//------------------------------// // Ǝɹɹoɹ}%^qɐqǝl,,:¡*)⅋SʇɹıuƃㄥƐㄥ¿:Ⅎɐılnɹǝ*⅋Iʇ%qǝƃıus // Story: Error's Vanguard // by Stalin the Stallion //------------------------------// Celestia let out a long, slow breath, watching her exhale turn into fog in the cold. It was colder than she had been expecting, but now that she was here, there was nothing to do about it. She looked around to the silent, vertical vortex behind her, then to the tough string tied around her waist, which fed into the vortex and attached to a sturdy object on the other side of it. My only way out, she thought with grim resignation, giving the string a little jerk for good measure. Looking forwards, she gritted her teeth. Before her were endless upon endless bookshelves, a veritable ocean of ink and paper. She wondered how many forests composed all these books, or even if these books were composed of natural materials. To her chagrin, she didn’t know. She walked forwards, towards a balcony railing at the end of the nearest lines of bookshelves. Reaching it, she dare to peek over the side, her eyes scanning the millions, perhaps billions of floors that she could make out. Each floor, going in any direction on three-dimensional space, went on so far that Celestia’s eyes couldn’t make them out anymore. So many books. So many floors. She was certainly in the right place. “Babel,” she muttered. Feeling lightheaded from the endless sight, she rubbed her head and sighed. “How am I ever going to find anything in this place?” As if answering her question, a light, distant thumping sound caught her attention. Her eyes darted towards a distant shaft of light streaming down from somewhere high above, then followed it down. Over the railing and across the gap, a respectable distance, the light illuminated something black. Steeling herself, Celestia spread her wings, bounded over the railing, and took to the air. In no time at all, she landed on the other side, a little fear in her head worried her weight would cause the floors to collapse. Shaking her head of the thought, she looked to where the light had been leading. Before moving forwards, she checked the string around her, making sure it was still there, still leading across to whence she came. Before her, on an obsidian pedestal that came up to about her breast, was a dusty-looking book with a blank cover. She took a step towards it, curious, only to freeze as a flapping sound rent her attention away. There, landing on the railing behind her, was a black bird, a raven. “What are you doing here?” she asked, as if it could reply. The bird only glared at her. Celestia frowned. “There shouldn’t be anything here, yet here you are.” Rather than look at her, the bird stuck its beak into its wings, pruning itself. Still conscious of the bird, the Princess turned her attentions back to the book. “I have a feeling that you’re more than you seem,” she muttered, using her magic to pick the book up. Celestia gasped as she felt an energy surge in her body, forcing her to drop the book, but the tome remained hovering in the air. With a jerk, the book threw its cover wide open and rapidly flipped through its pages. As she watched, she felt another surge of energy from the book. More pages flipping, she began to see inked symbols on the pages, none in languages which she understood. Page after page jerked and flipped, and then it stopped on a page with letters she understood, but words she did not. Fütter mich. “What does that mean?” she asked, narrowing an eye. The book’s pages jerked. Feed me, read the only words on a new page. “Feed you?” She paused, mulling over the request. “With magic, correct? You want me to give you more magic?” Yes. I can guide. Cannot speak more. Need food. She did nothing. Please. Biting her tongue, she grabbed the book in her magical aura. She felt the pangs of distant headache as the book leached her energy. Before any real pain could set in, she cut off her connection to the book. Mehr. Ich brauche mehr, um zu leben. “I don’t speak that language,” she replied in a stern tone. Please, I need more to live. “More magic?” she scoffed. “I don’t know what or who you are, and I certainly won’t let such an unknown thing suckle from the teat of my magic.” You ventured into Babel, the library with neither end nor limit. Every book in every dimension which has been written or might be written are contained within this prison. I am the only thing that can help you, yet I am but a withered husk of all that I could be. You have the power to fix that. Help me help you, with your endless power. In exchange, I will bring you to what you will. Celestia’s eyes widened fast. “Guide?” A thought dawned on her. “Your... your name is Metus, is it not?” The book didn’t reply. “Respond!” she commanded. I am he. Her eyes narrowed into slits. “You’re supposed to be gone, my student herself can attest to as much for what you did to her.” Twilight Sparkle? “Yes,” she hissed. Did you know that were was a universe where you were a regular mare, Princess Celestia? “I see you figured out my name already.” Do you know what happened to that Celestia, to you if you were born a normal mare? She held her tongue. She died. Celestia remained silent, glaring at the book. But you are not she, you are immortal. Well, there is no such thing as an immortal freak, as much should I know. And do you know what else? There’s a universe where Twilight was born into your horseshoes. In fact, in the multiverse are there an infinite numbers of yous. And know you what else? I’ve looked into every reality possible, and no matter where I look, there is but one I. I am the only Metus in all reality. You are a factor in this grand game of ours. I am a player. But you find yourself in a unique opportunity. I am helpless, weak and without defense. The page flipped as Celestia finished reading. So, kill me. Because as vanquished foe can rise again, more powerful, more vengeful. Such a foe am I. Take your power and end me. Now. Nothing happened. I command thee, thou gutless harlot! Slay me! Immolate me! Extinguish me from life as only you could! Wield your precious sun to slay me! After a second or two, nothing continued to happen. Know'st thou why thou cannot me kill? Because thou hadst not it in thee. For this, my Princess, is why I beseech thee. I cannot be freed of my own will, thy prostitute wench of a student made sure of that, yet neither can I simply be freed. Bind me to thy will. Bound me with chain and torture me with whip, gag my mouth, blindfold my empty eyes, but know that thou! hast power over me this day. “And if I refuse?” Celestia finally asked. Without me, thou willst never find what thou look’st for. I only need scraps of power to make myself whole, then will I thy servant be. Make thy choice, Fräulein. Be the Faust to my Mephistopheles. Either way, have I no power, yet hast you everything to gain with me, and all to lose without. Celestia took a long, hard breath as she looked at the book’s words over and over again. It was tempting. So every tempting. And this book, the spirit of knowledge called Metus, was not exactly lying, yet she felt something sinister in his written words. She knew there was. But is she played her hand of cards right, she could make a tool, an ally, out of her Mephistopheles, just like she had with Discord. *** *** *** “By the stars above, this is a pure travesty! What kind of barbarian would wear that?” the mare yelled. Lucian rolled his eyes. “This coming from a thing with, like, blue-purple hair. Seriously, how much time do y’all ponies spend on hair dye?” She stamped her hoof on the ground. “And who are you to suggest that this mane is anything but natural? Or that I would even dare to change anything about myself that would clash with my perfectly silver coat?” “Silver? You’re, like, white.” “I am not just white, you ruffian. It’s actually an incredibly acute shade of gray. Not that you would notice, being a boy and all.” She paused. “You are a boy, right?” “I am,” Lucian groaned, sitting down in a sofa far too small for him. He had rolled his eyes so much that he wondered if he was somehow unwinding some sort of internal clock of his. “I see you two are getting along well,” Twilight replied, eyes closed as she levitated a cup of tea to her lips. The trainer’s eyes scanned over the bright room, the light flowing through an winder somewhere up above in the tree-library. Being that he had no real shot of getting home anytime soon, he figured that brooding darkly would be a great way to pass the time and look cool doing it. But with the lights so bright and the random fashionista in the library, that was a fool’s goal. He looked over to see Spike, that little dragon-type thing, sitting on the second floor, leeringly creepy at Rarity in much the same way that bricks didn’t. “I’m holding up no better than your leg,” he replied. “How’s that doing, by the way?” “It’s fine now, thank you very much.” “Well, golly gee,” the trainer sighed. Someone, or somepony, as Lucian had resigned himself to using, knocked at the door. Rarity, who had been saying something, paused and looked. “Who could that be?” “I’ll get it!” Spike chirped, sprinting down the stairs and up to the door. “Oh, hey there, Pinkie Pie! Oh, hey there too, Fluttershy. Didn’t see you there. What can I do you girls for?” Lucian phased out, staring at his lap. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or a minute or so, he wasn’t really counting, nothing continued to happened. Without much in the way of warning, a light yellow head with a soft pink mane popped into Lucian’s vision. “U-u-um, hello...?” she prodded, her tone soft and quiet. He said nothing. When she tried again and got the same response, she moved out of the trainer’s vision. “Pinkie, I really don’t think he—” “It, Fluttershy,” Pinkie corrected. “Call it an it, or it’ll start getting clingy and stuff. And then we’ll all be sad in the end.” “Right,” she replied in an unamused tone. “It doesn’t seem to want to talk to us. And I really don’t want to be here right now, no offense.” “When I die,” Lucian finally said, making Fluttershy jump, “I know what they’ll put on my death certificate: ‘Drowned in absurdity’.” He looked up. “Name’s Lucian. I capture living animals, put them into tiny balls that apparently break space-time, and they’re still my only friends.” A sinister smirk crept onto his face. “Speaking of whom, I feel as though they could use for a walk. What say you?” *** *** *** Stretching out his back, Lucian looked around the plaza at the heart of Ponyville. He recalled having ran by it when those soldiers, or whatever they were, were chasing him. But now that was all behind him; now the ponies were were all staring at him. The attention brought a little smirk to his face as he took a pokeball from his waist. He looked at it, examining it. “What’s he doing?” Rarity whispered to Twilight, who rolled her eyes. “Just watch,” Twilight sighed. “I’m going to try to repress everything I knew about the laws of physics.” With a flourish, Lucian tossed the ball into the air, above an empty lawn of grass. The ball opened, and a wild, formless explosion of silver energy shot out, quickly gaining the form of a gigantic blue serpent. He whistled, and Mr. Fish lowed his head to the ground, allowing him to climb onto the head. Mr. Fish, expression blank, rose his head back into the air. “A monster! A sea dragon on land!” someone shouted. “The beast obeys the alien!” another yelled “Quickly! Everypony stop what you were doing and stare at it!” Smiling, Lucian looked down at the rapidly growing crowd below. “Yes! Yes! Gaze and tremble at the majesty that is Mr. Fish!” “Forsooth, there much such a beast to be slain!” a pony in the exclaimed. “It has been a long time since I have seen its equal!” “In nomine Patris?” Lucian muttered, staring down at the speaker, a melange pony wearing an orange helmet which resembled a dragon’s head. “Who are you?” “I, sirrah, am the great Lord Wyrmtongue!” “Oh, so you’re a bad guy?” “Evil? Nay! I am the great slayer of beasts that childrens’ stories be made off!” “Mr. Fish, are your ready?” Lucian asked, and the Gyarados nodded. “Eat ’im.” With Lucian holding on fast, Mr. Fish ducked his head out and picked the pony up with his mouth. “Wait, wait, wait, no!” Twilight shouted, galloping forwards. Still in the beast’s mouth, Lord Wyrmtongue shrieked. “What’s wrong, purple-nurple?” Lucian asked. “Tell the fish to spit that stallion out!” “No.” “Yes, you will!” “No, I shan’t. I mean, with a name like ‘Wyrmtongue’, he’s clearly a villain.” “No, he’s not!” Twilight shouted, hooves grounding to a halt before Mr. Fish. “Spit him out, or I’ll get Celestia to take away all your monsters!” “But he’s clearly evil!” Lucian whined. “And you had your pet eat him!” Lucian groaned, crossing his arms. “Fine, mom. Mr. Fish, let him go.” As ordered, Mr. Fish opened his mouth, and the pony slid out and fell. “By the Princess’s knickers!” he barked. “I am a fifth-generation monster hunter, and you will treat me with respect!” Twilight groaned. “Sir, I understand you’re of that... uh, infamous clan that runs around and challenges random animals to duels, but this this isn’t an animal.” “That’s exactly what I mean!” Wyrmtongue barked, shaking the saliva from his body. “It is not a beast but a horror! An atrocity wed with the nightmare eternal, whence it hath come!” “Look at him,” Lucian groaned. “He even talks all archaic and shit, just like an overly pretentious villain would.” Stamping his hoof, Wyrmtongue looked up at Lucian. “Mongrel, my blood is blue, and yours in red—” “So, you’re a sufferer of methemoglobinemia?” the trainer casually asked, observing his nails. “—and the respect of that blood do I deserve! And who are you but a holder of monsters?” “Who am I?” Lucin snorted. “I am his grace, Sir Lucian, duke of The People Who Don’t Give a Rat’s Ass, and knight of The Order of Go Screw Yourself.” The crowd gasped, and Lucian continued. “The time when social standing automatically meant everybody would just accept your bullshit has come and gone. Or did you not hear about the French Revolution and how that turned out for people who assumed that their great gobs of titles or ancient bloodlines meant everybody had to do whatever they said?” The crown around Wyrmtongue began to part, leaving him standing alone. “You vulgar, vile beast! I will put you down, like the dog you are!” he shouted, pulling out a large wooden object that looked the bastard cross of crossbow, a box of ammo, and sperm whale carving. Holding the object up in a field of magic, he aimed it at Lucian. “Fiend! Prepare to know the meaning of pain!” “Mr. Fish,” Lucian said with almost casual indifference, “Hydro Pump.” The Gyarados opened his mouth, glaring down at Wyrmtongue as an impossible torrent of water rocketed out of the beast’s gaping maw. Within seconds it impacted the pony, hitting so hard that his hooves were lifted off the ground as he was propelled backwards. His body, carried along by the torrent, flew across the plaza, straight through the door of a gingerbread-like house on the far end of the stream. Lucian waited for a second, wondering if anything would happen. When nothing did, he turned his attention back down to the crowd. “So, anyone up for water polo? I have no idea what that is, but it feels like a topical-enough reference.” Rarity’s jaw dropped. “You... you...” “Hmm? You say somethin’, love?” Twilight stumbled forwards, her eyes wide. “Did you, did you just do what I think you did?” “What? He was clearly the villain, I don’t care what you say. I wonder how much XP he was worth.” A heavy wind blew through the town, whipping up the mares’ manes. Rarity’s eyes darted around. “Um, something feels rather off, like when you forget to put the iron back and Sweetie Belle gets ahold of it, tries to help, and ends up incinerating your new dresses, but you’re outside and don’t know, yet have a feeling in your gut that something is horribly, horribly wrong.” Lucian and Twilight both started at Rarity, who shrugged. “What? It’s a very specific but cause-ambiguous feeling. Somewhere off in the distance, a crow cawed. Before anypony could even remark upon it, a low-frequency electric hum rumbled through the ground, complete with the distant sound of background static. “Oh, well ream my ass sideways with a crowbar,” Lucian muttered as he turned his head. There, a dozen feet away from him and hovering at his eye level, was a cloud of swirling particles, formed up into an inverted L-shape. A stream of memories ran through his head. “What is that?” Fluttershy whispered. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he went on, his tone almost surreal. “You’re the bitch who sent me to this hell.” The cloud’s particles began to speed up, its colors slightly brightening. “What do you want from me? You’ve already locked me in the ninth level of the Inferno. What else could you take from me?” Slowly the entity drifted towards Lucian, the trainer’s eyes locked to the thing. A crossbow’s bolt flew into Lucians vision, barreling at the shape. Before he could even think about it, the bolt hit the entity, only to vaporize, sending waves rippling across the figure’s body. “Unbegotten horrors, all of them!” a soaking-wet pony cried out as he lurched into the plaza, his strange weapon brandished by his magical aura. “Oh, not you again,” Lucian groaned, slapping his hand to his face. “Yes, ’tis I!” The entity shrunk, plummeting to the ground. With a flash of light it vanished, replaced by a rapidly-assembling, insectoid form. The sunlight glistened off the shiny brown exoskeleton of the new form, its scythe-like claws catching the light just right. “A Kabutops?” Lucian said. “In nomine Patris, what is that doing there?” Wyrmtongue shot another bolt, the shot impacting the beast’s knee. With a static hiss, the exoskeleton crumbling into just, leaving nothing but a ghastly but still-standing skeleton in its wake. “By the old gods of the forest!” shouted Wyrmtongue. “Be this necromancy that I see?” “Look out!” Twilight called out, but it did nopony any good. With an unreal speed, the Kabutops charged Wyrmtongue, headbutting him hard enough to propel him back a solid yard, breaking his strange weapon. “Well,” Lucian said, crossing his arms, “thanks for helping me get rid of that bastard. But, see, I now need to torture you for information — Gitmo style!” Before the skeleton could react, Lucian gave a simple command: “Surf!” The entire crowd of ponies gasped as a torrent of water erupted from the ground, swirling and spinning until it formed a house-sized wave. With a snap of Lucian’s fingers, the wave catapulted forwards, hitting both the skeleton and Wyrmtongue like a ton of bricks at a near-literal break-neck speed. The pony was knocked halfway across the ton, the skeleton only by a yard or so. With a demented smirk, Lucian held on tight to Mr. Fish, glowering, “Ice fang.” Faster that any creature its size should logically be, Mr. Fish rocketed towards the Kabutops. The skeleton tried to react, but the Gyarados was faster. His massive teeth sunk into its target with a satisfying crunch, the bones freezing over. To Lucian’s mild annoyance, the crowd was silent. Rolling his eyes, he slid down Mr. Fish’s back and onto the ground. Crossing his arms behind his back like the bad guys in those old war movies he’d seen, he stomped towards the ensnared skeleton. “You know about me, don’t you?” he growled. “Why here? What do you want with me?” No response. “Answer me!” he demanded, banging a hand on the skelton’s diamond-like head. “May I remind you that I have five other highly-leveled Pokemon, all ready, able, and wanting to kick your ass into the oblivion whence you came?” Bit by bit, the atoms in the skeleton dissolved into particles. The swarm leaked out of the icy mass and into its original L-shape. “No, thou prostitute wench of Babylon!” Lucian growled. “You are not fleeing me!” Freed from its icy prison, the swarm darted skywards. Before Lucian could get out any of his other Pokemon, the entity disappeared over the western horizon. The trainer cast a dark look over the whole town: to the disorganized mob of ponies, to the property damage the fight had caused, to the distant collapsed form of Wyrmtongue. Gritting his teeth, he tried to breath the fire out of his lungs, to slow his racing pulse, all to no strong effect. “Twilight,” he said in a distant tone, his eyes made shadow by the sunlight and his hat. The mare stood silent, likely too shocked to even think. “We’re going west.” *** *** *** “Hmm?” the unicorn mare with a soft-green coat hummed. She adjusted her blue uniform as she looked at the notepad she was levitating. “Something up?” G asked, glancing at her. The mare looked up. “Yes, Sir. I was doing tests of radiation because, well, because, and I got some odd readings.” She cleared her throat as many of the ponies around her stopped to listen to her. “These anomalies have been giving off a strange form of radiation. It’s not dangerous, by no means, but it’s notable.” G looked around at the castle from his vantage point in the gardens. For all the damage the castle had undergone earlier, that Remora-thing had done wonders for repairing the whole place. “Any specific kind of radiation.” “Well, uh, that’s the thing, Sir. I have no idea. I’ve never really encountered it before. Its frequency is like universal background, but a few other, uh, high-details factors make it not that. Like the way it’s interacting with its environment, for example.” He nodded. “Um, permission to speculate aloud, Sir?” “You have it.” She took a breath. “This might sound silly, but I think it’s... not exactly from here. That is, not exactly native to our reality.” “She saying that our dimension is breaking down?” a pony scoffed. “No, no, no. Well, not as you’re picturing it.” “She might not be wrong,” an older unicorn mare commented. Everypony turned to her, reading her nametag, “Doctor Strange Sights.” She held up a glowing emerald-colored sphere with her magic. “With all that heady-duty teleporting Discord and that entity were doing, it’s entirely plausible that we’re picking up proof of the existence of wormhole-space. That is, that teleport spells don’t just ‘work by magic’, so to speak.” “I wouldn’t say that,” a new voice said, and everypony turned their head to the large double-doors leading to the castle’s ballroom. As the doors closed, they all saw the tall, elderly-looking blueish-green stallion. Tied over his shoulders and extending over his whole pact was a heavy cloak decorated with random numerical serials and values, plus an odd cluster of stars. “Forgive, we don’t seem to have met. I’m Doctor G. What might your name be?” G asked, taking a step towards the newcomer. The stallion raised his big, bushy eyebrows. “I am called Dipal. At least I think I am. Aren’t many ponies to call me anything nowadays, but, well, what can one do, eh?” “Dipal, hmm? That doesn’t sound like much of an Equestrian name.” “Would you prefer something fruity, like Sunny Side Up?” Dipal chuckled, his long white beard jostling. “Are you even authorized to be here?” “It doesn’t matter.” “I think it does,” G said in a less-friendly tone. “We’ll see about that, boy.” Dipal made a twitching gesture with one hoof, his horn emitting a harsh white light, accompanied by a sharp tearing sound. “There. Authority enough?” “What was—” “Sir!” the mare called out. “Radiation levels just dropped to null! It’s gone, all of it!” The Doctor blinked, looking between her and Dipal. “What in Celestia’s name...” Dipal smirked. “I’m something of an expert on dimensional-tomfoolery and temporal anomalies. I just fixed the ones left here by that irresponsible monster. Now, if you don’t mind, I have business with Princess Celestia to deal with.” “The Princess is out, I’m sorry to say,” G said. “Boys, why don’t we kindly escort out guest to his own room as we wait for her to return. We wouldn’t want such a valuable asset like him getting lost, now would we?”