DURN PROJECT

"Oh? Well... I suppose that's a good idea." 12 grinned, extremely thankful the darkness enveloping the two shrouded her childishly ecstatic demeanor. She just couldn't help but be happy; during her first hour of consciousness, she experienced naught but violence and terror. The warmth 12 felt in the palm of 09's hand was a new feeling -- a feeling she much preferred to the grim atmosphere she had grown so accustomed to. As their hands met, 12 spoke, "You can call me Aishaia, if you want."

Never before had Aishaia called herself such a name, but she felt the name to be appropriate. "I awoke knowing only the names of my two blades: Aiusaj and Shaiathusa." She continued, "I soon learned of my existence as the number 12, but that seemed so..." At the final step of the staircase, she paused, her grip on 09's hand tightening ever-so-slightly, "empty? I- I really didn't want to be empty. Aiusaj and Shaiathusa were my only possessions upon my awakening, so I found it only natural to treat them like they were part of me." She turned back to 09, a slight glimmer in her eyes managing to pierce the overcast darkness of the tunnel. "So, I named myself after them!"

"Unfortunately," Aishaia continued, a yearningly melancholy tone flattening her voice, "I dropped Shaiathusa in my attempt to escape. I can't believe I dropped something so... irreplaceable. It was like... like, a limb? Never thinking I'd ever be able to get it back was a horrible feeling..." She covered the open side of 09's hand with her own, squeezing it with both palms, as her voice once again sparkled, "But then I found you, miss! I'm indebted, truly!"

Turning back to the path ahead, Aishaia surveyed the area. Small torches dotted the walls to both sides, illuminating only small puffs of dust that loomed by them. Fortunately, there was very little to decide, as the only path at hand went directly forward. There were no twists and no turns, only a barely-visible wooden door at its end. Light shone through its holes and its splinters, promising the two women a hopeful reward. But, as they proceeded toward their destination, a discomforting rumble resonated throughout the hall, uplifting maelstroms of dust that blinded the two entirely. As the violent shaking settled, and as the pair's vision returned, two golems, embraced each by an overgrowth of vines and rusty, metallic appendages, shone dimly in the glow of the torches.

"It seems... we've been found." Aishaia turned to 09, releasing her hand from hers and placing it on the hilt of her blade. "E-Even though I may be weak without Shaiathusa, I'll stay by your side!

09 (& 12):

Thirteen's fragile gaze fell upon Seventeen when the sound of glass breaking filled the small chamber. He could not help the slight twitch of his lips downward, but nodded in response to the other boy's question. Turning his gaze, which had since then hardened, onto the last remaining pest, Thirteen flicked his chain back before sending it flying at bug. Instantly his assault was joined by the sounds of the woman at her shell, undoubtedly performing her own mysterious attack.

Thirteen attacks 2! 4 Atk Damage!

Siren attacks 2! 5 Int Damage!

"Aishaia... okay. I'm oh-nin-... Vivian. Just call me Vivian," 09 responded to the introduction, finally settling on a name for herself. Vivian had decided that she would no longer use a moniker that was simply given to her; to remain a simple number assigned to her by some organizer of a sick game. She needed something she could call herself that represented who she believed she was. The name "Vivian" seemed befitting, a name that was so full of life and passion; an undying fire in the midst of a hopeless world. Vivian listened as Aishaia spoke of her blades, looking at her own twin-curved scythe to see if she could feel a connection to it that she hadn't focused on before. However upon examination she could not find a single hint that might refer her to her own past, other than an engraving on the handle that was carved as "β Arietis".

When Aishaia held Vivian's hand with both of hers, she looked back up at her. Just a moment ago Aishaia seemed so sullen and forlorn, but the moment she looked upon Vivian's face her disposition implied that it had took a brighter turn. It was as if the radiance of Vivian's own inner flame had rekindled a lost spirit in her, and she couldn't help but work a small smile despite her jaded mood. At the end of the path when she saw the two golems, Vivian turned an immediate scowl. She was beginning to hate seeing any form of automaton, recalling the agony and pain in her last encounter. Gripping the handle of her weapon, she readied herself once again for arduous combat. At least she wasn't developing a migraine from the voice of her Self who was unusually quiet. Perhaps he had finally realized there was no point in trying to speak to her if she was merely going to disregard his words.

09 Vivian starts in H-2

13 + 17:

As the last bug splattered against the gory surface of the final stair, the hall fell silent, barring the careful shuffle of 17's hands as they rummaged throughout the bag. "There doesn't seem to be much in here." He remarked, showing 13 a small vial of red liquid, "There's this," Continuing, he plopped onto the ground with his legs crossed, laying before him four shards of glass, alongside the vial, "these," As he pinched the final object with his fingers, his demeanor dimmed, and his voice lowered, "and a note."

Carefully unfolding the browned sheet of ragged cloth, 17 eyed its befuddled text; several words appeared either blotted or removed, and what remained was difficulty disguised by misguided bruises and stray markings. While the note's condition appeared unintelligible, most of the text remained surprisingly legible:


17 did not know why, but a single tear dragged down the side of his cheek like molasses. Holding the note out to 13 with a shivering hand, he spoke, "You should read it. To yourself." The paper held an immense weight, as if it carried the soul of its author in its words. 17 could not bear such a weight, and he began to cry.

"They're beginning to bloom, don't you think, Enja?" God chimed as he aimlessly pittered his fingertips against his cheeks. His gaze briefly veered from the monitors and settled upon a glowing sphere, to which he continued to speak, "Have you grown on number 69 as much as I have?"

"He's a character, for sure~" The sphere radiated a luminous orange, as a female's cheerful voice hummed through its core. "May I return to him? I'm missing him dearly!"

"Of course, Enja. Sorry to have kept you so long." God complied, as he reached for a nearby lever. With a quick press of its grip, the sphere's orange hue faded, and 69's Self evaporated from the orb.

Returning to his monitors, God rapidly clicked through a varying array of different receivers, until his eyes stuck to the shadowed silhouette plastered on the screen. The silhouette stood tall, brazen shoulders bent confidently over a crinkled body smashed against the tile. His glistening locks of vibrantly blonde hair waded in the luminescent rays of light that shone down upon him and his victim; with a muscular hand, he gently caressed the cheek of his wailing victim, and stared intently into its bruised and battered eyes.

The muscles in his hand tensed, and his grip crunched a violent red.

As God watched over his child with a bemused grin, he muttered to his Rat, "04 has murdered three of the recently awoken numbers already! That's a new record, wouldn't you say?" The Rat nodded with a slight jitter, as God's ravings continued, "Perhaps he hasn't caught on, but he's not getting anything from us. Not a single memory. Wouldn't that be interesting if he just continued to kill?"


Aishaia took her stance adjacent to Vivian with a confident grip on her blade's hilt. Though she could not see her, Aishaia looked to her ally and nodded. The two had developed a strong bond, and she hoped dreamily that this bond would translate into an unbeatable combo on the battlefield. Almost dropping her stance due to her immense excitement, Aishaia unleashed a very slight squee before readying herself for battle.

"We'll take on anything that comes our way!"

12 starts at H3.

09 (& 12):

Thirteen's frown returned upon seeing Seventeen's eyes starting to water. What was wrong? Taking the note from the other boy, Thirteen kept his gaze on him for a moment before looking at the ragged cloth. He read. In the back of his mind, his Self chuckled darkly, enjoying the apprehension that filled his small frame. no god no god no god- The youth winced, although he couldn't explain why. What's wrong, Thirteen? his Self whispered antagonistically, delighting as the child stopped reading, clutching the note tightly in a shaking fist. Speak up, child, it cackled, bursting into manic laughter as the boy tried to open his mouth once more only to find that his voice would not come. He tried with all his might to make a sound, but the air he tried to force seemed to rake his throat like a million sharp pieces of metal clawing at his vocal chords.

Thirteen also began to cry. Tears spilled down his soft, rounded cheeks, but not for the same reason. The note's message failed to have the same impact as it had on Seventeen. No. Thirteen cried not for the note, but out of fear alone. Trembling unbearably, he took a step forward and let the cloth slip from his hand. Almost immediately, despite the quake quickly overtaking his entire body, he found his arms wrapped tightly around Seventeen, gripping him with all of his might. Head buried in the other boy's shoulder, he quivered. This all was too much for Thirteen.

His Self seemed to smile facelessly. Her report would be most interesting.

"Try to stay in the light if you can," Vivian advised, squinting her eyes ahead around the shaded areas. "There's no telling where we could be attacked from. We should coordinate our strikes on the same target in order to bring them down faster and overwhelm them one by one. I'll be right beside you. I won't lose you." Vivian's Self made the spontaneous decision to voice a comment after so long. "Now when did ya get all strategic-like all of a sudden? Yer talkin' like one of my ol' war buddies. Maybe ya got some real killer instinct hidden inside ya... just waitin' to be fished out... heh heh." "Now's not the time for that, old man," Vivian flared, reviling the insufferable voice in her mind for daring to show his presence once again. She then stopped in her path, and turned back over to see Aishaia. "Sorry about that," she excused herself. "That was just... my Self I was talking to. My Self as in this voice that is apparently inside my mind... not my actual self. He never has anything constructive to say... I'm not crazy or anything. At least I hope I'm not." "Old?!" Vivian's Self responded, offended by the shot taken at his age. "I ain't that old, girlie! And I do have constructive stuff to say, yer just always too stubborn to listen! Remember that Number 26 you came across? I warned ya about her and I was right! And ya think yerself so fancy comin' up with a name fer yerself? Well I gotta name too! It's Wilbur! If ya wanna start callin' me somethin' ya can start with that! Hmph!"

Vivian merely shook her head and pressed on, looking back every once or so to make sure Aishaia was following.

Vivian moves to E-2.

"We should keep moving." 17 muttered under the wheezes of his breath as he wiped the moisture from his eyes. Something in his heart propelled him to move on, to search for meaning in a supposedly meaningless existence. Gently urging 13 to maneuver toward the gate before them, 17 turned to him and smiled, "'It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.' That's what someone always told-" With a mouth wide open, the words that poured over his tongue, brimming with clarity and confidence, dried up in stupefied shock. The phrase 'someone always told' tickled the roof of his mouth with an unparalleled warmth that begged him to look deep into the depths of his mind. He swore that, even if it were only for a brief moment, a dampened venue of his heart flickered with a subdued light that begged for epiphany.

That feeling fled almost as abruptly as it came.

17 gazed longingly into nothing, praying desperately that the light would flicker again and reveal to him places he'd been, people he'd loved, dreams he'd dreamt. But the longer he gazed, the more distant he felt, and, eventually, the vague silhouette of familiarity he touched ever-so-briefly faded entirely out of sight.

"H-Hey," He spoke to 13, a faint crook of a smile curling unto his face, "we exist." Louder, brighter, he repeated to the heavens, "We exist! We really do! There's more to us, outside... We just need to go... We have to find a way out so we can see for ourselves!" Taking the boy's hand, 17 repeated, "There are people waiting for us. I'm certain!"

At the slightest touch, the gilded gates cracked open with ease and widened before 26, unveiling a large, cylindrical room approximately two-hundred feet in diameter. While a chamber of such size would typically appear spacious on its own, its seemingly endless height added to it an unparalleled dimension. No matter how keenly 26 observed the spiral above her, it appeared as black and as unknown as a distant, starless galaxy. Excluding the gate 26 entered, the room garnered three additional doors: one to the left, one to the right, and one straight down the center. All three remained shut. In stark contrast with the blackened abyss that hung forebodingly over the chamber's infinite height, its base glimmered with an unparalleled, golden brilliance.

Countless treasures richly coated the chamber so that no flooring could be seen.

Music: Foreboding Theme

However, before 26 could even think to indulge in her findings, a bothersome creak echoed throughout the room. The door parallel to 26's opened, a pair of pale fingers creeping over its edge.

"Oh dear, there's someone already here?" A head full of neatly tied-back hair peeked through the door's crack momentarily. After observing the room for any sort of trap, ruse, or pitfall, he entered. With broad shoulders and an intellectual step, the man's echoless soles waded into the chamber, and he continued to speak, his intricately designed garb wavering in the mystical winds that rushed from above, "Pardon my intrusion, I am number 57. May I ask for your name?"

The man's smile was graceful and genuine.

As Vivian's shadowy outline blurred forward, Aishaia followed close behind, though not before unsheathing her blade and pressing her thumb carefully against its edge. With a swift graze of her pulpy finger against steel, Aishaia's eyes reflected a purple radiance as her blade began to shine violent flames. The wispy tails of fire that twirled off her blade danced with a vigorous determination; Aishaia did not want to lose Vivian- no. Her determination ascended even beyond that. There were no wants left. Aishaia needed Vivian deeply. She needed her, the only semblance of dignity left in this twisted world.

"I'll cover you, Vivian!" Aishaia remarked, the violet haze surrounding her blade intensifying. There was no losing. There was no going back. As they strode into combat with naught but sheer determination, a shattered two bonded into a single pair.

Their battle had begun.

12 casts Yjenta Aiusaj! Aiusaj gains burn!
MP: 14 / 20.

12 moves to E3.

09 (& 12):

Ooooh, look! Treasure! I didn't know all of this was back here.

Grey ignored the voice in her head as she entered the cavernous room past the doors the stone mechanisms destroyed. She saw treasures of all kinds, from simple gold to mesmerizing jewels. She was interested in none of it. For some reason, she felt uncomfortable. She had never before seen this much gold before in her life, she got that feeling from this room. Was this a test? To see if she could resist the temptation of gold? There was no need of it here, Grey thought.

Of course you have a need of it! Take some, it won't hurt to line your pockets. Even if it's fake gold, who here would be able to tell?

Be quiet. I have no time for nonsense. She needed to think about her decision. There were two other doors...no, three of them. She could see the one at the very end of the room had begun to open, and a pale face came out from behind it. Almost immediately, Grey reached her hand into the dust clouds that always surrounded her and drew her sword from it.

He introduced himself. He smiled. It was all cheap and formal and disgusting. For some reason, Grey mistrusted this fellow. More than she mistrusted 09 when they first met. Was it because this was a man? Or was there some other reason? He asked for her name, but she didn't want to give him the name she gave herself.

"26." Grey stated plainly, keeping her sword up and ready.

Vivian shrieked in the sudden ambush of attacks directed at her, however she forced her body to maintain its composure with relief that she had taken the majority of the focus instead of Aishaia. She had made a promise to keep her safe and it was a promise she did not intend to break anytime soon, even if it would be at the cost of her own life. She understood the concept of family, though she could not remember her own. The idea of having people one could look after, and share in their happiness and sorrows. People to grow with, to depend on, and learn from... it no longer mattered if Vivian had met her real family at this point, as she had Aishaia in this very moment... nothing else mattered. Who could tell if the memories earned in this sick manhunt were even truly real? The more Vivian thought about it, the more she began to have her doubts about the working mechanisms of this world. All that mattered was the future she could create for herself and for the woman she could clearly see before her despite the spread umbra that was cast in this chamber. Vivian put her trust into Aishaia... she would be the only family Vivian would ever need.

Vivian stepped back to distance herself from the pitch creature inhabiting the wall of the room. With a clenched grip on her scythe, the blades turned a bloody rouge and emitted a threatening film. With a clean swing, Vivian managed to lodge her weapon into the wall, cleaving into the stonework.

Vivian activates Huntress!

Vivian moves to F-2

Vivian attacks Traccia (3)! 7 ATK Damage! Devastate is Sealed!

The glaring light of 26's monitor shone into God's eyes and bewildered him. "Is that- no! It hasn't even been a full cycle yet... Why is it here already?" He raised himself from his seat and slammed his palms fiercely against his desk, causing an array of mechanical trinkets to shatter against the wall. Almost as if it heard the upheaval that occurred in God's lair, the man on 26's screen grinned, and his eyes beamed at God.

"Rat!" God screamed, "The Faceless is back. The Faceless is back!" He repeated, "Activate the CFD drones! NOW! IT'S ALREADY INSIDE! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"

The Rat lay in his chair, shivering, feet firmly atop the seat as his knees pressed firmly against his cheeks. Struck by an overbearing chill that reverberated throughout his spine, he remained motionless despite God's divine order.

Enraged at his disobedience, God pursued him.

As the immense pressure of God's right hand shattered the very foundation of his skull, the Rat's muted whimpers ceased, and an overwhelming hail of God's inflamed murmurs resonated throughout the control room. "I'll do it myself!" He shouted, "Can't even follow your damn orders, can you? RAT? CAN YOU?" Pressing a lucent, orange button atop the Rat's keyboard, God grimaced angrily and thrust the toe of his boot against the bruised mash of the Rat's head. "WHY CAN'T YOU PRESS A BUTTON TEN SECONDS FUCKING FASTER?" Another thrust. "THE MOMENTS YOU SAW THAT FAKE FUCKING NUMBER FIFTY-SEVEN, YOU SHOULD'VE KNOWN!" Another thrust. God's shaky, angered breath. The rat's desperate, teary gasp. Another thrust. "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WORK I'VE PUT INTO THIS? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I'VE SACRIFICED?"

Music: The Melody of Ezra Cipris

As the metallic toe of God's boot once again reformatted the layout of the Rat's skull, the fragile edges of the word "sacrifice" brushed like broken glass against God's heart, and his foot throbbed with an agonizing itch. Bent, he whispered, planting his sole atop his assistant's shivering face, "Can't you come back now, Liosa?" A tear streamed down God's face and trickled onto the Rat, its pungent salt burning like acid against the grit of his wounds. As the Rat began to scream once more, God beckoned, "Liosa? I've tried so hard. I've tried so hard." He repeated, twisting his foot, "I've tried... so... hard. Please..."

"I can't bear this place any longer, so please," God whimpered, "please come back."


"Vander Yales, D.P.R. two-hundred-thirty-six."

An echoing voice listed several names that day. After each name, the auditorium looked unto the stage with intrigue and applauded. Most of the children waved at their audience as they crossed, impassioned grins plastering their faces. Some laughed cheerfully. Some cried joyfully alongside their audience. However, Ezra Cipris did not.

"Ylera Syfandis, D.P.R. two-hundred-fifty-three."

With each calling, Ezra's fingers dug deeper into the underside of his seat. Nervously, gratingly, he anticipated the utterance of his name. He feared, perhaps, his name would come a moment too early, a moment before the very end. He wanted his name to be the last. He wanted his name to be the highest. And so, with each name, his palms shook. With each name, his callused fingers stung a little bit worse.

"Okysa Caddysh, D.P.R. two-hundred-fifty-nine."

Five-hundred and sixty-two students, Ezra counted. There were only three left. Within each crackling shiver of his body, he felt the overbearing weight of all of his work and his study manifesting itself before him. Within each and every nervous itch of his body, a growing excitement festered within him. He hoped, he so desperately hoped that, perhaps, that day would be the day his dreams and aspirations climaxed before his very eyes.

"Georg Prentiss, D.P.R. two-hundred-sixty-seven."

Two names were left. One was his. Ezra wondered whether or not the next name would come if he just closed his eyes. He figured that, maybe, if he closed his eyes right then, he could live the rest of his life in that very moment, blissfully engaged in that feeling of utter accomplishment, of utter worth and value. If he could just assume the very last name was his own, he could be happy, atop the very precipice of his own goals and dreams.

In his own world, with eyes closed, he could be at the very top. But alas, on that day, Ezra Cipris learned that the world was not his.

"Ezra Cipris, D.P.R. two-hundred-ninety-nine."

At that very moment, Ezra experienced an emotion very unlike any commonly described by human language. Even many years afterward, Ezra still longed for a word that could describe the despair he felt that day. Despite all his searchings, the closest he could ever muster was to describe it as a state of agony and torment created by the sudden sight of his own misery.

And so, on that fateful day, Ezra Cipris graduated his class as its salutatorian. He waved to the crowd. He received his diploma. He smiled. And he walked off the stage.

"Liosa Zelenka, D.P.R. three-hundred."


"I apologize if I've put you on edge." 57 bowed again, "It was certainly not my intention." However, before he could continue his thoughts, a disconcerting rumble resonated throughout the spacious chamber and copious rubble showered from above. When the rubble cleared, a quartet of earthen golems stood on all sides of the duo.

Music: Temple of Awakening Battle Theme

"It seems we've been caught." 57 frowned as he turned to 26 and continued, "Please, listen to me. He's already discovered my presence here! I need to warn you of the cruel fate that awaits you and the others trapped within this accursed temple! There is a God watching over you, and he is merciless and unjust!"

26 (& 57?):

Grey hesitated for a moment, unsure. What were the intentions of this man who called himself 57? Grey couldn't sense anything from this man, and that unnerved her. He appeared to be genuine, but appearances could be faked. However, with the appearance of clear enemies, Grey knew that she would have no other choice but to fight the enemy she knew and fight alongside the stranger she did not.

You should kill him as well, Grey's Self told her. His voice had changed, as if marked by fear. Now Grey knew something was strange about this number who had confronted her. But what? What could possibly make her Self feel fear? I am not afraid of him, but of you. If you die, so do I. I'm trying to look out for you, believe me.

I don't believe you.

Don't you understand!? Each Self has up-to-date knowledge on each number, and that one has killed many others with the same tricks he's using on you now! A 'genuine' smile and a knife in the back!

SILENCE. Grey roared within the confined of her own mind, becoming both agitated and frustrated. Silence followed her command and she took a deep breath, slowing the racing beat of her heart. To the stranger who called himself 57, Grey said, "I don't know what you are talking about, but you have my curiosity." She would grant the man at least that much, if anything. She wanted to learn more about this cruel and unjust god.

Grey Disappears.

MP: 12/20

Grey moves to D-5

A single picture frame looked unto God's weeping figure from atop his desk. She smiled at God with yellowed teeth and crooked cheeks. A pair of rounded glasses shrouded the shapeliness of her eyes with an iridescent glare. Her skin, washed clean in the brisk column of sun that rained unto her, dripped from joint to joint and from dimple to dimple with abounding freckles. Atop her head, a nest of bronze hair flowed over her bony shoulder and cascaded into a single braid. Around her neck, she kept two accessories: a necklace, feebly clutching to a blackened pearl, and a ring of browned flesh that twisted and scarred its way around her throat like a collar.

Whenever God passed judgment unto his test subjects, he often worried that he'd look back to see the curls of her pale lips wilting into a frown. However, her demeanor never changed, and her face perpetually garnered the sun of her smile. In an experiment riddled with the anxious haze of endless variables, the consistency of a single constant brought God immense comfort.

Often times during sleepless nights, God would clutch her by the frame, hold her close, and desperately listen to the subtle beating of her heart. He'd often ask her questions. Sometimes he'd tell her of his experiments, share his results, and ask for her validation. Occasionally, curled atop his floor, teary-eyed, he'd ask her why such a tormenting pain throbbed uncontrollably within his chest. He'd ask her why she never responded.

God often remembered, during the Genesis of his world, when she told him any question could be answered through the retrieval of additional data.

And so, he got back to work.


"Is this it?" 17 remarked as he and 13 entered a room filled with naught but dust and stains of dried blood. He began to patrol the parameters of the room in an attempt to examine it more closely, dragging the tips of his fingers against each crease of each brick. "Surely there's somewhere-"

Just as 17 continued, a disrupting quake knocked both 17 and 13 to the ground as one of the room's walls shattered before them, unveiling two identical doors and a single sign, reading:

"Ya don't think they'd be able to see my explosions in the dark, these monstas, 'ey?" 02 hobbled next to 57, slouching her shoulder deep into his side, much to his displeasure. Blissfully unaware, she continued, "Ya gotta lightem for me, buddy-ol'-pal o' mine! I wanna watchem get bopped real good!" Just as she patted her ally on his shoulder and began to hobble to an ideal strategic position, 02 felt the slightest wisp of fur graze against her heel, and she turned around and shrieked in terror, tossing her crutch into the darkness. As the crutch landed with a crack against the rumbling surface of the chamber, a bestial yelp echoed.

"YA DUN GOOFED, YA FURRY RAT!" 02 spat, hopping closer to the darkness, plopping onto the ground as she began to tinker with a suspicious pyramid-shaped mechanism. "Ey ey, ya wanna come back? Do ya? Come right there here, capiche? Got it? Gotcha? Good!" Flailing her free arm out toward the darkness to taunt the wolves, she dug the pyramid into the ground and dragged herself back into the light as her butt slouched on the tile.

"Dese guys gonna be pie, I tell ya."

02 moves to G7.

02 uses Motion Sensor Whaling Harpoon on H7!
MP: 20 / 30

While 57 normally found 02's eccentricities endearingly stupid, a suspicious inconsistency occupied his mind as he pulled forward a lock of his own hair and examined it. His brow furrowed as he ran his thumb across his braid, noticing that a significant chunk of hair that resided in that segment had been quietly removed at some point prior. While he took shame in not realizing the moment it happened, he noted its clean and straight cut as something unnaturally subtle, almost as if his hair had vanished into thin air.

However, more pressing matters required 57's attention, as 02's ridiculous shenanigans most definitely reminded him. With a long, drawn out sigh, he motioned carefully into the dark.

57 moves to G5.

57 waits.

35 + 42 + 69 (& 02 + 57):

Just as Vivian's blade sank deeply between the cracks of the wall's shanty brick, a monstrous silhouette erupted from its shadows and shrieked in pain, shivering as her scythe dug into its heart. Temporarily paralyzed by the attack, the demon lay helpless against the wall. Turning to the creature, Aishaia dashed forward and flicked Aiusaj like a needle into one of the wall's delicate cracks. As she retracted her sword from the wall, the creature writhed in pain yet again, and heaps of flame began to dance atop its surface.

12 moves to E2.

12 attacks Traccia (3)! 7 physical damage! Chance of burn!

09 (& 12):

Thirteen shifted uncomfortably as Seventeen began strolling about the room––he did not like the looks of this place. He did not like it one bit. Before he could even attempt to try to communicate his discomfort, a startling quake threw both of them to the ground. If his voice worked, Thirteen would have yelped. Instead the boy shook awkwardly. His eyes shut tightly in fear of the worst that had yet to come. Which it never did.

When all became silence and the boy opened his eyes again, he blinked a couple times. No enemies. No danger. Nothing. Thirteen pushed himself up to a sitting position hesitantly but nothing changed. Huh? he questioned internally, his thoughts not broadcasting to the other boy's mind.

Pushing himself once more––this time to his feet––Thirteen stumbled over to the wall that had come down. A predetermined fate binds two as one. Choose a door, and a single fate splits into two. He blinked again then shifted his eyes over to Seventeen. Did this message appear specifically for them? Beckoning the older-looking boy over, Thirteen's eyes returned to the engraved script.

It appeared that it was. Etched just below the curious message detailed just what one passage would do––choose one and harm himself, choose the other and harm Seventeen. Both... and the world would end. Thirteen shivered at the thought, his Self cackling in delight as the boy shook involuntarily. She said nothing, however, and merely continued to guffaw as the youth nervously messed with the rusted links of the chain around his body.

That message earlier, Thirteen thought to his companion, recalling the piece of cloth they had found prior. nogodnogodnogod- The boy shook his head. No God? Fine then. Before that phrase had meant despair, but now... now it held something different for the two of them. No God? No fate. No split. No harm. No pain. Thirteen's gaze hardened and he suddenly lashed out, striking the stone's topmost inscriptions with the chain over and over. When his tirade finally came to a close, he breathed heavy, staring as the tablet which now only held one phrase. The world will end if both doors are opened.

Thirteen returned his chain to its place around his thin figure. The beings in his mind quivered. His Self had become scarce. Looking to the older boy with a steely gaze, he nodded in the direction of the door set to harm himself. There is no fate. You take one. I got the other, he thought telepathically once more.

And then he moved to step through the door he had not motioned to.

The world will end if both doors are opened.

Out of the darkness, a spider the size of a dog had come and attacked her. Number 42 squealed and ran towards the light. She hadn't expected something to come at her in the hallway where there wasn't anything before. "Oh come now, scared of a silly spider? How are you ever going to protect those you love if you run away like the girl you are?" Her Self sneered at her as she ran away from the thing and she had to take him into consideration. She knew that she shouldn't be scared of something like this. She would prevail over it and find that boy again... whatever his name was... She really regretted not asking him, but then again, what would his answer have been? She didn't have a name herself, only the number that permeated her mind, ever since she woke up in that strange light. Even though she didn't want to admit it, he was right. "And you didn't care enough about him to ask his name. Poor you. It seems you aren't suited to protect him after all. That's why he left you."

"SHUT UP!"

Number 42 felt the heat from earlier rise in her. She was not going to take this abuse. She had a feeling that he was somewhere close, she just knew it, the sensation in her heart could not mean anything different. She ran towards the light, not knowing what was beyond this point.

[Number 42 moves to E3!
Number 42 waits...]

35 uses Watchtower on cell E-4
MP: 4/20

She disregarded the attacks directed toward her, they bounced off her plating making barely a scratch. Her eyes were still focused toward the rather small opening leading to the darkness. The ground rumbled, and various minerals from the earth gathered to form a second pillar of metal that burst from the floor and blocked the passage, locking away whatever lurked behind those shadows.

"Done." She announced.

"I swear to god...you need a fucking personality."

35 waits.

Vivian watched on in absolute indignation as the stone creature attacked Aishaia. It had harmed her and Vivian would not forgive it, nor would she forgive anyone or anything that would hurt the one she had willingly thrown her life in the way to save. She glared at the golem, gnashing her teeth in her fury... she wanted it gone, dead if it even had a beating heart. How she would cleave the blades of her scythe into its ugly head and crush it until it stopped moving, and then crush it some more until it was dust. The sheer hate was boiling within her when she saw the great injustice being done as the golem dared place its insolent paws on her friend.

"Are you alright?" She asked Aishaia, her concern ever so resolute. "I won't let it get away with this." She turned back to the watcher and the look on her face was enough to make any man fear for his life. "You... I don't know what you are or why you're here... and I don't care. I WILL RETURN ALL THE HARM YOU'VE DONE TO HER A MILLION TIMES OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME BUT FILTH UNFIT TO BE IN THE PRESENCE OF ANYTHING DECENT. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU FOR EVERYTHING THAT YOU ARE AND I WILL NOT REST UNTIL YOU SUFFER FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. I WILL PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS AND I WILL NOT ALLOW THE LIKES OF YOU TO STAND IN MY WAY. YOU BETTER PRAY TO WHATEVER HIGHER POWER HAD THE NERVE TO BRING YOU BEFORE ME, BECAUSE I AM ABOUT TO SEND YOU BACK TO THEM IN PIECES. Now... do me a favor and just die."

Vivian attacks Earthen Watcher (1)! 9 ATK Dmg!

"Yer starting to scare me girlie," the voice Wilbur commented. "And I dunno whether to be aroused or to shit myself."

The two doors swung open simultaneously. With stopped breaths and hearts in their throats, 13 and 17 passed through, and, much to their surprise, continued to exist. As the rushing of their hearts calmed to a mellowed stutter, they examined their surroundings.

"Hey!" 17 chimed as he turned to his left and saw his mute partner standing by his side. "Looks like both doors led to the same room, huh? Well that's disappointing. Good, I suppose, especially that we're both alive, but still disappointing in a strange way, wouldn't you say?" He joked, a slight stammer in his voice as he quietly delighted over his extended survival. 17 was not ready to die. He knew he wasn't. And, with any semblance of sense, 13 could tell that as well.

The room they entered was very small and held little of note. However, upon further inspection, a series of delicate, crafted brushstrokes lined a large portion of the porcelain bricks filling the farthest wall. The drawing, severely faded, was only vaguely legible. As the pair cautiously approached, its ink gleamed an oceanic blue.


"Is that?" God nosed inward to the screen displaying 13 and 17, an anxious frown strewn across his face. "No, it can't be. There's no way. There's no way. No." He whispered, with only Liosa to hear. His utterances rose to cries, and with mad rage, he screamed. "THE FACELESS! DID WE MISS IT? WHAT DID IT DO? WHAT HAPPENED?!"

He tripped over the twitching Rat and tackled his unmanned station, scrolling through screens of irrelevant data and observation as he searched for records of 13 and 17's location. With a slew of scattered mouse clicks and button mashings, he came across the content of the sign the pair had found earlier, mouth agape in disbelief.

"'The world will end if both doors are opened.' FUCK!" He screamed, "It can't be like this. I told them I wouldn't fuck up. It's Binah. Binah. I told Liosa I wouldn't fuck up. They got in. Fuck. I promised her. I can't do this alone." His wails receded into solemn whispers, and with his sweaty hands wrapped firmly around his skull, he muttered, "Where did you go? Where did you go?"

"I think I'm lost. Binah is here. We lost. I failed. Two-hundred-ninety-nine." He cried.

"One point, Liosa. It was just one point, but still... I can't keep them away."

"I need you."


Hey.

It had been quite some time since 17's Self had spoken to him. Caught by surprise, 17 waited before responding to make sure it had nothing left to add. After a prolonged period of ominous silence, he asked.

Do you need something?

I need you to touch it. Touch the marking on the wall.

17 didn't respond. Another silence filled with the marking's glow. He gazed incredulously at it, it's royal tinge and rich color, the golden sphere it palmed.

Please.

His Self cracked. Its voice faltered as it shoved a forced "please" out of its throat like a disgusting, muffled sob. A strange genuineness gilded its plea. It was a gross, humane plea. 17 didn't understand it. He didn't repsond.

This is all I'll ever ask of you.

Thirteen blinked. No cataclysm, no armageddon, no painful death of any sort met them upon crossing into the next room. The boy breathed a sigh of relief. He only nodded slightly in response to his partner who stammered out of what could only be that very same relief only greater. His grip returned to the chain wrapped around his waist; the self within his head chuckled and he could practically feel her wipe a false tear from her nonexistent (at least as far as he knew) eye. She seemed to take quite a bit of delight in their terror, but although she spoke maliciously of it he paid her no mind.

Instead his eyes had locked on the image against the wall. It had a certain allure to it. Especially after they drew nearer and it shimmered an oceanic blue color. It's pretty, he thought aloud, although he directed it primarily at the beings within his heart which seemed calmed by the image's presence. They were not wary but they were not off-guard either. They simply existed. Peace. Thirteen's gaze shifted for a moment. He ignored the sudden silence within his mind as his Self decided to stop speaking at some point––he couldn't recall when.

What do we do? he telepathically questioned, blinking once more. There was nothing else to do in this room. Or... at least it appeared so.