//------------------------------// // The End // Story: I Am The... Hero! // by Chemtest //------------------------------// A courier rushes into the throne room, and hoofs me a letter. Not a letter, a scroll. I quickly unfurl the thing, and start to read it. ’Leaders of The Revolutionaries Concordat; We surrender. Peace talks next week. The Silver Federation. Cross sees me look at the letter, “Is it over?” I nod, “It’s over. We won.” She smiles, “Glad that’s over.” I nod, “This will be the last war I’m alive for. I will determine that through the rest of my life. Dear, Cross, assistant you have to be no more. You have a few days of vacation.” She looks at me, and tilts her head, “Why would I want to take a vacation?” I shrug, “You’ve done quite a lot. Take a few days to enjoy yourself.” She shrugs back, “I am enjoying myself. I will enjoy seeing you back to normal. I will enjoy sitting in at these talks. Don’t you know? I got my Cutie Mark for a reason. This is my favorite activity.” I smile, “Thank you. I will need you help. Though, I think we won’t have much to worry about from now on.” She smiles back, “First order?” I think, “Take Pickens out from Yakville. He’s had his fun, he can rest now.” We start to walk down a random hallway, “Any other comments?” I nod, “I see you spending a lot of time around the science wing. Is there something I should know?” She shakes her head quickly, “No! I just had to get reports, that’s all.” I smile, “Oh, sure. Go ahead, war is done. I have no objections.” She slightly kicks me in the leg, “Shut up.” I laugh, “Oh, telling the Emperor to shut up, that’s an execution missy.” She rolls her eyes, “I think Pickens can cover for that execution, he’s already made up in droves.” I nod, “True, true. I can only hope Pickens didn’t execute too many, might have to charge him.” She looks over at me, “What Pickens did, it seems wrong. But he’s going to get off scot free?” I slowly nod, “Yeah. Pickens might be an evil bastard, but there’s no Geneva Convention here. So, I cannot punish him.” She continues to walk, “Geneva Convention? Maybe you should install that at the talks, so things like Pickens Massacre won’t happen.” I nod, “Good idea. I just hope Pickens won’t be mad about having his playthings taken away.” She smiles, “I think we’ll be fine.” I smile as well, “I aggre. I look into the possible future now, and all I can see is good. I believe we’re going to be just fine. The Silver Federation shall have their leaders replaced, and Pickens should be fine. Up ahead, it’s all light without a shadow in sight.” She looks ahead, “I hope your correct, Eric, I truely hope so.” —(POV Unknown)— I sit in the cold cave, and begin my chanting, “מלך הצל, שליט האופל. מהצל שלך אנחנו קוראים לך. להביס את המתחזה על כס המלוכה. מה שהוא עשה, אנחנו קוראים לך.” (This is the obligatory reminder that this goes from right to left, not left to right) “להילחם על כס המלוכה שלי. כדי לעקוב אחר השיחה של כאוס. מי שמחכה מאחורי הקירות קורא לך, הכוורת כדי לעורר תוהו ובוהו. תקשיב לשיחתו, וקום!“ And in the background, two unknown creatures speak. ”So, hive mind. Allies until he’s gone?” ”Y̯̺̫͔e̵̩̣̣͓͔̹̺̟͘s͟҉̙̻͉̲̞͟,͓͔̠̹̟̜̝̤̘͝ ̵̺͖̲̗̹̫̩̱͢K̖͕͔͇̼͓e̬͍͉͇̭͝͠ͅͅv̳͖͇̬̯͙̮͞į̸̴̗̗̱͈̟̠n͕͈͓̺̺͚̕,̟͖̞͚́ ͢҉̺͞i̦̮͍͔̳f̷̨͔̝̦̜̦̮̪̬ ̵͉̜̭͞t̴̫̞̖͈̬͓h̨͈̙͎́i̧͏̭͙ș̶͔̜́͠ ̵̴̰̘̼͉̯̯̪c̸̹̝̩͉̼̦̹̘͟͝r̶̜͚̠̩̜͘ͅe̳̟̣ͅa̧̠̤͖̠̲̬t̸̰̺̭̪͎͉͟ͅư̧̺̖̖͇̘r̷̭̰̭̼̪ͅe̮̠͓̺̦̦̟͘͠͠ ̡̲̲̪͜c͇͍a͏̱̘̬̰n͇̤̕ ̴̨̲̣̘̠́t̫̼̬͍̺̟̖̣̙͟a̮̘͚̟̳̱̲̜͞k͓͚͠͡͡e̷̥̪̳̗̭̝͖̣̕ ̜͈͘ć̸͖͓͇̘̮͎̝a̡͏̦͈̦̱̣̳̹̙̬r҉͎̫͕͈̝͍ḙ̶͈͍͡ ̮̟̘̝̝̬͠o̫͙̜̹͠f͏̷̗̪͖̟̻̞͉̙̗ ̨͘͏̻h̜̦̯͚͘i͉m͔͖̣̹͇͍.̦̺͔” ”Oh, Pickens is a wonderful servant. Either way, he only comes in when King of Shadows over here weakens him.” ”T̴̡͖̦h̶̠͟e҉̴͖̥̦̜ ̶̢͍͙̹͖̹̜̩̕h͠͏͏̟̮̤ỳ̜͔̭̺ͅb̘͎́̕r̢̤͖̞̻̣̀̕i̷̶̪͓̯͕̯̝d̴̨̬͕̼̱ ̗͖̹̯̞͎̳͜ḅ̢̩̖̠̱̩̳̬l̠̕͞e̢̛̹̻͖e̴̤̭̞̠d̵̻̞͠ș̙́.͉̝͙͚̣̖̤̯͢͞ ̴͎̪͕̘͕͍͓͚H͚̞͘e͏̻ ̧̠͝ͅc͙̼̩̫͓͈a̻̥̬̠̫̹̙ņ̙̺͔̫͡ ̯͖̞̠̠͖̗͘d̞̬̰̹͙i̧̩͖̠͘͢e̴̶̳̤̗̣̭̳̙͞.̳̳͓̘̜̯͘ ̨̙́I̳͇͔ ̱͇͚͎̱͎̞̮́͜w̨̢̹͔̺͉̣͡ͅi̠̲̮̘͙͚̹͡ͅl̸̫͎̻l̢̧̞̺ ̸͍͍͚͔̩̟͉̙͡͡m̩͖͔̖̻͝ạ̵̸̣̯̪̦͜ḳ̖̯̩͢͝e҉҉̰̭͚̤ ̗̣̮͝s҉̖̲ų̘̗r̙̞͔͓̰͎e̢̖̙ ̯̳͞b̷̴͉̱͙̯͈o̘̦̗̜̞͇̖̞̩͜t̡̛҉̖̟̦̖͕h̷̜͚͔̬́͘ ̜̥͖̮̺o̷̥̙̦̼̖̖͞u̢̳̝̗̰͈͕ͅr͖̩̰͎̭̞̕͝ ̗̘͟p̡̣̻̟̙͙̥͟u̹͙̪̤p̺̟͍̟p͏͙͎̩e҉͔̻̰͓͔t̹̰̻͍̼͖̩s̨̹̥̞͉̼̮͖̭̀͝ ̹̳̲̕ḩ̵͓̦͕̻͙͈̟̲͢a҉̷̶̰͚̪̮v̲̩̳͖̘̖̫͍é̗̝̟͈͢͞ ̵̸̳p͏͇̥̝̗o̶̘̱͕̟̖͠w̡̻̙̕e̬͖̤̘͓ŕ̢͎.̷̣̼̦͠ ҉͚̗͘Y̶͍̪̝͢o͏͙̖̖͇̬̘͞u͏̢̭̙ ̸̹m͠҉̳̤̼̖̪͖ͅa̕͏̥͍͍̲̤k̳͕͙̱̼̱͟é̙̩̩̫̗̜̟̞̰͞ ́͜͏̺̬̭̳̤͉ţ̥͖͞h̞͈̤̗̥̕͢ͅe͈͢͢ ̪͓̯̗̰̼̼͝h҉̰̟y̟͕̣͇͢ͅb͍̜͇̼r̵̫̖̹̲̼̺̻ì̙͙̭̩͇̠d̵̛̫̖̬̣ ͈̬͔̦͔̪̬͙̲͘͟͠b̧̙̠́͜l͔̯̮̰̫͚e̬̬e̠̼̕d͍͢͝ ͙͕̜̭͞͝ͅu̸̙̠̤̠̗̫̯͠n͘͘҉̱̺̖̼̙t̡͚̣ì̥̣͞l̞͖ͅ ̶̗̤̩̬̩̝̥̠h͙̦̹e̢͓͖͕ ̲͕̺̪̘̕͡d̨̰̜̩̜̱͘i͚̲͝ȩ̻̕͠s̯̣̮̭͍̩̯̭.̸̳̀” As they speak, the ritual ends. And one red horn starts to grow. Pickens smiles, “Perfect.”