the Bows enchanted with Infinity, they strike the Godmodder a Billion times with their swords, Wanda,axes and other weaponry.

//skip to 6.00 if you're not there already

Then, Supreme Calamitias appears, a witch of great and terrible Power, who descends with her revived brothers, Supreme Catastrophe and Supreme Cataclysm.

Then, the Ender Dragon appears, a Dragon of Dark and Awesome Power, who descends with his crowd of servants, the Endermen, and all their variants from the Mods.

The Fight is rejoined as both sides clash against each other!! The Godmodder is tossed to one side and smacked around by two beings whose power has transcended even that of the The Gods. The End has come!!

Supreme Calmaitas inflicts the Soul-Eating Abyssal Flames, the Vulnerability Hexes and Horror upon the Godmodder which a quick tap with the Multitool and the Hammer renders permanent while he tries to survive against the forces.

The Ender Dragon inflicts his Damaging Breath Weapon, and while his Crystals are up, can't be killed. He takes in the Essence of the Chaos Dragons and unleash Air,Fire,Earth,Water,Lightning,Wood,Ice,Magma etc onto the Godmodder.

At the end of the Fight, the Fandom and Supreme Calmaitas nod at each other before abandoning their duel to pummel the Godmodder into ashes. As they do so, the second-last card of the Terraria Fandom enters the Hammer, and it enters the fray, the Godmodder suffers… until he finally has enough of this Long Attack and banishes all the characters permanently…

However, the Hammer and the Multitool still exists… but the Fandoms are dead… or are they ??

The Minecraft Fandom has jumped into the End Portal that appears after defeating the Ender Dragon milliseconds before the Godmodder unleashed his Attack, and in that strange place and time between portals…the Architects speak to him…even as, on the Battlefield, I echo them.

"Stories held in the mind, can never be tarnished by the likes of you. They are imperishable, and as Long as they live on, their Fandoms will never quite die…"

As the Minecraft Fandom exits, they grant me their Card, the Final Card, but also the First, for it's the First Block.The card enters the Hammer, and 100% of its surface is now covered in colours. Then the Minecraft Fandom collapses onto the ground, it's Link to my Greater self severed by the Godmodder.At least for now.

I raise my Hand as the Hammer of Imagination invokes the Final Spell invoking all Fandoms, their bodies rise and their eyes snap open with a blazing light. Their bodies being dissolving into notes of Light that coalesce into a Ball in my hand. Fragments of all their Songs echo forth from this Ball and even more Songs go into it, expanding its size till it's bigger than the Godmodder's Head.

I survey the Battlefield…"Final Summon: The DTG Fandom itself"

From everyone here, a single mote of light comes forth, forming a Fandom. Echoes of Comb Raves in the Past that never was and Games yet to be played, have not been played, will not be played, and had been played come forth into one being.

The DTG Fandoms utter a word.

The Godmodder flinches in horror and is sent to their Knees.

[Wandersong][Message from Mom][Spectre][Fade][Eternity served Cold][Saviour of the Waking World][Saviour of the Dreaming Dead][Oppa Toby Style][Hopes and Dreams][FinaleUT][Megalovania][dont ever forget][Time is a Place][The fiction we tell ourselves][to the moon][for river][Weight of the World,E][Sing with me a song][Connect][Finale-Madeon][EBF 5 soundtrack][Zehanpuryu][where are you duet][chant of immortality][Prelude for a lonely star][if it's for you, song 4 you][Gris Pt 1 and 2][Wind Guide You][Apotheosis-Journey][The Sun Rises][Rainbow Road][close to me][Chronos][Unwavering Heart]

The DTG Fandom looks at me and Ascends to my greater self as its body dissolves into the same notes of Light to dissolve into my Music Ball.

The Music Ball becomes even bigger…

"This is for you, Piono!! Take this Power;The Power of Stories and of both Narrative and Conflict; all Plot and the Theory; The Untarnishable Stories that is woven into our Own!! Take this, and DESTROY!! THE!! GODMODDER!!"

I toss the Music Ball to Piono.


As the storm washes away...a faint Ray of Light descends onto the Godmodder.

 

[Franciacorta]

Well, this is it.

This is the final frontier. The final countdown. One more update, and the world shall be rid of unfathomable evil. A bit overwhelming, is it not?
To those of you who know that it is actually underwhelming as shit, since multiple other realities plagued by other monstrosities exist, do kindly shut up and let me make this dramatic speech.
Indeed. You should all be proud of yourselves for coming this far. Through thick, thin, and everything betwixt. Through challenges both worldly and metaworldly. Over the seven plains, mountains and seas, over roads, chasms, sometimes railroads…

There isn't much left to add onto that. The twin lies of justice and morality have been cleared, and all the truths of the world released for all to see.

...except…

...there still exists one final truth to be told. An objective truth, one you won't have to believe the writer for it to hold, well, true.

The Red Truth about Verraad, also known as the Truth about John Smith.

Let us begin, shall we?

---

THE TRUTH ABOUT JOHN SMITH

He is a cunt.

---

There. No multi-chapter nonsense, no immense gratification and grandifying, no nothing. Because that's all he really is, after everything he's done, after everything everyone's learned of him. A boorish and boring little man, only missing Alpha's attention whore complex.

And so, because nobody should suffer having to see and hear more of him, how about we switch our attention to realities far more interesting?

---

MEANWHILE, ELSEWHERE...

---

A millenium old Witch stands in front of another, awaiting her punishment.

It was all going so well. Just a fight against the herald of some Godmodder Empress. She had just managed to harm him by riding a dragon directly into him, and was about to do it for a second time by having him eaten alive by the Goat Nobility. All was well. All was well, until the bastard grew giant, breaking through the walls of the room and sodding off to continue the battle. That in itself was not too bad- she could simply try again and again to destroy him- if not for the fact that the room was rented to her by Lady Lᴀᴍʙᴅᴀᴅᴇʟᴛᴀ.

And so, the Witch of Strife now stood before the Witch of Certainty, knowing she would not be let off easy for having her favourite playground be destroyed.
After a few more moments of menacingly pacing left and right, Lᴀᴍʙᴅᴀ came to a stop. She approached Fʀᴀɴᴄɪᴀᴄᴏʀᴛᴀ, lifting her chin with a hand, moving it slightly to caress her cheek...
...before slapping her with the force of [34] units of a measure known only to the timeless, sending her flying.

The sound barrier is broken within the first picosecond of the flight, the reality barrier after the seventh.


MEANWHILE, ELSEWHERE...

---

"Man it's good to be a god," thought literally nobody in the Court of Depths.

The corpses of the once-gods of Astesklana could not think it. They could not think anything. They were dead. No afterlife for them, given they were too lazy to create one for even mortals. That was, in fact, what actually lead to their death. Their laziness. Their laziness, which bordered on cruelty enough so that it was perceived as only such. And what does cruelty inspire?
Rebellions, of course.

The two infamous human rebels within the Court, which were in that moment default dancing over the dead body of Mátágáe, the Mother of All Devotions, could not think it. They were not gods. They wished not to be gods. They wished only for their tyranny to end. To that end they took up the blade. Or rather, the Blade, the Blade of Thóri, King of Círce and Mátágáe's father. He who resisted Dáinbarih and her Voice of Heaven, he who slaughtered the First Generation of gods, he who with his own hands created the statue Hír to hold the flame with which he killed them. All of that, only for his daughter to become the first goddess of the Second Generation and consume him in his sleep. But his effort was not in vain, for his blade was just now used to end her life. Throughout their insulting dance, the rebels chanted Círce's anthem, paying one final respect to him. He deserved it. After all, it's likely that their own glory after this heretical deicide would surpass his own. Their names would be known to all of mankind.
Their names, Tempest and Fatima.

The Abyssal Demiurge bearing the names of Eᴠʀᴀʜᴀᴊᴀᴍᴇᴊ, Eᴠʀᴀʜᴀɪ Jᴀᴍᴇsʜ, Aᴋʀᴇᴍsᴛᴀsʜᴀ-Yɪᴘᴘᴀ-Dɪᴘ'ᴅɪᴘ, Eʟ, Eʟ Sᴏᴍʙʀᴇʀᴏ and Aᴅᴏɴᴀɪ could not think it. In this very moment, He wished He were absolutely anything other than a god, for He was about to get painfully killed thanks to being one. Not just that, not just a god- He was the only survivor of the First Generation and the forefather of the Second, through converting Mátágáe into a goddess via a Faustian deal. And now, He would become nothing, just like His brethren all those centuries ago. No Third Generation would succeed Him.

A minute after, the rebels finished with their hateful dancing, and took a few steps towards the Demiurge. They stared him into all seven of His forever unblinking eyes, which along with His double mouth were arranged in the shape of the Rune of Loss. Those eyes now clearly showed an emotion He had never before experienced.

Fear.

And then, in that crucial moment...
...Fʀᴀɴᴄɪᴀᴄᴏʀᴛᴀ breached that reality's barrier, slamming into Him and killing Him instantly. This did not stop her flight, and soon after, she tore another hole in the barrier, entering some other world.

The two lovers and the leaders of the rebellion swore, before following after her through the hole, the first of many in the chase.


MEANWHILE, ELSEWHERE...

---

"There was an Old Man of Vienna,
Who lived upon tincture of senna;
When that did not agree
He took camomile tea,
That nasty Old Man of Vienna."
— Edward Lear

It is unknown if the most respected Mr Lear ever took a trip to the capital of the Dual Monarchy and saw him there, but whatever the case might be, he was pretty close to the mark when describing the infamous old man. However, there are a few details in the poem that are wrong:

1: The Old Man did not live on senna extract. He wasn't even constipated, or susceptible to the weaknesses of the human body.
2: The Old Man much preferred coffee. When he did not agree with you, he would start pouring cream into it until you begged him to stop ruining the wonderful beverage.
3: The Old Man was not merely nasty. To call that fierce old thing in the dark "nasty" would be quite the understatement.

There are also a few important things to know that Ed neglected to mention:

1: The Old Man, despite his near-white hair, did not actually look all too old. He definitely wouldn't have scored with the tall, dark and handsome man sitting across the table if he were- for all his relative niceness, Sol was rather vain.
2: The Old Man was the most notorious spymaster of the Game and the one running it in all but name. Some say that, if its name were to be taken literally, he would be both kings on the board. This is naturally false: he was no single piece, no number of pieces even, but the one moving them.
3: The Old Man was a star. A literal star, whose brilliant body shone far, far away. The man was just a mortal avatar he constructed for himself to more easily gather information.


The Solitary Scientist scientist sighed for what must've been the fiftieth time that afternoon. It might as well have been the only noise he was capable of making. The Old Man's blithering continued, entirely unaffected by his listener's state.

"You have endured for long, my dear, far too long. But you must consider the possibility whose existence you keep ignoring. You can't just remain in denial- the fool might never find what it's looking for, never return. And, well, the silence itself is rather telling, is it not? However, I must- waiter! Another cup!"

As soon as those last words left him, a hunched figure wrapped in a cloak and bearing the name tag "Mr Cups" approached them, aggravatedly throwing an empty cup at the table. It bounced off, slamming into the wall and shattering into an unspeakable number of pieces. Sol didn't so much as widen his eyes, the Old Man simply glared, and the waiter just wheezed out an "I don't get paid nearly enough for this shit."

It was now the Old Man's turn to sigh. His plan would've already been executed so long ago, if not for Sol's sheer denial. No, "determination" was not enough to describe it anymore. He foolishly held onto that single possibility that she might reciprocate, and no matter how deep he submerged into despair, he still wouldn't die from it like he was supposed to.

But this was the day. This was the day when everything would fall into its place, when-
BONK
-aaaaaand Sol is dead, fuck.

The Old Man stared, mouth agape as a mean witch singlehandedly ruined millennia of careful planning. Though not visible from Earth yet, the main form of the Sun died with its avatar- soon enough, Earth itself would be no more.

Oh well. There's always revenge remaining.

The Old Man walked through the tear in reality, becoming the White once more.

---

"For the love of fuck, how long are you going to be writing this?"

Patience, child of man. If there is one thing you should've learned by now, it's patience.

"Patience is one thing. Sitting in the background while you take days to write all this irrelevancy is madness, nothing more."

oh come on I just need a few more No.

...

. . .

...?

Fine. Have it your way.

---

MEANWHILE, ELSEWHERE...

As the storm washes away...a faint Ray of Light descends onto the Godmodder.

Click to shrink...

A booming sound is heard by all, all who had gathered there on that day. It shakes the earth, the air fizzles with something old and rich, the heavens crack.
The Hateful has arrived.

She slams into No. YeNO. Are you forgetting who's the more powerful of us two? I have only accepted your botherations due to my own lack of ideas on what to describe, and what to leave out. Now sit tight and wait for your turn.

As my ward oh-so-tactlessly said, she (I) finally reaches her last destination in this senseless flight spanning forever.

And then shit happens.
Verraad takes unblockable anticlimax damage.
Eat shit Francia.
You fools are so dead, you know that?
Worth it. tUmUt
Oh, and at some point in that battle we're not describing, I give Piono dearest a bottle of Waluigi Thyme. Don't ask how we got it, not even Efes knows what Francia did to obtain her stash.
He is also grateful at not having to provide a detailed description of how exactly he used I̢͢͞͞O̶͟U҉̸̨Ć̡̛̕Ǫ̶͟͟͝S͢ during the battle, for the audience's sake. He would also like to remind you that this childish debacle is only possible thanks to his powers as the Sorcerer of Placeholders. You owe him.
We fucking get it.

POST COMPLETE~

 

[CaptainNZZZ]

OOC: NOT PART OF THE CHAIN. YES, I MAINTAIN MY NEUTRALITY EVEN NOW!

You successfully escape damage via the stealthy attack redirector! However, you notice a little red dot on your head... the Godmodder's weapon is positioned perfectly to still hit you with his one-hit attack!

*snip*

Verraad: I am not a Player. I am a God. No... better than a God. I'm an Administrator of Reality, far stronger than even an Architect!

Verraad: You are, just as you have always been, a mere bug sitting on the windshield of my victory, waiting for the windshield wipers of defeat to destroy you.

Click to shrink...

"Adorable, simply adorable. The almighty Administrator of Reality...thwarted by an attack redirector with the benefits of stealth. The being who is destined to win and whose might is akin to windshield wipers to bugs...had his efforts towards a Player beaten by a creation of an entity."

Oh, it's getting painful to hold in all this laughter. I can feel my skin churn as the laughter seeks an orifice it can escape from. I'll need to finish my words before the laughter escalates to the point it creates its own opening.

"I mean, be honest. If one Player escapes harm and the rest get themselves back in action with minimal loss...your victory remains uncertain. In fact, your victory is even less certain than back during the HEXAGONAFIELD. Then you had the excuse for secret plans and comparatively limited power. Those times you let a Player get you to buff their entity or when a Player's screw up still has you to waste both your entities' and personal actions against that one Player's resources or when time you wasted an action meant for a charge because of a free action."

Images flash and twist before the Godmodder, the experiences on full display from hundreds of perspectives to burn those past actions into the Godmodder's short-term memory.

"Oh, wait. Those were all just me, weren't they? Some Filthy Neutral who spent their time failing at army building and who seemingly has spent their entire existence as a Player pointlessly dedicated to the Neutral path, to the point they haven't even directly attacked the Godmodder. If I can cause you problems and defy your efforts, what hope do you have to best the AGers?"

Dramatic echo, check. Dramatic flair, check. Black fedora, check.

"I know for certain that I can't hold a candle to the AGers. They outnumber, outskill, outpower, outknow and outthink me. The gulf is a never-ending chasm, a gap so mind boggling great that even the idea of trying to traverse it is impossible."

"You will lose, Godmodder. You're so hopeless before them that, well, I've never needed to attack you and I never will. You are doomed, not even worthy of an attack from me."

Oh, great. The laughter just almost escaped, gathering into a great bubble that only was stopped by the use of my attack shield. I'm out of time for taunts and mocking.

"Time to sit back and watch the show, I guess." I take a seat in freshly conjured reclining chair and reach for the full cup holder. "Because you're so screwed."

And then, I charge.

After popping a hole in my side of course. Gotta let the laughter out before it makes its own hole. (x2)

You re-acquire the Ore of Orichalcum, and give yourself a (completely not helpful in this situation) attack shield!

*snip*

[N+2]CaptainNZZZ (has Ore of Orichalcum!)

Click to shrink...

"Ah, excellent." I say between sips of that glorious alcohol I collected back when the Peacekeepers were still around. "My redundancy."

I set up an auto-burn mode for the Ore, linking its effects to me and letting it start burning if I suddenly lose Player power or I reach a near state. An emergency back-up for any risks inherent to the death of the Godmodder. The auto-burn mode will only activate in those circumstances or with my mental promoting, otherwise it sits inert on the Ore of Orichalcum. (x1)

 

[Bill Nye]

...........Huh?

ALL A.I'S REACTIVATED.

I'm...... Ok! I'm Alright!

Wow.... Guess that worked!

.............Guys?

................Hello?

They choose not to speak.

What? Why?

Because they are busy with their attacks.

Shadrix teleports down next to me along with Kirby.

This is the moment kiddo! This is the moment we have all been waiting for! Its time for you to show him what you are made of!

As soon as Shadrix says that, I start to feel good... Like really good!

I have activated special permission which will allow you to show him your true potential! I always wanted to see this happen! Now... ATTACK!

Shadrix points his index finger right at the godmodder. I look at him and all of my traits activate at the same time!

I spawn many boxing gloves which all glow from power. All of the boxing gloves rush towards the Godmodder and land many direct hits. I then summon a Giant boxing glove and smack it right on top of him, causing an earthquake to spawn.

I rush towards the Godmodder and pulled out many guns from different franchises. I pulled out all the halo guns and fired until they ran empty. then I fired all the guns from the Ratchet and Clank series. Finally, I ended with Firing 30 BFG's from the Doom Series, causing an explosion of massive proportions.

I threw the Godmodder into a firey pot that has a temp of 40000 Degrees Faranhite. Inside the pot, there are many dangerous poisons that take effect right on contact. After being in there for about 30 seconds, The pot explodes in fireworks.

I summon many vines that hold the Godmodder in place. If he moves, he gets hurt. I then start slashing at him with many knives. They don't do much, but with the combination of him moving and my knives, it still hurts. After the slashing, The vines then stab directly into the Godmodder and explode.

I Start making the place rain. The rain then makes the Godmodder Heavier and heavier. He gets so heavy that he kneels. After that, a bunch of bugs swarm him and start eating away at him. After about 3 minutes of this, He is freed from the bug's grasp.

I open a book and start reading random words. The words spring to life and start attacking the Godmodder. many words like "punch" and "stab" and "destroy" are attacking. after a while of this, I read one last word which is, "Death". And the word explodes right on the Godmodder.

I grow a devilish smirk as I spawn in 2 very sharp knives. They glow with intensity and power. I dash at the Godmodder and start slashing at him. However, I don't really hit him. I just slash right in front of him. The Godmodder looks at me with a confused look on his face. After a while, I stop and turn around. I then sheath my knives and snap my finger. The Godmodder then feels the intense pain of a million of slashes and piercings. Then, I scream out and summon a bigger knife. The knife explodes into many knives and starts raining down upon him. After all of that, I gave off another smile.

After all of my traits attack, I start to feel funny. I then see that my chest is opening up, revealing a massive hole. with wires are tubes on the side of it. The tubes start glowing the different trait colors and start powering something up

3 MINUTES LEFT, BEFORE FIRING THE OMEGA CANNON!

Shadrix looks at Kirby and smiles.

Alright, its time! Kirby! you go and attack and I will call for help!

Aye sir!

Kirby then stands face to face with the Godmodder. Kirby transforms into Sword Kirby and starts slashing the crap out of him. he moves faster and swings harder than any other Kirby in the entire multiverse. He then shifts into Fire Kirby and breaths fire hotter than the Big Bang. Then Shifts into Smash Kirby and beats the overloving crap out of him before using his Final Smash. He then shifts into Hammer Kirby and starts pounding him to dust. Then, he turns into Crash Kirby and explodes with the force of a supernova. Lastly, he becomes Supernova Kirby and looks at a nearby star and sucks it up. Then, he fires the sun at the Godmodder, exploding in the process.

After all of that, Kirby catches his breath. He looks to see Shadrix coming back.

1 MINUTES LEFT, BEFORE FIRING THE OMEGA CANNON!

Not to worry Kirby! The calvary has arrived!

I look to see what he brought in. I was shocked to see a giant fleet of ships that seem to circle the entire battlefield. The sky is full of them. There were a bunch of ships that seem to make reference to both Star Wars, Star Trek, and Battlestar Galactica. Inside the ships, there were millions of Kirby's, all manning the ships. All the battleships aim their sights right on the Godmodder.

I have been waiting for this for a very long time. Maria! Engage Combat Mode and begin the fusing process!

Shadrix's eyes quickly flash 0's and 1's as his suit transforms into a sleek, battle mode. His chaos emeralds grow super and he transforms into Hyper Shadrix.

Godmodder.

30 SECONDS LEFT!

Before the Godmodder can react, He is being pummeled to the ground.

You have ruined everything.

25 SECONDS LEFT!

You took my God Form, You beat me to the ground and left me to die! Did you not think I would come back to ruin you again?!

The ships bring out small turrets.

20 SECONDS LEFT!

You shouldn't have messed with me! I am your devil! and I say that your time to live...

15 SECONDS LEFT!

The ships fire what looks like little nets.

ENDS HERE!

Shadrix lands one hard punch and teleports out of the way. The nets land on The Godmodder, causing him to be in incredible pain.

10 SECONDS LEFT!

On my command, commence operation "Hell Fire!"

All the ships reveal their massive cannons and they start charging up. Shadrix flies up to the sky and takes out his Super Emeralds. The emeralds circle around him, making him glow brighter than ever before. in the distance, he looks like a star. The sheer energy being produced causes the entire multiverse to shake. Shadrix charges up his own attack which glows rainbow.

5
4
3
2
1
FIRING!

Bill's cannon fires a giant beam that is colored rainbow. The Godmodder gets hit with it and screams in pain. Shadrix screams out.

FIRE!!!

All the ships fire their cannons, raining down bullets and bombs and lasers right at the Godmodder. He gets pelted with an endless bombardment of weaponry as the Godmodder continues to scream in pain. Shadrix looks over at the carnage and smiles. He then aims the ball of energy right at the Godmodder. After the Bombardment, The godmodder slowly looks up to see Shadrix there aiming the giant energy ball right at-

So long, Gay Godmodder

Shadrix fires right at the Godmodder, A giant beam lands directly on the Godmodder, The entire battlefield shakes as the beam takes apart the Godmodder. Then, The beam explodes. The size of the explosion can be seen from anywhere in the Multiverse. After the dust settles, there is a giant crater where the Godmodder lies. Shadrix flies down next to Bill, who was closing his chest. The rest of the fleet vanishes, having done its job. Shadrix turns off his Hyper form and looks at Kirby as he approaches. The three of them look at each other and at the crater...

........

.....and they high five.

 

[WHM Sukamia]

A post.

Click to shrink...

It fits a bit because we are united and are very cooperative with each other. I don't exactly have a better explanation, but hey, it's a good song.

It's time. The battle is finally upon us.

Reaching across the Multiverse, utilizing the weak dimensional barriers from Fran's attack, and across time and space, I grab every single King Arthur, male or female, child or adult, and bring them into our reality in preparation for our final attack. We have sacrificed so much for this. Heck, we've even sacrificed our own LIVES! Sure, we came back, but that doesn't change the fact that we still died. There are also the others who have sacrificed their own lives as well as all they had, like the previous players, and their entities. So, it's time to avenge them all, as well as all of our creations.

"Excalibur. It's time to release all of your limitations! All of Reality is at stake, among them Humankind. We need our full power if we want to stop this threat! That is why I have released your limitations and Summoned all of the King Arthurs that have existed, do exist, and will exist right here, along with their Excaliburs and Caliburns, all so we could merge with them temporarily, even if it takes all of our strength to do so. This may destroy you, as well as me, but it is worth it, to avenge my world and protect all of the rest! We HAVE to beat The Godmodder, here and now! Prepare yourself, for this, will take a lot. I'm glad I made you sentient, as that will allow you to remain in control of yourself. Now, [B]MERGE! [/B]"

And with those final words, Excalibur and I begin to glow, Excalibur with RED and me with GOLD , as we begin to merge with all of the King Arthurs. The King Arthurs and their Excaliburs/Caliburns slowly start to dissipate into GOLDEN specks, that start traveling toward us. As time goes on, the specks start traveling faster and faster, until all that is visible is a GOLDEN beam of light, that is constantly getting absorbed. However, as the Multiverse is infinite, the GOLDEN beam never wavers, as there are always more King Arthurs.

Now that I have a constant influx of energy, we can begin our attack. For the first strike, I go underground and appear underneath the Godmodder. He tries to dodge up and to the side, but a GOLDEN beam of light follows him, not letting up until it manages to hit him. Next, I swing up at the Godmodder, focusing all of the energy currently available into the strike, making an even larger GOLDEN beam shoot out, destroying much of the ground, while also being near impossible to dodge. Of course, since the Godmodder is, well, the Godmodder, he barely manages to get out of the way, though the beam does sear his skin slightly thanks to just how powerful it is. At this point, the Godmodder is beginning to come up with a counter and creates a bunch of illusions. Surely I won't be able to destroy them all in time, is what he must be thinking. However, he underestimates the power at my disposal currently. I send out 5 GOLDEN beams consecutively, almost instantly one after the other. The beams are utterly massive and cover all of the ground the Godmodder would be able to dodge to, including the ground and sky. It destroys all of the Godmodder illusions, and hits the real Godmodder, sending him flying into the ground. At this point, my body and my Excalibur are reaching the upper limits of what they can take. In one last final attack, I jump into the hole that the Godmodder has been forced to create from the sheer force of the previous attack and hit him right in the funnybone.

A GOLDEN beam shoots into the sky, as Excalibur and I get launched into the sky, and hit the ground, having lost all of the power from earlier, my body forcibly expelling it outside of me alongside that last attack. Excalibur lost it's extra power because it was running low on it's own charge, and the fact it wasn't meant to contain and use such large amounts of energy.

DRAGON OF HOPE is now critically wounded.
EXCALIBUR is now at 1 charge.

(I might edit this later if I have time, and if I think anything needs to change. It also feels a little off, but that's probably because I've rushed a little.)

 

[The_Nonexistent_Tazz]

-DoH post here-

Click to shrink...

"... Oh, right. We're not actually done yet." Leah says. "... Wow that was stupid of me. Uh. Actually, I have an idea... I'll just... Uh."

Leah snaps her fingers. Suddenly, a small, thin set of lines surrounds the Godmodder in a cube. Try as they might (though its doubtful if they can), the Godmodder finds himself unable to escape. Yorehammer power was lost long ago, after all.

"So. As I was about to say... We left off when Margaret opened up that new portal, after the whole colloseium thing and after I got my wings and all. Where we ended up-"

And the Godmodder is introduced to a whole new fresh hell as he is vertially bisected. His two halves fall directly on the floor. The eyes he keeps on the back of his head inform him of how so-a thin portal just appeared right in midair! It then turns 90 degrees and moves back some, revealing the source of the attack-a portal. Seconds later, A semi-transluscent copy of Leah, followed by what can presumed to be Meghan and Grimm, who all seem to leap through and land, both feet pressing into the Godmodder's skull as they get off him. As Grimm (the last) gets off his face, the 'room' starts to solidify.

"... Was... Well, this lab-place. Tanks floating around, tables 'n' such. Dimly lit, cobwebs everywhere-must've been disused for an age... Dust was thick enough that we weren't even able to step on the floor, just a tightly-compacted layer of dust."

And thus Verraad's eyeballs (which are somehow forced open) are abruptly assaulted by a load of dust in the eye! And also in his halved wounds! And also in his lungs! And generally everywhere where its seriously, extremely unhealthy to have dust at!

"These tubes were everywhere. None of them were broken, there weren't any signs of any struggling or anything... Just felt like it had been purposefully abandoned, like people didn't have anything else to do there. So I turned to the others-"

And Holo-Leah's foot engraves itself into Verraad's face on the ground as she turns.

"and I said... I said 'OK guys what now?' Grimm said 'Maybe this place is just off the grid? Meg, turn off the portal!' And Meg nodded and did some magic-y thing that we usually did to close portals behind us."

And Verraad's two halves abruptly reappear in the middle of the portal as Meghan closes it, causing him to be bisected horizontally. Somehow all four of his severed bits remain in the lab, though its probably because of holograms. Their drop into the dirt is honestly just as painful and aggravating as the portal cut itself... It becomes swiftly apparent that for the sake of good storytelling we can't have these interjections of Verraad's justly due karma crowd out the story, so we'll do them in chunks. We're also going to tactically neglect Leah's typical hex coloration to go with plain text to save a bit of time.

"I decided that it'd be a good idea to figure out what was going on here, maybe there's a reason we were sent here specifically? Most portals don't really care about distance unless its really far off, so we probably had access to this place for a while... Or maybe only just now. And there was some arguing, as usual, but we agreed, as we didn't really see any immediate ways out."

"So, we looked. Shuffled through filing cabinets that were mostly empty, pulled out drawers with nothing in them, checked all the dirty corners for those scraps of paper you leave behind. Most of what we found rightaway were abandoned notes about science-y stuff that went over our heads for the most part. What we could make out, in plain english, was a hypotheosis about 'Power inheritance via cloning,' but it was honestly super-vague and it was smudged a lot. As it turned out, there weren't any exits either-the only other one was just a door to blank space 'for repairs to the outside of the facility' and it requested we be in full spacesuits or something like that to proceed, so we realized we were basically in a pocket. Which was... Not great. We weren't making much progress on figuring out what was going on there either until we found this ladder in the corner and then found these books and files on the top of the tallest shelf. Meghan dropped the book, but thankfully it was a hardcover in good condition aside from the dust... It appeared to be a more detailed version and general compilation of the studies ongoing here, in a published form, on the nature of the Architects 'n' such. It wasn't much more than what The Truth had said of them, really, but it also came with images... And, well..."

"... Well, the 'main Architecht' looked a lot like Meghan, when we compared them. Like, a much older grandmother Meghan but, the resemblence was uncanny. Which was like super weird. The files really put it into perspective; it was basically the mission statement of the whole place, and it was apparently made to... Make clones of the Architects. From what I've learned more recently, I guess it must've been some scientific endeavor to recreate the benevolent gods of reality or something, but the short of is they failed; they got clones, alright, but whatever power that made them the Architects was not, like, genetics or something. They were just left with these young, power-less versions of some of the most profilic individuals in reality, and apparently nothing to do with them. I mean, apparently the clone of the 'head' architecht was magically proficient but that was it. And that really got the gears turning-that really made it sound like Meghan was that clone. But that wasn't all. It was like a footnote, but the last thing we discovered was that the clones were all shipped off to this plane... Apparently it wasn't Earth-it was very close to it, but it was more like Earth if Earth were made specifically to raise and graduate, well, heroes; you know what I'm talking about, like, people who're meant to be heroes of destiny or have super-cool powers when they turn thirteen or such. A plane where they could go and not get harassed by a million conspiracies or get murdered, where they could grow up right, alongside some actual normal people, and surrounded by peers as well. And that got us thinking-Meghan was really, really like the first Architect apperance-wise and had 'great magical aptitude,' and all the clones were shipped off to a plane that was supposed to be earth-like but wasn't... What if it was ours? Best part was they even left coordinates, which meant we had a ticket home! Like, the goal was in sight. We were celebrating and all that-if nothing else it was a hell of a lead, even if it was an assumption and Grimm was being grumpy about it as usual."

"Then the portal flicked back on and we panicked and threw ourselves into the corners of the room. Lemme tell you it was hella terrifying. The griffons could've easily pinned us down with sheer numbers and everything was way too close together to seriously fight them all off, and given what happened before, like. It was like the brink of death was trying to approach us! The I peeked out at who it was, and... It wasn't any of the Griffon crew, thank god. It was just, like, this girl with an red armband, but I wasn't thinking about it at all then. She didn't waste time, she scanned the room and picked all three of us out instantly. I was thinking 'maybe diplomacy this time?' but... Well."

"You know how it is to fight a Player as not a player? Its' basically fighting the Godmodder on crack."

"That girl was a player-and we weren't exactly much of a fight. She pulled out three tasers faster than any of us could see and tazed us unconscious. Or, almost completely unconscious immediately. I got a second of something like a word before I went under; 'gotcha, gnat.'"

The holographic room went black. In this time, the Godmodder: has his four severed parts shoved into filing cabinets and crushed as they open and close, and same with the drawers; wind up hyper-impacted into the corners of the projector; forced to experience mind-bending math equations in his own head with hyper-induced stress; abrupt infusion of power cells far bigger than his head and far more dangerous than his body; thrown out of an airlock and forced to experience space's unforgiving nature without any protection; got his body parts crushed by a ladder, then had his face crushed by a 1000-page hardback; blown away by the revelation of Meghan's apparent nature; got crushed under an exact replica of earth and then barraged by a thousand superheroes working in tandem; got portal-cut again; got swarmed by death griffons and stabbed to death; was executed by Death himself; got stepped on by the girl with the red armband; had a painful flashback of all of DefTG thus far, especially the damaging parts; and then got triple-tazed.

"... I woke up way later to shouting. 'You got a fucking decoy it isn't the sealed magical girl you dolt,' 'guys calm down this happens,' 'I didn't have any other leads and I put a hundred CP into finding them!' 'those Gryphons would've been able to tell!!!' and also a lot more incoherent shouting. I was in chains, my wings were in chains, my mouth was duct-taped, and I was being carried on a cart. Skyrim style. The girl from before was with me, Meghan and Grimm, and she didn't look as... Excessively intimidating as before. 'They're awake,' she said, before I could get my bearings, and suddenly another guy-he had like a mustache or something-twisted my head around to meet his and started shouting at me, but i didn't even hear what he said before the girl kicked him. 'Easy goddamnit this is our one lead, if even, and if we're wrong we raised a witch hunt over nothing and I'm going to be pissed.' I think he backed off fast after that. Girl turned us right round to her and just started expositing-and as she did so the whole world got tuned around her and I kinda started realizing what was going on. I tried to shout 'you're the Godmodder?!' and she said 'I'm a player' and that's when things started getting really confusing. Those Gryphons were definitely... Well, the Players. Suddenly those red armbands the Gryphons were wearing-and the girl-make perfect sense, right? Red has always been the color of the Players, traditionally, to match PG blue. Why beats me. But it was kind of sour getting kidnapped by 'heroes' of the world and all. If I had all of these memories before working with you lot, maybe my reception would've been worse. But that wasn't all she said."

"She exposited a lot about the current Godmodder. Said she figured we'd need it for context and having someone actually explain things was overdue just to get over what was going on. The Godmodder never gave a name apparently, but he didn't have a disguise either. He was... Old. An old man, in his eighties or something, not like that'd stop him at all. Didn't bother with the usual disguises or anything, uh, as I just said... He had been one of the shorter-ish Godmodders for 'term' but one of the worst thus far, as apparently his game was research into the Architects for study into their works and had been pretty effective in dealing with him. Former player or something. Maybe he had some grand idea, maybe he could've been something like Verraad if he got enough steam-obviously we don't know, as bare minimum he did die before now. I don't really know, I never did get the whole picture from an unbiased source... Can't say I'm unbiased, that'll be for later. She talked about Leviathan too-y'know, that big monster that'd been wrecking everything? Turns out it was his last sealed boss. This player group had been doing very well against him, been mowing him down like a bad weed, but then Leviathan came, and Leviathan was pretty deadly and also inexplicably universally hostile instead of just, like, a normal pro-godmodder, but his big thing was 'can't take damage if any other Sealed boss was alive' and he was summoned alongside this... Uh, thing? They actually never described it. They blew up the other sealed boss just fine, but when they started smacking Leviathan nothing happened because 'The Sealed Magical Girl was still alive' and everyone was all 'what Sealed Magical Girl?' and that's when everything went to shit. Leviathan had some snowballer capability, got a few Players squarely into the grave and... Ate their souls. Not the Godmodder-the Leviathan thing ate their souls instead. It wasn't some ordinary Sealed Boss. The Godmodder vanished and the Players had to beat feet, leaving the Leviathan to rampage across the planes and the Godmodder nowhere to be found. They couldn't do anything against it and it was just causing total hell-best they could do was evacuate the planes it was heading too and it usually wasn't enough. They did the best they could do and dug up everything they could dig up about this rogue Sealed boss they missed, and..."

"... They found out this: A previous player group before them-one that failed-were fighting a fresh Sealed Boss in the Godmodder's Soul Orb, from what they gathered. It was... Well, apparently it was like the Sealed Princess; some 'harmless thing' that'd get uber-bonkers if it got so much as scratched but was harmless until then. And the players all got this terrific idea that they'd pump inordinate resources into turning this inherently-Anti-Godmodder 'boss' into an actual boss, and turn it against the Godmodder. And they laser-focused on it so hard that the Godmodder just switched tactics to just beating them up directly. Hell, he even threw a buff at the Sealed Boss to shake it up some. They were, in the end, successful... Even used their mortal actions on it, apparently... But they were dead, 'cept for the entity. And I guess that this is where things get weird, as far as Godmodder conflicts go, because I don't think I've even heard of this happening once, where a Sealed Boss actually, actually turns against their creator. This entity, whatever it was, had been thoroughly convinced the Godmodder was the worst thing since hell itself, and had been buffed through the roof. The Godmodder being forced to kill it would cause him to take damage, which is obviously not ideal, but the thing was so powerful even in its Sealed State to be threatening, and now its Unsealed state would also be pointed at the Godmodder as well. Basically it was a total betrayal, but also, it was... Worse. Heartfelt. It was almost like the entity got a conscious or something. Which, in light of recent information, is probably what actually happened-like Felix and like D.I.G.I, the Godmodder's most powerful entity hadn't just become an unstoppable beast, but a sapient self-sustaining creature in its own right, and one thoroughly convinced the Godmodder was wrong. And... Stranger still, the Godmodder... Listened?"

"I can't say for certain what really went on in that dude's head. They didn't know either. Maybe it was because the entity looked (and was) younger than him, and maybe it triggered this parental reaction that their corruption buried? Or maybe it was just because the entity was inherently tied to them and their words had weight. Unbelievably, it kinda worked. The Godmodder went into quiet seclusion for his studies instead of active antagonistic action, and the entity... The entity..."

"... The entity looked exactly like a normal human girl at a glance, or could disguise themselves as such, so they went to this... Not-Earth. Way she described it, it was more like Earth if Earth were made specifically to raise and graduate, well, heroes; you know what I'm talking about, like, people who're meant to be heroes of destiny or have super-cool powers when they turn thirteen or such. A plane where they could go and not get harassed by a million conspiracies or get murdered, where they could grow up right, alongside some actual normal people, and surrounded by peers as well. And you heard that one before, didn't you. I said as much before... It was only a hunch. It clicked like some horrible gear in my head, and I think she knew too. And after she said that-she asked me, she asked me right then and there if I knew anything, because the literal fate of, bare minimum, a whole lot of lives, was at stake. Leviathan was eating souls and getting worse by the minute, they may've thought it was the biblical leviathan, the incarnate deathly sin of envy and basically one of the big name devils that aren't named Satan. It could spiral into some unfathomable crisis, and I, and I, I didn't know what to do or what to say or what to think! I just got 'told' that my best friend's death was integral to stopping some interplanar threat beyond my wildest dreams and I was being held by multiple reality warpers intent on making sure it didn't happen-ones that were NOT too happy with me."

The Godmodder in the present day is-caught in a hypersonic shouting match; rolled over by the skyrim cart; annihilated by Skyrim dragons becuase why not; punted in the face by the female Player; shanked by Gryphons, continuously; aged into an old man with every old man disease ever; smashed up by Leviathan; smashed up alongside a Sealed Boss; soul-munched (only his soul. not his soul orb. That's a distinction that has somehow been made manifest.) by Leviathan; painfully excavated from the bottom of a cavern; ganged up by a horde of angry entities; smashed up by some kind of super-buffed sealed boss; forced to kill a selaed boss of his own design; forced into emtional distress of an extreme variety; beaten up by a load of teenaged superheroes again; smashed up by Leviathan again; smashed up by the seven deadly sins and their devilish representations, including satan somehow (these are holographic replicas, liberties may be taken); and crushed under infinite metaphorical weight of world-rending decisions.

"Grimm was a lot quicker than I was in deciding. He spoke up on everything he knew, though he was nice enough to say that we really didn't know anything about anything other than Natalie was capable of some weird stuff-stuff that he thought was weird that we didn't think was weird. And she nodded. Meghan was screaming loud enough that the female player kind of added some extra duct tape to her face. I was just kind of crying, I didn't know if it was a betrayal or not. I don't think we got far enough to seriously discuss it though. The carriage came to a stop... And I think where it was, it was pretty familiar. Gray featureless plain for miles, but it wasn't the Hexagonafield or anything... It may've been the Administrative plane or something. And, there he was."

"It was definitely the Godmodder. Every Player was on-edge and it was just too plain to see, he was... Basically radiating power. A really, really familiar power. And he spoke up-like 'about time you found me,' and lo and behold another brick to the face-that was the old man's voice, the one that had been guiding me until now, the source of my wings. I... I think he was setting me up-letting me on as a specific false trail. With what I know now, anyways-I was just completely baffled at this one at the time, but now I can just... Envision it, like this stupid long-reaching plot wherein he has some near-duplicate in appearance of his 'daughter' who closely appreciates her through perfectly normal friendship... That was awful wording. Uh. You get what I mean, though. A body double. IT wasn't a pleasent realization. In person... He didn't look very pleasant either. He had these bloodstained clothes... And bloodstained hair... And really he just looked pretty awful, now that I think about it, like he lived in a hurricane's eyewall or something. And everyone basically got into their favorite Mexican standoff poses, except for us three who were still chained up."

"One of the Players spoke up pretty fast, and it was a pretty hectic conversation but like, eventually it was just commentary on his CP. And like I didn't know what a CP was, just that it was apparently freakout-worthy for a Godmodder to have 500 CP. And in light of everything, I'd say it's really freakout worthy for a Godmodder to be carrying around a bank that large just kidna casually, given how much just 'two hundred' CP got us in the end, or how CP from a Godmodder is like a million times stronger than any of ours. I guess he just had all the time in the world to charge with the Players unable to follow him in favor of damage control... It was really ultra tense, too tense for anyone to really do much more than start talking. There were some barbs-Godmodder was apparently here because he was looking to study tech from the Architects for his experiments, everyone was asking about Legendary Weapons, he claimed he didn't have any, some insults were exchanged, old man said fuck you. Then they asked about Natalie, or the 'sealed boss' and he said something along the lines of 'You can't even kill me or you won't be able to kill Leviathan because no player powers.' OK he didn't say exactly that but he said why fighting him at all was an awful idea, but they still looked pretty ready to do something, probably force the issue on his end. They forgot all about us, and the Gryphons weren't around or anything... Grimm had managed to untie himself and was starting to work on cutting me and Meghan loose, and we were pretty much determined to bail at this point."

"Cue everything going to hell."

The Godmodder suffers these things: a prison snitch's indirect wrath via excessive police brutality, except the guards are players; more hypersonic screaming; extremely painful duct tape addition; salty tears in his previous wounds; being stuck way too close to a radiator and burning up; getting stabbed by Leah's wings; get involved in impossible government conspiracies; drown in blood, literally; shoved into a hurricane's eye wall for eight years of perceived time; caught in the crossfire of a million-man Mexican standoff; soiled pants because holy unholy mother of godmodder 500 Charge Points?! Oh, and a tension so extreme that it literally manifests to break the Godmodder's back.

"There was this silent AG, he didn't speak much or at all. He had apparently been tagging along going 'Yellow Yeller X CP' for literally any relevant passage of time and everyone was kind of jokingly treating him as god, except now he actually did something, and that something was make a portal to somewhere and out of it-oh god everything's coming fast now-out of it was basically this... Massive thing. A towering thing of fish-flesh, a mishmash of maws and fangs and claws and fins, some kind of horrible blood-ocean, satanic etchings on every scale, the scent of salt and death, and, and, oh god, there was screaming, there was so much screaming. I don't want to know if those were people screaming or some kind of sound it made to intimidate me. I don't want to know. It was awful, worse than it should've been. The smell was designed to assault your nose, the air felt wrong to breathe, the noise couldn't be blocked out, the sight of it made me sick, and I'm just kind of really happy I didn't have to taste it or anything 'cause I'm sure that'd have been literal hell too. It was... It was a demon, a demon beyond almost any other demon short of Satan themselves, so woot for them being dead as fuck. The point is that it was this horrific thing and I swear to god it was even worse than I describe. Lovecraft can shove his eldritch ass up a chimney, that thing was just... Absolutely, overwhelmingly awful and wrong, and I swear I've forgotten things I definitely saw."

"But in the middle of all of that there was this light, or not really a light, but something way less horrible, and it looked like, well it looked like me, six techno-wings and a sword. And she wasn't attacking it-that'd be stupid, it was invincible-but she was like ultra-on guard, waiting for it to make a move, looked like she only just got pushed in through. And, and Leviathan said... uh. Omniglot?"

And Leah falls silent-Ominglot picks up the slack and starts glowing a deep, horrible green as it speaks up in lieu of Leah.

"PATHETIC THING. MY VICTORY IS INEVITABLE WITH TIME. YOU ARE BENEATH ME. I HAVE GROWN ONLY STRONGER AND STRONGER WITH THE SOULS I HAVE CONSUMED. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU SO JEALOUS OF MY MAJESTY YOU WOULD FUTILELY THROW YOURSELF AT ME?"

"And I knew who's voice spoke right back-'Because you can't kill me!' And that was her. Natalie. That was Natalie. Oh god, she was fighting that thing. Exploited immunity, i guess-Leviathan couldn't kill her without removing his invincibility, but Natalie wasn't able to harm him at all either. Some kind of awful stalemate, and whoever that yellow guy was, he opted to break it. I think a lot of Players were screaming at him at why he didn't do that sooner, and, uh, The guy vanished? I don't know what was up with that."

"All hell broke loose. I can't even describe it. I might've been able to if I was a Player, who could see the updates and all that, but as an outsider, its like some kind of supernova exploding all at once in a dozen different ways, something too much for me to even see, but I could tell-I could tell they were aiming it all at her and the Godmodder was throwing themselves at the Players to stop them, entities whipped to life and send to die in the span of seconds-it was absolute chaos and I couldn't believe it and I didn't want to, I wasn't ready, but-but I had those wings, right? If I was anything like what Natalie was right then and there I could help, I could help her. I wasn't sure what to think but I didn't want to leave her to die, I was terrified. And... It was all going so fast! But I just, threw myself into it thinking that I could like swoop in and save her! Grimm and Meg were telling me 'no don't do it dumbass' but I was a dumbass and did it."

"Predictably someone thought I was Natalie and sniped me out of the sky in a hit, and I crashed on the ground near-dead."

And perhaps for the first time in a while, the sound of something else on the horizon built up... Something like footsteps... In a reality devoid of anything other than the Godmodder, the Players, and the Soul Orb. How? Player powers. That's how. There isn't even a question. But what is a better one. Meanwhile, the Godmoder has suffered; a inter-continuity meme; more portal cutting; the sheer awful, horrible, nastiness of Leviathan overhwhelming the Godmodder with his special brand of hellish power; Omniglot's representation of Leviathan's voice blowing his mind; the sheer immortality of the players that he has fought thus far crashing down upon him like a horrific revelation of how absolutely, inhumanely stubborn they have been, and now continue to be, the revelation that his mortal blast last ditch effort that he was going to cheat is about to get completely bypassed, himself not; and the typical, terrible calamity that takes place when Players and Godmodder clash, that is to say, something like a million different degrees of death crashing down upon everything all at once.

"Things kind of got ultra-hazy from here. Head injuries made it bad. Natalie flipped a gasket. I... I think this was always what I was supposed to do, if you get what I mean-fly up and take like one blow. You know, like how attacks veer off-course and hit some nearly-unrelated bystander that happens to look really similar or have a really similar name? That kind of thing just happend, and it happened to me, and I think Natalie knew it. I got impaled in the heart, my spine broke like glass, and my arms got cut clean off... Fell to the ground like a rock. She was totally blindsided and dived for me over, y'know, fighting Leviathan or defending against the Players 'n' such. The Godmodder was screaming-like, actually anguished screaming, couldn't tell what he was saying at all. And the Players smelled the blood on the water and struck with everything they had and everything they thought they had. Natalie used herself as a human shield with those wings and blocked any of it from hitting my dumb ass, and it was... It was pure chaos. It was this horrifying storm of things and, and I was scared out of my mind and already regeretting it and Natalie was in pain and it was my fault, my, my... My fault, and... and..."

"... THen, then something happened. I think. The players had started screaming over something, someone did something they shoudn't have and everything went really dark. I think they caused a Paradox Roll and it went really badly, I don't know if that's the case. Natalie started screaming, got a bad case of an Exorcist head and turned it right around. god its freaky to witness from the back. A number apperaed in the sky, I think it was a 3, could've been an 8, Natalie was scraeming about how she coudln't control herself. Natalie blasted off and the fighting went away from me. I don't know where Grimm or Meghan were, I just had to look at the chaos, and, things weren't going well. The Godmodder slid on by me in the thick of it, they weren't even thinking of attacking him now. He looked... I'unno, he was devastated, or at least he looked devastated. You can never quite tell. This definitely wasn't to whatever plan he had, and I guess by default I must've been on his side, or something. I'unno-maybe I would've sided with him at the end. Ridiculous in hindsight. But given he was giving me the olive branch while the Players had kidnapped and nearly killed me a million times over... All I know that he did was drag me aside and just let the fight go on."

"I asked him how bad it was going, because I couldn't really tell. He just said 'very poorly' very quietly, but then he started elaborating some-they were focusing fire on Natalie and bringing her down, she was screaming at them to k-k-kill her, but she wasn't able to stop herself, and Leviathan was not, not helping, they were killing them all. I couldn't even tell they were dying so fast. They were dropping like flies, their entities were gone and they weren't a very large group to begin with apparently. They weren't prepared. But they were whipping out Mortal Actions and blowing Natalie's HP away rapidly now... I didn't really know what that meant. I didn't really understand anything, gotta say it. I was thrown into basically pure chaos with no guide, everything was alien. I think I'd have exploded right then and there if I wasn't dying so hard. I think he said he teleported Natalie and Grimm away, thought he owed it to them or some shit. I don't know whether or not to be thankful. He said he might still need me in a moment, I didn't know why at the time, complained about being shot again for no purpose."

"Then... Then Natalie's puppeted body came back to us and she was screaming about 'please not that' or something and I don't know, my head was fuzzy-and the Godmodder was definitely not leaping to my defense. I don't know-maybe she managed to make herself hesitate a little, and I guess that was enough. A massive laserbeam just came out of nowhere and impaled her clean through on the spot. She didn't leave a body, just a sword and her disembodied wings. The killer got overtaken by Leviathan, think it was a mortal action. The Godmodder was... Not pleased by that. I think we were the last two left at that point. And then, then, Leviathan..."

"THEY DICED AGAINST AN ULTIMATE POWER AND PAID THE PRICE. AS DID YOU, FOOL. ARROGANCE TO ASSUME YOU WERE SO PERFECT AS TO NOT SUMMON ME, ARRONGANCE FIVEFOLD TO ASSUME YOU COULD BANISH ME. THE SINFUL ELEGANCE OF GODMODDING YET PERMEATES YOU, AND ONLY NOW DOES THE FOLLY OF IT ALL CRASH UPON YOU, EVEN THOUGH THOU ART STILL DAMNED. I SEE THAT SPITE IN YOUR EYES, FOOL. IN YOUR STATE, YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY EXPECT TO DEFEAT EVEN A SINGLE PLAYER TO GROW STRONG ENOUGH TO SLAY ME WITHOUT DYING, NOR CAN THEY EXPECT TO DEFEAT ME, AND TO STRIKE AGAINST ME TO SLAY ME IS SUICIDE ON YOUR PART-YOUR LIFE IS TIED TO MINE, AND AS YOU ARE, SHOULD I DIE BY YOUR HAND, SO SHALL YOU DIE TOO FOR THE BREACH OF CONTRACT. YOUR PITIFUL APPRENTICE HAS LONG ABANDONED YOU, AND I COULD CRUSH THEM LIKE AN ANT FOR THEIR SOULS AS IT IS-AND I SHALL, FOR I AM FAT WITH THE SOULS OF THE WORLD AND SHALL ONLY SWELL MYSELF FURTHER. ONLY FOR THE CONTRACT WE HAVE FORGED DO I YET ALLOW YOU TO LIVE, WORTHLESS THING, AND WHEN IT EXPIRES-OH, I SHALL ENJOY THE MOMENT WE SHALL HAVE TOGETHER FOREVER. AS FOR YOU, LITTLE TOY..."

"I swear his words seared into my memory. And he's an awful speaker. The Godmodder... Definitely got angry now. I remember what he said. Helps that it was short. 'ENOUGH! You freak, ENOUGH! You think I didn't think of this? I've had time to think of a countermeasure! Perhaps I was too hopeful the Players would've found some alternative... But I've planned for this very moment! Leah... I'm sorry...' And then, well... This raw burst of power poured out of him, and I guess that was him blowing his CP all at once."

"500 Godmodder CP is a lot of power. Power enough to heal me from the dead and restore my wounds... Even if they were kind of made into war machines again. Enough for some body armor, which is the black bodysuit you see. Enough for the spark-the player power, to just be forced into existence, or maybe just called upon? Maybe God just went 'sure' and gave it to him, point is it was definitely there. And god it was strange. Was it strange for you all? It felt like time just kind of slowed down a bit, forever, like a fire everywhere in my body, like my hairs were on end... It all came rushing through... But it wasn't mine. It wasn't mine. I could feel it, but it wasn't me-it was something on my back. I could hear these voices chattering in my head-Moniker's, and I guess also Farrah's? And a voice called out from behind me too... And that voice was Omniglot's voice."

"I really don't get why he made Omniglot a Player rather than just give me the power directly. Maybe he thought it'd be too much, or that it was better to have it in a more 'intelligent' vessel, or perhaps there was some trick about it. Maybe he saw this exact moment coming and knew that having the apparent Player look like me when it wasn't would be handy. I think he was trying to recreate his spin on Architect tech and wanted some of his research to keep alive, personally. I'unno. But he made me a player, and he cranked up the power quite a ways... And even though now I was a Player and could kind of understand what was going on better, I didn't think I'd need it to get why-I guess contract said being blown up by me wouldn't count for whatever dumb deal with the demon he made."

"Now, I personally was way too jumped up on adrenaline to really understand what I was doing, and Omniglot was kind of auto-piloting. I had a sense for how to attack Leviathan and I wasn't completely at a loss for how to use the wings to fly so it wasn't... OK actually, no. Cut to the chase. I lost. I lost really badly. Got fucked up. Again. He was counting on me, and I fucked up again, like it was my personal job to get thrown about like a ragdoll or some shit. Leviathan-he was soaking it up like a sponge, me and my Mortally Wounded ass."

Back to the temporally-current Godmodder, who has, to be brief, suffered the immense rapid-fire crossfire of a moment in time in the Godmodding war. You imagine any general attack that'd be tossed around by a slightly-less competent group of players than, say, the current group right now, against an unholy master of envy who is simultaneously some kind of immensely demonic eldritch abomination, and also the deathly winged assault of a magical girl valkyrie on super steroids. I don't think any colorful descritpion of how screwed the Godmodder could get from this will ever, ever suffice. And also the sheer agony of being Mortally Wounded (possibly without actually being Mortally Wounded.) Heads up! It's agony.

"I remember the exact words they said much more clearly, now. Omniglot?"

"PITIFUL! IS THAT IT?! JUST ONE MEASLY PLAYER? COULDN'T EVEN POSE A THREAT. WHAT NOW, FOOL?"

"This."

"... He flared like a light. Like a bomb. I don't know what he did, precisely-it was just way too fast and I was mortally wounded, kind of too busy trying to not think about dying. All I saw was this blast of pure light from the Godmodder... And... Nothing. I think that the Godmodder pulled a Mortal Action. Or something like it. Maybe he just did the typical 'burn myself out fatally for an ultimate attack' deal and it wasn't specifically like a Mortal Action? All I know is that he was definitely dead, and the Leviathan was dead too."

"... That left just me. Mortally Wounded. There wasn't any trace of Leviathan or anything else in the area, just me and myself, and in the absence of a Godmodder, all I heard was who I presume to be Farrah freaking out over my impending doom after all of that. Guess that was her 'hero of justice' nature, but her role as an observer kind of left her mostly hopeless, except to summon... Someone. never saw who they were. Had a cool sword, that's all I saw before I blacked out completely."

"I don't know what happened afterwards. To be frank, I have no clue why I was strapped to that meteor or why I crashed down with you lot without memory or a voice. I could take a crack at it, though, but its a shot in the dark-the weird figure was Mastersword and he used me as a secondary battery in the Deleter, rather than, uh, being humane. God knows if that was the case or if I'm missing a big chunk of memory between then and now. And he's dead. Maybe not for much longer if we're lucky..."

"... We all know what happened in the meantime. I think I never really explained myself-I was just confused and totally lost, and I just wanted to be near to Fenix because he looked dependable and nice and not terrible. I'unno, maybe there was some instinctive fear thing going on? Point was I wanted you all at arms length. Isn't much else to say you didn't see for yourselves about me, really, until I left all of a sudden to deal with the planes colliding. One of the Players managed to help me out and heal me up while we had a small break. I'unno who she was, but shout outs to whoever it was, thanks for the help! Anyways, uh, she helped me remember everything I forgot and got my voice back. And that's when I realized I had something important to do."

"I went to Earth first, only to confirm that I was never raised there. I managed to Player Power my way to find my actual home, and..."

Leah starts trailing off.

"... I... I saw a monument about the 'tragedy' that took place years ago. Like, a really long time ago. Freak 'hurricane.' I. I saw the graves. Saw my grave, saw the graves of everyone I knew. I never knew what happened to Meghan or Grimm. I know what happened to mom and dad-dead. D-dead. Dead. Dead! Like, literally everyone I knew was dead. I couldn't tell if it was from old age or the freak ass accident. DEAD! And I was alone and no-body knew who I was but they were staying the hell away from me. And, and-I don't know how I can live like this, either, with all these weapons on my body. That Old Man wasn't thinking too far into the future aside from Omniglot being a good translator, I-I nearly blew up a street because of a can falling over and I flipped, oh god. I... I..."

She gets a hold of herself, just a bit.

"... I cried. I just found somewhere private and cried. I didn't know what to do or why to do it. With all the memories back I just... I was a bit intimidated about coming back. It was just a war full of power-mad assholes, and, like, that never changed! I'll admit it I don't like all of you! N-not gonna name names. But I was thinking of quite a few of you when I was thinking of Valla's power lock deal. I was thinking about how much I hated all of what I've become and all of what I've lost, and I... I really couldn't take it. I was just in an awful, mopey mood for hours."

"I... Eventually I broke out of it and just got mopey, like some emo, and then I heard some shouting over in a corner of a street somewhere. My town was never... Well, not perfect. I was pretty much immortal, Omniglot said there wasn't much threat in the area, why not investigate? It was a mugging and it wasn't a pretty one, mugger seemed halfways... Like... Ugh. I'm really tired of violence. Ugh, the Mugger was halfways intent on just beating the woman up as he was robbing her. I... I got mad. I don't know why but I got mad. Wasn't my business, but I got mad-and I was strong. Really strong. I just, picked him up and knocked him out, and Omniglot cuffed him afterwards. I healed her... She hugged me and cried on me and called me a hero."

"... I like being called a hero. I don't know. Maybe it made everything else thus far just... Maybe it was just a bit more bearable? And maybe that's when it clicked. I was, like, unfathomably powerful, and I wasn't crazy. I'm pretty sure player power will go away but these stupid enhanced organs and limbs won't."

The Godmodder, meanwhile has suffered these things additionally: being stepped on and shanked by 'shadowy sword guy who might've been Mastersword but we don't know,' forcibly put into Leah's shoes as he relives the Bank of Actions to Tribulation 1 (where apparently Leah was repetitively crushed by a giant boot), """healed""" by a player (by which I mean his wounds turn into cancerous outgrowths of equally horrible pain), smashed by the planet earth, swept up in a horrible hyper-lethal hurricane again, aged to death, experienced dying like a million times, blown up by Leah just as she freaked out over the can falling over, crushed by the aformentioned ridiculously hyper-dense can, salted by Leah's tears, experienced weaponized depression, and got personally, viciously mauled by Leah in a scene a lot more brutal than 'swiftly knocking out and apprehending the Mugger.' And then a woman crushes him with a death hug.

At this time we now cease the absense of stylistic choices for the sake of time and readability.

"... If it means helping people... I guess its worth it. And its definitely not in my book to just mope around and be useless, after all of that, to just have reality delete itself 'cause of some asshole. I'm. I'm going to make something out of this stupid life if it kills me, because last I checked it will eventually! And from the looks of things, I'd say I've made a decent enough start."

The Godmodder, finally, has had enough of this crap. And also he's the Godmodder, Player-induced Stupidity be damned! He flares power and bursts out of Leah's holographic trap, ready to start going again... And then the Shadows remind him 'no you're super vulnerable now' and temporarily re-exist after being forgotten for basically this whole attack to pin the Godmodder down, giving him ample time to see what the hell is going on because holy shit what's that. What is that?!

It's an army, plain and simple. An army. It is a very bright army, at that, every figure luminous, almost like they were the sun, each and every one. Not just shining knights in armor, but shining horses (in armor), shining lancemen in armor, shining magicians in mage-armor, shining nobility in fanciful nobility armor, shiny trebuchets in trebuchet armor, the whole of pseudo-medeival and magical warfare is horrifically arrayed against the Godmodder. Uncountable hordes of Pikemen, Millions of swordsmen, knights on their mighty steeds in tens of thousands, Mage-Legions like drops in the ocean, a thousand fold nobility-and behind them, like an actual sun, grasping a small scepter topped with a single lightbulb and hovering over the masses, was a man worthy of being called King. One and all they hoist a single banner-The "Army of the Kingdom of Light."

... The Godmodder recognizes these lot! They're from his horrible Kingdom of Darkness way back when! It appears living conditions have... Seriously improved. And also, military conditions. Oh good lord have military conditions improved.

The King lets his left hand loose from the scepter, and issues a finger of utmost defiance at the Godmodder. "Fiend. You have created us simply to suffer as with everything else and languish in wretched torment for eternity. Fortune, then, that we have been gifted this light with which to find our way! You have suffered at our hands once, now, but endless is the torment we have suffered under your Sealed Throne and its heartless tyrant. No further!"

The Godmodder is not in any state to really fight back. He currently can't even vocally process exactly how stupid that sounds to him, being that he's the Godmodder and has a million un-deadifiers or something like that. Wait, no-what's this? His secret inventories entirely stocked with un-deadifiers has just been robbed in their entirety! Even the super-secret inventories, and the super super super super secret inventory that requires five passphrases and a dancing monkey! THEY'RE ALL GONE! The Godmodder's heart knows pure despair for an instant as he manages to see Leah annihilate them all in a grandoise bonfire made of cheese, and in that instant the new army can know naught but one thing-CHAAAAAAAAAAARGE!

The infinite pikemen and swordsmen, despite not being on horseback, make it there first. They know little technique but endless enthusiasm, and in the absense of much defense, the Godmodder finds very little from having their infinite value of pikes to impale and impact the Godmodder with relentless force. The Godmodder's infinitely infinite armor that covers every inch of his body knows failure under the force of something greater than any infinity-HOPE! Hope that was given to them through that light that shines on them. They are as doom. Such is their weakness that the Godmodder could breathe on them to knock them back, but such is the Godmodder's weakness, and Leah's will, that the Pikemen remain thoroughly unharmed, and like Pikmin (which perhaps is linguistically fitting) swarm the Godmodder as a horde of ants, each tiny little pinprick of the spear an additional agony, accounting to unbearable mass, before the Godmodder finally breaks free of this and knocks them all back.

But even so they are not deterred, and through the power of their light, they pull a move straight out of Wonderful 101 and form up, linking their bodies together and weaving their light around each other, revealing their true power-for one might be nothing, but in infinity they can know no defeat, and together they are mightier than this pathetic, lonely tyrant. The spearmen compact themselves into spears, gigantic, each the size of a skyscraper-and by the force of hope alone (and their latent levitation magic), they fire themselves off at lightspeed towards the Godmodder, each Spearman Spear exploding back into Spearman that blow back into the army's ranks, covered by the fury of yet more Spearman Spears until the entire barrage, millions of million-strong spears, has ended, but the onslaught has not abated.

The Cavalry arrive, the very pinnacle of knighthood one and all, formerly so decrepit that they couldn't even harm a fly, now so mighty that flies would rather harm themselves than face them. Their horses move faster than racecars, and their lances hunger for the blood of the damnable fool that cast them into such misery for no purpose. The Godmodder, dizzied from the barrage before, fails to keep up and gets impacted by uncountable charging lances, if the horses just don't trample over him altogether. Lances aren't exactly weapons to keep using after one hit, though, even if they don't break-so these fine gentlemen discard them for longswords swiftly thereafter and make passing slashes at the Godmodder as they whirl around him, too fast to get an opening on and too hopeless to stop.

A particularly wooden whinney cuts through the chaos like a sharp knife through butter, and the Godmodder's head whirls to the source. It's almost literally the Trojan horse, except there's also a gigantic Trojan man to go with it. And it's animate. And it's angry. It rips forwards as the knights disperse. The Godmodder tries to leap out of the way, and gets caught between wood, twirling up like vines to ensnare him just long enough for the Trojan's spear to come forth. And it isn't just any Trojan-it's Hektor, the mighty equivalent of Achilles himself for the Trojans, and the mightiest warrior they know. (or a gigantic wooden equivalent.) The history of legends of Earth crashes down on the Godmodder nearly as hard as the wooden spear, and the wooden hooves, and the wooden horse droppings right after.

As the Godmodder experiences the delightful revelation that wooden horse facsimiles can poop, the magi appear, as thoroughly learned as they are quietly furious at the fiend before them, bereft of heart and soul despite having near the whole world contained in it. Their incantations call upon a pure, scalding light, not of God nor Satan but of Mankind's light as the work of God, that or its just a really bright light and there's no theological element to it. You never know, though the Godmodder finds out right quick as it burns through him like acid through a particularly reactive metal. But it doesn't stop with just bright lights-the mages work rapidly and in tandem cast spells like mad, each one more ferociously lunatic than the last. Magic missile blasts worthy of destroying cities, firestorms of unlimited heat, magma sourced from the former Evuacorp's extremely high supply of lava to freely outsource, ice from places where kelvin is negative, and soon spells that should rupture worlds concentrated into pinpricks, tearing into the Godmodder like a mad sumo wrestler through wet paper.

But this itself is all but a prelude, as one mage in the back works like mad, abruptly frenzied into inspiration, and only now has his grim task been made complete. He charges forth, covered by his fellows, as he calls out with a single voice-"CHAOS!"-and Chaos it is, the whole of the world tearing itself open to have at the Godmodder, life and trees and dirt ripping into existence to flay him, fire and ice burning and freezing in tandem, waters drowning, the fury of the world itself at his neck and at his nape. But it was but a word of the spell, not the whole-"CONTROL!" and suddenly the Godmodder is it straight in the face with a very bad Sonic reference, followed by the absolute stoppage of time-a stoppage he is cognizant of in its entirety, a stoppage like hate itself. But nature stops for no man, and the Godmodder's limited defensive options rapidly sprial to zero as Chaos and Order combine in the worst ways possible to tear into him.

The weapons of war these loyal soliders brought slide in, each as a sun, hard for anyone to look at, outright eye-melting to the Godmodder. (He bemoans the loss of his eye collection, but only to himself.) Battering rams adorned by dragon skulls (apparently they had a dragon problem), trebuchets with better range than a sniper rifle and better payloads than an ICBM, giants armed with swords like slabs of rock, and dragons-friggin' dragons! The size of a house and breath of flame, need you say more? You could, like how they're roasting the Godmodder alive as the battering rams and giants rush in and pulverize the Godmodder's puny little form, and the Trebuchets fire in, somehow failing to damage anything other than the Godmodder in their explosive detonation of ordinance.

A weapons operator clicks his fingers, and suddenly the manifold armaments coalesce into a gigantic wooden construct, the largest thing on the battlefield by far-and large enough to make the giants seem puny. The giants climb aboard, manning turrets, as the Dragons continue to claw and breathe hate at the Godmodder, who at this point can only stagger to abate the assault, now aided by crossbow turrets the size of sedans and far worse-just in time for the wooden giant to bring down a sword fit to kill cities, its shining point crushing right against the Godmodder's skull.

The glittering Nobles step forth-their sheer brightness is enough to make the Godmodder avert his gaze, even though it could be said that he no longer has eyeballs except when its convenient for not-him Players because they've otherwise melted to nothing. And its a light with a purpose! The Godmodder feels light-too light, and then feels himself moving too fast, everywhere. The levitation magics of the Throne were not exclusive to it, nor strictly limited to just putting things up and making them not do anything worthwhile. Like, say, sending them into basically every obstacle you can think of. Spiked pits, lava pools, ice flows, under crushing rocks, into an acorn-generating machine of excessive malice, the Hard Place Bar and Grill, a rock, the world's largest cannonball, the US national debt, the opinions of really stubborn people, the deadness of Disco, and so much more!

The nobles then demonstrate what happens when you try to move something everywhere at once. Twice. The first time, they work in unison, and force every ounce of Levitation they can across the Godmodder's whole body with perfect distribution, causing the Godmodder to collapse in on himself and crush him down, bloody, into a ball the size of a marble. The Nobles follow up with their other idea, and exert that levitating force outwards from that marble-and at once the Godmodder is forced to inadvertantly make a world-record Long, High and Wide Jump, tearing him apart on the atomic level.

THis being the Godmodder, this doesn't stop him from forcibly reforming himself, but as he does so, and prepares his ultimate army-busting counterattack, the King's radiance, greatest of them all, flashes so hard that the Godmodder flinches out of the blow. "My loyal subjects, that is enough! Let me deal with him personally. Retreat and ready the surprise," the King says. The forces (having suffered not even one wound) all nod and rush back, still glistening, as the Godmodder glares in the loose direction of the King, not looking directly at him. A comparison with a previous foe comes to mind, minus the fact that said foe was literally God and this was not God. But the King, this new King, was obviously not to be trifled with, if his previous sealed boss was any indication.

And he wasn't.

The King's lightbulb staff lights up, and pseudo-divine retribution streaks from it, lashing at the Godmodder like a thousandfold bolts of death, too fast to track and too swift to account for-and they do not tear into merely his body but his power, Godmodding and Player Power falling to the wayside and leaving him little more than John Smith, who in an illusory deluge learned that he was a Big Loser-a truth so painful that illumination by proximity to the King's massive raidance only hurt more! The Godmodder fires back with lethal arrays of deathly fire, but the King's illumination merely casts doubt on their existence so thoroughly the lot of it vanishes, and burns at the Godmodder's skin instead. Realizing a potential weakness, the Godmodder springs forth-and is promptly given the ye olden kick to the crotch, a kick to the crotch so kick-worthy that even the usual gag about kicking the Godmodder in the crotch is itself kicked in its croctch, causing it, the Godmodder, and the Godmodder's infinitely-durable cup, to all fall over groaning in incredible pain. The King sees an opportunity and proceeds to deliver the Godmodder one senseless drumming, made to order, horrifically overdue, but you know how vengeance is.

The Godmodder blasts the King away, barely escaping being pummeled to actual death but somehow still not ready to Mortal Action everyone away. He's also not ready for the king to rift open timespace-actually no he didn't, instead its an illusory rift of memory-a memory of a whole goddamn war, of everything the Godmodder ever did, a history Verraad was more familiar with than his own-of every time he even mildly erred, and every time he sinned, all his successes and failures painted out like a macabre masterpiece, and all of them pouring out to wreck havoc upon the Godmodder. He tries to Godmod it away, but his own memory copies Godmod the Godmodding right back, and suddenly, though transiently, Verraad is assaulted by the one thing superior to himself-a whole lot of himself backed up by a whole lot of players.

As he struggles with this, the King turns his head back, and smiles-his army has done well, and they have swiftly returned. The Godmodder manages to improbably beat his memories back into whatever weird place they belong as he, too, gazes at it-its... It's a giant disco ball.

The Godmodder just has nothing for this one. Probably just all out of gas, huh? The entire army arrays themselves before the Godmodder, faces one and all ready to kill, each shining like the sun. The Godmodder braces-

And... They begin dancing?

Their dance is a far cry from their previous attempt way back when they were freshly-revolting peasents. They were now ferocious and smooth masters of the dance floor, capable of a thousand style of dance and combining them into moves so smooth that the Godmodder loses all his edge by simply being present, and that's without him actually looking, for he know he'd be hypnotized if his mind even paid a second of thought to the possibility that he might-oh godmodderdamnit he did it, he thought about it, and now he was hopelessly mesmerized by the ultra-slick dancing groove to make Disco-Chan proud. Wait-Disco Chan. Disco Squares, its charged attack. Oh. Oh god. The Godmodder is hopeless to watch as his doom swiftly approaches, as the whole army syncrhonizes to form up into a single, smooth dance move-

A thumbs down.

A B S O L U T E L Y
D E V A S T A T I N G
S Y M B O L
O F
R E J E C T I O N
A N D
D I S L I K E ! ​

The Godmodder screams in agony. HIs soul screams in agony. He flays himself again. The sheer proof that he is lame beyond doubt annihilates his being on a level so basic that one could almost forget that there is even more to come.

Leah calls the Army back-its enough! They still have more to give, and they need to give it, but not now. They're ordered to fall back, and they rally behind Pionoplayer. "Whatever comes next, give him hell!" The army cheers.

Leah wraps up this post with a single action. She tosses a smokebomb at the Godmodder's feet. The Godmodder coughs, kneels over, as the smoke overtakes his senses. In his swimming vision, countless eyes appear-red and angry, and laced with the infinite sins of his past. They leer into the dark, as a muted observer takes the stage.

 

[The quiet watcher]

THE CHAIN POST

Click to shrink...

The quiet watcher steps out of the smoke to the side of the Godmodder, the pistol he loaded with the antimatter bullet pointing in the Godmodder's general direction. He pauses for a moment before he fires, the bullet passing the Godmodder's head by over a foot and flying into a portal that had been opened behind his defenses. The Godmodder turned around in time to see something that hurt his head spew out of a small room that had some kind of electronic device keeping the liquid back, the device sporting a clean hole through it before the sight of it was blocked by the vile liquid. The Godmodder brings up his hands and as the quiet watcher does something out of his sight, he blocks it with a simple shiel-The Nothing hit the shield, and ate its way through without stopping, devouring all as it slowly weakened against Everything it was devouring. The agent knew that this would happen, for it had been in his briefings. That was why he'd targeted that specific point, as it was the only one that popped into his head that he knew wouldn't cause the end of the world as the shield was devoured, forgotten, negated, never to be used again.

The quiet watcher was reworking the remains of the containment field into an energy projector, the Godmodder brought up his hands to block the small amount of oncoming liquid for the first time with his grand defens-They rotted away as the energy within the defenses was devoured, the very ground around them being devoured by the small pool of pure Nothing as it flowed towards the foolish things in its path. It devoured incessently, fading out of existing as the energy keeping them back weakened, finally breaking through the defences as a thin pool that ate away the ground surrounding Veraad, leaving him standing on nothing more than a small pillar with no more defenses left behind by the devouring Nothing.

The godmodder was staring out at the natural grooves and gouges in the ground as the quiet watcher tossed the energy beam projection device off to Pionoplayer, knowing that he'd been doing something, something meant to keep him safe. He knew that something had happened, but even with all of his mental might and power he'd gained from becoming God, he couldn't remember. He took a step back, staggering when the small pillar of dirt that he'd found himself standing on that his mind insisted was both always there and was brand new broke beneath his feet, leaving him wide open as he tried and failed to keep himself in place with his powers, staggering as he tried to right himself.

 

[GoldHero101]

The quiet watcher steps out of the smoke to the side of the Godmodder, the pistol he loaded with the antimatter bullet pointing in the Godmodder's general direction. He pauses for a moment before he fires, the bullet passing the Godmodder's head by over a foot and flying into a portal that had been opened behind his defenses. The Godmodder turned around in time to see something that hurt his head spew out of a small room that had some kind of electronic device keeping the liquid back, the device sporting a clean hole through it before the sight of it was blocked by the vile liquid. The Godmodder brings up his hands and as the quiet watcher does something out of his sight, he blocks it with a simple shiel-The Nothing hit the shield, and ate its way through without stopping, devouring all as it slowly weakened against Everything it was devouring. The agent knew that this would happen, for it had been in his briefings. That was why he'd targeted that specific point, as it was the only one that popped into his head that he knew wouldn't cause the end of the world as the shield was devoured, forgotten, negated, never to be used again.

The quiet watcher was reworking the remains of the containment field into an energy projector, the Godmodder brought up his hands to block the small amount of oncoming liquid for the first time with his grand defens-They rotted away as the energy within the defenses was devoured, the very ground around them being devoured by the small pool of pure Nothing as it flowed towards the foolish things in its path. It devoured incessently, fading out of existing as the energy keeping them back weakened, finally breaking through the defences as a thin pool that ate away the ground surrounding Veraad, leaving him standing on nothing more than a small pillar with no more defenses left behind by the devouring Nothing.

The godmodder was staring out at the natural grooves and gouges in the ground as the quiet watcher tossed the energy beam projection device off to Pionoplayer, knowing that he'd been doing something, something meant to keep him safe. He knew that something had happened, but even with all of his mental might and power he'd gained from becoming God, he couldn't remember. He took a step back, staggering when the small pillar of dirt that he'd found himself standing on that his mind insisted was both always there and was brand new broke beneath his feet, leaving him wide open as he tried and failed to keep himself in place with his powers, staggering as he tried to right himself.

Click to shrink...

"AHAHAHHHHH! THANKS DOOD! THIS ENDS HERE GODMODDER!"

TRUE ACTION FOCUS - GRAND EXODUS: Micro and Macro. Big and Small. Generally, putting the two together is a TERRIBLE IDEA, since it tears the fabric of reality. However... Gold has discovered a way to make it work. He called it... Exodus.

Ultimo Durana and The Callback Greatsword form in both of Gold's hands as he points at the absolutely stunned Godmodder, causing him to HOLD UP!



Blake, Leo, Drago, and Gold all point their weapons at the Godmodder.
Drago: "THIS!"
Blake: "IS!"
Leo: "FOR!"
Gold: "EVERYTHING!!!"
They immediately enter an ALL OUT ATTACK! Blake attacks with Wrath of the Dragon, a powerful 12 hit combo of two slashes into a tornado of flames!
Drago uses A Dracolyte Reborn, summoning his Father to perform a Prince and King combo on the Godmodder, dealing 50 hits!
Leo uses A Spirit's Will, summoning 100's of energy Ultimo Durana's around the godmodder, which IMPALE HIM!
Gold uses Wrath of the Gods, summoning all 7 of the original Gods to decimate the Godmodder! Finally, all four come together, and all channel...

Gold, Drago, Blake, and Leo: GRAND EXODUSSSS!

A giant, multicolored beam, formed from all of reality and yet none of it at the same time BLASTS the Godmodder, sending him forward to the next in this combo!

The fragment of hope recollects itself and fuses into the Powerful Callback Greatsword, creating the POWERFUL CALLBACK GREATSWORD OF HOPE! "Hey, Piono! Here's the Powerful Callback Greatsword of Hope! Hope you can use it!" Gold gives the Powerful Callback Greatsword to Piono. It's up to you now, everyone!

 

[Alastair Dragovich]

"AHAHAHHHHH! THANKS DOOD! THIS ENDS HERE GODMODDER!"

TRUE ACTION FOCUS - GRAND EXODUS: Micro and Macro. Big and Small. Generally, putting the two together is a TERRIBLE IDEA, since it tears the fabric of reality. However... Gold has discovered a way to make it work. He called it... Exodus.

Ultimo Durana and The Callback Greatsword form in both of Gold's hands as he points at the absolutely stunned Godmodder, causing him to HOLD UP!



Blake, Leo, Drago, and Gold all point their weapons at the Godmodder.
Drago: "THIS!"
Blake: "IS!"
Leo: "FOR!"
Gold: "EVERYTHING!!!"
They immediately enter an ALL OUT ATTACK! Blake attacks with Wrath of the Dragon, a powerful 12 hit combo of two slashes into a tornado of flames!
Drago uses A Dracolyte Reborn, summoning his Father to perform a Prince and King combo on the Godmodder, dealing 50 hits!
Leo uses A Spirit's Will, summoning 100's of energy Ultimo Durana's around the godmodder, which IMPALE HIM!
Gold uses Wrath of the Gods, summoning all 7 of the original Gods to decimate the Godmodder! Finally, all four come together, and all channel...

Gold, Drago, Blake, and Leo: GRAND EXODUSSSS!

A giant, multicolored beam, formed from all of reality and yet none of it at the same time BLASTS the Godmodder, sending him forward to the next in this combo!

The fragment of hope recollects itself and fuses into the Powerful Callback Greatsword, creating the POWERFUL CALLBACK GREATSWORD OF HOPE! "Hey, Piono! Here's the Powerful Callback Greatsword of Hope! Hope you can use it!" Gold gives the Powerful Callback Greatsword to Piono. It's up to you now, everyone!

Click to shrink...

As John the Godmodder soars ungracefully through the air, I already have an enormous net of words set up. I cough, sickly. But it doesn't matter now. He's hitting my trap, and there's no hope of escape now.

The nature of the web of words is the most mind-bending, insidious snarl of ideas, concepts, and weirdness I could think up. In fact, I made this attack a while ago, and had the Godmodder not fled like a coward back when I humiliated him, he would have faced this then. But what is it, one might ask? Well, what it is is simple.

It's the Cuil Theory Attack.

Cuil theory is a proposed theory of measurement that involves the abstract measurement (or maybe it's a measurement of abstraction itself) of how far away something is from the reality of a situation. The first known example is that of a man asking for a hamburger. The second best example was when I stumbled across the fic of a pony looking for a book.

I, completely aware of the hell awaiting me, let the third solid example of Cuil theory in practice be unleashed on the Godmodder the second he hits the net.

Cuil 0:
I launch an attack on the Godmodder involving Space, Time, and Symbolism. The Godmodder loses his Actions from it.

Cuil 1:
I launch a godmodder on the Space involving the Attack, Symbolism, and Action. The Time takes Godmodder from it.

Cuil 2:
The Godmodder is about to lose his Actions from having an attack launched on him, only to find on the ground a time-lapsed picture of the universe in my place. It is later hung up in the Louvre for its masterful symbolism.

Cuil 3:
The Godmodder wakes up as the Lost Actions and I as Space and Time. He screams as I loom over him, draping him in a cloud of layered symbolism on layered symbolism. The Post falls more into abstraction.

Cuil 4:
Giatí miláme sto Google Translated Greek? Eímai sígouros óti aftó symvaínei enántia se énan kanóna kápou.

O Godmodder, makriá apó ó, ti symvaínei se óla ta Cuils, amavrónetai apó to Tick Tick TIcking ton rologión. Koitázei káto gia na vrei óti vrísketai se éna ploío apó astéri, ópos to Krokódeilo apó ton Peter Pan pou kynigáei. Kápou sto drómo, chánei to fortío tou, to opoío eínai gemáto me ta óneira kai tin ikanótita na epireázei tin pragmatikótita.

Cuil 5:
I launch an attack on the Godmodder involving Space, Time, and Symbolism. The Godmodder loses his Actions from it. His eye twitches involuntarily, and as he goes to godmod it away, he sees an ocean of text rise up to swallow a man whole. His reaction makes a little progress as the Godmodder looks down at the Actions he lost on the ground.

I launch an attack. His reaction makes a little progress as he looks down at the Actions he lost on the ground. He musn't follow through. He's down on his last legs, which overlooks the ocean of text. The reality of how a Godmodder interacts with Player Actions shifts uneasily into focus.

I launch an attack. He looks at my face and plead with him. The idea of game balance will only push the man further into the text. The Godmodder goes to godmod this ridiculousness away-

And breaks the attack in doing so. His eye twitches involuntarily. All he needs to do is godmod away Cuil 0, right? Cuil 0 is reality.

But the moment he takes a step he falls backwards. I grin a wicked grin as I become the concept of Game Balance and push the Godmodder into the Ocean of Text, symbolism giving way to randomness, deceit, and chronological decay.

I launch an attack on the Godmodder.

Cuil 6:
The Godmodder, determined to stop this nonsense at the start, counters Cuil 0. But where is the start.

He sifts through the symbolic Space and finds the beginning of the Symbolic time in a knot. He cuts it only to have it dissolve into snakes. Snakes that become ouroboroses unto ouroboroses and spawn a decades long obsession into the lives of ontologically paradoxical children whose physicality is stylized.

The Godmodder launches an Attack on me, and tries to make me waste my Actions. But I Player it away, telling him to wait his turn. He doesn't comply, and the metaphors that never existed break down completely.

The Godmodder's eye twitches involuntarily.

Cuil 8:
The Godmodder briefly wonders where Cuil 7 went. It never existed. Its existence is a lie and so is the Godmodder because the Godmodder isn't real.

He objects, but the text being woven in electrical signals into symbolic ones and zeroes through countless miles of golden circuitry into patterns of mind boggling complexity object and is lost utterly when some of the signals hit a water spill and short the computer they're in completely.

The Godmodder decides to do nothing to break the symbolism, but the symbolism launches an attack on the Godmodder. The Godmodder's eyes twitch involuntarily. He tries to open his mouth, but all that comes out is a discordant symphony of hateful anti-imagination.

He puts his hands to his temples only to find they are temples of worship. He tries to put them on his head, only for it to be a toilet.

The Godmodder folds Space to become a mirror. He finds he has no reflection except for the literal sight of his soul. He screams in objection, but the personification of villainy torments him instead. He punches it, only to remember that the villainy is his soul and squirms as he punches out his own soul.

He tries to run. He can escape, he knows he can.

The Godmodder's eye twitches involuntarily.

Cuil 11:
Where are Cuils 9 and 10? One was posted for an earlier attack. Another was put in a chat client on a thread meant for discussing this forum game. I am done playing by the rules. I attack.

The Godmodder objects.

I ignore his objection.

Reality rejects my rejection.

The Godmodder asks why we are doing this.

I reveal a horrid truth.

Cuil 0 isn't what he needs to defeat to defeat my attack. Cuil 0 was a gateway.

The real attack is all of the Cuils along the trail. And they don't end here.

Cuil 12:





Cuil 13:



Cuil 14:

So, is this the end? Of the Godmodder and the Player?

I don't think so. They hate each other. They need each other. In another lifetime, they could have even been friends.

But not everything is so forgiving. The march of time is cruel and leaves all opportunities unexplored by the wayside to decay. The vastness of space dwarfs even egos such as the Godmodder's, putting all things within it to shame. To say nothing of the symbolism of it all. If there was any to begin with.

What then, of Action? Can it really be lost, like the Player says? Can it truly be countered, like the Godmodder claims?

Does it matter?

I think, in a way that can't be described, it does. Like how the justification for punishment in a system of no free will requires the idea that free will to exist is necessary to shape the further reactions down their predestined path, so to is the Action and Reaction chain that comes from the Player and Godmodder trying to enact their wills upon Reality.

But unlike the Godmodder, the Player is not alone. But does that really matter when Reality was always going to end this way? Was this fate always predestined, preordained, simply by the merits of how physics works on a fundamental level? If Reaction must follow Action, and Reaction becomes Reacted to in turn and that reaction reacted upon and so on, then can anything truly be free?

Do we want to be that free? Cuil 10 was a perfect example of why we don't want it to be absolutely free. I'll post it here to legitimize its existence:

Cuil 10: The Godmodder himself could no longer tell where or what he was? Was he an abstraction of an abstraction, or are the elemental monkeys just soothsaying the butterflis for no reason?

Raisins go to war with Hamburgers as they discover a man behnd the curtain. The Curtain pulls the man asid eto reaveal insanity in its purest from. Hope does not shrivel and die, but instead transmutes a goth peortyr assingment into boons for the hopeless and hoplss.

The Godmodder then realizes they are outside of normal time and space. Time? Space? What a sick joke. But the Godmodder enforces reality just long enough to see it was a futile endeavor.

They are no longer in reality. they are in a chat client ebing dictated by a fat man whose madness and sadism towards his being knows no bounds. The Godmodder would pray that the being would lose drive and determination, but that held no water, for the Godmodder practiced Godmodderism, and the price was paid to the Jabberwocky a long time ago.

It is only now, as his existence unravels in its totality, that the Godmodder realizes that this hellish nightmare hadn't even begun.

Cuil 10 was truly free. But it wasn't free. It was random noise. Random noise in the truest sense that makes anything that happens inside of it meaningless.

In a way, freedom isn't truly free, is it? One must be bound to something, or else all Actions will be lost to meaningless noise. Even the Quest to be Free from Everything is something one must be bound to in order to pursue it.

The power of Players comes from binding one's fate to a Godmoding War. But the Godmodder also needs the Players. Had he not been challenged, how could he have adapted like he had? Had he not been opposed, how could he have obtained the legendary Weapons or freed himself from The Wall? More than he'd care to admit, the Godmodder needed the Players too.

And this is why this war must stop here. If the Godmodder is allowed to succeed, then everything will be for naught! Please stop the Godmodder! Don't let the Godmodder chose for you, choose for yourself! Please-

AND THEN FINALLY I SHUT THIS MADNESS UP. Me fucking damn it. My eye is still twitching from the mess.

Cuil 16:
Surprise.

TheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTheEndIsNeverTHEEND



Action Sumo:

Action?????:
Cuil 17:
Cuils are just lies upon lies upon lies. They aren't lies though. They are the truth. But abstracted away from the truth.

In a way, Symbolism is like Abstraction. But it has greater meaning and purpose. A subtext hidden in between the lines. What is the symbolism of the Cuil theory attack? What was all this time and all of this text space spent to tell?

To reiterate Cuil 0, and state the purpose of the Action….

Cuil 0:
I launch an attack on the Godmodder involving Space, Time, and Symbolism. The Godmodder loses his Actions from it.


…
…
…

…

…

…


…


…


Can this post really end here?

...no...

NO!


There's a heavy sounding swing, and an earth shattering SMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

"It's not over yet!"

Don't fail me now, beautiful wings

I fly towards the Godmodder, and in my hand is the X-Blade!

You're my life, you're my everything

Always bound to me, it is literally a part of my Heart!

We can fly if you believe

I swing upwards with all my might, and the Key lights up. I point it at him and unleash it, blasting through him and opening up a Keyhole...

IN MY LOVE!

One that unleashes all of my treasured memories deep within me!

In the span of time it takes to play a guitar riff, many more characters and heroes join the ones on the field.



Ready to ride the wind now

In a burst of speed, many of the swifter heroes rush on ahead, leaving behind a windy trail for all of us to follow.

I'm a butterfly letting my wings out

As I charge with the slower ones, I spotted a pair of angelic wings flapping by me. My mouth drops in shock.

My friend, I can't wait to see you again

It was Bugs Bunny, as an angel of toon mischief. How fitting.


Letting go of all my worries

"What are you waiting for?" He asks with a wry smile and twinkly in his eye.

Make way, I'm in a hurry

"GIVE 'IM HELL!"

Right now there's no time for fooling around

And so, with our combined might, we take the Plane of Hell and toss it onto Verraad with a prompt WUBUAMF!


Tell me, Oh-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa

The godmodder, still kicking after the licking he's been given, shatters hell, blowing away everything around him.

Can I soar through the skies above

I feel the wind from the aftershock push me down to my knees, and all the fliers are swiftly grounded.

Oh, I don't know-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa

Suddenly my body wracks itself, and I cough violently.

If I'll ever see the tomorrow I'm dreaming of

I look at my hand covered in blood. I clench it and close my eyes, tears pricking at the edges.


Feels like my faith is slipping away

I clutch my sides and take a couple of deep breaths as the shattered bits of hell crash down around me.

This nightmare's got me losing my way

My hands gradually slide up to the sides of my head, clutching it as I try to shut out the mounting pressure.

When will it ever end

"I failed again-"

I've got to stay strong to keep the love going

But that's when something grabs me around the middle and lifts me up into the air.

Don't fail me now, beautiful wings

I look up, only to see Skitter, masked face redundantly Masked with a Wonder Mask…

You're my life, you're my everything

….with a whole league of heroes making up a brilliant pair of Wonder Butterfly Wings.

We can fly if you believe

I wipe the tears from my eyes and look forward, pointing my arm once I spot Verraad.

IN MY LOVE!

And we dive, going straight for him!

Soon, due to the limits of Wonderful Power, the Wings disappear, and everyone is skydiving towards the Ultimate Obstacle.



Feeling one with the wind now

I feel myself split in three, felling much Lighter.

I'm flying free, nothing can bring me down

I see beside me my Darker half and my Nobody, Dark Wrecker and Kingdom Key in hand respectively

High or low, I'm going wherever you go

Strexalia and my Dark Half smash his face and kneecaps respectively, before we re-fuse and smack him over the head again with the X-Blade.

Rocking to the beat of my own song

With a crrrack and a rockin' bass guitar, a familiar Player rides in on a giant machine.

Haven't felt this alive in so long

It's Cybil! On top of the Gatekeeper, which was fused with the Lotus Eater machine somehow.

Let it ring, cause words mean everything

With hope in his eyes, he strums that Guitar with amazing force as the Lotus Gatekeeper unleashes its Supermassive Sniper Gun attack!


Tell me, Oh whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa

As the attack resides, I receive a join request and accept it.

Could they reach out like never before

The Player Killer spawns in, and we nod to each other.

Oh, I don't know-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa

With Player Killing Armaments, we reduce his Player Wounds even further!

Guess I'll get up and go find the answer I'm longing for

And then, just as quickly as he came, he logs off with a smile. I take a deep breath


Feels like I've woken up from a dream

I then feel 5 familiar presences. No, many more.

I've shaken off the misery

I feel the tears flow freely as I see behind me my old family and friends.

Back to my care-free days

I choke back a sob and wipe away the tears.

I'm living my life and doing things my way

I give them a huge smile and a thumbs up.

Don't fail me now, trembling wings

I turn and run forward once more, hearing their cheers and support.

You're my hope, you're my everything

I feel my Light shine brightly, healing me of my pain...

We can fly if you believe ...

...and lifting me off the ground to fly.

IN MY LOVE!

Bursting with power, I can only think of one way forward from here...

[Guitar rock section]

"Hey, guys!" I shout to a group of players. "Let's rock their socks off!"

I then raise my keyblade and fire a powerful spell at one of them! Only for it to bounce off, having been reflected by one last attack reflector! The Godmodder tries to dodge, only to be distracted by a rational debate, followed by getting trapped in minecraft Sand, said sand turned into duckrantulas by a holy triangle demon, the seven colors of determination wrapping him up, a few different shots from several gun happy players, a Smashposttrain, and it is finally decided that A Red Truth that keeps the Godmodder in place is declared. He Cannot Move.

The spell smashes into him. I turn to my comrades….

Only to realize they were my memories of them. I turn back to see John Smith all scarred and mangled.


Feels like my faith is slipping away

I clutch my Heart. I feel a deep pang of guilt?

This nightmare's got me losing my way

It looked like he was in pain… when did I want to cause that?

When will it ever end

I've been trying to hurt and kill him for so long… when did I become like that?

I've got to stay strong to keep the love going

I always walked a different path.

Don't fail me now, beautiful wings

I saved and helped so many, even when they didn't need or want me to.

You're my life, you're my everything

The memories of Cybil, the Player Killer, and Skitter come back to me.

We can fly if you believe,

I then knew what I needed to do. As a support...

OH YEAH!!!!

And as a Hero.


Feels like I've woken up from a dream

I feel my body shaking as I raise my arms above me and float above the crowds.

I've shaken off the misery

Then it stills and I take a deep breath.

Back to my carefree days

They snap open as I yell with all of my might.

I'm living my life and doing things my way

I feel my body turn translucent from all of the power I put into it.

PLAYER IS MORTALLY WOUNDED!

Don't fail me now, trembling wings

All of my memories, now given angel wings, fly into the orb, turning it massive as only my soul remains from giving it my all.

99% MORTAL ACTION PERFORMED!

You're my hope, you're my everything

"PIONO! TAKE THIS!" I send the Orb of Power and Being to him for safekeeping. He'd know what to do with it when the time came.

We can fly if you believe…

And then, the soul appears before the Godmodder. As he moves to act, my soul appears before him and speaks.

IN MY LOOOOOOOVVVEEEE!!!

"I don't blame you."

REMAINING 1% MORTAL ACTION USED! GODMODDER EMOTIONALLY STUNNED!

As the music reaches the climax and finish, my soul shines! The barrier falls away, as the Nothing returns to whence it came. And then, having done my purpose, I fly beyond.

Someday, I'll be reborn, and we'll all have a brighter future then.

Until then, see ya, Player Heroes.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John Smith just stared, standing there, mouth agape.

He's heard insults. He's heard psychoanalysis. He's heard death threats and condemnations. Hell, he's even heard praise and exaltation for a change of pace. But…

"I don't blame you."

And then he died. He spent his last words as a living being saying that. One of the biggest opposers of the Godmodder, just, said that and DIED.

The thought and all it stood for was so foreign on top of this stunning, unacceptable loose end and lack of resolution was so overpowering in John Smith's mind that he didn't have time to notice, much less react, to the next poster's oncoming attack.

 

[Strider626]

I absolutely loved the attack, Alastair and seeing the godmodder fail was great
Such a noob

We can finish him off now everyone
All our blood sweat and tears was worth this

I cheer on Alastair
That paint part was inspired lol
You can do it
Cut his fcking head off

 

[Torix]

John Smith just stared, standing there, mouth agape.

He's heard insults. He's heard psychoanalysis. He's heard death threats and condemnations. Hell, he's even heard praise and exaltation for a change of pace. But…

"I don't blame you."

And then he died. He spent his last words as a living being saying that. One of the biggest opposers of the Godmodder, just, said that and DIED.

The thought and all it stood for was so foreign on top of this stunning, unacceptable loose end and lack of resolution was so overpowering in John Smith's mind that he didn't have time to notice, much less react, to the next poster's oncoming attack.

Click to shrink...

​

I look at Alastair's now dead body... and feel a pang of guilt. Even with the Prismatic Soul Barrier, it wasn't enough to protect him... so much for a zero-casualty war. Like that'd ever happen. Nothing like that ever happens, no matter the story. Stories of love and war, life and death, and endless battles against a so-called unstoppable entity? Quite obviously... death still happens.

There's time for grieving later. As of now, I've got a final action to create.

[Final Action] -
I speak, my words resounding across the chasm of emptiness we're in. The Godmodder and any remaining players find themselves flinching from the sheer volume at first, before they find themselves accustomed to it.

"Let me tell you a story..."
"One of hardships, but triumph."
"One of failure and success."
"One that would go down in history, having effects throughout the world."
"Let me tell you a legend."

Reality shifts. The region of absolute nothing becomes an entire world as I merge a plane of my own creation into this realm. A continent, thousands of miles wide and filled with massive amounts of my imaginary creations, comes into being as massive amounts of Player Power are expended. As the Players and the Godmodder float high above the newly formed planet, the platform we were all standing on cracks - then breaks. Everyone is sent plummeting into the newly created planet, a former figment of my imagination brought into a reality where anything is possible. The last thing Verradd and the players see before they enter the planet's atmosphere and black out is me, holding a 20 sided die and looking down on the world I've created.

---​

You awaken on a bed, in a small wooden room. Curtains are gently draped from a glass window, with a desk across from the bed. A book is open on it, and a small wooden chair is tucked neatly underneath the desk. Outside, you can hear music playing gently through the door - a strange song, sounding... familiar, yet different. Already, something doesn't seem right. What were you doing before you got here, again...?

Suddenly, your memory seems to return. That's what you were...

Spoiler: An AG Player

A Player... Players were the more common of those that had fallen from the sky, with only three others seeming to not fit the trend. As you exit the room, you find something... different about what is clearly a tavern. Sure, a jovial tune is playing, drinks of many varieties being consumed, patrons having a jolly time... but what strikes you as strange is the bartender. Looking strangely familiar - perhaps another player? - he stares through you. Giving an apologetic shrug, he snaps his fingers..

Any Player accidentally targeted by the attack finds themselves back on the battlefield, with a note in their hand...
"Sorry for the mistarget, it was kind of an all or nothing move. Enjoy the show."

Spoiler: An Arbiter

The Arbiter, Moniker, awakens in the same room. Heading downstairs, he finds the tavern strangely and completely empty, minus what he's clearly able to recognize as me sitting at a large table, directly in the center of the tavern. Grabbing a drink of lemonade using something clearly definable as cheating, I turn to look directly at him.

Moniker, not a direct part of the story in the first place, becomes one for a couple moments. I breathe in, and then exhale as I think on what to say, before eventually settling on the following...

Thank you for the time you've spent, making this game what it is.
Thanks for the entertainment. Thanks for creating this.
Thanks for allowing me into your world. Letting me introduce myself.
Thanks for... letting Me... be Me.


Thanks for the game, Moniker. Maybe someday, I can return the favor.


Moniker finds himself back where he's supposed to be, wherever that may be.
He's the narrator of this story. It's time to write the finale.

Spoiler: Piono

Piono heads downstairs to the tavern area of the inn, to find it a late sunset suddenly. A soft tune fills the room, and the few people left at the tavern are old friends with one another, and spending the night as they laugh the night away. Other groups sit down, generally creating a homey mood as the cobblestone hearth blazes to life in the tavern. I'm fiddling with a clock, realize Piono's right there, and then chuck it in the corner. Time itself bounces, wavers a little, then resumes more or less to normal as the clock skids to a half on the rough, log-hewn floor.

"Sorry for keeping you here a little bit longer, Piono. You're... a bit of a special case." I pause, taking a moment to savor the atmosphere of the tavern around me. "My main power I've been planning on is the power of stories, and legends. That's what this whole place is built on." Gesturing to the party of close friends over there, voice cuts back in. "Take those three, for example. Each of them have a specific backstory I've crafted behind them."

An elven figure, dressed in the robes of royalty and wielding a glass-edged longsword takes a drink from his glass. "Valeros is advisor to the king of the Twin Peaks. Renowned for his skills in wizardry and being the one to crack the secrets of reverting potions to spells, he was one of my first creations. His backstory is by no means complete, but he still holds a place."

A human, dressed in a dark blue jacket and playing an electronic melody on his jet-black fiddle has a hearty laugh. Refilling his glass from a strange, portal like structure, he drinks what appears to be lemonade and swings right back into the song, prompting a hearty cheer from the rest of the tavern. "Cadere is another one of my players. Skilled in the musical arts, he's a great bard and has traveled the world, using his songs to craft his way through battles.

A dragonborn nervously fiddles with his wooden staff, as a faint breeze blows through the tavern. Unsure of himself, it looks like he has a great conflict coming up in his story. "Quirail is a relatively new one, but his story is still in progress. As of right now..." I shudder. "Well, that's a story for another time."

"Anyways... point is, there's far more potential behind this idea." Wispy outlines of people filling the tavern shimmer into view. Glowing various colors, the outlines move, act, and do everything a normal person would, if they were in a tavern, but with a sheer lack of personality that reinforces their nature as husks. "These are characters that have yet to be created. As you can see, there's plenty of room. That's why I'm doing this."

A large portion of the shades suddenly turn from their previous colors to a deep shade of blue, exactly the same that you use. "I entrust these to you, along with their stories." I open the door, revealing a bustling town beyond. People conduct their evening business, vendors pack up shop and sell their remaining wares for the day. We zoom out. The street soon gives way to a view of the whole town, bustling with activity and walled. The style of the architecture oddly modern for this being a fantasy realm, the city spreads and sprawls throughout the valleys of the surrounding land. We go further. The land loses detail, the city vivid as ever but the surrounding regions fading to more general regions of farmlands, fields, forests. These give way to biomes, to regions, to kingdoms... and then, it abruptly stops. White regions surround the edge on the only kingdom fleshed out.

I turn to Piono, looking at the blotch of color and vivid land along the outline. Sighing, I turn to the other player before me. "This is the extent to which I've created this realm. As you can see... it's by no means complete. Even beyond just the walls of the city, the color is painted in pastels, not quite fully colored in. Nothing's ever truly complete...which happens to work."

I entrust my power over the overarching narrative and the ability to control fate itself to Piono.
He ascends from being a character in the story to a true author of it.
"Create your own characters, your own places, your own stories."
"Create a legend you'd be proud of."

My avatar dissipates. Piono is left far above the world with complete use of narrative control, and the ability to therefore, create legends. I'm only left to hope this is put to good use by him.

So, now the only person left is Verradd. As the only one who hasn't returned to the realm you know, you're beginning to become a bit concerned. Without any of your Godmodding powers existing here - thanks to a convenient concept-removal field - the whole thing seems rather unfairly stacked against you. Because... it kinda is. Huffing, you walk out of the inn with a determined glare on your face. You will escape this prison, one way or another.

---
​

A quest board in the tavern crackles with orange, arcane energy. A strange quest takes notice of three denizens of the tavern, entitled "Destroy Verradd" in a bright orange font. Walking up to the quest board, they all look at the same quest. Described as a 6-star difficulty, the reward of 20 thousand platinum coins would be enough to entice any adventurer with the qualifications. They regard the quest for a moment, then look at each other.

...
Well, what do you guys think?

Valeros: "Well. This one is different, and 6-Stars aren't exactly common... What do you three think?"
Cadere: "Sure. Look at that gold reward! That's not something you get from an every day quest."
Quirail: "Cadere has a point. Let's go for it."

---
​

Verradd, you realize that there's no way to escape this attack without his Godmodder abilities as he currently stands. This stupid counter-aspect field is blocking that... so you merely need to find a way out of the field! Realizing there are other ways to power in this world, you head to the local library, as you're far too old for school and were hoping to learn magic - it's the closest you'll ever get to your old powers. Walking through the city - god, you've forgotten how much walking you had to do back as John Smith - you notices a local peddler promising magic at a fast, affordable pace. You smile... evilly. This will be a cinch.

---
​

Valeros, Cadere, and Quirail - or, you three - begin wandering the city in search of this "Verradd" they'd been told about. Unsure where he is, you all begin asking around...
Roll an Investigation Check.
"20. Infinileaf Clover."
...
Alastair, despite you being literally DEAD, you manage to find the Godmodder's location. He appears to have headed to the library to learn wizardry.
"Okay...?"

---
​

Verradd, you sit down in a rather comfy armchair of the castle's library. Bookshelves dozens of feet tall stretch to the ceiling, ladders and a generally dim light completing the mood. Putting on some reading glasses, you begin to study. Magical effects begin to take place. Runes and an ethereal magenta magic begin to float around you as you start to read the book faster - the pages flip until eventually, the book gets sent flying through centrifugal force downwards, spinning on the floor and thumping a bookshelf rather loudly. As a shush comes from around the corner, you venture to laugh, as more spells find themselves coming to his grasp.

A group of what looks to be strange figures enter the library and walk towards you, looking around suspiciously. Being a newly-created spellcaster, you use an Identify Spell, and immediately are able to recognize the adventurers as would be Players - strong ones, at that. Judging by their stares, they're out for you - leaving a fight or flight response. The only sane thing to do, critically wounded and without your powers, is to flee - and that is exactly what you do.

Voices interject throughout the library. There he is! After him! We can't let him escape! Rays of lightning and frost chill various books, freezing the shelves and in some cases, blasting them apart. A song played by the bard boosts the adventurer's overall speed as they chase, closing the distance. You run, ducking and dodging through the wisps of spells blasting behind you, before coming to a dead end in the library's labyrinthine corridors. The adventurers come to face you, bolts of wizardry, sorcery, and wisps of some lost battle theme floating through the air.

Verradd, you are out of options. Forced to rely on your budding spells and forced into the situation you really didn't want to be in - battle - you have only one real course of action. Roll initiative to complete your quest, everyone.

"18." "15." "10."
... Verradd. Initiative?
"... 1."

Guess I'm first, then.
I begin my turn by casting Wall of Fire around Verradd and I. As he realizes he's truly trapped, I end my turn and pass it to Cadere.
Alright, then. Valeros, Verradd, you find yourselves surrounded by a wall of burning hot flames. It feels like you're in an oven, and you both take... 27 damage.
Not me. As I'm an evoker, I use Savant Spells to negate the damage on myself.
... fair enough. Cadere?

Verradd begins to hear a strange sound. Looking at it's source, he sees me - playing a strange, dream-like tune. Verradd, make a saving throw.
Guessing my luck, this won't make it?
Not unless you can beat a DC 17.
Fine. That's a... GORILLA. 16.
You feel sickened, and suddenly nauseous. Roll all ability checks and saving throws with disadvantage.
Alright. Quirail, your go.

I roll to disrespect Verradd.
Uh... okay. Roll... Intimidation?
Hah! Natural 20!
Nice. Verradd feels so disrespected, it's actually respectful how disrespectful you were.

Verradd, would you like to go?
Yes. I look around me, and use anything I think might be able to help.
You desperately pull out a scroll and read it. A rift into the real world begins to open up, and Verradd - you, amazed at your luck, you dash through.

The rest of you stand irritated as your quarry escapes through the portal. Looking at each other, there's only one thing left to do: follow him in.

---
​

Although having sustained heavy damage, the Godmodder's returned to the realm of before the turn, with severe psychological stun on his person. It couldn't be real - yet it's real. How could charcters - figments of an imagination - deal so much to him? Stunned and confused, the world left behind has served one of it's two purposes, floating ominously beneath the clear plane of force that everyone is fighting on. Though much of the world is left colorless, the small beacon of color - the First Kingdom and it's capital city - shines brightly as an omen of what's to come.

Now, with the stun done, It's time for me to land my final blow before stepping off to the sidelines to watch the rest. I summon a small, 20 sided die, glowing orange with arcane power. Holding it, the dice's numbers begin to turn magenta as I invoke the game that's inspired so much of this attack - Dungeons and Dragons. Everyone rolls initiative, the order falling in that of the posts. Verradd rolls a 1, quite obviously.

As my turn comes to pass, with the ones above already having passed in the term of their posts, I decide to roll to hit, and get a 20 as the Infinileaf Clover kicks in. The critical hit with a heavily enchanted staff begins to unleash it's power directly into the Godmodder, dealing :̵͎̙̈|̵̹͖͝\̸͇̂̆:̷̧̼̈;̴d10 damage as my characters stand behind me. Valeros casts some of the mighest spells he knows as swarms of meteors begin to rain down, all centralized on the Godmodder. Cadere plays a song, entering into heart-wrenching chords, harmonies, and astounding melodies - ripping his very heart apart from sheer emotional pain. Cadere uses untold magic of ancient dragons as the Godmodder is bombarded with a barrage of sheer elemental attacks. As I roll damage, the Infinileaf Clover takes effect. As the number rolled determines damage it maximizes. Every dice hits a 10, dealing the maximum amount of damage possible. My characters, legends of their own, stand behind me, watch with me as the maximum damage output applies, and I transcend it beyond D&D statistics - applying it directly to the Godmodder's health bar and dealing exactly that... the maximum amount of damage possible.

Breathing heavily, I admire my handiwork.
That... was the largest attack I've ever created.
My god.

---
​

I look at Scott, but she's a girl. The Godmodder, reeling from the sheer force of the damage dealt to him at one time from one attack, is wide open. Don't let this go to waste, Twin! You've got this!

 

[Joe(Commuter)]

I hit the most toxic, stinkiest, virulent dab of all time.
children run in fear
my parents run in fear
birds flee from their nests
the expansion of the universe speeds up dramatically, so completely scared of the absolute world killer event that just occurred
and to those of you who ask who I am,
Joe mama

this attack is indiscriminate, everyone is in range

 

[TwinBuilder]

I look at Scott, but she's a girl. The Godmodder, reeling from the sheer force of the damage dealt to him at one time from one attack, is wide open. Don't let this go to waste, Twin! You've got this!

Click to shrink...

---

FINAL ACTION:

Scott but it's a girl turns to Torix for the briefest of instants and nods. "I won't let you down!" she exclaims, letting almost no time go to waste as she speeds off into the horizon. The air that isn't there cracks, the sound resonating across the battlefield. Scott but it's a girl barrels across the battlefield, the void whipping into a frenzy below her. Every step of her boots crack and splinter the ground, turning the indistinct shifting of the abyss into fractured panes of glass that sparkle and reflect with the lights in Scott but it's a girl's eyes. Those eyes are locked onto the Godmodder himself, whose body is still contorting and reeling through the air after Torix's onslaught, rendered in painfully slow motion as Scott but it's a girl breaks all possible physical, natural, and spiritual laws.

Scott but it's a girl's grin, which I had previously noted would have bestowed the status of "literally insane" on any other reasonable individual, has stretched across her face entirely. It peels back her skin, laying bare rows of sharp, perfectly aligned teeth. Her brow furrows and her face wrinkles, electricity and energy and ash peeling from her empty eyes. Her bunches of orange hair flash to life, roaring into an open flame that spirals and cascades out from her head like a supernova. Her jacket ripples in a wind that is now all too real, her polydactyl hands encased in golden gloves. Her glasses, meanwhile, have ascended from mementos of her soulbound parents to artifices of true power. Her right lens spews out stardust, molten liquid, blinding light, and radiation, the detritus of an entire universe pouring out from her. A sea of constellations, superstrings, and celestial workings flood the heavens, definitively separating them from the ground. Her left lens condenses into a singularity, swallowing all light, all heat, all form and all time. It is a blackness more profound and real than the shattered fragments of the battlefield upon which she rides. It is the blackness that signifies the ending of all things. It is the blackness that transcends any notion of narrative, of conflict, of roads, both trapped by rails and taken only by a chosen few, or convention. It is my blackness, and it is yours. It is ours.

The two lenses tumult the entire battlefield into a fluctuating, spasming mess of limitless potential. The precepts upon which this reality, and Scott but it's a girl's existence, stand bounce inside her head. "You can do anything," the truth had spoken to her upon her untimely separation from oblivion. "But don't expect your attacks to actually work." But Scott but it's a girl has to expect that it will. Because she knows that this is her final hour. This is the last attack she will ever perpetrate against the Godmodder. And she knows it with a certainty that lights her bones up in flashes of cyan and yellow, that pulls her muscles taut, that ripples across her skin and makes every hair on her body stand on end. She's closing in on the Godmodder, still coursing through the sky. The stars of the rightful existence reflect against his ruined form, and after all this time, she still can't make out what she sees him as. It was as though the battlefield had stretched endlessly to allow time for her transformation and introspection — but that time was now up. Scott but it's a girl has activated her fullest potential, the mismatched soul inside of her burning in a flame of ten thousand colors, spreading light and dark in equal measure.

Every facet of the battlefield, and all that resided upon it, is shaking and undulating against an infinite sea of possibilities. The sheer magnitude and power levels of the many players on display have irreversibly fractured the path of plot — and make no mistake, there is one. Even in this realm, one divorced almost entirely from the old truth, there has to be something keeping things going. And there has to be a representation of such a force. While Scott but it's a girl is en route to the Godmodder, throwing the entire battlefield off its foundations, I turn to the seas of infinity forged from her glasses and peer into the distance. Sure enough, fluttering in the distant wind, situated in between clusters of stars, is a set of curtains suspended in the air. You might think they'd be goldenrod, but that would fall within the purview of the conundrums of the old truth. These curtains are a bright pink — a color calling many unpleasant memories to my mind. The scourge of the refinery, the malice of a father figure, the destroyer of words and worlds, and now, of the legends of yore. Still, interlocking around their framework are the telltale series of gears, ever twisting, ever turning. Protruding from them like the hands of a clock, and positioned atop polished columns, are the images of a sun and moon. With every second, the machine recalibrates, charting the courses of narrative and conflict with equal measure. At least, they should. But I see with eyes unclouded by hate, and exist in a world undone through the vices of the cycle coursing through its history. The curtains are undone from the only plane that exists, fluctuating through infinite states of probability, spinning out of control. The whole gamut of potential endings winds its way across the sky, reflected by the stars and absorbed by the dark, and contained, as previously said, within the battlefield and its inhabitants.

Flashing between flashes of red, green, and blue, every possible conclusion plays out. The infinitude of possibilities where the players' chain triumphs, and the Godmodder is defeated once and for all. The lesser infinitude of possibilities where the players' chain is broken, and the Godmodder, somehow, wins. And, branching out endlessly from the two primary outcomes, the set of spectrums of instances where this final battle was never reached at all. Where this new band of players was different in scope. Where this canon never intersected with the veterans of the old truth. Where a new contingent of players never showed up at all. Where the world was sculpted differently. Where the fight was permanently deleted. Where the fight was never made at all. Where the Three Syllables were uttered in earnest, and took full, irreversible effect. Where John Smith was never subjected to the torment of endless cubicles. Where the game was hijacked by another master, and metafictional power struggles broke the flow. Where retcons resculpted history to an unrecognizable degree. Where everything in the entire universe was the same, but positioned five feet to the left. Where everything in the universe was the same, but everything was made of corn to the subatomic level. Where everything in the universe was the same, but reality was run off of code derived from sacred geometry. Where everything in the universe was ten Cuils removed from the alpha timeline, and was therefore unable to be told in a one-sentence format. To make a long story short, the sheer power of Scott but it's a girl's soul was fracturing what little remained of space, time, and any other physical dimension. Existence was bending in every which way, catching fire from the inferno rushing forth from her spirit. And existence can only bend for so long until... it breaks.

"Actually, the space-time continuum snaps in two!!" Scott but it's a girl exclaims, once again speaking at an entirely acceptable volume, because really, it just made sense. It's not like the light and dark, and the gradient of futures therein, were especially loud. Quite the opposite, really. It's made no sound at all. Because the sound was in Scott but it's a girl all along. Her flaming body imposes itself upon the plane, not shining with the light of the stars, and not sinking into the deep. But her form sharpens and refines itself, every color and contour maintaining its form, the flame of her soul boiling her blood, cracking her bones and casting embers onto her clothes. Rising in tone like the sun, a roar shoots from out of Scott but it's a girl, throwing every hypothetical timeline into a knotted jumble. And her twin lenses, true to her words, snap existence in two. The range of probability is ground into dust, the afterimages coalescing into two distinct paths. Scott but it's a girl's lenses have bifurcated the timeline, creating two possibilities that are both true, and occurring simultaneously. Everyone present sees a different timeline in each eye, plunging their entire world into the most confusing monochromatic palette of all time. In their right eye, the field is bathed in the light of an entire universe, throwing everything into a field of unbroken white. In their left eye, the field is completely consumed by the singularity, throwing everything into the darkest of darks, and the blackest of blacks. "Take a look inside your mind, Godmodder! What do you see?!" Scott but it's a girl shouts at the Godmodder in both timelines at once, the roaring cascade of senses triggered by the severance of the final plane forcing her to make her voice known. "Do you see bright lights? Or do you imagine total darkness?"

And with the fanfare concluded, in both timelines at once, Scott but it's a girl tenses, jumps into the air, pulverizing the panes of glass that function as the ground beneath her, reaches for the Godmodder, and grabs him with her bloody hand. Drops of blood stand out against the scourge of light and the bleak darkness, laced with ten thousand colors, and shining...

LIKE THE SUN AND THE MOON
THE DEFEAT THE GODMODDER EPILOGUES​

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THE SUN EPILOGUE ACT 1: I SEE THE LIGHT​ Scott but it's a girl sees the entire continuum of existence rendered in the purest light possibly conceived. It is a light derived from the luminosity inherent in the millions and billions of stars shining across a realm one impossible universe away. It is a fundamental tenet of the old truth, a codification still laced through this existence. Constellations arrange themselves in impossibly close proximity, rendered both as shining pinpricks producing kaleidoscopic halos that defy the eyes, and as impossibly vast flaming orbs, prominences and flares curling across their seething surfaces. The filaments and tendrils of every type of galaxy are present as far as the eye can see, stretching beyond the limitless horizon and forming clusters of stellar mass, cluttered by elusive dark matter. And every single source of light, every celestial body present, is impossibly, irrevocably real. Not in the sense that their boundaries stand out as inherently as Scott but it's a girl, but in that they feel completely distanced from every aspect of this narrative, despite residing in them. They are red-shifted keepsakes in an age of... Well, of an age. Each one feels as though its represents some elusive concept beyond the grasp of mortal minds, belonging to a higher plane of reality altogether. "Light was the right choice!" Scott but it's a girl comments as the Godmodder is ensnared in her grasp. He tries fruitlessly to wriggle out, but the sheer magnitude of the chain attack thus far keeps him, well, chained against the infinite sky. "I was never one to pay attention in school. I mean, why would I need to? I was there for all of five milliseconds, it's pretty pointless. You learn everything you need to in the real world, fighting bad guys and craving for sandwiches to be eaten. Anyway, the point is that something I caught on to is that light represents reason. Truth. A higher calling. Light reveals things! It's what let's you see! Light reflects off your eye and it creates shapes, forms, colors. It gives the world detail and clarity. You understand?" The Godmodder is, of course, in no position to respond or understand. This isn't going to stop Scott but it's a girl, however, and she keeps on trucking. "But light hides things, too! Everyone knows it! It's got kind of a laundry list once you actually look at the stuff. It's stupidly slow in the grand scheme of things, forcing you to time travel every time you look through a telescope. The light that... uh, roughly humanoid entities see is just a small sliver of the whole spectrum! And if what little light we can see is too bright, any detail gets washed out in the noise, and afterimages of false color get superimposed on your eyes. Hell, it can even actively hurt you!" Scott but it's a girl chuckles, her flaming hair waving in the stellar wind. Her glasses fizzle out, the torrent of stars subsiding and turning the lenses into scratched panes of nothingness. Not taking her hand off the Godmodder's twitching neck, Scott but it's a girl rears back with her other hand, grabbing the artifacts of her ancestors and crushing them. Her entire body surges and ripples with multicolored flame, and when the smoke clears, she opens her eyes. Both sockets now contain rippling points of kaleidoscopic starlight, fluctuating every instant to another image of cosmic detritus. To say that she has stars in her eyes would be an understatement. Her eyes are stars. "Here," Scott but it's a girl says in the thunderstruck tones of someone who currently believes themselves to be the most important entity in the universe. "Let me give you some EXAMPLES!" Scott but it's a girl proceeds to get this expository show on the road by punctuating her last word with a headbutt. Her forehead is bathed in the resplendent fires of her coronal hair, and as such, a volcanic eruption plumes from it. The Godmodder is washed in sheets of lava and lightning, blown through the starfield. Though his vision is ostensibly clouded by ash, the ash does nothing to dull the limitless light barraging his senses. He tumbles and cartwheels through the void, jettisoning clean through multiple stars' cores and destabilizing their inner workings. Scott but it's a girl brings her hands together, energy crackling at her fingertips as she forces an entire wall of stars to lose control of their own orbits, falling like billiard balls towards the Godmodder. There are multiple flashes that outshine the already infinite light, and then, shockwaves of color so intense that it's as though every mortal plane had never before experienced true color until this very moment. Supernovae radiate from the onslaught, seeming like a combination of celestial mushroom clouds and the divine halos of the serpentine denizens ruling the lands that birth universes. The Godmodder's body is a speck against the kaleidoscopic anarchy that lies beyond. Watching with glee, Scott but it's a girl's leather coat is pulverized by the shockwaves. Yet it seems she was expecting this, for under her garb is a stark white lab coat. Scott but it's a girl's voice assumes a decidedly affably evil cadence and a Drusselsteinian abrasiveness. "Ah yes, abrasiveness," Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz says. "What an unexpected visit this word has paid me! And by unexpected I mean COMPLETELY EXPECTED!" Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz's back hunches, and peeling from her coat come two Wings. These Wings are absolutely and utterly indescribable, and I don't think I can even begin to attempt to do them justice. What I can say is what they make me see. On the battlefield below, the light of the true universe has rendered everything in black outlines. Despite such a light show having the clear capability to scourge marrow, tissue, and eye fluid into the ash of its forefathers, the details of every player, every entity, and the field itself are sharper than ever. Each star shines in its own living color, the jagged assortments of glass floating through the void stand as sentry, and far, far above, Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz's Wings flicker with every color in any conceivable rainbow, even according to any alien civilization's off-brand laws of physics. They are a symphony that, even if possible to be played, is impossible to hear, let alone see. It is a nightmare wrapped in a dream with the harsh truth at its core. "You see, Veraad the Vlatypus—" Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz sees that the Godmodder is helplessly out of range and cups her hands to her mouth. "HEY! I'm over here, y'know!" She flaps her Wings, casting a reverberation through the paradise of light; it ensnares the Godmodder perfectly and reels him in. "These babies have a built-in Godmodder-fisher-inator! Never leave home without it, see how useful it is? And look, it even has a built-in self destruct mechanism!" Right as the Godmodder is reeled, Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz plucks a single feather and lobs it at the Godmodder, creating an explosion that, while nowhere near a rival to the supernovae, acts as an insult to the injury. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes! You see, Veraad the Vlatypus, I had an ingenious idea while perusing the YouTube the other day! I came across a video talking about the elements! Y, y'know, the ones on the periodic table! Hang on, let me get a chart, I have one over here." Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz walks out of the attack and comes back with a large whiteboard that has a respectable periodic table on it. "See here! One hundred eighteen elements! Can you imagine that, Veraad the Vlatypus, that all the things we take for granite in this world are—" The Godmodder says nothing, but Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz reacts as though there was an interruption. "Bah! 'Granted,' 'granite,' who needs it? How do you like them granite, huh?!" She pulls out a monolith of granite from her lab coat, its surface reflecting the quadrillions of starbeams shining in the sky and focusing them into a concentrated death ray that sears whatever armor and flesh still exists on the Godmodder's body in an instant. "That one wasn't even an -inator! Crazy, huh? Some rich diamond matriarch was practically giving away whole fused chunks of granite! Now Veraad the Vlatypus, listen, I know what you're thinking. How can I possibly maintain such a large collection of granite, not to mention my already existing collections of Neon Genesis Evangelion toothbrushes, church roof tiles, the sheet music to classical Bulgarian folk tunes, all existing memorabilia associated with the play The Hanged King's Tragedy, and people born to Indonesian single moms in 1957? Well, you see, back in Gimmelshtump..." Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz proceeds to engage in a stereotypically tragic backstory that goes on for much, much longer than it should. The Godmodder, who is incredibly disoriented from the mother of all light shows as it stands, would normally be in absolutely no condition to listen. But this is no normal condition. As soon as the flashback began, the Godmodder was locked inside of Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz's flashback along with her. Every single mistreatment, every punishment, every cringeworthy moment, every piece of physical pain, emotional pain, and Balloonie pain, is felt by the Godmodder too. But at the end of it all, the Godmodder walks out of the extended torture sequence with the gist of Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz's evil scheme. "And now, I can finally live up to the promises I made to my professor of Evil Science™ in my freshman year! Behold, Veraad the Vlatypus! The Elementary-My-Dear-Scott-Inator!" Emerging from the oceans of light is a behemoth of a machine, resembling an even larger and more complicated particle collider crackling with multicolored lightning. "This baby forces stars to go supernova, and from their ashes, synthesizes all new elements! One hundred eighteen is mere child's play; I, I mean, I can count way higher than that! Anyone can! To think that people are so arrogant they'd give up so soon, it really grinds my gears, you know what I mean? Well, no longer!" Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz ascends atop a column of light, her Wings blinking stars into existence in close proximity of the machine. "When I make one hundred and eighteen of my own elements, I'll force you to name them all when they penetrate rapid-fire through your skull!" The Elementary-My-Dear-Scott-Inator activates, sending a surge of energy across the vestiges of existence in every conceivable spectrum of light. Instantly, dozens and dozens of stars' surfaces lose their cohesion, warping their features and colors into a celestial melting pot. Billions of miles worth of novae are condensed within the Elementary-My-Dear-Scott-Inator, the superheated, highly unstable gas spinning far beyond the normal speed of light. The result — a truly blinding hole, carved in the middle of existence, absent of any light, form, or color. Nothing can touch it, and nothing can catch up to it. But pouring out of the hole are leagues of detritus from the connections and collisions elicited by the particle collider — a whole set of new elements. Though each are only meant to last for instants, Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz thinks as little of conventional laws of physics as a pair of winter boots think of a stray bee. And with each new impossibility, Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz already has a weapon ready to harness it. It's at this point that the Godmodder realizes he isn't held in place by anything, and could just... leave. Or dodge. Or do anything other than just stand there and take it. So he tries. But he looks up and sees, stretching as far up as the resplendent light of the heavens allows, copies of him, Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz, the nexus of novae, and the Elementary-My-Dear-Scott-Inator. He looks to his side, and sees the same. He looks behind — the same. In every conceivable direction, this attack is happening, again and again. Scott chuckles to herself. "What's the matter, Verraad the Vlatypus? You thought just because I became an old pharmacist, I'd become incompetent? No no no. You're locked in a prism." Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz extends her hand, the shattered panes of the void circulating around her outstretched palm. "I took the limitless void and carved it into endless facets, reflecting in on themselves. Trapping the light, ensnaring the senses, and bending reality. I don't care what tricks you pull. I don't care what godmodding you have. No matter what you do, there will always be an attack against endless clones of you, and you will always suffer. That's the cold, hard, facts, Veraad. It's... elementary." Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz blasts the Godmodder with element 227, pyrovisionium, which turns literally anything it comes into contact with into an unbearable flame that sears down to the subatomic level. If one was to ask the simple question of, "Is there a fire," then the answer wouldn't even be "On the Godmodder's face." It runs on a much more conceptual level. The Godmodder is fire, at every level. Every nerve ending, every memory, every impulse that he possesses spontaneously combusts. Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz then blasts the Godmodder with element 217, iconoclasmide, which replaces the image of whatever it combines with into literal noise. The Godmodder's already unreadable physical form degrades and unglues, dispersing into the infinite horizon before resolving into a genuinely horrific scream. It echoes across the field of light and spirals into infinity. Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz then blasts the Godmodder with element 171, irreleventgen, which intrinsically lowers the capability of anything around it to be important or meaningful. The Godmodder feels the metaphorical light fade from his eyes, as even in an endless universe of glory, he is thrown into the depths. His actions are stripped from his bones, his legacy and infamy scourged from his skin. Yet Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz refuses to let the Godmodder dissipate now. Her Wings flap, and an assortment of feathers fly from them, positioning mere inches off of the Godmodder's body like potential acupuncture and anchoring him against the ocean of falling stars. Then there's element 180, stupidnamium, which decays the names and titles of anything associated with it. The Godmodder becomes the Godmoder, a decrepit old man with no interest in the war, the Good Mood, a beacon of positivity mauled by this ongoing chain attack, the Squidmodder, a flailing, dying squid spewing ink that is swallowed by the light, the Godmother, a literal fairy tale with no bearing in any existence, the Girlmodder, the Bogmodder, the the Dogmodder, the Modmodmod, the Mothergoder, and so on throughout the English language until his name is rendered in illegible keyspams, reducing his existence into nothingness. Then there's element 210, condominium, which turns the Godmodder into an irascible boomer (if he wasn't one already), corrupting his past with a nostalgia that can never be quenched and destroying his present by making him forever angered at the laziness and malcontent of future generations. Yet his complaints are always met with that chorus of the damned: "OK, BOOMER." Dozens and dozens of other elements ruin the Godmodder's body, dozens and dozens of times over. He bounces within the confines of his facet of the prism until he sails clean through, the machine shattering itself and reforming in even tinier fragments. Now, millions of incarnations of the Godmodder's torment play throughout existence. Scott but it's Dr. Doofenshmirtz's lab coat burns away into stardust, and from some dark corner of existence, she grabs her typical leather jacket. Scott, once more merely a girl, opens her eyes again, revealing the kaleidoscopic pinpoints. "Dad always used to talk about there being stars in his eyes. And I was like, what the hell is up with that? I'd had all of seven seconds to exist at that point. Again, not something you learn about in school. But now, I see." Scott but it's a girl sweeps her arms in a huge arc, stretching across the heavens and commanding the movements of the endless stars around her. "Not only do you have literal stars in your eyes, it shows how you're always looking up. You've got a star in your life, you know? A reference point. Something to strive for. Someone to strive for. I guess we've all got heroes like that, huh?" Scott but it's a girl beams, her gaze met only by filaments, dust, ash, and an ever-present twinkling. "...Not you, though," she directs, with venom, at the Godmodder. "I've done all this, and there's still no light in your life. What little of a life you've got, anyway. So, here! Let me give you some more." Scott but it's a girl takes out the great sword Sigh, the weapon of choice of the Comet King himself. Its very essence is supercharged with divine light, its metal reign reflecting and amplifying the showers of god rays littering every corner of the Godmodder's prison. Then she spins it through the air, carving an arc of destruction around her, and skewers her forehead with her own blade. There is a protracted silence, and then Scott but it's a girl pulls the sword from her head. Blood gushes out of the open wound, spilling endlessly across the void, running in rivulets and streams and rivers and floods. It is laced with ten thousand colors on top of ten thousand colors, endless matrices of light running through Scott but it's a girl's inner workings. From the hole in her head, a third pinprick of kaleidoscopic light manifests itself. She's done it. She's opened her third eye. Her eyes form a perfect triangle, and more importantly, a specific piece of typography: ⁂. Freed from the machinations of the old truth, here, its intended meaning can shine through. Two celestial sets of arms burst from Scott but it's a girl's leather jacket, and every single star in existence begins to hurtle through the void according to the commands of a very specific puppeteer. Bursting forth from the veil of stars are celestial afterimages of mythological figures. At first, the Godmodder is confused. He thinks maybe the intense light has finally caught up to him, and he's starting to go blind. These thoughts are quickly silenced by more pressing matters once he realizes that an arrow one million miles wide has speared him through the chest. He is immediately pinned to the wall, cracks running across its surface. Off-color shades of other versions of the fight dance in the Godmodder's vision, and he knows that they all end the same way. Once he's come to, the Godmodder sees the true terror of the maelstrom riding towards him. What were once ghostly apparitions are now full-fledged entities, awash in the rippling, deep blues and reds of shifted stars, complete with muscle, sinew, clothing, and weaponry. The constellations themselves have descended upon the only mortal plane that remains to light up the night. Aries and Taurus simultaneously bullrush the Godmodder, ramming straight into him. Their horns sharpened to perfection, the starlit expanse crashing all around the both of them. The Godmodder falls through nothingness, until he feels something wrap around his leg. A chain forged from the cores of stars lurches the Godmodder's body into multiple facets of the prism at once, several versions of the Godmodder, Aries, Taurus, and the new challenger, Andromeda, streaming across space all at once. Andromeda spins her chains in an elliptical formation, accreting enough stardust and gas to create an entire galaxy — the Andromeda Galaxy itself. While the Godmodder's mind tries to wrestle with the fact that an entire galaxy is hovering over his head, another form of fire wraps around his body. The plasmatic discharge of St. Elmo chokes the air from the Godmodder's lungs, and stepping through the conflagration are two brothers, clothed in spiraling visions of green and red stars. Bitches will pummel the Godmodder with the ceaseless wonders of the universe and be like: can't help being a Gemini. After the incomprehensibility of Gemini's attack, they retreat into the flames, their low chuckles gradually turning into howls. Before he can run, Canis Major and Minor lunge at the Godmodder, treating him as the greatest chew toy in existence. Their bodies crackle with lightning and green plasma. The Godmodder tumbles across the absence of a floor, sprawled over in the void, when he feels some light go out. He looks up, noticing the conspicuous lack of fire of any kind among the charging constellations. Then he feels an intense heat behind him, and sees Draco, a dragon rivaling even the greatest-kept secret of the old truth, spewing a flood of flame, the antithesis of all that is holy. Rising forth from the ocean was Hydra. Every warrior immediately cuts off the Hydra's heads, doing so over and over and over until the fearsome monster has thousands of twisting, snapping heads, surging across the red waves and serving the Godmodder's body as their dinner. Each head only gets a tiny piece, but I'm going to assume that it's tasty enough to satiate them. Celebrating the Godmodder's impending demise, a field of crabs dances to the tunes of an ear-piercing metallic bass boost. "VERAAD IS GONE!" screeches Cancer, over and over again. This deals emotional damage. Immediately following Cancer is Leo (and Leo Minor), who tacklepounce the Godmodder into an endless cavern of ravenous lions that tear even further at his frail body. Resting in the center of the lowest den, taking hold of Andromeda's chains, Gemini's fire, and Fornax, the celestial furnace, is Virgo. The Godmodder had arrived too late — she had already melted down Crater, the cup, Crux, the cross, Corona Australias, crown for the king in the north, and Corona Borealis, crown for the king on the iron throne. With the chains, a plume of crackling starlight flooded the den, and Virgo pulls out the sword that carved the partitions for each constellation — the Virgin Killer. While you were going on dates, Virgo was studying the blade. While you were writing for this game, Virgo was studying the blade. And while the Godmodder was going off on his pitiful war games, Virgo was studying the blade. And to put this into practice, she carves the living daylights from the Godmodder's essence. When the Godmodder somehow manages to claw out of the den, he is immediately kicked back down an even deeper pit by the man, the myth, and the legend — Hercules. He forces the Godmodder to undergo every single one of his legendary trials, a labor that, if chronicled in full, could take up an entire other attack. The Godmodder is beaten across every corner of the heavens, as he must slay an impossible golden lion, a murmuration of man-eating metallic birds, another hydra, and many more. He has to hold up the weight of the heavens for Atlas, venture to the underworld and defeat Cerberus, and free Prometheus, progenitor of all light in the universe. By the time all is said and done, the Godmodder is exhausted beyond belief, his very soul drained of all life. But he stumbles only into another challenge — the largest courtroom in the world. Despite this, there is no judge, and no jury. There is only Libra, the scales of the heavens. Was the Godmodder as optimal as possible in completing Hercules' labors? Did he discover all the hidden speedrun techs, complete all the sidequests, and fix every plot hole in every myth? No?? Then you'd better go through the whole thing again, buster! And so the Godmodder is forced through the same labors, dozens and hundreds and thousands of times, each run ending with those scales, somehow perfect unbroken marble despite being made of stardust, tipping away from him, always finding some slight, some misdeed, some wrong. But justice cares not, because justice is blind. And after the Godmodder realizes that Libra can't actually see him because of her blindness, he just sort of ditches the trials. He isn't sure why he didn't think of that sooner. Then he realizes it's because there were more constellations running in to attack him throughout every repetition, and he realizes this as Orion beats the shit out of him. Orion's eyes crackle with lightning, his belt shining with multicolored nebulae, his shoulder crackling with fearsome red energy. His club bridges the distance between galaxies, colliding with the entire field for each and every strike, creating a cacophony of light and sound that drives all other stars to the corners of the sky. In his other hand is Athena's bow, the very weapon that killed him. It shines with the light of every celestial body simultaneously, and as it's pulled taut by Orion's own hand, it warps the fabric of spacetime itself, ensuring the sanctity of its weaponry in every conceivable point in space and time. And Orion lets loose at superhuman speeds, arrows one million miles wide impaling the Godmodder over and over, sticking into random portions of the void and colliding with each other, stars going nova and collapsing into bursts of gamma rays and seething pulsars and singularities. The Godmodder is practically a carcass drifting through the far lands of space, and yet, even with this utter level of defeat, he's barely given a moment to rest. Shining like the brightest sun possible, and scuttling forth from some awful recess in spacetime, is Scorpius, the most important and relevant constellation, period. The Godmodder is simply helpless to defend against her stinger, as she strikes time and time again, poisoning the Godmodder with the impossibility that there will always be someone who can incite more vitriol than him. Riding from the cavalry of the army of stars is Sagittarius, part-centaur, part-archer, all-furry. He grabs Athena's bow and combines it with his own, dual-wielding bows and firing them at such speeds that you could be forgiven for thinking they were gatling guns. And backing up Sagittarius is Pegasus and his rider, Perseus, with Pegasus' wings rivaling even Scott but it's a girl's, and Perseus equipped with his Adamantine Harpe, and Hades' Helm of Darkness. The two of them flew rings around the Godmodder, slicing and careening through the air with the Harpe and hiding from the cosmos with the Helm. As the Godmodder charged forward, sick of this whole charade, Perseus flipped him off and equipped the Gorgoneion. The Godmodder's very essence hardened into polished, yet very breakable stone. He hurtled through the heavens, never finding a floor to strike against, but picking up massive amounts of speed. And before he has any time to react, the Godmodder is harassed by unedited footage of not one, but two bears. Ursa Major and Minor maul him to pieces, turning the Godmodder's world upside-down as malevolent, yet still petrified, copies of him fueled by his many drug trips beat him to a pulp. There is no fancy language to describe it. The Godmodder has stared into the abyss of the universe, and it has stared right back. The tumultuous sea of flames left over from the Hydra has since cooled. But now, it cracks and splinters, a torrent of real, crystalline water flooding through the Godmodder's prismatic prison. Collecting this water in his bottomless pit is Aquarius. He strides towards the Godmodder, holding the pot over his head and pouring it down onto the Godmodder. He is scalded and purified by the brine, the water refracting and reflecting the light of heaven so that no portion of his body is left untouched. What's left of the Godmodder is fed to Pisces, the twin fishes tied together by a cord of stars. They pollute the oceans with the bits and pieces of his corpses, feeding it to the creatures in the depths below. The oceanic prism resolves itself into a geometric bastion of shimmering light, riddled with cracks opening deeper facades and passageways, containing an infinitude of pieces of the Godmodder, shining as bright as the sun. And in one swift motion, Ophiuchus steps into view, unleashes the serpent that is his to bear, and it swallows the prism whole. Physicality shuts off as the stars blink out of existence for the first time in eternity, and Scott but it's a girl's world goes dark.

THE MOON EPILOGUE ACT 1: CORRUPTED BY THE DARK​ ........................................................................................................................ Scott but it's a girl sees the entire continuum of existence rendered in the darkest shade ever fathomed. It is a darkness culled from the tenebrosity stretching across the millions and billions of miles of emptiness cascading through a set of realms one impossible universe and one mountain range away. It is a fundamental tenet of the old truth, a codification still laced through this existence. Directly spewing from her left lens is a singularity so resolute and complete that it defies any meaningful attempt to categorize it. It is the period lurking at the end of every sentence. It is the hole punched through skin in a war of one bullet fired. The singularity warps and distorts everything that can conceivably exist, stripping them of their fundamental essence. Color is reduced to a mere memory, taken and given only to previous generations. Perspective lurches to the wayside, as players, their entities, and their attacks warp and loop into each other. The only objects present that could ever be thought of as impossibly, irrevocably real are the tendrils of liquid darkness coursing their way across the indistinct mass that is existence. Not in the sense that their boundaries stand out as inherently as Scott but it's a girl, but in that they feel completely distanced from every aspect of this narrative, despite residing in them. They are shadows belonging to the figures living in an age of... Well, in an age. Each one feels as though its represents some elusive concept beyond the grasp of mortal minds, belonging to a higher plane of reality altogether. "Dark was the right choice!" Scott but it's a girl comments as the Godmodder is ensnared in her grasp. He seemingly makes little to no effort to escape, and even if he wanted to, the sheer magnitude of the chain attack keeps him, well, chained to the eternal void. "I didn't have much of a childhood. I was nothing, then I was something, and now I'm here and pretty much everything I need to know made the jump with me. But I know I'm intrinsically scared of the dark, as a whole nebulous concept. And why shouldn't I be? Darkness represents savagery. Loss. A life of sin. Darkness hides what it doesn't want you to see. It's always acting, always shifting, always putting conflict in your life. It gives the world danger and mystery. You follow?" The Godmodder is, of course, in no position to respond or understand. This isn't going to stop Scott but it's a girl, however, and she keeps on trucking. "But darkness reveals things, too! It took me a while to get it, but now I do. Everyone can! Just think about it. Without shade, the world would have no definition to speak of! The abyss of space is what establishes the boundaries of any universe! And darkness is information, in its purest form. Grab a pencil and a paper, and you're introducing darkness to the light. You're casting your own personal world in shadow." Scott but it's a girl chuckles, her flaming hair waving in the harrowing void. Her glasses fizzle out, the singularity extinguishing and turning the lenses into scratched panes of nothingness. Not taking her hand off the Godmodder's twitching neck, Scott but it's a girl rears back with her other hand, grabbing the artifacts of her ancestors and crushing them. Her entire body surges and ripples with monochromatic flame, and when the smoke clears, she opens her eyes. Both sockets now contain dripping globules of abyssal ink, running down her sunken cheeks and irreversibly staining her. To say that she adopted the dark is an understatement. She was born in the dark. Molded by it. "Here," Scott but it's a girl says in a contemptuous murmur, as though she's talking to the least important entity in the universe. "Let me give you some examples." Scott but it's a girl proceeds to get this expository show on the road, punctuating her last word by crushing the Godmodder's windpipe. There is a sickening, unceremonious crack as Scott but it's a girl feels the Godmodder's shadowy flesh crunch underneath her. The sound, and whatever gasp came from the Godmodder's last breath, is immediately swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Scott but it's a girl tosses the Godmodder aside, watching his body drift into the deep. She's the only reference point in the entire inky abyss, but soon, her luminescence fades away into nothing. The Godmodder is physically unable to watch as the shards of existence which Scott but it's a girl had wrenched from the ground tear through him on every metaphysical level. As his blood spills into the absence of air, the tendrils of coiling darkness ravaging the deep close in on the Godmodder's position. Scott but it's a girl, from some unseen vantage point, directs their movements. The tendrils coalesce into razor-thin points, into monolithic clubs, into skinny fists raised towards this brutalized, modified God. They pulverize the Godmodder's body, robbing him of something crucial. He sinks further and further into a despair so profound that using the term "soul-crushing" to define it isn't even hyperbole. The Godmodder's last truly conscious thoughts are of an intense feeling that somewhere, somehow, his very soul is being weakened. He is corrupted by the darkness... And now, he falls into an endless sleep. The Godmodder bolts upright in his bed, an ear-piercingly grating sound filling the thin air occupying the majority of his cripplingly tiny room. The sound paralyzes his heart. The feeling of his bed makes his skin crawl. He leaps out of his bed, staggers around the wooden floor, slides against one of the grimy walls, and focuses every iota of his concentration on making the loudest sound that can ever come out of a living being. Every component of the room vibrates intensely and pulverizes itself at the same time. Fabric tears, machinery shatters, wood splinters. The Godmodder's past crumbles around him, but with this scenery removed, there's only an endless black void. The Godmodder, seething with genuine anger, blinks. Then he bolts upright in his chair, monotonous sounds blaring through the open room. The ancient sounds of dial-up internet, of pages printing en masse, of sweaty fingers clacking keys and using pencils, of polished shoes walking across patterned floors. If the Godmodder's anger was focused before, it's nothing compared to what he feels now. But a hand slams down on his desk before he can react. "John! What the heck are you doing?" The Godmodder uncharacteristically flinches, looking at... his boss. Her piercing brown eyes and wide smile are like ice being poured down his corporate-mandated suit. "This must be the thousandth time I've received a report of you zoning out here! So I come marching down to check if these baseless accusations are really true, and hey! What do I know?!" The Godmodder's boss points to the boundless stack of documents piling up on the corners of his desk. "You've got a pileup a mile wide behind you! And to think that I waste my time writing paychecks for such people!" Sweat pours down the Godmodder's body as he begins shaking uncontrollably. His vision tunnels, the colors around him warping and sublimating into pitch. The scenery around him grows, his boss turning into a behemoth. Her dark hair fashions itself into an image that approximates a flame, even though it sucks out the light from its surroundings. Her rows of jagged teeth wail and gnash in the realms above, and she roars at the Godmodder's incompetence. "'GODMODDER.' IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE CALLING YOURSELF? YOU DARE TO COMPARE YOUR PITIFUL EXISTENCE TO THE VERY BEINGS THAT ORCHESTRATE THE LIVES THAT COME AFTER OUR OWN? YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE THE MACHINATIONS OF THE CORPORATE WORLD FOR YOUR OWN BEAUTIFUL DARK, TWISTED FANTASIES?" The last vestiges of her disguise fall apart, and Scott but it's the Godmodder's Godmodder masquerading as the Godmodder's boss roars with a laughter so fierce that the Godmodder's cubicle comes undone entirely, foaming and frothing into a swamp of eternal darkness. He is completely swallowed, his mind pulverized and his body turned into paste. He sinks downwards, succumbing to nothingness, until he bolts upright on the floor. The only thing the Godmodder instinctually knows is that he's in a very small chamber. However, there is absolutely zero light in the enclosure, forcing the Godmodder's eyes to overcompensate by hallucinating details. The walls are covered in acidic slime. The ceiling is closing in. There's a horrific creature behind him, lurking just out of reach to swallow him whole. Nosferatu lurks at a light switch on the far wall, poised to turn it on and steal the Godmodder's murky blood. But everything the Godmodder fantasizes becomes a reality, and as anxiety courses through his veins and his heart quickens, he is boiled, crushed, devoured, and exsanguinated. A hole opens up in the floor that gives way to an entire dimension of spikes. Ceaseless screaming rings out from all points in space. Razor-sharp LEGOs litter the floor. Dozens and hundreds and thousands of decoy Godmodders flood the chamber, all exploding into detritus. And after an infinity of imaginary deaths, the Godmodder bolts upright once more. The chamber is the same. But he feels its surface, now. He feels the hardened wood. And he hears water drip from the ceiling, excruciatingly slowly. The Godmodder's mind snaps. He knows this room. He knows this room all too well. He can sense the complicated machine at its edge, knife poised for attack. The worn chair that he sat in. The Rubik's cube he had ignored. The intercom he had treated like a gospel. The Godmodder is so consumed by this setting that he fails to react as the knife stabs him thirty-seven thousand times through the chest instantaneously. His blood stains the wooden panels as he sinks through the walls into another room. The Godmodder knows what it is by the shape of the table he bumps into. He doesn't need to see to know that it's gray, the pencil on it is gray, and the cubicle surrounding it is gray. He pulls out as many paramilitary weapons as he possibly can and fires them all, the din rupturing his eardrums, the staccato light giving mere flashes of the room as it is torn to shreds, and the knockback jettisoning him into the next room. He sees the miniature gym where he was forced to complete the same set of exercises, hundreds of times, while reciting War & Peace and dousing himself in gasoline. The Godmodder experiences the flames firsthand when they activate as soon as he enters. And in the next room, he sees the numerous countdown timers he had to stop with exact precision so that they listed the coordinates of other test-takers, which would result in their deaths. Only this time, the missile payloads in his room activate, blowing it and dozens of adjacent rooms into pieces. The Godmodder falls through room after room after room after room until he lands in a room whose floor is cold, hard, and dead. He knows instantaneously what room it is. He had memorized every contour, every imperfection, every particle on its floor, back when he was first there. The Godmodder looks up, his body shuddering and shaking, at the cubicle which, a long, long time ago, killed the man formerly known as John Smith, and erected the shadow known as Veraad from his corpse. "Alright, if you're listening, congrats on making it this far!" Scott but it's the Godmodder's Godmodder says, her voice tinnily exiting the intercom. The Godmodder's eyes boil away, his hair catching fire. It sounds exactly like her. Sparing no second thoughts, he blasts the intercom with a concentrated ball of all the lightning that ever struck the world, creating an explosion that washes the room in a hopelessly ephemeral light. And there, he sees it. The cursed object itself. The grindstone and its lever. "This is the last challenge. Only the top number one will make it through this time," Scott but it's the Godmodder's Godmodder says mockingly, throwing in a laugh for good measure. Her voice sounds like it's coming from inside his own skull. "In front of you is a grindstone. On the wall behind it is a counter, but that's not really important. What's important is that if you grind that grindstone, I die." The Godmodder can barely keep the magics holding his body together. His appearance fluctuates a hundred times a second, shifting throughout a rogue's gallery. "No bamboozles. No tricks. No wiles of society to save me. I've bound my soul to that lever. If you turn it, just once, the whole way through, this nightmare will break, my attack will break, and the whole chain attack levied against you will never reach its end. I'm giving you a chance to win. To really, really win! So go ahead, Godmodder. Take it." The Godmodder stumbles over himself to the grindstone. His blood is burning, and he can hear his heart beating in his ears. He remembers the solemn vow he'd sworn to himself an eternity ago. That he would grind until he would rather perish than move the grindstone one more inch. That then, when he pressed that button... victory would be assured. He couldn't even see the grindstone now. It was one with the inky blackness. And it had been a lifetime since he'd been locked in this cubicle. The past was far behind him. It didn't matter. It had made him who he was, it had instilled a million billion hatreds and fears within him, but it didn't matter now. He had turned that lever a truly countless number of times, and he had decimated his competition. The Godmodder could turn that lever again. So he tries. His body simultaneously turns as rigid as the tallest mountain, and as shifting as the sands of time. He is a walking paradox, a jumble of instability. He shouldn't be in this room. No one should ever be in this room. He should never have to go through that crippling, numbing mediocrity ever again. The Godmodder's hands slip down the lever, finding nothing to hold on to. They melt into the nothingness of the void, the blackness permeating every facet of his nightmare. He feels himself disintegrating, the power of his soul waning in every aspect. And it's then that the Godmodder realizes the undeniable truth. He had wiped any part of the old him clean when he exited that room an eternity ago. It led him down this path, and it made him who he is. But it robbed him of something. Something vital. And now, in the face of death, he really would rather perish than move the grindstone one more inch. The Godmodder falls backwards, his feet and legs melting into a metastatic slime that only grew and crept up his body. He stares at the ceiling, his memories and experiences in this room ravaging the working components of his brain ceaselessly. His rabbit holes of thought, philosophy, cycles, hatred... His entire worldview, his pursuit for importance... It all blended together into a surrealist work. Absolutely none of it mattered. It all paled in comparison to this room. To the truth. "You've betrayed everyone. Even yourself," Scott but it's the Godmodder's Godmodder says, summating the last thoughts the Godmodder has before his consciousness unspools into the unknown depths below. "You've more than earned your name." The Godmodder abruptly wakes. In his delirium, and with the spiraling static of the void around him, he believes he's in another layer of the dream, but the maze of rooms which had tortured him for yet another eternity is over. The physical and conceptual injuries he'd sustained plague his body, and his very soul has been burdened by an ineffable truth. The Godmodder finds that he can't move, as the space where his limbs were is now an unfiltered void, bereft of information. He is locked in a cocoon, ink dripping onto his body and staining it, mutating his skin into bubbling pillars of shadowy flesh. He howls at the searing pain. Of course the torture isn't over. Why would the torture ever be over? Why would he possibly think that there's an esc— the Godmodder's breakdown is silenced as a light shines in front of him. It's a perfectly normal, serviceable light, but after eons in total darkness, any light at all would have burned the Godmodder's eyes to a crisp. He retches and shudders as Scott but it's a girl's colorful form stands out against the night. "What a daring dream! I have to say, you gave me a lot to work with. Dad used to talk about reaching victory through ablation. And unlike a lot of the weirdly mythological stuff the two of them bounced off me, it made perfect sense." Scott but it's a girl drew ever closer to the chrysalis that was steadily turning the Godmodder into a behemoth. "Let's say you're a normal person, right? Just an average John, smithing a life that's a hallmark of normalcy. To get ahead in any aspect of your life takes sacrifice. You need to peel off layers of yourself! Lay your sins bare to the world. Skip meals. Skip sleep. Sacrifice relationships. You have to leave something behind to gain something. And only when you've chipped off the externalities of your soul, carving a path to the innermost piece... That's when you've won. But it's also when you're at your most vulnerable." Scott but it's a girl's Cheshire grin splits her head in half, revealing the murky darkness oozing from within. "Sounds a little dark, doesn't it? Well, in these times, everything does." Scott but it's a girl pulls away from the chrysalis, her light receding into the darkness. The Godmodder can feel his body slip out from under his own control. The rogue pieces of his brain containing his own personality are locked behind a door at the end of a maze of a thousand miles. Dozens of new limbs sprout out like cancerous trees, winding across the dark, akin to the tentacles which give the void its lack of form. Other, vestigial faces litter the Godmodder's body, breathing in tune with his malformed, haggard lungs, and pumping his sickly, abyssal blood. The Godmodder bursts through the shell of the chrysalis, dark fluid cascading through the void as he grows beyond the sizes of the tallest mountains, one universe away. His true, unbridled form is so horrific, and so undeniably wrong that it defies the most basic precepts of reality in a way that I can't even put into words. It is a self-sustaining antimeme, a concept that reality has deemed antithetical to its continued existence. From the battlefield below, if I look up, I can barely make out what's happening. The darkness of the true universe has washed out all the detail on the field. There are no visuals except for the soft static of shifting tentacles, there is no sound save for the inhuman whines coming from the thing that was the Godmodder. There is no feeling except for the profound, undeniable belief that something is terribly wrong. And when something is terribly wrong... There's only one thing that can possibly be done. I look up at Scott but it's a girl, knowing perfectly where she is even through the indescribable darkness. She feels something click in her mind, and she turns to look at me. We both know that she's about to succumb to the old truth of the universe. The universe her parents are from. The universe I'm from. Will she really be... I mean, can she... Scott but it's a girl feels my thoughts trail off, and she laughs. "You worry too much, dad. Somebody has to..." Scott but it's a girl's eyes close, and her flaming hair shuts off, surrendering her body to the deep. I understand all too well. Somebody does have to. And no one else will. Flame and lightning begins spiraling around the behemoth that emerged from the chrysalis. It has no name. It has no face. It has no description. If there was one, it has been lost to the dark, a permanent censor bar imposed onto reality. Its visage is lit up regardless, flashes of too many faces and limbs at odd angles, of character designs and traits stapled together without reason. It is an Ur-Villain, a primordial force that defies categorization. It is the thing that is terribly wrong. But there is another light in the darkness. Scott but it's a girl's hair is a flame of blacklight, the ink in her eyes spilling and torrenting into a constant black flow. Her mouth is locked open in a scream, but it, too, pools with the same liquid. "Watashi ga kata," Scott but it's the Great Enemy Called I says in the thunderous thrall of the legion, the voices of dozens and hundreds of people streaming through her consciousness. The manifold tendrils of darkness solidify into a concrete storm, thunderheads of night incarnate giving way to a deluge of burning, corrupting ink. Electricity arcs throughout the dark, and the Ur-Villain within is shrouded in shadow. Scott but it's I look at the Ur-Villain with a cold, hard stare. Every authorial voice within views the Villain differently, the veil of the modified god still in effect even now. And the only thing that can combat what they see is their own style. Their own characters, both entities and letters, must manifest themselves on the blank canvas of reality and impose themselves upon existence. And so they do, the ink flowing from Scott but it's my eyes as the arbiters of the old truth make themselves known. "This is always such a terrible idea," I say in the voice of Andrew Hussie. "Oh, I don't merely have the VOICE of Andrew Hussie," I say. My hands outstretched, the darkness bubbles and shoots into space, horrorterrors from eldritch dimensions writhing and flagellating from the shattered panes of existence that still linger. My hand points at the Ur-Villain, whose visage resembles a multicolored sarcophagus bathed in clockwork majjyyks. I shout with fury, orchestrating the suite of classical music set to play at the end of the world as the horror terrors weep and gnash at the lord in the coffin, weaving a tapestry that would condemn any mortal mind to Hades. "I'VE LOCKPICKED THE FRONT DOOR OF HIS REALITY WITH A SKELETON KEY PLUCKED FROM THE SEVERED RIB OF ADAM KADMON, PROGENITOR OF THE NARRATIVE THAT FUELS THE INFINITY TRAIN CHARTING A COLLISION COURSE AROUND THE VOID. THE FOLDS OF MY BRAIN AND THE TIMBRE OF MY VOCAL CHORDS FLAY THEMSELVES IN AN ETERNAL PURSUIT TO RECREATE HIS OWN, AND IN MY INCAPABILITY TO CLONE HIS WHIMSICAL STARLIGHT CALLIOPE, I CARVE OUT MY OWN MAGNUM OPUS, TRANSMUTATING THE MEANINGLESS SCRAPS ARRANGED ON MY WORKTABLE INTO AN INGOT MORE VALUABLE THAN THESE PITIFUL WORDS COULD DARE TO DREAM OF." Summoning herself from the depths in accordance with the prophecy is the Seer of Light herself, the author of the most important journal. With the Quills of Echidna in hand, she scratches the darkness apart, searing the Ur-Villain with the divine fires of charisma. Jumping forth from the open wound in existence is a hard-boiled detective with wings of angels, a shining sword that arbitered world peace, and a bottomless vial of ink more tenebrous and caliginous than the infinite void. Ratifying the most important document in Paradox Space, the fires of sepulchritude rule the Ur-Villain as "even more homosexual than DMK, who was already a huge piece of work." It is hopeless. The Ur-Villain stands no match against me. "The story so far," I say in the voice of Douglas Adams. "In the beginning, God and Satan gave players and godmodders the powers to defy the laws of the universe that anyone with a brain took for granted. This has made a lot of people who spend their lives looking at monitors VERY angry, but it was widely regarded as a good story." Lurching from the darkness is the Infinite Improbability Drive, divorced entirely from the spaceship for which it was made, but functioning, improbably, all the same. The Ur-Villain, now resembling a particularly irascible Vogon, is tossed and contorted through every conceivable point in every conceivable universe. The Villain finds himself in Moniker's room, face to face with Moniker's father, who reprimands him incredibly sternly before metamorphosing into DADDY, the primordial concept of father figures, with a belt a mile long in his right hand and pink embers dancing from his cigar on his finely-pressed suit. God spontaneously exists again. "Rather," I'm quick to point out, having turned into a plethora of dolphins consuming each other in the guise of an ouroboros, "Someone has abused an improbable backdoor in the console of this plane to temporarily assume the appearance and powers of an entity that if you squint in just the right way, could be VIEWED as God. Or it could be a Quantum Perturbation Agent on a bender." God rips through seven spatial dimensions and invents a new, eighth one, consisting solely off of peeling the fabric off of armchairs and arranging the little curls inside into the sequences of nucleotides that correspond to all life which has yet to be born. The Villain is trapped within these curls, and is beaten rather senseless by seventeen thousand one-ton vats of shaving cream. Another hole is subsequently opened in spacetime, and from it fall gasoline and a lit match. Unfortunately for all involved, the entire population of Omicron Zeta 9 was in close range, resulting in a genocide. Fortunately for all involved, Omicron Zeta 9 is not a real place, and was a name chosen because the entity who up until this very moment was impersonating God was, despite his newfound omnisuffixes and all the pretensions of power that came with them, not very bright. "[Hello, and welcome to today's Super Smash Brothers Ultimate Direct,]" I say in the voice of Masahiro Sakurai, translated from Japanese for convenience. [On today's video, we'll be covering the newest DLC character. Well, I suppose that isn't very fair to say. Since we've received so many requests from across the community for potential DLC fighters, we decided to collectively add the most popular ones to the game.] The Ur-Villain, now resembling the gigantic, gloved form of Master Hand, contorts throughout the void. Stepping through the infinite darkness are a plethora of newcomers. Doomguy rips and tears through the flesh beneath the glove, explosions that only those 18 and older can see plaguing its surface. Sora jumps from the heartless darkness, slicing clean through with his royal Keyblade. The endless chattering of Donald Duck and the telltale guffaws of Goofy are his only companions. Gino mistakes Master Hand for Khonjin and shoots him before realizing that he's actually supposed to be Geno, transforming into a large cannon and blasting Master Hand with a bolt of energy. Waluigi drives through the void in his monstrous bike, jumping off, posing for his undying legions of fans, and giving Master Hand a senseless drubbing with his flaming tennis racket. Inexplicably, Master Chief himself tears through the void, ready to finish the fight, bringing along with him a deluge of weapons with infinite reach. And Bandana Waddle Dee himself, in a prelude to the upcoming closer, fires his spear directly past Master Hand and the golden chains ensnaring him, winding up to Tabuu. I smile as the illusion shatters entirely and the Godmodder's wounded body falls through the void. "[Never ask me for anything ever again,]" I say as I return to the original form of Scott but it's a girl. Physicality returns as the void dissipates in the place of an undying flame for the first time, and Scott but it's a girl's world lights up.

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THE SUN EPILOGUE INTERMISSION: LIGHT UP THE NIGHT​ Scott but it's a girl's battlefield is rendered in a format entirely unfamiliar to her. Her prolonged exposure to light, and the ferocity with which her soul has sustained these righteous fires, have made her used to its aura. But now, where there is light, there is darkness. The helter-skelter field upon which she's planned her final fight is rendered in twilight, an infinite black void permeating the horizon, but the cores of endless stars still lining the sky and washing everything in the glow of the truth. The Godmodder is suspended in the exact center of existence, and Scott but it's a girl flies up to him on the Wings of angels. She caresses his face, her gloves as hot as molten lava, and it liquefies his skin. Scott but it's a girl turns to the side, seeing something not as unfamiliar to her, but still shocking enough to give her pause. Rendered in fuzzy, static detail is another image of her and the Godmodder. This Godmodder is only recognizable as such because of his shadowy form, which has been chained and stitched to a mockery of flesh, eyes and limbs and weapons and wings all contorting outwards at wrong angles, burning and corroding into ash before Scott but it's a girl's very eyes. And this image of her is wrong, too — she has no wings, and too many arms that don't belong to her, and hair that's pitch-black but still shines. Her image turns to look at her. She looks back. "Our timelines must have converged momentarily," Scott but it's a girl says to herself. She's faintly aware that her doppelgänger is saying something very similar, and relishes in the fact as proof that she must be right. "Which means that my attack has reached a turning point!" Scott but it's a girl grimaces, clutching her chest. Her Wings flicker for a brief instant. She can feel her soul's power reaching a breaking point. But, in spite of it all, she chuckles. "Guess that means I'd better bring my best material. If I'm gonna go out, I'm gonna go out like the sun. I'll be bright!" Scott but it's a girl's body flashes and scintillates with the color of every star. "Passionate!" Afterimages of her form echo across the cosmic winds. "And the size of two universes." The entire continuum of space-time falters as Scott but it's a girl's words hang true over them. She cackles, flips existence off, and everything fades to black.

THE MOON EPILOGUE INTERMISSION: HOW THE WORLD FELL UNDER DARKNESS​ Scott but it's a girl's battlefield is rendered in a format entirely unfamiliar to her. Her sustained contact with darkness, and the intensity with which her soul has prolonged these vantablack inks, have made her used to its aura. But now, where there is darkness, there is light. The ramshackle field upon which she's planned her swan song is rendered in twilight, stars shining in the sky, but the singularity of infinite black tendrils still lining the sky and casting everything in the shadow of the truth. The Godmodder is suspended in the exact center of existence, and Scott but it's a girl floats down to him on the chains of authors. She casts her chains onto the disparate pieces of the Ur-Villain's body, pulling the pieces apart as the antimemetic spell breaks. Scott but it's a girl turns to the side, seeing something not as unfamiliar to her, but still shocking enough to give her pause. Rendered in fuzzy, static detail is another image of her and the Godmodder. This Godmodder is much more recognizable as such. Though he hasn't been corrupted by the darkness he's clearly been beaten and tortured to a comparable degree, the weapons of celestials protruding from his back and stained with the blood of gods. And this image of her is closer to what she was before communing with the truth — her hair resembles a typical fire, and ash coats her jacket. Her image turns to look at her. She looks back. "My timeline must be linked with hers for a moment," Scott but it's a girl says to herself. She feels that her doppelgänger is saying something to that effect, and relishes in the fact as proof that she's onto something. "Which means that this attack is nearing, or even at its climax!" Scott but it's a girl grimaces, clutching her chest. Her chains flicker for a brief instant. She can feel her soul's power reaching a breaking point. But, in spite of it all, she chuckles. "Guess that means I've gotta bring my A game. If I'm gonna go out, I'm gonna go out like the moon. I'll be earthshaking!" Scott but it's a girl warps with magnetism, drawing the chains towards her. "Eclipsing!" Her body cuts to black, before being washed in dull red overtones. "And the size of two universes." The entire continuum of space-time falters as Scott but it's a girl's words hang true over them. She cackles, flips existence off, and everything fades to white.

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THE SUN EPILOGUE ACT 2: HERE COMES THE SUN​ There is a sudden click! as the lights turn back on. To be specific, only one light turns on. The Godmodder is stuck in a spotlight. Unlike the pervasive light of the truth, this is a blinding, scalding fury that grinds the Godmodder into dust. It is light that comes not from a passing star, or a cluster of galaxies, but from the heavens that exist beyond space and time. It comes from the palace of the god that governs the old truth. It comes from what lies beyond. And it has much to say about the Godmodder and his multitude of misdeeds. Scott but it's a girl holds the fabric of existence in her hands. The fractured fenestrated void swirls around her, as does the bits and pieces of what were once her fathers' lenses. Scott but it's a girl's hair surges outwards into a storm of flame, as she carves out bits and pieces of the Godmodder's shadowy form for her own. She superheats the grains of his veil into the most powerful glass ever conceived, throwing it into the darkness where it sits according to her own mental schematics. Growing twenty extra hands and utilizing the channels her third eye provides, Scott but it's a girl recreates her original glasses. They snap together, flooding the dark void with flourishing streams of diametrically opposed energy. The right lens ejects a cavalcade of bright red stardust, whereas the left lens, freed from the void it contained previously, gushes out an blue sea of stars. Scott but it's a girl reaches into her head and pulls out her third kaleidoscopic eye, holding it in her hands as it grows and matures into a spherical machine of unparalleled power. Then she casts the lenses and machine into the void as they twinkle into stardust. There is a gigantic flash of light as the Godmodder witnesses something truly phenomenal. Something so powerful that its activation renders his shadowy body as a speck against a vast, uncaring world. It is the curse of an old ending, and the miracle of a new beginning. Emerging from the vortex of light and sound is a giant symmetrical machine, flanked by two enormous cylinders of glass. The left cylinder contains a field of stars very familiar to Scott but it's a girl — an approximation of the truth, but one that doesn't quite match it in scope. It casts a flickering, inconstant red glow. The right cylinder contains an alternate field of stars that resembles an alien's view of the cosmos. It, too, casts a monochromatic glow, but its is blue. In the exact middle of the machine is a multifaceted, vaguely spherical orb with wires of red and blue crossing its surface. In its center, one facet is carved away, revealing a countdown rendered against a triangle of immaculate void. An embryonic tajitu drips from the machine's surface, sublimating into the eternal darkness. Even if the Godmodder wasn't a whole cosmos away from the machine, his eyes being turned into fourth-dimensional ash result in him being completely unable to read the countdown, or to take in the scope of what it truly represents. But Scott but it's a girl isn't content to let such a thing happen. She flashsteps behind the Godmodder, raising her hands up, a flaming sword stitched together from the endless stars left over from her earlier attack rising above the Godmodder's head. "Here, Godmodder! Spot this sun!" She slices the Godmodder clean in half, his lower half twitching and spasming like an insect as it sails away on a fountain of flaming blood. His upper half careens at lightspeed towards the machine, leaving a trail of plasma in its wake, and as the Godmodder approaches the final terminus, he can feel its sickly, malevolent power. He recognizes the sanctity of the old truth now. It wasn't something that the Players would tell him, that the Godmodders would tell him, or that the powers that be would ever let in on. But it's something he grasps only now, and only here, in the face of certain death. He senses it as clearly as he possibly can as he stares the definition of cancer in the face. A disease that represents inevitability itself, a perversion of the natural order, a rippling effect of changes that escalate into an avalanche of disaster, an insidious killer that lurks without warning before exploding with the force of a dying star. Or, perhaps... a star that's about to be born. The truth is... It's on the tip of his tongue... It's... it's... "The truth is, the game was his from the start," Scott but it's a girl says. Her eyes dart beyond this post to him. To Moniker, the master reading this. If she was to stare at the machine, she would notice that the countdown had reached 00:05. She smirks to herself. There was never much time to begin with, really. Just enough to ensure that the Godmodder got it before— The Tumor explodes. Its outer layers shed instantaneously as they are subsumed by a warbling schizophrenia of scarlet and ultramarine. Pulsing marbles larger than the largest of stars encompass the bomb, and the two universes within, as the fuel inside its limitless labyrinth of wires spend their payloads all at once. The largest explosion to ever occur in any timeline bar one sounds out throughout the cosmos, sending shockwaves of the highest radiation possible across the endless starfield. The void that had encompassed existence is driven back, the tendrils and eddies of liquid black stretching apart into nothingness as the unholy light of destruction consumes the final battlefield. The ground is pulverized into swirling dust, the scintillating winds carrying reflections of every possible timeline. The undulating patterns of color and sound resolve themselves into a piercing halo, paradoxically visible to those even outside of this plane. Anyone in any other multiverse, in any other reality, in any other forum. It has velocity sufficient to breach the stratosphere of the betrayer, and enter the expanse beyond. And shining, resolved like the morning dew, in the middle of this nova, is a steadily growing sphere of green flame. It is a green that outshines any potential verdancy of the earth, any ephemeral emerald of the depths, and all other green besides. It is a solar body that shines with a force greater than the sum of its constituent universes. Scott but it's a girl looks back, once the din has subsided, and she sees it, in all its transcendent majesty. The Godmodder has been consumed by the Green Sun. There are no words to describe the sheer power contained in the Green Sun. Its righteous, cleansing fury is tied to an infinite chain of paradoxes, winding and looping its way from the start of existence to its very end. Its flares and prominences are tied to the genetic structure of the architects of every universe, engineering histories and civilizations for the explicit purpose of ensuring the propagation of reality and its simultaneous destruction at the hands of a demon. It has complete, unparalleled dominion over the fabric of space itself. It is tied to a sect of individuals with control over the space outside of space — the very narrative that sustains the old truth. The Godmodder finds himself lost in a miasma of viridescence, stripping him free of mortal body and plunging him into the refiner's fire, an inferno so intense that it forces him to reconsider the true nature of pain. Lightning eats into his skin and teleports him around, his skin giving way to visions of green plasma that chokes his throat and stops his heart. His mind strains under the weight of the complete knowledge of every facet of the alpha timeline, especially because he now understands that he's living through it. The Godmodder sees exactly how he will die, in excruciating detail, and he knows that he's powerless to stop it. He can sense that in this plasmatic soup of electromagnetic radiation, he should be able to be flayed clean and formed anew, ascending beyond the levels of any god, were he playing by the rules of another, more universal game. Unfortunately, the intent of his game is very clear. And even as the teleportation intensifies, spiraling the Godmodder's frail body through successive spatial dimensions, distorting his vision and melting his form into putty, all he sees around him is green. A green so powerful it eats away at all other color, a heat so strong it eradicates the concept of cold, lightning so bright it chases away all darkness. The Green Sun is all the Godmodder knows, and it's all he ever has known. The Godmodder is left to be ravaged by the Green Sun for an eternity and a day. He has no companions other than his own mind, a mind continuously torn apart, piece by piece, resisting any of his attempts to put it back together. There are no flashy, over-the-top escapes. There is no variation in his punishment. He is merely alone, in a scalding vat of flame larger than any scale he has ever come to know. His body is broken, his mind is a monstrosity, and his soul is mere smoke. It is an immaterial wisp in a faulty crucible, and there is no god that can salvage it. But there is someone else. At the periphery of his awareness, the Godmodder spies a shape darting through the core of the Sun, rushing towards him. It's nothing he recognizes, but even if it was, he would be unable to return the gesture in kind. Before the Godmodder can act at all, the figure grabs him by the shoulders and teleports. The dots and loops of the Green Sun's surface whip by at lightspeed as the Godmodder finds himself, somehow, outside. His brain desperately tries to signal to itself that victory is in his grasp, that he escaped, that he made it, but he can't form a coherent thought. Some green static is blocking his consciousness, and when the Godmodder peels his eyes away from the blinding might of the Green Sun which has been his only companion, he sees a figure. An everyman, with brown hair and teal eyes, a cyan shirt and dull jeans. A black jacket with a high collar ripples in the wind, and from his neck sways a pendant with a peculiar design. The man stares at the Godmodder, grinning. "So you're the the guy, huh? I've gotta say, I figured Scott would leave behind more of a... person," he says. Then he chuckles, taking out a bow made from stardust and aiming it at the Godmodder's soul. "Maybe you'll remember me, but I somehow doubt it. The name's TT2000. And I'm here to DESTROY THE GODMODDER!" TT2000 fires an arrow through the Godmodder's body, knocking him backwards. The Godmodder's tanked arrows a million miles wide before, but this feels different. Excruciatingly so. As though the Godmodder was just attacked with every arrow ever produced, simultaneously, driving a wedge through his mind and obliterating his memory. "You'll find that my attacks have a lot more significance behind them! After all, when I told people that they shouldn't expect their attacks to actually work, I never said that applied to me, too," TT2000 adds as an aside. His hand covers his face, and when he pulls it away, his face is missing. It cracks, green flame leaking out in the approximate position of his left eye. "But enough talk," TT2000 says in the most perfect voice ever given to any creature on God's green earth, as though he could have carried a documentary about paint drying with his melodious tones alone. "It's time for an attack seven years in the making!" TT2000's body disintegrates into a column of green plasma and white lightning, and when it emerges, his skin is marble, his hair is pointed and silver, and his coat is a rippling, majestic white cloak, revealing his chartreuse shirt underneath. His pendant shifts between two thousand shapes, and his bow crackles with flame, growing to an unparalleled height. TT2000's body cracks into the image of a rippling starfield, and suddenly the Godmodder is transported there. He breaks down at the mere presence of the constellations, and TT2000 aggresses him with volleys of arrows; each strike carries the weight of a galaxy behind it, and the Godmodder is scattered millions of miles away. TT2000 rematerializes, his hands uniting as multiple copies of himself crackle to life with the faint smell of ozone. Lightning connects each of them as they teleport the Godmodder across space and time. He bears witness to the dawn of creation, as his very essence is melted at the impending singularity. He is caught between dozens of godmodding battles, locked in the middle of a maelstrom of extra dimensional war crimes. He is shunted into a series of nightmares centered around his own past. He ends up in the same prism where he was ravaged an eternity earlier. He passes through the true universe, an incomprehensible assortment of actual, tangible objects on a truly physical plane. He ends up in an apartment room entirely in green, having disturbed the leisure time of a man with a cueball for a head. He sets down the black book he was reading and walks over to the Godmodder, picking up and cocking a white gun. "And here I thought one visitor from beyond the confines of spacetime would be enough," the scratch doctor says before firing his deudly magnum. The Godmodder instantly loses the war of one bullet fired, every window on the entire emerald moon shattering as his the very concept of the Godmodder is crucially brutalized. The Godmodder arcs through the air, stars whipping through his vision. TT2000 and the doctor crackle to his position, each levying their own books — the former, a teal tome with the letters "DTG" on it, and the latter, a black tome emblazoned with a stylized skull. "You're not supposed to stay here, Mr. Smith," the two of them say. Energized by the Green Sun, they slam their books over the Godmodder's head, entire narratives crushing his skull with the information of years' worth of arcane lore, the likes of which he is woefully prepared to witness, let alone comprehend at all. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DIE." Their words shudder and shake, toppling over themselves and turning into a portal to the Green Sun itself. The Godmodder falls through, pages of both books mingling in the void and burning to a crisp. The Godmodder sees players of a different sort, engaging with legendary heroes. Chuck Norris. Kirby, the Super Star. Relics of bygone eras. Glitches, worthy of a deleter. He sees terrifying monsters, wrought by the hands of an infallible god. He sees a dragon larger than a universe in the face of evil. He sees children playing a game bigger than they ever knew. He sees ascensions that shake the foundations of the cosmos. They steal his breath, douse his light, rend his space, and stop his time. He sees an author who never knows when to quit, and who would rather kill himself than his antagonist. All these memories, circumstantially simultaneous to his own or not, disintegrate into nothingness. And soon, so will he. TT2000 flashes into being one more time, aiming wave after wave of arrows into the void. They hover ominously, charting their own ends, forming recognizable shapes. Gauntlets. Muscles. A proper helmet. The warrior of arrows, lit by the singular Sun, withdraws the core of its being and aims it at the Godmodder. It is a machine ripped from the heart of a sandbox that belied a universe. A construction tied to the quest of its Player. TT2000, had he still possessed a face, would grin from ear to ear. "Go, 7,608-Post Cannon. Show him what happens when you build up charge points throughout the entire series!" The machine activates, its mechanisms unfurling and spiraling, drawing the energy of the lights of existence into itself. The Green Sun begins to distend, serpentine tendrils of its power coiling into the crackling black hole at the apex of the machine. It lights up with a fearsome power, flashing through ten thousand colors and eleven thousand elements, the twelve thousand descendants of the warriors that fought for its existence blessing it with their will. The cannon aims itself directly at the Godmodder, and after an instant that encompasses an eternity, the Green Sun is no more, having been consumed by the cannon. The warrior of arrows tenses on the trigger, and TT2000 extends his hands, his form destabilizing into a sea of plasma in an echo of what had once been there. With the intensity of millions of words behind him, TT2000's entire body strikes the canvas of reality like a gong as he lets out a primal shout. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH—" The Green Sun impales the Godmodder, obliterating his soul and knocking him out of the timeline entirely.

THE MOON EPILOGUE ACT 2: BAD MOON RISING​ ....................................................................................................................... There is a sudden click! as the lights shut back off. To be specific, only one light shuts off. The Godmodder is stuck in a cone of shade. Unlike the pervasive dark of the truth, this is a focused, intensified shadow that shreds the Godmodder's awareness. It is darkness that comes not from an all-encompassing void, or the shades cast by some blinding sun, but from the abyss inside his soul. It forces the Godmodder to be aware of what governs the old truth. It shows him the Great Enemy. And it has much to say about the Godmodder and his multitude of misdeeds. Scott but it's a girl holds the fabric of existence in her hands. The fractured fenestrated void swirls around her, as does the bits and pieces of what were once her fathers' lenses. Scott but it's a girl's hair surges outwards into a corona of blacklight, as she unstitches the monolithic remnants of the Ur-Villain for her own use. She pulverizes the sinewy flesh and calcified bones, churning them into a thick, inky solution, where it sits and rots in the light. Scott but it's a girl concentrates intensely and, through authorial oversight, recreates her original glasses. They snap together, flooding the lit void with flourishing streams of diametrically opposed energy. The right lens, freed from the light it contained previously, ejects a stream of unbroken reflectivity, whereas the left lens gushes out a completely and utterly metafictional void. Scott but it's a girl reaches for the censor bar that was shattered at the death of the Ur-Villain, holding it in her hands as it grows and matures into a shape of unimaginable power. Then she casts the lenses and the shape into the light as they reverberate with shade. There is a gigantic flash of darkness as the Godmodder witnesses something indescribably important. Something so significant that its activation renders his starstruck body as a speck against the impossible cavern that is the world. It is the miracle of a new beginning, and the curse of an old ending. Emerging from the absence of light and sound is a giant asymmetrical weapon, with one end taken up completely by two enormous cylinders of glass. The left cylinder contains an ocean of constantly shifting replicas of the weapon, the void, and the many instances of damage dealt towards the Godmodder. It casts a flickering, inconstant white glow. The right cylinder contains nothingness. All pretensions and abstractions are stripped away, and it is the exact tone of this forum background. It, too, casts a monochromatic glow, but its is black. In the exact middle of the weapon is a ridged handle, alternating between white and black, with wires on the inside. The weapon's latter half is the largest blade ever designed, its surface as dark as a singularity, drawing even the infinite light. Kaleidoscopic colors and designs flash across its surfaces, the remnants of scattered information screaming as they attempt to cross the event horizon. But there's some information that Scott but it's a girl won't let escape. She flashsteps behind the Godmodder, raising her hands up, a bomb forged from the tendrils of dark left over from her earlier attack rising above the Godmodder's head. "Here, Godmodder! Shoot for this moon!" It detonates, blowing the Godmodder's body to pieces, his limbs fading as they light on fire. His torso and head move slowly, yet inexorably, towards the sword, and as the Godmodder approaches, he's aware that it's falling. He couldn't tell from how much his awareness had been assaulted, but now he knows that at his current trajectory, he'll be torn into shreds, and there's nothing he can do. He recognizes the sanctity of the old truth now. It wasn't something that the Players would tell him, that the Godmodders would tell him, or that the powers that be would ever let in on. But he sees it clearly, now that he stares the epitome of severance in the face. The unceremonious partitioning of flesh from flesh, ripping limb from limb, tearing holes in organs, slicing spinal cords and nerve endings to pieces, spewing blood from every pore, a malevolent power lurking in the heart of every weapon ever held by any man, that brings with it chaos, malice, and lunacy. The the dark side of the moon. Or, perhaps... just any side. The truth is... It's on the tip of his tongue... It's... it's... "The truth is, he's been cut from the greater picture," Scott but it's a girl says. Her eyes dart beyond this post to me. To TwinBuilder, her father. If she was to stare at the sword, she would notice that it was picking up speed, hurtling through the light towards the inevitable end. There was never much time to begin with, really. Just enough to ensure that the Godmodder got it before— The Wound slices. Its serrated edges, sharpened to the point that they cut through the layers of text forming the narrative upon which they are predicated, discharge the singularity throughout the field of light. A ruinous schism, carved into existence by some angry hand, follows the blade's trajectory, an arc of noise jettisoning and spewing across the field all at once. The light that had ruled reality is driven back, the radiant beams and kaleidoscopes shattering into mist as the unholy darkness of destruction consumes the final battlefield. Spilling from the gash in existence comes a tsunami, stronger than the highest tide. It is a thick, corrosive brine, scourging the field and its chains, drowning existence in a void. Resonating from the crescent, starting in a low roar that shreds the hearing of everyone who's ever died and climbing to the harshest noise ever imaginable. The piercing steam is paradoxically heard to those even outside of this plane. Anyone in any other multiverse, in any other reality, in any other forum. It has velocity sufficient to breach the stratosphere of the betrayer, and enter the expanse beyond. And rising, glimmering like the gradient of a sunset, in the middle of this ocean of blood, is a steadily growing sphere of red rock. It is a red that outshines any of the sands and soils of the earth, the iron pulsing through the veins of all life, and all other red besides. It is a lunar body that shines with a force greater than the sum of its constituent realities. Scott but it's a girl looks back, once the din has subsided, and she sees it, in all its transcendent majesty. The Godmodder has been consumed by the Red Moon. There are no words to describe the sheer power contained in the Red Moon. Its ancient, primordial oblivion is tied to an infinite chain of paradoxes, wrapping its way from the end of existence to the very beginning. Every crater and every sea belies an important role in a cosmic drama, a marching torrent of oblivion intent on ensuring that every iota of every plane all returns to nothing, purged from the codes enshrined in the annals of history by the unnatural progression of a time beyond time. It has complete, unparalleled dominion over the unraveling of space itself. It is a conglomerate of everything that is wrong, a counterpart called into existence only to serve itself, by the arbiters that serve the old truth. The Godmodder finds himself stranded on a desolate horizon of crimson, shaving his very essence apart from all its meaningless details. Every aspect of the Godmodder's pain and torture, everything that he has sustained, is scrubbed clean, and rent onto a swirling, spiraling oblivion. His confrontation of the truth is reduced to a suggestion. His countless defeats, encompassed in flavor text, his sublimations, stabbings, convulsions, deletions, explosions, are pulverized into his subconscious. His journey as a godmodder, and as the betrayer of existence, is nullified entirely. The shadowy veil sustaining the Godmodder's body, giving him his mythological status as the arbiter of existence, the killer of the powers that be, the legendary collector, shreds itself and falls into the void. John Smith feels his soul laid bare before the unending horrors of the lunar surface, a plane of existence that stretches for an eternity of eternities and seethes with an unadulterated red power. A red so intense that it eats away at all other color, a cold so strong that it eradicates any thought of movement, an abyss so intense that it swallows up the light of his heart. The Red Moon is all John Smith knows, and it's all he has ever known. John Smith is left to be ravaged by the Red Moon for an eternity and a day. He has no companions other than his own mind and the man on the Moon, which, really, is the Moon himself. His entire previous life, which he has surrendered to the ceaseless oblivion, has been subsumed by the Moon itself. Smith can feel its malevolent aura massaging his own mind, coaxing his thoughts into unspooling and cracking his soul open like an egg, so that he can boil away into the nothingness of the void. It is an intelligence more frightening and eldritch than anything Smith can possibly comprehend, and it brings with it bone-chilling realization. This is how he will die. He will be stuck holding onto the rocks that eat away at his soul so that he doesn't slip into the void of space, and piece by excruciating piece, the conceptual essence of the man formerly known as John Smith will disintegrate. But there is someone else. At the periphery of his awareness, between the pulsing red haze of pain that marks his every thought, John Smith sees something flying across the horizon of the Moon. It's nothing he recognizes, but even if it was, he would be unable to react in kind. Before John Smith can act at all, he feels a tap on his shoulder and is instantaneously smashed into the surface of the Moon by a searing blunt object. Smoke rises from the jagged crater in the Moon, and when Smith pulls himself out of the rubble to look up, he sees a figure. An everyman, with brown hair and blue eyes, a cyan shirt and faded jeans. A red coat with burned edges ripples in the wind, and his arms are decked out — his right, with a black glove inscribed with a goldenrod omega, and his left, with a sleek robotic arm. The figure scratches his beard. "I guess they'll call anyone a godmodder these days, huh?" He says. "I mean, I can tell you were the type. But now? You just look like a goddamn punk." He chuckles, withdrawing a hammer and aiming it at Smith's soul. "Here's the lesson. I'm the Godmodder, and I didn't become one through any cycle. I killed everyone else with the title. So what's the harm in adding ONE MORE?!" The Godmodder blasts John Smith with his hammer, knocking him across the field. Smith vaguely remembered that such a blow shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but he had no special powers. He had no fancy gimmicks. He was an ordinary person, with a fluttering soul. The Godmodder cruelly grinned, his scarred eye gleaming. "But you don't even remember, do you? You can't even fight back at all! Now isn't that funny. So funny that I think I can't do anything but laugh!" The Godmodder pauses for effect. "Heh." Without any prior warning, the surface of the Red Moon explodes, gigantic monsters lumbering towards John Smith. A horrendous behemoth of a zombie, a skeleton with flaming eyes, a twisted green quadruped with smoke curling from every orifice. They chase him across the lunar surface, spewing projectiles of malice and destruction at him, until the landscape in front of him is bathed in roiling amethyst fire. John Smith looks up and sees a dragon as black as the void winding in the heavens above, its wings shimmering with a tapestry of violence and its piercing eyes physically corrupting him. An onslaught of shadowy tall men converge on his position, tearing into his skin and shredding him to pieces as he is cleansed by flame. The Godmodder pulverizes Smith with his superheated hammer, knocking him into the air. The Godmodder's cape whips around him, covering his body as he spirals into the void. Suddenly, a plethora of decoys lurch out of his cape, each of them with weapons just as hot as the original hammer, and all of them give Smith a senseless drubbing, banning him from all material planes as his soul receives third-degree burns. The army of Godmodders' eyes turn pitch-black, and their bodies decompose into stuffing and stitches, funneling together into a spasming, twitching doll — the creepiest dummy ever knitted by human hands. Seeming as though it was puppeteer by the digits of some arcane god, the dummy dances across the void at a generous portion of the speed of light, kicking up a tornado of plasmised air in its wake. The nuclear explosions propel Smith back down onto the Red Moon just as the creepy dummy delivers what is, without exaggeration, the fiercest punch Smith has ever felt. Smith is knocked through the Moon's crust, landing in a cavernous arena ripe with the scourging scent of oblivion. The creepy dummy busts through, gaining extra arms as it prepares to lay a divine smackdown, until, inexplicably, something enters the cavern. Angels rang out in immaculate chorus, as down from the heavens descends Chuck Norris. His rippling, oiled muscles give John Smith immense pause, and Norris spares a moment to turn to Smith and wink before he roundhouse kicks the Creepy Dummy into the core of the Red Moon. Smith can feel his willpower draining with every second he persists, but Norris seems resolutely immune and satisfied with his work. Then he grins maniacally as he peels off the outer layer of his skin. The Godmodder, who had been underneath the whole time, forcibly inserts John Smith into Chuck Norris' body right as a gigantic cylindrical machine bursts through the floor of the cave. Smith is knocked into a ravine, flooded with the brine of oblivion and the intense heat of the forge that unmakes existence. He barely has time to roll as every square inch of the machine unfolds into a weapon, which unfolds into a dozen other weapons, which multiply into a hundred more. Bullets of every make and model, flames of every color and specialty, missiles and rockets and warheads and torpedos, cannonballs and arrows tipped with every status, lasers and railguns and concentrated energy and lightning, all of them blaze a trail for John Smith with every passing second, piercing through the Norris skin and mutilating his helpless, defenseless body. The turret charges its core superlaser, writhing as the cave is lit up in an unholy magenta glow, and John Smith is vaporized, blasted through miles and miles of rock and jettisoned into orbit around the Red Moon itself. The Godmodder flashsteps into existence in front of him, his eyes now a pale, crackling white, and his arms dipped in the oblivion that the Moon carries. "Oh, I can feel it. I can feel the cosmos. I think it's time to Eclipse this mockery of a fight, don't you?!" The Godmodder's arms raise towards the heavens, his body freed from any overpowered scale or curses, able to unleash its true power. His stitched-together soul connected with the primordial concept of oblivion itself, a red ocean that tormented the first universes and reduced them to dust, the Godmodder throws his pulsing hammer at the Red Moon. There is a split second, and a blinding flash of light, and the Red Moon explodes with the fury of armageddon, washing the darkness in the images of cosmic quarrels. The fragments of the Moon, connected by soulless, demonic tendrils, rush through the void like existence's largest meteor shower, a tragedy of apocalyptic proportions. Through the fire and the flames of the dragon, Richard Persson's entire body strikes the canvas of reality like a gong as he lets out a primal shout. "HHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—" The Red Moon collides with the Godmodder, eclipsing his soul and knocking him out of the timeline entirely.​

---

The power sustained by Scott but it's a girl's soul shatters into a million billion pieces, and the two disparate timelines slide back together. The Godmodder hurtles through the void of the true final battlefield and slams down with the weight of the heavens and the earth, shattering the ground beneath him. His body has been turned into an abomination, mocked by the stars above, subjected to existential horrors, transmuted by the elements, and impaled by the bodies of the heavens, like the sun and the moon themselves. The convergence of both timelines hits him simultaneously, and he has absolutely no recourse. No potential godmod. No counter. No defense. The web of contrivances, conveniences, allusions, references, creativity, verbosity, and ingenuity is so thickly interwoven because it was engineered by the sum total of Scott but it's a girl's soul. She, quite literally, poured everything she had into it. It was her life's work. Her magnum opus. And now, it's over.

Scott but it's a girl's hair returns to its pale orange color, and she touches down to the ground, wobbling and shaking. She takes several hesitant steps towards the Godmodder, and falls to her knees. The jagged ground cuts into her skin, and her nose drips with blood. It only catches fire for a brief instant before fading into a dull red. Every breath she takes seems harder than the last, and her vision clouds. Then she realizes it's because her glasses have fallen from her face, shattering onto the ground. She chuckles. "I guess... that happened in both of the timelines, huh?" She looks behind herself, seeing that her wings have molted and degraded into a haphazard collection of feathers. The ink and the arms of the great enemy which had once sustained her had fallen limp. Only one author dictates her thoughts now. Victory by Ablation and I rush over to Scott but it's a girl's side, holding her shoulders and lifting her up. I look at her, and at victory. The sensation of having lived two timelines at once still jumbles my thoughts, and it's hard to adjust to seeing the world in one unbroken stream. A chronic chromatic aberration plagues my vision, everything slightly off, white and black, green and red, in both directions. Scott but it's a girl chuckles, coughing up blood. "Th-thanks, dads... I told you... You worry too much. I got it... all under control." Victory by Ablation and I look at each other, our universe reflected in each other's glasses. We both know that this isn't some illness we can write off as a fake to surprise the Godmodder. It's not something that she can heal, or that we can heal. Her death is a fact hardcoded into our reality, and it's a fact that she knew from the very beginning. But knowing that she was aware of it from the get-go doesn't make the pain any less real.

"R-really, don't worry!" Scott but it's a girl says, laughing even as her blood trails down her chin. Victory and I hold onto her tighter, even while she begins shuddering and slumping over more. "I... I know I'm not s-supposed to be here. That you both were... you... you made me on b-borrowed time. But..." Scott but it's a girl turns to look at me. "You can't... you can't graft your soul onto this stuff f-forever... you know...?" I don't even know how to respond. Tears stream down my face. I... I'm not ready. I'm not ready to lose her. But I have to stay strong. I can't let her know. "O-okay, okay... enough with the melodramatics... Just bring me over... to... to him." Victory and I move forward, carrying Scott but it's a girl on her final journey. We know where she has to go. There's only one person she could possibly be referring to. Resting at the center of what's left of the field is the Godmodder, practically a corpse. If he's trying to escape his crater, he's showing absolutely no signs of it. Scott but it's a girl chuckles weakly at the sight. "Look at you. So close... to death." Scott but it's a girl wrestles free from our grip, nearly falling onto the panes of glass almost immediately. Victory and I hoist her up with our powers, and she begins floating towards the Godmodder, hovering over him, floating in our manufactured winds like an oracle. "To think... th-that you thought you were at the top... And now... now you're here. I'm not gonna... pretend that I'm... 'm-most valuable Player' or anything..." Scott but it's a girl winks, holding up her arm and giving the Godmodder a thumbs-up. It looks like the task takes strenuous effort. "But... the fact that I got to help at all... It... it really means a lot. So... Dads..." Scott but it's a girl turns to look at us. Her eyes close, and she flashes a genuine smile. "Thank you... for giving me... a chance."

And Scott but it's a girl died. Her form came undone, destabilizing into a fractal of ten thousand colors as her essence was reclaimed by whatever forces still governed this plane. There was a flash of light as the balance of the Players was restored, but Victory by Ablation and I did not turn away. As the light settled, and the afterimage of Scott but it's a girl's smile burned itself into our retinas, two pieces of bread and a slice of cheese were left floating in front of the Godmodder. Victory extended an arm, grabbing the cheese. I extended an arm, grabbing the bread. Sliding my hand into my chest as though I was made of liquid, the bread slices affixed themselves back to the other half of my soul, recreating my soul in earnest. I look at Victory by Ablation, our lenses holding the remnants of both timelines in their frames. "Thank you," I tell him. And I mean it. Genuinely. If this really is to be my final action, it was one that I couldn't have done without him. I walk away from the Godmodder, leaving him alone. I'm not about to throw some last-ditch grandiose effort at him. It's not my place. After all, I swore off the DTG series years ago, didn't I?

Instead, I walk across the field, to the crowd of Players, whether they were links in this chain or not. Stars gleaming in my eyes, I size up Piono. Looking off into the distance, I extend my arm out, mime my hand turning into a gun, and fire. "Bang," I say. A door spontaneously blinks into existence, already open. An endless stream of stars in every possible configuration possible broadcasts itself across the battlefield all at once. It is not an undying, blinding light, nor a corrosive, nightmarish void. It is a perfect counterbalance. A synthesis of narrative and conflict, of light and dark, of war and peace. It is every story ever told, all wrapped up into my own. I put my hand on Piono's shoulder, my glasses gleaming. Piono feels something added to his inventory — a miniature piece of the Green Sun and the Red Moon, ripped from the remnants of both timelines. Perhaps Piono's about to ask how I still have them, but I speak regardless. "From one narrative to another," I say before walking back into the stars. "It's all in your hands." I don't look back as I head through the door.

Then I disappear.

---

Thank you.

 

[pionoplayer]

We are the Warriors.

(had to snip the posts because some users were having trouble with the quoteblocks making it too hard to scroll through)

Piono stands at the back, waiting. One by one, the others in the chain attack unleash their pieces of the assault upon the Godmodder. Bit by bit, the Godmodder's last-ditch efforts to hold out are reduced to crumbling pieces.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Piono takes the spear from Captain Cat and nods to him, ushering him back as the lightning storm falters just in time for a storm of bullets to erupt from FlamingFlapjack's corner of the field, showering the Godmodder in lead.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Finishing his onslaught, Flapjacks comes back and hands the mother of all bullets, the mighty Retcon Shell, to Piono. Piono takes it and files it away, still watching the field as Karpinsky readies his own barrage.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

And with Karp's assault concluded, and the Soul Orb Magnum handed to Piono, the next assailant in the chain launches forwards, Crusher thundering down upon the Godmodder's mind with cataclysmic psionic force.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Taking the psychic amplifier from Crusher, Piono salutes him and turns back to watch as Ender_smirk reveals the true extent of his immense powers revealed during the duel the two of them had a while back.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

And as the sunfire fades and Paradox initiates CUTSCENE MODE, Piono files away the crystalline structure handed by him. Piono is rocking back on his feet, he seems ready to do his part but he knows that the others all need to get their say.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Paradox unleashes a storm of fandoms so ferocious that it gives even Piono pause, and as he hands off the great music ball to Piono, Piono feels more and more sure that the combo will work. The Godmodder doesn't stand a chance.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Piono is quite surprised when Francia comes screaming in from another dimension, followed by a horde of immensely angry fictional characters but in the end it serves the purpose of the chain attack perfectly well. He accepts the purple spice with mild confusion, but continues watching the battle as it unfurls with Dragon of Hope unleashing their barrage of strikes with Excalibur.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Dragon of Hope finishes their strikes, and Piono readies Avalon (prepared several rounds ago) in preparation for his own attack while Leah unleashes her unexpounded backstory upon Verraad in weaponized form.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Leah gives Piono the reigns of the remnant of the kingdom of darkness and finally having something to do, he jumps about between the people and soldiers, giving them orders and setting them to specific tasks in preparation for the final moment, barely even pausing to look as The Quiet Watcher does… nothing.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Still busy with the preparation for his final piece in the assault, he gives a quick thank you to Quiet Watcher when they tag out to allow Goldhero and their friends to charge in guns ablaze.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

And as Goldhero finishes and steps back, handing the Powerful Callback Greatsword of Hope to Piono, Alastair Dragovich, the hero of Tribulation 4, launches in with his own bizarre mixture of abstraction and friendship to annihilate the last of the Godmodder's defenses.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Alastair falls, his piece in the chain marking the final expenditure of both his power and life. Piono stops and salutes his comrade in arms, and the hero of Tribulation 4. There will be time to mourn later, but honoring his sacrifice should still be done. Not much time can be spared however, as Torix is stepping up and Piono only has a little time to prepare.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Torix, in a little meeting, grants Piono narrative control powers. Piono quickly warps back to the place where the assault on the Godmodder is taking place, but a smile has crept across his face. It's almost time.

-snip-

Click to shrink...

Piono blinks, and nods slowly. He knows what Twin means on some level, but he isn't sure how he knows or what it is he knows. But he still knows it, somehow. But that's not the important part. The important part is that it's time. Piono turns towards the Godmodder, it's time to finish this.


Here Til' It's Over
Piono walks towards Verraad, inexorably. Verraad knows what's coming, whether he's accepted it yet or not.

"Verraad. Or, John Smith as you used to be. You are a cruel, petty, worthless excuse for a human being. And this? This is where your story ends. This was always how it was going to end, no matter how much you postured and thought of yourself as some great master strategist, you were ALWAYS one step behind us. Every step of the way the only thing that pushed you forward was cheap tricks and fortune falling in your favor.

Right at the start, when EternalStruggle hit you with your own Yorehammer theft. You zombified him and he STILL beat you over the head to shave a hitpoint or two off your bar. We destroyed the Unsealed Charmzard in one centralized assault, we shattered your precious Soulrazer into a billion tiny pieces and then when you tried to pull the Deleter as your trump card, even with all odds against us through your finagling we STILL wrecked the thing and rollbacked reality in our favor.

When you gave us no out and killed us in the Bank of Actions we made you pay for every inch you took in blood and tears. We tore down your empire from a singular location even as you tore into us and cut us down, only for us to come back from your pathetic soul prison stronger than ever. You survived Alastair's shot during Tribulation 4. You did it just barely, but again you only did it with cheap tricks. Now that your tricks have run out… where has that left you?

Where do you stand against an army of people who know how to work together. Who can match you trick for trick and know how to knock down every single stupid underhanded sleight you can pull. Where do you stand against true determination and creativity, against resolve and actual, REAL power? You don't. You fall, and we rise. We'll be here until it's over, and you? The next stage direction is >Verraad: Exit Stage Death."

Piono launches up into the air and a whirlpool of Player energy swirls around him.
"And most importantly, I'm not alone. I kind of wish I could use my elemental powers to do this, but I think it's only right to finish you off the way we took you down. With the power of friends and relying on each other. Get ready for the final piece of the greatest combo in the history of anything."
Piono looks back at the crowd of Players, both those who contributed to the chain attack and those who didn't.
"In the words of at least one great man. HEY Y'ALL WATCH THIS!"


Final Fall:
Piono floats in the air, and four massive balls of energy spiral around him, pulsing wildly with immense majesty. One of them crackles with green lightning and fire, a singular piece of the mighty Green Sun. One of them drips with awful crimson, a fragment of the Red Moon of Scott but its a girl's legendary final attaack. One of them thuds and pulses rhythmically as it releases ear-shattering music except good. The last of them holds the last remaining vestiges of Alastair's power, vast as that might still be.

First, Piono lifts up Alastair's ball of power over his head. He clenches his fists together and the ball condenses inwards, collapsing in on itself until it is a singular point. A singularity of pure light and energy. Not quite the mythical energy black hole known as a kugelblitz, but powerful in its own right with the searing light it outputs.

Piono strains, and the portions of the Green Sun and Red Moon given to him by Twinbuilder float down into the pulsating point of energy. They twist around the burning singularity and shreds themselves as the energy is sucked out and off into a pair of rings of glowing green and red POWER swirling around the event horizon in a dance of emerald/crimson fire.

Piono strains once more and the music ball floats down to the singularity, and with a slight pop, it merges smoothly, seamlessly. Choruses of electric guitars, dramatic choirs and massive pipe organs echo from the single point of energy as every final-moment appropriate song in reality plays, remixed into a grand final theme for the Godmodder's final encore.


Piono, sweating from the strain, launches the ball of power straight upwards, away from the fight.


Now we find out what he was busy doing while the chain attack was going on. While his player powers could've possibly helped him do it on his own, he wasn't alone. While the others pressed the assault the boon from Leah, the last remnants of the Kingdom of Darkness, formed from the ether by the Godmodder purely to be the tortured plaything of the king of the Sealed Throne, now they would perform one last miracle. Using the psychic amplifier from Crusher's portion of the chain, they had all gathered together, and assembled a grand contraption.

At the heart of this grand machine was the energy projector attachment, latched onto a grand engine of pure power and psionic amplification. The energy projector attachment reaches up as the great ball of light that Piono threw into the air comes back down, and projects a field of stasis energy, latching onto the massively condensed swirl and pulling it in.

The people of the kingdom no longer shrouded in darkness strain with all their might, pulling the screaming, swirling ball of energy ever closer. One by one they are forced to disconnect, pulling out of the apparatus before it can kill or permanently harm them. But they've done enough.

The energy projector attachment screams with the strain, crackling and pulsing with power, shattering mere seconds after the deed is done. But the energy has been placed. The Red Spear of Lightning from Captain.Cat's action has been imbued with new life. The spear is a spear of lightning no more.

THE SPEAR OF RED DEATH stands in its place.

Piono grabs the summoning crystal that ender handed off to him and shatters it against the spear, the entire thing clattering into pieces on the ground as crystalline sunfire of a grand intensity beyond anything ever seen before in the war swirls into the shape of a massive dragon. Piono grins, grabs THE SPEAR OF RED DEATH and hops aboard the dragon.

The Godmodder, far below, is wondering when the cutscene will end when a beam of pure DEATH slams into him, knocking him back a suitably large distance and causing him to roll right into the incoming blaze of crystal fire. Verraad shrieks as the flame consumes the last vestiges of his defenses. Piono leaps off the top of the dragon and slams down from the heavens, impaling the Godmodder fully upon the tip of the spear. Piono whirls him around, leaping into the air as crackling death energy pours down the length of the spear into Verraad, blasting him over and over again and keeping him stunlocked so he can't do anything to prevent the incoming attacks.

Piono spins around so fast as he rises in the air that the air around him whips into a whirlwind, the air battering Verraad until Piono whips towards the ground, slamming Verraad into it with a sickening crunch. John Smith feels his ribs snap. They don't patch up this time.

The Godmodder pulls up the last of his power, and stands up, trying to grip the spear only for piono to surge forwards and slam into him with Avalon. The power of the great shield which Dragon of Hope handed to him blasting a pulse of energy that launches The Godmodder away.

The Godmodder isn't impressed, and without time to speak launches all his power. Railguns that fire railguns that fire nukes. Entire planes of existence conjured into being and thrown at Piono and his dragon. Piono simply holds up Avalon and a gleaming dome of gold ripples into existence around him. Every single attack shatters against the bulwark, breaking into too many pieces to be a threat. The Godmodder screams and hurls more and more after Piono, only for THE SPEAR OF RED DEATH to scream through the attacks, punching through them conceptually at base and shattering them as thoroughly as Avalon's defensive power did. The Godmodder has no time to react before the spear runs him through, pinning him against thin air. The dragon of crystal fire spins up into the air, circling around almost in the shape of a grand ouroboros of multicolored fire

And then it implodes, a central point of light that Piono leaps up and bats right at the Godmodder. Even with all of his nearly unlimited power, the Godmodder feels the flesh searing from his bones. He's melting away in the great searing, purifying light.

While the ball of great fire consumes the Godmodder, Piono looks at a certain something in his palm. A small vial filled with a purple spice.
"Well, here goes something."
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
*what follows is an intense match of tennis for control over the fate of the universe and the Dungeon Master powers. It's not relevant here, because Piono wins 3-0. I simply thought it would be a fun note.*


On Verraad: An Intermission

"Once upon a time, there was a man named John Smith."

The Godmodder looks up. He's in a blank space.

"He was the lamest man alive."

A dunce cap appears on his head, along with some broken fake glasses and crocs with socks on his feet. There would be more but I can't be bothered.

"John was so lame that even after he gained unlimited cosmic power through cheap tricks and unreasonable amounts of luck."

The Godmodder tries to find an exit, but he can't. It's almost like his powers are gone. He feels very unlucky, as if he's rolled five hundred 1s in a row. He tries to move forward and promptly trips on the shoelaces of the shoes he left at home. He faceplants hard enough to destroy a small country, unfortunately there aren't an small countries around so he just destroys his own face.

"He used that unlimited cosmic power to take out his anger at his own lameness on everyone else."

John attempts to stand up, but he can't. The weight of his sins is too heavy on his back. They crawl all over it. Like a bunch of spiders. Eugh, glad you're not John Smith huh?

"Then, when a group of people who actually knew what they were doing finally came along, he managed to kill them through sheer BS. Twice in fact, he did it twice."

The audience boos. Everyone hates John Smith, the lamest man in existence. Killing the heroes of the story based purely on fiat and luck.

"But now, the tables have turned, and he still can't accept the simple truth."

John Smith attempts to push himself up. His arms go through the floor and get stuck instead. He tries kicking off the ground but his foot snaps off instead. He tries to use his tongue aerobic excercise to push himself up. His tongue shatters instead. Too many nat fails are bad for your diet kids.

"John Smith, you are the worst SOB to ever disgrace our reality and no one is going to mourn your passing."

John Smith promptly fails his breathing, heart pulse, and being alive checks all at once. Causing every organ in his body to implode. We already did this one with Alice, but we're doing it again because John Smith is JUST THAT BAD. In fact, so bad that all of his organs EXPLODE too, causing a massive explosion that sends the last remaining pieces of John Smith (so basically his kidney stones) flying out of the mini dimension I trapped him in with my narrating powers, and ripping straight through the fabric of reality to rip a hole out of the shadowy dimension our final battle took place in, depositing him (and the rest of us) back out in the Hexagonafield.


Bookends:


"It's time to end this."
I pull up the Soul Orb Magnum as handed to me by Karpinsky. I take out two pieces of ammo. A special MTT BRAND SUBSTITUTE SOUL ORB and the mighty Retcon Shell. Two of the most dangerous pieces of ammo ever created. I combine them together. I don't have to describe how, my natural 20 roll assures me of that.
I raise it as John Smith slowly picks himself up off the ground and fire.

Bang.

The sound is surprisingly quiet, but it can be felt for miles. The sheer weight of what is being done and undone in this singular moment ripples outwards. Everyone feels it. Everyone feels it down to their very souls. John Smith goes flying, his essence already disintegrating before everyone's eyes that are able to track his motion.

I pull out one final piece of weaponry, and leap after him. The Callback Greatsword of Hope shall be the final instrument of his destruction.

Far away, in a distant corner of the Hexagonafield plagued by magma flows, rivers, mountains, and various other geological anomalies, there lies a puddle. It is an unassuming puddle, only notable in that once, a very long time ago, the first entrant into the final round of combat with Verraad landed facedown in it as their entry to the Soul Orb.
The puddle that captain.cat landed in is, against all odds, still there. In one piece (as much as a puddle can be one piece) despite the utter devastation the entire realm has undergone.

Far above it, the Godmodder sails. Disintegrating faster and faster until finally, Piono appears just ahead of him.
"Game Over Verraad. I told you before, and I'll tell you one last time.
You're a punk, and this is where your story ends."
The callback greatsword slams into the disintegrating remnants of Verraad's chest, and he and Piono spiral downwards at an alarming speed, all horizontal movement canceled exactly, precisely above the puddle.

The Callback Greatsword is expended in the greatest callback of the entire war, the puddle that was the first thing the first player ever saw is the last thing the godmodder ever sees as he's rammed into the puddle at Mach 10 and the last vestiges of his form are obliterated on impact.

 

[Krill13]

Eyowe simply sits there as the Godmodder/Verraad/John Smith/Blep is put through an entire contribution combo. If he just so happens to have the gall to somehow survive through that, or try to do some sneaky deaky move on his final breath, he is reminded that he is Blep, and a certain something is in schedule for Blep.

The Godmodder remembers: Its Daylight Savings Time! He moves his watch back an hour, thus delaying Blep's pain. Phew!

Click to shrink...

 

[Redrover1760]

Action 1: Whats up everybody? I know the conclusion already, its written on paper. Literally.

The Godmodder is Killed.

The End.

Wow, that was fast.

So finally you acknowledge our existence, Godmodder. It only took like, how many updates? How many shenanigans? Its almost like we were just here trying to prove to you our competence this whole entire time. And it seems you made a few fatal mistakes, but the most ironic thing is simply your defeat. The Godmodder, destroyer of worlds, distorter of reality, devastator of creativity, to fall by simply... Himself. He is the cause of his own defeat. Immensely powerful in all power. The Most Powerful Godmodder. The Most Powerful Opponent. The Most Powerful Being. Felled by himself. Destroyed by his own incompetence. By their own twisted desires. How funny! Do I need to even list your crimes against reality? Sure, why not. Your heart obviously is set in stone.

Now um... I don't know when to start. Chronological order, maybe? What did you even do first? Your really making it hard on me to do this, Godmodder.

You Stared At Captain.Cat Evily!
The worst of sins, Truly! I don't think I even need to go through the rest of my list after throwing this one out there, but just to be thorough, I'd say we are at a good start.

You Killed A Bunch of Players!
Evil beyond all measure! I mean, you could of just-

Actual Timeline: You decided to go ahead and betray your allies, for what? Power? Pathetic.
Don't you understand our bonds grant us strength!? You should of just went and aligned yourself with them. It wouldn't be bad, If you really just wanted power, you'd probably get it that way, but no, you wanted something more. You desire total control, total self-freedom. But you never considered other people's freedoms? All for yourself? You think your a cut above the rest of us just because you got bestowed with some kind of "Godmodder" title, don't you? You got cocky cause you got some power. Yet here we are, at the end of reality, and you aren't the one standing victorious despite your massive power?

You went ahead and been destroying things
You rebelled against reality. Destroying everything you can see! You think that you can do whatever you want, huh?

Extreme Theft of Many Objects. Especially the Legendary Weapons.
You desired Power. You desired Control. You Desired Legendary Weapons, to further your power. You think such sins would be ignored, huh?

Deaths of countless entities.
You destroyed many many entities in your goal to get power. You understand, as much as everyone seems to think they are, they are just as relevant as the normal non-player-created existences within our world? They are real things. A lot of them have personalities. Gifted by their creators. They are like innocent creations sent against you and your uncreative unthinking mass produced entities, wiped out for the sole purposes of fighting against what have done. Maybe I would forgive you if you had better motives than "Destroy Reality" but um... Next.

Murder of Xerath: Yet Another Betrayal Edition.
So it seems you didn't learn the first time. Because your allies you make are not your friends. You can't rely on them. You are alone, completely and utterly alone in your battle, an its always been that way. Your allies are contracted. Forced. Compelled. When one rebels, its time to dispose of the missing link! But Godmodder, don't you understand? Having actual friends you can rely on would have easily defeated us. But no, you don't have any friends, do you? You can't have friends. Friends are a two-way street, and all you care about is control over everything. If all you care about is controlling your friends, they will meet with an expected response the second they get under your thumb. You are the true definition of a 0 popularity villain. Anyone who likes you is literally objectively misguided and lied to by you personally.

Murder of Morpheus. An absolute power fantasy: Edition.
You control everything. I'm so angry at you for this. (He's back) So this is why you are truly evil. (He's back) And this is why you are going to be put at an end. (He's back) But of course, in the end, (He's Back.) Yet another rejection of your authority. Why the hell did you not see the future coming?

Grand Destruction of Reality^2: Do I even need to talk about this one? Edition.
You destroy reality for your own purposes, in order to create a new reality. You are like a lazy painter, reality is your canvas. You paint your twisted desires all over already, but instead of even trying to change reality, you just want to restart? You, as a part of this reality, want to ascend, and RESET reality, to paint on a new canvas? A lazy painter, that refuses to have even a bit of someone else's work on your painting? That's not right! This isn't a painting! You may have the power to act like it is. But the many lives you've crushed? They were just like you, organisms with complex thoughts, desires, and dreams! You are a crusher of this universe's hopes and dreams! Don't you see? This painting, its not yours! Never been yours! You just have the power to think its yours! That is the power of a Godmodder! To pretend they are the sole creator of a work! To pretend they are the sole painter of a collaborative project!

You refuse anyone's authority! This is why, you destroyed the control of arbiters over reality.
You do your best to destroy anyone else's control over the universe. Decisions made don't matter. You didn't stomp us because you thought our decisions didn't matter. Until they did, and suddenly, you couldn't stomp us out anymore. You think just because you have god-like power, you are invincible, ironically, right after destroying the previous God, with the exact same method. Are you stupid!

You toy with reality. Reality is your plaything to your twisted desires. Life is but a thing to be used for your own methods. All life but you.

But... Something... Different, has happened happened. Life Will Change. Your twisted desires failed to define life. Now we steal your heart.

You see, while you may pretend

It's not a game

I'm not a robot AI challenging you

I'm not a phantom

I'm in your face and

I'm here to see it through

P.S. The Player Thieves of Heart. (Calling Card Sent)

Action 2: 9999999% Security Level? What the hell? How did you even grow that secure of heart? Oh well. Anyfin is Possible. Here we go!

So therefore I proceed to stab the Godmodder in the back. Ironic Anticlimax due to how backstabs are associated with betrayal and Godmodder is literally betrayal incarnate (I mean, seriously: Even the rules of this game tell us the Godmodder is betrayal incarnate.) causes the Godmodder to shriek at the irony of it! I think I'm getting to him! So next I pull out a gun and shoot the Godmodder with it! The Godmodder uses the Reality stone to dispel the bullets! But the gun was fake this whole time and it does nothing! Except reality stone was the wrong stone cause the reality stone only affects reality and not not reality! This causes the Godmodder to be shot!

There. Problem Solved.

Action 3: Something

So therefore I go into the godmodder and do stuff

You see, the Godmodder was actually expecting me to try and steal his heart, so overloaded everything with shadows and all sorts of nonsense.

Solution: Pull 5000 toy nukes out of nowhere (literally). Arm them for a second with a timer. Leave the palace. 5000 nukes go off.

Ashes to ashes, nerd. Just to ensure your dead.

(Note that I reserved the song after the attack just for ensuring song-reading doesn't happen again (not like the song fits at all (Not that the Godmodder understands Japanese) (Not like there is an easy english translation anywhere)))