It's alright to ask for a status update here. I had forgotten to do so, as I am obviously late and working as well as I can in order to get time for this.
Long story short, I had to move to my mother's place in the countryside for the weekend to take care of her pets. I had planned to completely host Match 7 during my time there... but alas! I was exhausted by the train journey when I arrived there, and there were lots of things to do. On Monday I took a train back home and went straight to the store, because we had no food and girlfriend was unable to go herself. I got to work on the match again on Tuesday, where I reviewed both contestants, their story chapters (boy, Arn had many!) and got the actual match chapter started, which I am continuing right now until it's finished and ready to be posted here.
On top of all that, this match is the most text-heavy of all so far, so I would ask you to be a bit more patient with me, please. I try to finish this quickly, and only write the most important bits.
Something was occupying Conscience’s mind. Something she remembered, as if from a memory of a past life. As far as she knew, people didn’t have “past lives”, so that wasn’t an option for what was happening. This thought was in fact a coat of arms, a shield bearing a raven, a coin, and a black sword.
The library at the fortress was rather large, not quite as large as any in a city, however, the collection seemed much more expansive and interesting than a general library. Books on anything from other kingdoms to systems and types of magic, and everything in-between.
Conscience decided to begin at kingdoms, specifically dead ones, to explain the memory.
Wandering along the shelves in that section, there appeared to be only books she’d already read, general primers on their systems and customs. Feeling over the spines of the books, her hand moved over leather spines, each pushing in slightly to her touch. Her hand suddenly paused, a leather spine of a book titled “A Guide to Malterran Society” not pushing inwards to her touch, feeling more like a block of wood than a paper book. She closed her hand around it, and pulled it. It put up some resistance, as if refusing to be moved, before complying to her touch and pulling outwards. The bookshelf, which faced the outside wall, swung outwards, a staircase hidden behind revealed. The stairs led into darkness, the sunlight streaming through the library windows barely illuminating the entrance. A layer of dust coated the step she could see, so she was fairly sure that this was an old place, not used in a while.
Conscience took a step forwards, dust billowing around her foot, fulfilling her suspicion that this had not been used in a very long time. Descending the steps, the bookshelf behind swung shut, and torches lit, presumably by magical fire.
Continuing down the windings stairs, the sound of her footsteps echoed around the stairwell. Sneezing from the stirred dust, she tripped down the last few steps, landing in a dusty heap on the bottom. Standing up, she shook out her dress, face slightly angry about ruining such a fine dress. She looked up, the magical torchlight showing the room. It was a stone room, similar looking a study. Around 10 steps took her down one side of the room, the side lined with a single shelf. Upon that shelf lay leather bound books, their spines unwritten on. Blue-glowing runes lay in front of the journals, presumably defensive runes.
Putting her hand right in front of the first rune, Conscience pushed out her magic, attempting to override the runes with magic. The runes pushed the magic away at first, but as she continued to push, the runes started to flicker, before the rune flickered out, and her magic went beyond the formerly magical runes. The purple magic slithered across the spines, but were quickly pulled magic by Conscience, who pulled out the first leather-bound book on the shelf. Turning around, she headed towards a dust-covered chair, seemingly made of animal fur, her dress so ruined already she no longer cared about getting it any dustier. Sitting down, she propped her feet up on a desk in front of the chair, the desk covered in dust, but where paper and quills would’ve been were nothing.
Conscience twisted the book in her hands, and immediately noticed the sigil on the front cover, a coat of arms containing a raven, a coin, and a black sword.
Ḷ̵̛̎̑̀̅͆̽̉̄͌́̕͜͝ȋ̴̧͉̘̖͐̇́͂̒ṯ̷̢̹̘̪͖̩̜̰̝̭̠̅͌̄̍̇̆͐̐̈́́̕̕͝ṭ̷̼̞̳̩̺̩͌̂̎̅̾͛͑̐̑͘͝ĺ̴̨͎̜̜̬e̴͉̤̼̠͈̎ͅ ̷͉̳͕͍̪̣͎͗̒̑̒̎̏́͝g̴̛̩͙̲̟͇̪͔͌̀͋̐̈́̂̄̚i̷͍̓͗̀̈r̷̹͚̣̠̱̃͋͒̓̈́͝l̵͖̤̦̟̱̬̗̟͓͎̗̎͆̀͑́͂̇̋́̋͒͆,̴̜̲̜̦̻̠̅̓̒́͌͂̓̎͐̓̇̓̕͜͝ͅ ̵̙̳̺̟͆̑̆͋́́͒̀̓́͐̇̀͜͠ī̶̧̭̠͉̩̤̈́͋̔̍f̷̧̻͍̻͖̹̩͉̄̚͜ ̶̟͓̰̭̫̭̺̯̈́̃̊͊̈́̄̍͌̐͜͝y̷̡̛͓̞̩̭̹͗̑͂̈́͗̈̿̈͠ò̵̖̪̼̭̮̲̘̫̾̓̓͒̾̽̅͐̆̽̊̓̕͜͠ư̵̼̩̫̲̿͊̇̀́̚͝ ̷̲̳̺͐͗́w̶̨̡̞̺̞̪̯̞̥̻͇͇̮̔̒a̵̻͎̪͌̈̚͜n̷͙̲̬̬̟̞̲̺̟͉͓̮̥̐͆̈̈͘ţ̵̧̬̭̟͕̙̼̰͙̲͙̹̏̓͒̈̓̊̈́̂͐̈̈́̊͝ ̸̺̙̲̼̯̯͍̱̱̈̀͒̓̎͊å̵̫͎͕̋͋́ṇ̷̙̠̣͕͙̹͉̆͛̽̑͋̃͗̑̌̈́̚͘͝s̸̪̥͆̆͗̆̅́͂̏̏̍ẇ̶̡̙͉͚͖͔̺̯͖̪̗́͊̂̅̓͊͛̈́̂̊͐̚͠͝ȩ̴̡͕̗̠̟̭͉̹̪̐̅̎͗ŗ̴̖͇͇̱̘̳̌͑͌̆͝ṣ̸̙̲͇̩̤̰̍́̐͆̎̓̑̃̋̄̊̚͠,̵̧̛̻͍̩̗̪͕̱̟̯͈̪̝̫͍͒͋̊͊̆̈́͒̀̐͌̚͠͝ ̸̫̰͉̌͆̓͘t̷̢̧̗̮͖̫̘̣̯͑̽̉͂͊̓͆̍͌͋͜͝h̷͉̘͎̲̀̇̈́͂́̓̂̓̌͠ị̴̡̱̲̲̖̭͚͖̲͍̹͇̻̿̔s̸̨̧̩̥̩̠̻͖̱̠̹̗͒̉̀̾͛͋ ̸̨̨͎̩̦̈́̀̈̊͌i̷̝͚̘̹̦̳̰̻̥͊s̶̨̢͉͉̲̮͖̻̣͌̌̑͗͌̒̒̄̚ ̶̡̙̬̣̳̹̜̮̘͈̝͇̟͓̭͊̇͗̎̿̈́͝n̸̨̢̧̧͉̬̙̰͎͕̳̱̰͔̒̐̃́̕͘ơ̶̘̞̇̀̽́͊̌͋̈̑͐̕ͅt̴̢̛̪̺͎̜͓͌̾̾̀͝ ̴̧̛̲̲͉̺̟̫̼͊̇̄̓̈͠ͅť̶̨̟͙̤̆̑̾̇̽̊́͜ͅh̷̨̧̢̫̼̬̬͇̞̱̥̗̲̔̏̆͒̊̽͛̎̑̕̚̚̚͜͝ę̶̳͆̓̊̂͂̓͑́̾̎͑̄ ̵̬̩̙͉̯̺͎͈̝̮̦͑̆͒͊͒͘͠ͅw̷̧̳̳͇̗͗ͅȁ̵̦͓̬͙̪͔̥̆͐͌̓̾̄͌͠ͅy̵̧͖̗̠̣̜̝̳͚̋͆͌͌̓̓͊̍̃̇͑.̴̧̘̘̺͖͓̓̌͛́́̆̈́̀̀̿̈́͝͝ a strange voice said, speaking in a language she could somehow understand. The voice was familiar, but not at the same time. All she could remember were warnings issued in this voice, warnings that warned of something she had forgotten.
The voice, no demon, she’d confirmed that, didn’t respond. Getting up, she grabbed the books up, shoving them into a handbag. If this thing doesn’t give me the answers, I’ll get them myself.
A huge black bird was flying high above the canyon, looking eagerly for its prey. When the match began, Tika immediately ran away from Arn, who had arrived to the arena while covered in drake's blood. Such sight had spread fear among the crowd, and in Tika's case, encouraged them to leave. Arn didn't mind, for he loved the hunt. He flew in the irritatingly bright midday sky while gazing down on the earth below. There were no shadowy hiding places in the canyon thanks to the clear, reflective water and bright gemstones, so he quickly noticed the elf girl's silhouette... at the far northern edge of the arena. "I must have scared her more than intended. Stupid girl," the feathered Arn snickered and swooped down until he transformed back into his humanoid form and landed right in front of Tika with a splash from the shallow river's water. The elf gasped and tripped into the river, then tried to crawl away while she laid supine and stared at the spirit's menacing appearance. "Well come on," Arn scoffed with his arms outstretched. "You gotta fight in a match, you know? Come and cut me down!" Tika shivered and threw her sword at the spirit before screaming and running away. Arn didn't even have to dodge the poorly thrown weapon, which landed right next to him. Splish, splash, splish, splash! Tika ran behind a cliff, but the river branched everywhere in the area and announced the running girl's location quite well. The prankster couldn't believe what he saw, so he shrugged and turned into a bird once more.
Arn was surprised by the speed of his opponent. The elf had ran away from the canyon and towards the rocky wilds far from the fort, market, or any of the other arenas. He couldn't see Tika, but he could easily follow her tracks when he flew closer to the ground. The abyssal mark won't work here. When I kill the girl, she will stay dead. It's only merciful, life is suffering for weaklings after all. Time went by, and more clouds gathered in the sky, completely blocking the sun from view. After a while, Arn spotted an abandoned stone building in the middle of a quiet valley, where Tika was most likely hiding. The prankster landed in front of it and cast his wings away. The ruined structure had a mossy dome roof and a chimney, which connected to a furnace that had been cold for years. It didn't look like anybody had ever lived in the building, and Arn couldn't think of any purposes for it, but it mattered not to him.
Arn stepped through a doorway, and he immediately saw an iron basin on a stone table in the middle of the room, which was filled with black liquid. There were also numerous blankets, which covered objects of different sizes and shapes all around the room. The prankster could hear Tika's ragged breathing in a shadowy corner. But something was off. The spirit couldn't sense the exhaustion of his opponent's grueling escape. He unsheathed a dagger from his sleeve. "My patience is running thin. No more playing, girl. If you face me now, I'll let you die with some dignity at least." Tika stopped breathing.
"I thought you liked playing," she said quietly as she slowly stood up and walked towards the basin. "Meaningless slaughter, utter chaos, unnecessary hunts, and tasteless pranks. You've had thousands of years to do the most vain things, yet you still talk of patience?" While shaking her head, the elf raised the basin, and poured the black liquid all over her face and head, which then trickled down and covered her whole body in seconds. Arn's grin spread from ear to ear.
"Gathered information about me? No wonder I haven't seen you. You've been one step behind me all this time. So little girl, do you have a foolproof plan that'll win you this match?" Tika quickly pulled a blanket off from a table right next to the furnace, and revealed a large steel crown with a red gem implanted in the middle of it.
"Oh, spirit of singular emotion, who effortlessly turns kittens into titans, men into slaves, and beasts into shreds," she smirked as she reverently raised the crown above her head. "You seem to have immortality and unlimited power, yet you still seek the most dangerous power of this world that would consume gods and us, the lesser beings." Tika placed the crown onto her soaked head and it covered her eyes. Arn pointed his dagger towards the elf.
"What are you, girl?" The spirit asked as his tone turned a bit more serious.
"Why," she said while smiling. "I am your biggest fan!" The red gem pulsated with light, then Tika was covered by bright red flames that caused her skin, legs, arms, and torso to crumble away. At the same time, countless steel threads emerged from the crown, forming a new body under the head. After a moment, the flames died and Tika was no more. The one who wore the crown was a tall woman whose body was completely made of metal, save for her pale head and long white hair. Sharp blades replaced her feet and fingers, and long flexible sawtooth blades floated around her body. "Finally we meet face to face!"
"Ugh, another admirer," Arn sighed, sheathed his dagger, and turned towards the doorway. "I have a match to finish, so if you'll excuse me-" countless barbed wires emerged from the woman's fingers, which she used to shut the doorway.
"Not so fast," she giggled as Arn turned to look at the metal lady again with his hands ready. "I was called here to deal with a contestant who wields a tremendous amount of power and little to no restraint. After observing you for days, it became clear that you are rather considerable threat," she walked around the room while her bladed heels clicked on the stone floor. "But would you become a threat to my sworn enemies? We'll soon see about that!"
"Are you trying to make an offer?" Arn asked in an almost interested tone. The woman smiled as she stretched her bladed fingers.
"Yes. You remind me so much of my younger days, when I was also a contestant in this very tournament many years ago." The pensive lady stroked the floating blade as if it was a sentient being. "I was powerful enough to kill every opponent with ease, so I started looking for even more powerful opponents in the crowds and outside the arenas. I killed so many until I finally faced someone who rendered me powerless. He struck me down with an enchanted blade that sent my soul to the old Gate of Afterlife. Upon arrival, I was given a choice; to leave this world forever, or to serve the godlike caretaker of the Abyssal gate and be rewarded with powers beyond the limits of mortals! Today, I will be the one who sends you up there to make that same choice!" Arn burst in fiendish laughter.
"Harharhar! I bow to no one, least of all to death," he shouted as he unsheathed two daggers while spinning them for a moment. "Your speech is awfully boring! Think I'll brighten my mood by ripping you apart!" The woman's blades ringed as she took a stance and more barbed wires emerged from her fingers.
"Fool! Think you can even touch me? I, Grizel, will demonstrate to you the art of ripping enemies into pieces," she threatened and licked her lips while also revealing her long eyeteeth.
Tika woke up in her room while yawning. She felt dizzy and her vision was blurry, but then she suddenly rose up sitting on her bed. "Oh no, my match is being held today!"
"Hush," a young woman's slightly echoing voice said right next to Tika. "You don't have to go to your match, so just relax." Tika rubbed her eyes, then she looked at the person who just spoke. A female knight donned in ashen platemail armor was sitting on a chair right next to the bed. Her legs and arms were crossed and her black helmet covered her face completely. A sheathed longsword was hanging from the right side of her belt.
"What do you mean?" The elf girl asked as she scratched the back of her head. "Who are you, and why didn't servants wake me up?" The knight looked through the open window and gazed at the cloudy sky for a few seconds before answering.
"Servants were ordered to not wake you up, and I am here to keep you from entering the match."
"WHAT!?" Tika stood up on her bed while yelling. "Did the match start already? How much time do I have left!?"
"Your match began about half an hour ago," the female knight said calmly. It made Tika even more anxious.
"Oh, no, no, nonono, first I was late to be here, and now I am late for my match! Ahh, I better get going!" Tika grabbed her sheathed shortsword from the table, attached it to her belt, then tried to open the locked door repeatedly. The ashen knight was still sitting on the chair as she slightly raised her voice.
"Listen, I was ordered to keep you from entering the match, so just stay put until it's over." Frustrated Tika kicked the firmly shut door, then she looked at the knight again.
"Why have you locked me in here? I need to fight or I will be disqualified!"
"Calm down! You'll be safe here, so wait until-"
"Aah, why don't you answer my question!?" Tika stomped on the floor, hit the door with her fists in vain, then she ran around the room until she jumped through the open window. The knight was too confused to do anything until she heard the rustling of countless leaves. She quickly stood up and looked down from the window. Tika had fallen onto large bushes at the foot of the fort's outer wall, then the elf stood up and ran towards a wooden pier at the edge of the island, where some soldiers were fishing.
"Seventh match, eh? I think they're hosting it in the aquamarine canyon right now," one of the young soldiers said while keeping an eye on his fishing rod's red float rock. Tika thanked him, then she heard the female knight's voice in the distance.
"Hey! Come back here," the knight yelled from the window, but Tika ignored her, turned into a large salamander Tiktaalik, and dove into the lake with a loud splash!
"Oi! You scared the fish away," the fishing soldier shouted while Tiktaalik kept swimming towards the shore which was closest to the road that led to the canyon. The knight groaned, then took the iron key from her belt pocket, opened the room's door, hurried down the stairs, and ran into the fort's stable.
After a moment, Tiktaalik salamander reached the shore, then she transformed back into Tika elf while running up the rocky hills. The quiet breeze did little to cool her down, but at least the blazing sun was covered by thick grey clouds. Tika kept climbing the steep hills until she reached the top and finally saw the tall red cliffs of the canyon in the distance. Sweat trickled down her face while she was breathing heavily, but the elf still kept going towards the arena until she heard the sound of a galloping horse approaching behind her. A white horse with large black spots ran past her, its rider quickly unmounted from the steed and landed in front of the elf while it kept galloping. "You will go no further," the female knight shouted. "If you won't come back to the fort willingly, then I'm afraid I have to use force." The ashen knight unsheathed her longsword with her left hand while Tika shook her head.
"Uh-uh! I signed up in this tournament, and I will fight in my match, so please move aside before I lose my temper and hurt you!"
"I can't do that, girl. Now brace yourself," the determined knight responded as she flipped her longsword and grabbed its blade with her both hands. Tika unsheathed her shortsword, then immediately charged at the knight while swinging the blade at her. The knight parried Tika's sword, then hit the back of the elf's head with the longsword's pommel. Pow! Tika groaned, then she slashed with her sword multiple times. Cling! Clang! The half-swording knight kept parrying the reckless sword attacks, and after a couple more sparking deflections, the ashen knight swung the longsword's hilt at Tika again, striking the elf's right hand with the sword's cross-guard. Tika screamed and let go of her shortsword, which ringed in the air before it landed and clattered on the rocky ground. The female knight sighed as the battle seemed to be over, but then she saw as Tika quickly transformed into a salamander again, then whipped its frilled tail at the knight, sending her flying many meters away until she crashed onto a cliff wall. Tiktaalik didn't stay around to check if the knight was fine, so she grabbed her shortsword with her maw before running towards the arena.
Tiktaalik arrived at the edge of the canyon arena in a couple of minutes, but she was too late. Captain Rheinallt had begun announcing the winner of the seventh match, so the tired salamander transformed into her elf form, dropped her sword, fell onto her knees, and wept while the crowd cheered.
Arn was constantly cut by barbed wires as he tried to attack Grizel in the ruined stone building, but he didn't mind since his wounds closed quickly and he didn't feel any pain. Each dagger which he threw at the metal vampire was deflected by her floating sawtooth blades. Grizel kept laughing while Arn quickly moved around the room like a wind, but it was impossible to avoid the sharp wires that spread everywhere. He thrust his dagger at the vampire's face only to find out his hand was cut off a bit earlier. The stump of his arm splattered blood onto her face, and Grizel tasted it by licking her lips, but then she immediately spat onto the floor. "Ugh, rotten undead blood. I don't think you're such a great guy after all."
"Idiotic woman! I am far more powerful than any of you buffoons! When I become god, you will all taste my omnipotent wild mag-" Before Arn could finish his sentence, a floating blade cut his throat open while Grizel was yawning.
"Hmm, I'm starting to get bored, so what do you say if we get more serious?" Arn roared once his body healed completely, then he cut wires around him with both of his daggers in supernatural speed while also dodging the floating blades. When Arn saw an opening, he leaped at Grizel with his ringing daggers ready, but before he got close enough to cut her throat, the vampire kicked her right leg's blade into the prankster's chest, completely stopping him from moving. Grizel raised her leg towards the dome ceiling while impaled Arn dangled from it like a ragdoll, then she smirked and threw her opponent at a wall with a wide arc of splattering blood. Arn slowly stood up while laughing maniacally, and with another surge of exhilaration, he charged at the metal lady. He had learned to cut through the countless wires and deflect the numerous blades, so Grizel gasped as her opponent's dagger penetrated her iron stomach. Arn stabbed it repeatedly with his right hand while he kept the floating sawtooth blades at bay with his left hand. Grizel shrieked, then cut Arn's bone mask into pieces before shredding his grinning face apart with her bladed fingers. Both of them showered in blood until the vampire kicked the prankster away with her knee. The only sound that filled the room afterwards was the dripping of their bleeding blood as they stood silently for a while. On the moment when Arn's face pulled itself together and his eyeballs healed, he saw as Grizel coughed blood and fell onto her knees while the holes on her stomach bled like a river.
"Oh, how I've longed for this," the vampire whispered, blood trickling from her smiling mouth. "I can't remember the last time I fought someone as entertaining as you." Arn bowed acrobatically, then he prepared to finish off his dying opponent. But suddenly, the gem in Grizel's crown pulsated with red light once more, and all blood she had bled flowed right back into her body in an instant. Iron threads closed her wounds, and barbed wires quickly coiled around Arn. The prankster grunted as he tried to break free, but it only amused the vampire, who approached him slowly. Grizel drew a black symbol with her bladed forefinger on Arn's forehead before she turned towards the furnace and whispered something that caused it to go ablaze with black flames. "Now burn away, amusing spirit," Grizel giggled while backing away. The roaring flames reached towards Arn like a giant hand, and once its powerful fingers closed around him, he was pulled into the abyssal furnace that soon died out, leaving behind nothing else but melting wires.
Once Arn's mind regained consciousness, he realized that he was floating in complete darkness. He didn't see, hear, or sense anything for a while until bright sunlight shattered the darkness away. Arn quickly noticed he was within a large shell of smoky darkness, which the light forced to fall away from him. He looked down and saw as the smoke flowed through a tiny five-sided glass gate of an endless glass land that contained a sea of darkness beneath it. When all of the smoke flowed through the gate, it closed quietly, and Arn slowly landed in the middle of the lifeless glass land where clouds seemed to sail right on the surface. There were no landmarks, so Arn looked up, and was surprised to see the whole land of Eviera and its surrounding seas many kilometers above him. After gazing for a moment, he heard a muffled thud from beneath him, and saw a massive skull of a behemoth soundlessly roaring at him before sinking back into the darkness. "Once a powerful beast with never ending life and death that shook the world, now imprisoned in a realm that denies it both." Arn looked at the direction where he heard the divine voice, and saw a gigantic being in the distance. The faceless humanoid being was donned in white robes with patterns that resembled abyssal priest Kara's markings. Countless long purple threads flowed from his back and a massive golden disc floated behind his head.
"Now I've seen everything," Arn said and whistled. "I suppose this place is your home?"
"This was once a gate that led souls of the deceased to the afterlife," the godlike being said with an echoing voice. Even though he floated in the far distance, Arn could hear him as if he was speaking right next to the prankster. "Since the Great Failure thousands of years ago, it had become a prison for the Abyss, preventing it from falling onto this world and consuming it whole."
"You don't say," the ageless prankster mumbled while looking into the sea of endless darkness. "Doesn't serve its purpose well enough, since the Abyss's rifts appear in the world, or so I have heard."
"I am Terrodus, caretaker of the dead, and guardian of this vast Abyssal gate. When an innumerable amount of cursed souls are taken by the Abyss that exceed the limits of this prison, it tears open a rift in the world, and bleeds those souls back as monsters. My followers, regardless of their origins, search these rifts all around the world, defeat the escaped horrors, and heal all corruption they have spread over the land of the living."
"Thanks for the dry history lesson," Arn said while yawning. "But what does any of this has to do with me?" The threads of Terrodus flowed around the prankster, forming a circular arena where he was standing alone.
"Arnest, you sought a way to control the violent powers of the Abyss, to use it as a weapon and to ascend into godhood. All beings who attempt to do so are doomed to become yet another prisoner in its sea of souls. Your opponent and my servant, Grizel, did use one of the Abyss's meager gifts at the end of your battle; a spell that served as a gateway for you journey here."
"Right. That colorful woman mentioned a choice of sorts, but I can't remember how it went," Arn sat onto the glass floor, crossed his legs, and placed his hands onto his knees while looking at the faceless deity, who was floating above the arena's purple walls. "Humor me."
"It is a simple choice, spirit of chaos. If you accept it, you shall become my agent, whom I will gift with powers to your liking. A tireless enemy of the Abyss and its unholy pawns, an undying spirit that tricks the dark forces and eradicates them wherever you find them." Arn stroked his chin for a moment, seemingly interested.
"And if I refuse?" Terrodus's calm and emotionless tone did not change when he answered.
"I will send you back to the world which you came from, and you'll never be able to return."
The people in the canyon arena were watching the battle between the illusions of Tika and Arn. Mimosa had cast them onto the arena once Arn flew away while hunting the fake Tika. The battle was intense, with Arn performing wild tricks and Tika always retaliating with thunderous spells. Finally, Arn was struck by a crashing lightning, and he fell into the shallow river. Two crystal balls floated in front of Mimosa. One tracked real Tika's movements and the other tracked Arn's. The trickster's crystal ball didn't show anything once he was pulled into the furnace, but Tika's ball showed Mimosa how the elf was approaching the arena. The witch gestured with her left hand at Captain Rheinallt after dismissing the illusions, who then smiled in response and walked onto the wooden podium with his left hand raised towards the cloudy sky. "The winner of the seventh match is the elf of storms; Tika!" People in the crowd cheered loudly, and Tika, who was kneeling at the edge of the arena, couldn't believe her ears.
"I... won?" She stood up with shaking legs, then she heard as someone hurried behind her. It was the ashen knight, who was removing her helmet, and when she did, revealed her long, brown, and messy hair. Drops of sweat trickled down her rosy cheeks.
"I tried to tell you before, but you were far too eager to come here," the female knight said while breathing heavily. "Sorry for all this trouble. Judge Gaspar didn't want you to interrupt his plan of sending Arn to the godlike guardian of afterlife. He realized recently that the spirit was a walking time bomb, so he called for an abyssal warrior to deal with him." The knight picked up Tika and carried her in front of the cheering crowd. "Forgive me for picking up a fight with you. If you wish, we can finish our duel someday, and maybe I could teach you how to use that sword of yours more skillfully." The young woman smiled a little while looking at the elf with her grey eyes.
"What's your name?" Tika asked while she wiped her tears away.
"My name is Hestia."
"Nice to meet you, Hestia. My name is Tika!" They both laughed while people clapped around them.
Quality is more important than quantity. While Arn had much more story chapters than Tika, his other values were weaker. He did have some interesting story bits, but most of them were pure power fantasy with action scenes that reminded me of a television's static noise. I do appreciate the spirit of the character, and wish he would've lived up to his title a bit more.
@FourEyesIsAFish - Tika ran to the second round! You may create a new version of her or a new signature/companion card, but this time the maximum mana value of those cards is increased to 5!
@Tonysparks - Arn's tournament journey has ended, but you may write a concluding chapter where he makes the choice and then post any cards you had planned for him!
The Tournament Bracket has been updated! Once again, sorry for the long time it took me to post this chapter, which got filled with so much text. I try not to bloat chapters as much in the future.
Ladies and gentlemen, Arn. Initially when I made Arn, I had no plans whatsoever for him, he was just supposed to be mindless and chaotic evil, I acknowledge this made alot of people hate Arn, but I will always have a place for my first Tournament character in my heart.
Arn's story at first was to be chaotic since even I had no vision of what I wanted Arn to become, but with the introduction of the abyss like in other tournaments, I found an anchor. All my arcs that were slowly tying in to the grander progression of Arn as an individual.
Arn is not a brute like most wanted to believe, and while I appreciate @TenebrisNemo's remarkable writing, I felt you did not capture the essence of what Arn is save for a few gestures and some notable segments. Nonetheless I am grateful for even the chance to even participate.
Arn is chaotic yes, but also sophisticated, cunning and manipulative. He only acts like a lunatic when he is in serious danger, otherwise he is a rather nonchalant, cautious and observant participant.
I initial Arn to begin noticing that his body was slowly falling apart since his soul was weakening after winning, he had actually noticed it earlier and began to delve into abysall magic to fix it. Contrary to the belief of others, his intent was not to become a god per say , but rather to fix his withering body and progress his control of wildmagic. He killed Mizor because Mizor held those secrets and could later use them against him, and instead got the incomplete research notes in order to fuel his life force until he could find a permanent solution, Ascendancy.
Arn's final goal, ascendancy, was less so for power and more so to extend his diminishing life, which he had began to notice in the past few days.
I again thank all of you for enduring Arn, I know some of you weren't big fans of him, I'd also like to thank @TenebrisNemo for an epic send off.
I have to admit that even if I lost, I would have loved to leave with Oko who is in Avelaide but now I'm locked between being sent to Eldraine and Oko assuming I'm dead and becoming an Agent.
Also Tenebris, I have decided to become an agent since its what is best for Arn. Also it saves me the space of making that chapter.
I will make the alternate where I departed to Theros or Innistrad (I'll roll a die for which) later.
Comments
Long story short, I had to move to my mother's place in the countryside for the weekend to take care of her pets. I had planned to completely host Match 7 during my time there... but alas! I was exhausted by the train journey when I arrived there, and there were lots of things to do. On Monday I took a train back home and went straight to the store, because we had no food and girlfriend was unable to go herself. I got to work on the match again on Tuesday, where I reviewed both contestants, their story chapters (boy, Arn had many!) and got the actual match chapter started, which I am continuing right now until it's finished and ready to be posted here.
On top of all that, this match is the most text-heavy of all so far, so I would ask you to be a bit more patient with me, please. I try to finish this quickly, and only write the most important bits.
Part 9: Warnings
Something was occupying Conscience’s mind. Something she remembered, as if from a memory of a past life. As far as she knew, people didn’t have “past lives”, so that wasn’t an option for what was happening. This thought was in fact a coat of arms, a shield bearing a raven, a coin, and a black sword.
The library at the fortress was rather large, not quite as large as any in a city, however, the collection seemed much more expansive and interesting than a general library. Books on anything from other kingdoms to systems and types of magic, and everything in-between.
Conscience decided to begin at kingdoms, specifically dead ones, to explain the memory.
Wandering along the shelves in that section, there appeared to be only books she’d already read, general primers on their systems and customs. Feeling over the spines of the books, her hand moved over leather spines, each pushing in slightly to her touch. Her hand suddenly paused, a leather spine of a book titled “A Guide to Malterran Society” not pushing inwards to her touch, feeling more like a block of wood than a paper book. She closed her hand around it, and pulled it. It put up some resistance, as if refusing to be moved, before complying to her touch and pulling outwards. The bookshelf, which faced the outside wall, swung outwards, a staircase hidden behind revealed. The stairs led into darkness, the sunlight streaming through the library windows barely illuminating the entrance. A layer of dust coated the step she could see, so she was fairly sure that this was an old place, not used in a while.
Conscience took a step forwards, dust billowing around her foot, fulfilling her suspicion that this had not been used in a very long time. Descending the steps, the bookshelf behind swung shut, and torches lit, presumably by magical fire.
Continuing down the windings stairs, the sound of her footsteps echoed around the stairwell. Sneezing from the stirred dust, she tripped down the last few steps, landing in a dusty heap on the bottom. Standing up, she shook out her dress, face slightly angry about ruining such a fine dress. She looked up, the magical torchlight showing the room. It was a stone room, similar looking a study. Around 10 steps took her down one side of the room, the side lined with a single shelf. Upon that shelf lay leather bound books, their spines unwritten on. Blue-glowing runes lay in front of the journals, presumably defensive runes.
Putting her hand right in front of the first rune, Conscience pushed out her magic, attempting to override the runes with magic. The runes pushed the magic away at first, but as she continued to push, the runes started to flicker, before the rune flickered out, and her magic went beyond the formerly magical runes. The purple magic slithered across the spines, but were quickly pulled magic by Conscience, who pulled out the first leather-bound book on the shelf. Turning around, she headed towards a dust-covered chair, seemingly made of animal fur, her dress so ruined already she no longer cared about getting it any dustier. Sitting down, she propped her feet up on a desk in front of the chair, the desk covered in dust, but where paper and quills would’ve been were nothing.
Conscience twisted the book in her hands, and immediately noticed the sigil on the front cover, a coat of arms containing a raven, a coin, and a black sword.
Ḷ̵̛̎̑̀̅͆̽̉̄͌́̕͜͝ȋ̴̧͉̘̖͐̇́͂̒ṯ̷̢̹̘̪͖̩̜̰̝̭̠̅͌̄̍̇̆͐̐̈́́̕̕͝ṭ̷̼̞̳̩̺̩͌̂̎̅̾͛͑̐̑͘͝ĺ̴̨͎̜̜̬e̴͉̤̼̠͈̎ͅ ̷͉̳͕͍̪̣͎͗̒̑̒̎̏́͝g̴̛̩͙̲̟͇̪͔͌̀͋̐̈́̂̄̚i̷͍̓͗̀̈r̷̹͚̣̠̱̃͋͒̓̈́͝l̵͖̤̦̟̱̬̗̟͓͎̗̎͆̀͑́͂̇̋́̋͒͆,̴̜̲̜̦̻̠̅̓̒́͌͂̓̎͐̓̇̓̕͜͝ͅ ̵̙̳̺̟͆̑̆͋́́͒̀̓́͐̇̀͜͠ī̶̧̭̠͉̩̤̈́͋̔̍f̷̧̻͍̻͖̹̩͉̄̚͜ ̶̟͓̰̭̫̭̺̯̈́̃̊͊̈́̄̍͌̐͜͝y̷̡̛͓̞̩̭̹͗̑͂̈́͗̈̿̈͠ò̵̖̪̼̭̮̲̘̫̾̓̓͒̾̽̅͐̆̽̊̓̕͜͠ư̵̼̩̫̲̿͊̇̀́̚͝ ̷̲̳̺͐͗́w̶̨̡̞̺̞̪̯̞̥̻͇͇̮̔̒a̵̻͎̪͌̈̚͜n̷͙̲̬̬̟̞̲̺̟͉͓̮̥̐͆̈̈͘ţ̵̧̬̭̟͕̙̼̰͙̲͙̹̏̓͒̈̓̊̈́̂͐̈̈́̊͝ ̸̺̙̲̼̯̯͍̱̱̈̀͒̓̎͊å̵̫͎͕̋͋́ṇ̷̙̠̣͕͙̹͉̆͛̽̑͋̃͗̑̌̈́̚͘͝s̸̪̥͆̆͗̆̅́͂̏̏̍ẇ̶̡̙͉͚͖͔̺̯͖̪̗́͊̂̅̓͊͛̈́̂̊͐̚͠͝ȩ̴̡͕̗̠̟̭͉̹̪̐̅̎͗ŗ̴̖͇͇̱̘̳̌͑͌̆͝ṣ̸̙̲͇̩̤̰̍́̐͆̎̓̑̃̋̄̊̚͠,̵̧̛̻͍̩̗̪͕̱̟̯͈̪̝̫͍͒͋̊͊̆̈́͒̀̐͌̚͠͝ ̸̫̰͉̌͆̓͘t̷̢̧̗̮͖̫̘̣̯͑̽̉͂͊̓͆̍͌͋͜͝h̷͉̘͎̲̀̇̈́͂́̓̂̓̌͠ị̴̡̱̲̲̖̭͚͖̲͍̹͇̻̿̔s̸̨̧̩̥̩̠̻͖̱̠̹̗͒̉̀̾͛͋ ̸̨̨͎̩̦̈́̀̈̊͌i̷̝͚̘̹̦̳̰̻̥͊s̶̨̢͉͉̲̮͖̻̣͌̌̑͗͌̒̒̄̚ ̶̡̙̬̣̳̹̜̮̘͈̝͇̟͓̭͊̇͗̎̿̈́͝n̸̨̢̧̧͉̬̙̰͎͕̳̱̰͔̒̐̃́̕͘ơ̶̘̞̇̀̽́͊̌͋̈̑͐̕ͅt̴̢̛̪̺͎̜͓͌̾̾̀͝ ̴̧̛̲̲͉̺̟̫̼͊̇̄̓̈͠ͅť̶̨̟͙̤̆̑̾̇̽̊́͜ͅh̷̨̧̢̫̼̬̬͇̞̱̥̗̲̔̏̆͒̊̽͛̎̑̕̚̚̚͜͝ę̶̳͆̓̊̂͂̓͑́̾̎͑̄ ̵̬̩̙͉̯̺͎͈̝̮̦͑̆͒͊͒͘͠ͅw̷̧̳̳͇̗͗ͅȁ̵̦͓̬͙̪͔̥̆͐͌̓̾̄͌͠ͅy̵̧͖̗̠̣̜̝̳͚̋͆͌͌̓̓͊̍̃̇͑.̴̧̘̘̺͖͓̓̌͛́́̆̈́̀̀̿̈́͝͝ a strange voice said, speaking in a language she could somehow understand. The voice was familiar, but not at the same time. All she could remember were warnings issued in this voice, warnings that warned of something she had forgotten.
Why not?
T̸̨̨͉̰͓̼̮̮͍͕̊̈́̃̂̄́̃͋͒͜h̷̼̼͉̟̼̫̻͊͌̊̄́̒ị̶͔̣̦͓͖͔̗͇̣̯͔̎͑͆̉̈́̋͘s̵̡̨̗̳͓̙͕̼̱͈͓̣̟̰͆͋́̅̇̕͝͝ͅ ̷̧̼͕̠̞̺̠̳͍͍̔́̄͑̉̎̅̂̎̽͆͘͘̚͜͝i̸̛̼̺̳̭̬̗̮͎̎̽̓̐̅̍̿̆̃͊̊̑͘͘s̶̨̛̹̥̻̗͓̤͖̰͚̺̋̑̇͂̒͋̆͆̋͌͘͠ ̶̡̦̼̓̏̅̾̄̒̈́̓̿̈́̿̕͝n̷̢̜̭͍̑͂̿͋̃͑͆̆̑̈̚ǫ̷̟͕̦̤̫͓͊̐̉̐̒̾̎̎̚͝t̷͍̜͖̯͈͈̹͓̬̭͈̬̘̥̼̑̀̈́̂͝ ̵͔̜͛͛̾̽̈́́̀̎́͋̔̃̈̀̂ͅt̷̢̡̡͖̞͉̟̲͉̭͗̀̈́̃̂̽͝h̸̦̜̑̈̅͋̉͆͂͂̓̒͛͠͝ë̶͈̙͉̙͇̫́̈́̒̿͌̉͠͠͝ ̴̞͇̥̫̝̫́̍̈̊w̶͍̌͗̉͋̅́̍̐̄͆̀̆̕̕͝ą̶̨̡̞̦̞̯͈̩̩̝̅̄ͅy̷̛͈̘͖̣̰̹̎̓̒͑̿͐̀.̴̛̮̬̣̮͐̒̋̽̒̈́̀̔̕ͅ
Part 9: Warnings (cont)
I don’t understand.
O̷̧̢̢̢͉̻͚̠̳̱̻͖̼͑̉͐͋̂̈́͝f̵̼͙̼̍̀͐̈́̈́͋ ̷̘̠͕̆̑̈́̀͝c̶̃̎͗͘͝ͅo̸̫͚̖͉̞̰̩̱̫͑̂͌͆̓̈́͛̌͒̎̚͠ü̶̫͎̦̙̯͓͚̝̙̺͉̝̓͜r̶̡̨̘̖͍͕̲͎̥͕̱̬͙̃̆̓͐̃̿̽s̷͍̈́̒̇̕͝e̶̢͉͇͉̜̥̼͍͒͐̈́͛͌̍͊͘ ̵̧̲̙̯̮̓̆͊y̵̖͖̦̬̩̓̑̒̂̅̊̑̄̾͋̒͂̒͝o̸̧̟̗̪͎̼̪̺̘̙̱̖͔͓̿̈̕ų̴̛̩̹̱̱̳̝͇̰̜͕̎͊̾̏̌̅͛̿́͑͐͆̚̕ ̷͙̓̈́͂̉̍̈́̂͘d̵̡̧͔̭͕̮̤͎͉̲͉̰͎́̍̄͜ͅo̶̗͈̥̣̤͉̜̪̝̙̘̫͆͆͠n̵̡̲͈̻͛̍̋̑̈̏͂̒͘͘͠'̴̛͖͍̬̤̣͔͌͆̾̓̿͜͝ẗ̶̗̲̫̖̯̗̝͉̤̍͆̄͋̈́͒̓̇̍̅̚͝.̷̟͎̞̠̫̲͇̞̓̐ ̷̨͉̝̖̩̱̗̜̼̿́̈́̽̈́́́̔̋̄̉̀I̷̡̳̰̱̫̮̗̜̖̝̠͒͗̓̈́̓̔́̃̌̽f̴̫͖̤͖̘͛͠ ̷͓̤̳͕̩̉̃̐͂͒̽̊͜͜ỵ̸̨̡̥̻̱̾̒̆̾̌͑͗̾͑̓͗́̌̆͝ȍ̵̺̫̺͉̅̄͝ú̸̧͖̗̜͓̘̭͖͔̠̰̺͆̓̀̐̍̃̿͜ ̷̗̥̤̥̮̙͙͕̠̹̣͚͚̗̮̇͂̔͂́̍̍̚͝ẅ̵̢̢͚̱̘̥̭́̎̔͘̚à̶̢̖̜͇͍̖͓͖́̒̓̀̽̾̋͘ń̵̡̢̲̻͇̖ț̸̢̢̮̜̯̮̘̩̝̤̌̎̌͌̓ ̶̧̏̋̀̇̀̏̈̄́̉̽̇͐̈́a̸̡̯͚̼̅͋͂͊́̏̂̌n̵̝̩͈̏̓̐̅̂̄͆̎̊̍͒͌́̚͝s̵̛̘̭͇̳̻̫̥̠̝͖͒̉͂́̏͂͑͑̅̈́͝w̵͕͚̮̲̦͈̱̽͒̈́̾͌͋̎͊͝͝ě̵̛͕̮͓̮͈̭̝̯͎͍̹̏̅̈́̎̋͜ŕ̶̨̬͍̰͔̪̜͑̿̈́̇͋̍̽́̍͘s̸̖̫̱͎̅̇̄̓,̸̡̻͓͕̙̻̪̮̣̯̥̠͍̙̐̄̈́̕ͅ ̴̡̮̟̜̫̬̗͊̏͂́Į̶̠̓̅͗̂ ̵̡̛͛͗͒̋͒̀͗͑̕͝w̷̡͎͖͎̳̮̘̪̖̩̮̏̄́̋ͅi̵̧̡̪̗͇̥̗̫͖̺̺̱̎̐̀l̸̨̩̟̟̀̄͐̅̈́̉̀̃͗͊͆͠l̵̡͙̙̗͉̼͕͇̗̱̫̺͚͖̃̽͑̇̀ ̷̢̮̳͙͒ͅg̵̹̅͋̅̋̈́̇͗̋͛ï̵̯̬̥̘̯̽̍̀́́̏̇̉̊̎̚ͅv̸̧͇̝̭̝̀̈́͆̎e̷̢̹̠̥̭͕̱̖͈͚͔̫̲̲͋̌̉̊̒͘ͅ ̸̡̱͉̖̟̦̖̻͈͎͙̈̀̅̍͗̔͜͜t̶͇͙̝̗͂͑̓́͋h̷̢̢̩̖̝͈͎̲͐͊̅͜͝͝ê̸̱̯̟̺͉̞m̵͇̗̠͖̭͔͚̤̈́̃͂̄́̌̈́ ̵̨̞͓͚̘̈́̋̔̆̎̎̐̿̑̕̚͠ͅt̷̨̥͉̘̲̜̝̲̘͍̝̱̋͗̈̐ŏ̴̡̱͓͉̬͈̮̥̗̮̞̘̮̈̄̈́̉̐͊̈́̄̃͘ͅ ̵̛̼͌̀̀̉́͂̆͑̌̑̾̑y̴̛̛̛͚̗͈̝̥̞̪͎͇̑̐̆͗̈̂͜ǫ̵͈̰͛͛̅́̈́̀̋̈́̏̓̚͠u̴̡̙͍̹͓͇͙̜̫͉̫͆̈́͜,̶̝͑̈́̋͐͋̀̽̂͜͝ ̵̱̥̤͓̹͍̈̉͂̃͘ù̶͇̮̣̟̻͇̤͎͇̂͠p̵̹̈̀ő̵̱̪͗̾̎͆͑͊́̕n̸̨͖͍̤̠͒̽̓͂̾͛͘͜ ̴̲̝̯͈͓͚̹̮̟̩̭̱̈́͒̌ą̶̡̞̺̹͔̠͓̜̻͎̻̄̅ ̶̙̤̞̩̖̠̣̐̔̄̈͑͆͂͐̄͂f̸̫̟͙͉͖̜͑̀̅̌͆͆̀̍͜ḙ̶͖̪͔̺̣̯̣̥̞̭͔͈̲͗͂͊̾̕̚͠w̵̨̢̥͉̝͉͚̝͖̠̠͉̋͆͂́̌̌ͅ ̷̡̜̙͓̦̫̣̫̽̾̃̔̑͑́͆̈̈́̽̈̅̉̕c̵̣͉̭̹̳̠̥̬̯̞͚͊̃́̄̇o̷̧̡̤̙͉̠̣̗͓͈̘͉̓̇̿̾́̀͒̑̓́͂̊͗͌͜͠n̵̞͉̼̣̙̪̺̭̋̀͆̅̓̏̚͝ḋ̸͉́̎̎̎̈́̈̇͑͐̌̔͑̀̚i̷̛̘̟̹̝̥̳̠̻̇̃̏̎̈̿̊̾̏̈́̅͋ͅt̸̯̠̰̦̰̦̂͑̉̄̃͛͌̈̔̆̕͝͝ì̴͖̈́͐́̔͗͋̒̂͋̄̎͘͝o̶͓͙͖̝͘n̶͉̩̓́̈́̒͝ş̶̭̣̦̯̆͊̊̊̀̄̏̈́̚͜͝͠.̶̘̰̖̺̼̪̰̗̝̟͕͈̟̳̐
You are from the Abyss, no? I was taught to never listen to the deals your kind offers.
I̸̙̤̯̜͎̦͚̩̔̈͋͗̍ ̷̛͚͗̏̄̌̎̕͠͠m̶̯̪͆̀̂̒͗͗̈́̈́̏̃̚a̷̡̧̨̢̨̭̖̹͈̼̭̘̱̞͌̒̓̏̈̓̀̃̊ŷ̸̢̱̞̩̼͖̕ ̶͉͓̮͔̆̄͒̒͐̉͐͂̔̑̀̈́͝b̵̲̳͈̩͆͊̀̐̐̎̋̅͆̇̋̈́͝ȩ̸̧̼̭̩̮̞̙̖̠̃̍̇̆̃̑ ̸͕͖̘̞͖̙̉̎̍̓̈́̍̈́̈̀̈͊͝f̶̧̡̡̗̞̫̯̟͍̩̙͙͐̽͛́̿͒̇̆̔̓̓ͅr̴̼̗͈̮̥͔̼͊͑̿̊̎̔́͊͠ò̵̮̩͈̖̖̠͋͜ṁ̸̦͉͙̦̲̬͔̠̯̞͓̻͎̰̽ ̴̟̞̣̰̦̮͈̻̃͂̏̀̄͂̌͂̒̓̐̚͘͘t̶̙̤̼͎̪̜̰͓̂̂̏̑͆ḩ̸̛̼̰̰͈̼̹͋̈́̿̊̇͜ͅę̶̪̪͈̰̯̙͕̭̲̰̟̑̃̽̊͘ͅ ̷̡͕̯̼̬̼͍̯̖̗̬̄́ͅA̵̦͖̼̋̌̊̿́̇͘b̸̨̹̅̿̑̌̃͂͊̿͆͠y̸͚̟̩̩͎͈̳̞̯̜̬̅̄̊͊͑̈́̃͌̿͑͘̕̕̕͝s̵̜͈͊̉͗͑͂͋̽̍͋͌́s̴̥͕͙̥̬̥̠̑̽͗̇̐̽̈̃̈́͝,̸͎̝̺̠̱͓͍̗̟̼̟͂̋ ̵̙̝͕̜̻̐b̷̢̢̡͈̰̪̪̽͐̓͆͑̃́͑̋̿͒̚͘͝ū̷͕̼̀̂͛͌̂̀͂̿́͗͗͑̊͜t̷͚͚̱̻̣͙̘͐̀̕͜͜ͅ ̸̡̨̦̲̮̖͇͖̭̍̆̄͒̂̿̇͒̈́͗͜Ḭ̸̮̬͚̰̜̗̣̯͆͒̑͊̉̔̇̿͜͠ͅ ̷̡̡̛̹͍̤̗̞̲̞̺̺̝̾̀̐̎̾͗̓̒k̷̟͓̲̪͖̯͎͚̬̈́̄̈̎̋́̀͆̈͆̀n̶͉̫̫̭͓͚̹̱̬̗͋́̆͊̔ͅơ̸̗̬̘̰̩̩̤͋̀̀̓͋́͗̅̈͐̚ẅ̷͖͈̙̻͕̥̦͈͎́̽͊ ̸̡̛̤̮̦̱̮̲̣̝̯̼̣̲͛̅̅̊̑̏́̒́̓̈̂͘ͅẇ̶̩͈̜͕̖͇̈́̈̌̉́̐̅̌͘͝ͅh̶̢͕͖̥̩̥̯͎̲̖̩͍̗͔̓̅̑̅̈́͑̄͗̉̐́͌͒͠ā̵͙̤̗̗̞̻̬̹̦͖̖͖̹͎̰̓̏͆͐̆͛̉t̵̗̫͎̩͎̰̪̰͆̐̽͗̾̇̀͆͛̉͠ ̶͈̌̑͊̀́͑̋̍̀͒̏̚y̶̨̡̖̜̞̪͌̒̾̊͒͋̇͛͛͐́̚̚͝ơ̷̧̘͍̟̰͒́̇͗̐͗̀̎̐̍u̷̡̖̖̾̌͛̿̾̉̊̅̍̀̎͌́͠ ̷̧̛̭͍͕̘͚̬̪̘̣͙̑͑̀̊̍͆͊̑n̴̠̖͙̣̝͔͊̍́͗͂͠ę̵̗̠͔̼̻͛̿̔̒̏̓͝é̸̬̮͇̻͔̟̬̬̰̏͛ͅḏ̴̨̘͎̤̼͔͙̬̂̇̿͜ ̴̢̘̫̰̪̱̪͔͈̌̑͒͜t̸̜̪̥̭̺̮̖̤̗͕̟̼̅̒̆ǒ̵̗͓͊͛͋͛ ̵͍̬̲̤̭͕̆̆̓͑̉͌̇̍̈́͆̓̈̄̚̕k̵̞̹͔̳̖̪͚̅͛͌͐̓̿́̕̚n̵͖͖͍͔̭̈̏̏͑͠o̵̱͂̎͒͗w̴̢̘̼̆̅̄̈́͗.̷̡̛̩̭̠̼̺̖̮̘̙̳̝͛̈͂́̎̑̐̏̀́̅̚͘̕ ̶̢̼͉̱̺̬̩̹͉̘̭͇̮͖͔̑̓̾̎̈́͐͌̿̕͘T̴̳̙̬͍̘͉̙̠̠̪̂̃̓̿͋͛̽͊h̵̗͕̆̅̏̀͌̈́̓͋̌͊͂̍͆̾͝ę̴̨̢̢̝̘̥͚̄͐̈́̈́̐̿͑͛s̸̝͓̘͔̤̮̺͙̦̍͑̋͠ê̷̊̾̏̔͌̌̑̌́ͅ ̸̨̢̡̻̟͈͚̲͎̖̳̗͚̐̉̿͂̇̔͑̈́̀̇̂͠͝ͅw̴͉̄r̵̰̰̤̓́̋͝͝ȉ̷̹̲̜͎̟̀́̉̾̃͐́̃͝͝͠͝ť̸̝̪͕̬͕̦̬͍̞̲̩̪̹́̄͊̌̓̉̚ͅí̶̜̐̀̔n̵̫̰͖͕͎̣̅͂̎͌̆̄͊͘͜͠ͅg̶̢̯̗̯͒͂̂̓͝s̷̢̖͚͙͍̟̥͉̻̗̈̐̆́̏̅͜͠͝͠ ̸̡̮͇̠̪͔̤͇̰̦̃̌̄͜͜͜w̴̡̛̘̜͔̘̘̠̺̌͋̉̓̈́͝͝ͅi̶̪̾̔̈͂̊l̶̨̛͙̣̥̣̜̺̹̭̖̤̙̥̻̔̎̓͋̇̀͒̊̋͒͠͝͝ĺ̴̡̝͈͎̺̘̣̝̣̖́̅͒̒͂̓̾͝ ̸̘̱̭̿̆́̈͒̉́͐̈̓̕͝͠ơ̷̧̨̰͚̦̟̋͒̿͜n̸̪̗̪͕̱̲̑̊͠l̷͖̙͍̠̱̻̗̙͙̭̥̜͑͌́͗̽̕̕ÿ̴̝̘̰̭͇̙ ̴̢̫̦̲̲̣̹͖͉̻̩̱̏͜d̸̨̧͙̠̰̹̹͕̰́̇̾͒̇̇̾̈̈́͌̓r̵̠̞̲͗̽̾̀͝i̸̥̭͛̓v̵̝͓͑̆̾̎͊͑̌͒̈́̎͠ẻ̷̯͚͓̦̙̣͚̥̪̻̣͓͇̥̃̓̀̈́̐́̂ ̴̺̭̫͍͓͍̤̣̙̩̂̿̋̅͐͑͊̀̒͌͂͆̿̃y̵̯̻̼̫̩̠̳̾̽̃̎̍̓͋͗̾̍ô̷̲̘̖͇̼̰͍̺͜ͅū̸̙͚̩̟̩̾̏͂͗̾̈́̃̓̍̉̓͛ͅ ̸̤̜͓̇̀̈̍d̸̟͙͎̰̦̦̰̩͎͌̔͛̑͂̈͆̆̀ơ̸̺̻̆̄̔̊͂̿͊͊̋̿̈́͘͝w̴̢͕̻̦͚̘̤̰͓͍͊͊̎̽̓͂͊̍́̓ͅͅn̸͓̬̳͇̹͈̥̈́̿̒͠ ̷̤͖̬̰̣̯̙̗̅̄̔̔̈́̏a̴̡͔̙̣̋̍̀͊̀̉̈́̇̑̊̚ ̴̝̐̑͒͑̐̌͗̚͠ḫ̵͒̾̇̋̋̃̿̂͒̔͌͐͝ȍ̵̙̑̊̍ͅļ̷͓̻̳͍͉̫̟͈̯̺͚̍̾̈́̑͐̌̄̓ͅͅe̷̲̦̲̬̎̉͋͆̓̿́͐̇̎̚͜͜ ̷̧͍̱͉̻͕̮̍͛̔͐́̚͘o̸̢̲̟̠̪̞͍̠̎͋̊̈̓͐̌͛̈f̴̹̋̈́̅̍̀ ̸̨̙̲̤̤̲͕̠͙̦͚͗͂͊̇͘̕͝n̸̞̹̭̙̖̤̪̝͒̓̀̋̃̽̐̂̈́̚̕̕ǫ̴̧̢̼̘̫̏̊̓̂̑̕͘ ̸͔͎̲̃͋̽̈͝r̷͍̻͙̙͓̓͆̓̈́̏̀͛͗͘̚͝ͅe̸̤̩̠͓̳͋̎̈͌̾̓t̶̲͇̹̪̻̟͈͇̮͈͉͒̄̑͒̀̀̓͒́͜ǔ̵͔̥̫̝̄̉̋̐̐̾̄́͘r̴̰̮͚͎̲̭̜̟̜̦͎̄͆͂̾̑͝ͅṅ̶̡̰̯͙̹̙̬͖͉̼̹̤̦̱̋̓͌̇͒͌͋̓͝
How do you know that?
I̵̟̫̬̩̠͉͈̜͎͚̪̙̖̲͙̿͌́̇̉̓͛̀̈́́̐͋̑̕͠ ̸̮͓̫͕̦͍̺͙̮̘̍̑̀̏͑͂̃͠k̶͚̳͘ņ̶̥̰̳̪̓̄͛̋̈͘̕͠ơ̸̹͚̪̞͈̞̼̲͂̃̚ͅẘ̴̝̜̼̟̼͍͎̳̰͔̪͇̪̉̂͑̋͋̍͊͐̕͠ͅ ̵̧̰̲̺̖̻͚̎͌͒̄̏͌̓̈̈́̈̉̾͝ͅỹ̶̘̘͇͙͎̱̞̻͓̩̤͍̈́̉̊̀͒͆̿̈̽̋ö̸̡̨̦̫̟͖̬̦̲̺̱̤̳́̌̓̈́̈̚ư̷̖̍͆̓̆͒̑̑͛̚.̸̧̫̻͚̥̯̳̞̻͎͓̯̌̀̍̌͛ ̴̣̅̋̍̍̀̾̉͆͝͠͝Ȉ̴̢̜̯̼͕̩͓̦̠̉̑ ̵̡̹̪̖̰̯̱̘̋̿̔͒̇̈́́͘͜k̷̻̥̯͖̫̯̹̣̘͚͍͆̉̊͛̚̚͝͠ǹ̴̬̫̝̫̦͙̻̺̓͋̆́̉̒̈́o̶̙̰̼̭̠͓͆̈́̀̋͑͋͛̂̍̓̇w̴͇̹͙͋́̾̋͆͐̌́͂̐̌ ̸̢̧͚̫̠̟̺̻͔͚̠̦̅̉̈́͆̃̈́̽̍͋̑͗͆̋̚ţ̷̢̨̨̫̳͍̚ḥ̵̰̾̍̽̓͌ë̴̮́̊̂̂̄s̷͎̱̼̈́̊̑̀ȩ̶̝̭̥͎̬̳̘̦̥̋̒͜ͅ.̶̧͎̩̣͔͑̂̌͊͜ ̸͈̤̣͇̈́͒͂̉̈́͆́̍͋̿̉͑͛̽͠I̸̧̻̖̞̮̹̜̠͖̲̹͐̐̆̍̊̔̾̌̐͆̄͑͐̂ ̵͉͙̰͔̞̆͂̋̈́̆̊͋͑̑ͅk̵͉͉̙̺̯̦̯̭̟͔͙̖̯̐̽͘n̶͕̞̜̠͇͈̰̄͛̽̚͘͜͝ǫ̷̡̧̱̱͇̣̖̱̻̟̯͌̾w̴̡̧̛̠̩̙̺̜̙͕̠̉́̉͌̄͐̊̊̕ͅ ̴̧̬̙̳̥̝͉̜̹̜͌̃͠w̷̖̆͐́͐̌̎̈́̊̀͒̌͒̈͝h̴̡͈̹̙̮̺͉̮̼͍̳̪̪́̉̾̀̊̌̈̉͠ả̶͚̖̩͓̦ͅt̸̜̰̽̀̀́̿̌̓͑͊̉̈́͌͑͆̾ ̵̮̳̜̥̈́y̴̨̨̱̦͉̙̦̗̜͚̦̽͊̈̀̍̃͝ǫ̴̤̞͕̜̂́̕ũ̶̡̩̗̹̲̦̤͍̦̯̜͉͚͍͌̀̊̆͆̾̉̒̌̔̽̐̕͠ͅ ̷̣͌̐͘ǹ̸̡̯̻̘͙͉͓͎̹̅́̀̑̽̆e̶̢̨̯̥̣̗̙̟̬͊̑́̃͋̄̽͆̀̆̑̆͊̚͝ę̷̨̡̧̛͖̫̱͚͖̞̤̝͍͗̋̉͌͑͛͐̊̄̀̚d̸͖̤̰̹̿̅̉ͅ ̷̭̺̖̜̠̹̙̯̩̭̰̞̦̺̦̆̅̍̚̕t̷̤͙̪̋̌̈̄͐̿̏͘͝ơ̴̞̳̤͝ ̴̩̉̓k̴̛͎͉̣̺̪̳̰͒̑͋̌̓̅͐͊͌͆̅̓n̷̡̲̪̗͚̗̲͍̦̝͍͎̗͗̋̎͛̉̑́̈́̒͐͜͠ô̴̢̰͙̜̝̬͎̮̣̪̻͓̆̋̎̈́͋͂̐̊͗͝ͅͅw̶̩̰͇̗̱͕̟̭͓̮͚͖̠͑̋͛̈̑̚͘͝,̶̛̖̞̮̻͓̱̓̎̇̽̉̑̓̄̓̊̔̉̀ ̸̩̙͍̩̗̯͍̖͕̫̿̇͆̃͂̑͠͝a̸̡͔̠̬̯̺̙̳̥̞͓̖̰̭̘̿̈̀́̈̎͘͘n̷̜̲̄͊͛ͅd̷̼͑̽̈́͗̇̌͗̑̕ͅ ̶̡̨̱͙͓͇̰̫̬͎̝͎͋͜ẗ̶̛̥̦̣̃͒̒̀̔̎̄̇̅ḩ̴̛͎̬̱͕͖̯̬͚̦̝̂̽̏̚͜͠e̷̛̗̲̣͛̈͊̎̄͂̽̋͆͊̔͘s̸͕͍͕͕̰͕̈̓̏́̓̅̀͠e̵̡̠̦͚̥̹̗̤̒͒̃͆̀͜͜ ̵̢͕͍͓̪͖̞̰͕̭̼͕͖͊a̴̛̛̙̬͋̓̾̂̐̆̓̆r̶̢̺͎͖̟̰͙̳̼̄̂̂e̶̢̛͐̃͆͆̐͒ ̵̢̙͔̲̱̯̻̺́̄̕ǹ̸̦̀͆͊̀͌̇̿̒͊͗̀ó̴̤̣̠͚̘͚͖̙̹͔͌̓̏̅̀ţ̶̢̨͉̘̺̫̤͓̞͎͇͗̔͜ ̵̧̧̳̭̠̣̘̟̯̹͍̥͚̈́̄̃̇̒̿̽̅͒̈́͛̎͠͝ͅi̵̻̞͉͈͌̅͒̆̓̏̒̓͘̚͝ṯ̸͉͔͚̻̈́̅̉͐.̶̨̨̛̜̟̼̪̟̦͎͌͐͌̓̅͆͒͂̀́̐
Part 9: Warnings (cont)
Get out of my head, demon.
I̸̧̱̱̘̭͖͈͈̦̭̪͇͖̓̑̎̍͊͌̽̎̈́̚̕͝͝͝f̸̨̖̦̃̊̃̉͊́̚͝͠͝ ̶̺̤̠̮̬̝͔̿̀͋̇͒͝ţ̷̡̡͈̞̹͋́̿̌̐̌̃̇́͑̃̄͝͝͠h̷̢̡̹͕͉̥̮͙̖̣̥̤͓̦͇͆̿̑̉͗̿͐̈͗̃̈́a̷̛̺̺͎͓̖̘̹̜̗̔̐̓̍̋̽̔̈́̚͜ͅt̸̢͓̗̜͈͉͉͍̤̮̦̰̯̉̐̈́͊ͅ ̷̮̘͖͈͠i̴̢̺͖̻͙͎͉̼̘͓̍ŝ̸̡̢̯̥̗̬̔́̆͋̈́̚̕͝ ̶̢͎̪͉̜̹͍̩̮̰̖̒͊̾̐̃͒͑̌̿̈́̏̕͜͠͠w̶̨̞̘̮̭͕̣̮̥̍͌̇̿́̀̋̚̚̚h̸̜͐̈́̉̏̾̈́̐́̒̕͘͝ą̶̠̠̹͍̠̣̮̯̱̹͕̫̟̀ͅt̷͕̱̰̤͈̘̫̺͋̓̏̕̕ ̵̝͓̭̦̺̬̲͔͍̟̣̯͇̓̊̈́̋̌͊̐͂̑́͜͝y̶͖̳̼͕̲͉̙̜̥̰̹̳͎̔̒̒̊͝ō̴̧̰̖̺̟̮̟͜͜ù̶̢̡̠̖̪͈͈̞̩̫͖̠͋̿ ̵̨͙͓̠̦̲̟̮̮̺̈́͆̍͘͝w̶̡̧̛̘̜̞̼̅̾̊͂̀ͅĭ̷̧̜͕͔̗͙̣̤̭͔͈̞̭̎͐̃̏͑́̉̑̅͆̚͜s̷̨̼͍̠̙̝̳̮̗̘̮͚̑̌h̴̢̨̰͈͓̯̠͇̝͖̄ͅͅ.̶͎̖͔̘̪͔̺̼͖̹̟̒̉̌͐͘ ̷̱̯͕̻͓̺̙͕̎͒̊̉̂̉̎͘̚͝Ḩ̶̢̞̱͍̯̳̯͍̏̅̿̕̕ͅö̷̹͇̘̹́̑͌̀͗̾̊̈͋͜͠͝ŵ̵̨͔͛͆ͅe̶͖͙̭̝͍̖͎̩͙͓̦̪̲͛̎͌̆͋͌͑͆̚ͅv̴̧̨̟͖̲̜̜̺̟͚͇͋̎̀̚e̷̢̦̬͇͇̱̓̍̏̐͛̈̓̌̐͌͑̉͌̄͘ŗ̷̙͎̯̖̩̼̫́͋̒̇̏͂̅̂̄̌̅̑̔͜͠͠,̸̧͍̗͈̲̙̻͉̘̼̹͇͖̣̀̿̔̍̆̎ ̴̨̣̗̖̪̒̈̍̋͗̋̏͐̇à̸̯̼ ̶̧̥̥̭̻̖̬̟̹̪͇͓̙̱̏̈́̄̅͝f̷̤̝̪̼̲̉i̵̢̫̒̈́͛͗̑͆̃́̉̈́̎̔̂̎͠ͅń̶̢̨̖̞͓̣̞̯̩̮̅̈́̓͆͐̚̚͜á̵̝̹̞̠͈̬̞̝̮͉̝͍͈̲͋́́̃͂͂͝ͅl̵̡̛͔͚̤͓̖̽̇̌̊͋͛̍̌̐̆̔̚͜ͅ ̴̢̧̨̮̫̰̲͕̔̽̄͌̈́́̊̈́̑̅́͝w̴̡̛̻̠̞̝͕̗͍͈̑̽͋̾̊̑̓̔̔́͘a̸̢͙̪͌̽͋̋̊̈͜͝r̴̛̯̬̹̺̗̼̭̬̞͉̐ͅṉ̴̝͎̏̿̃͋͑̋͋̄̇͝͠ḯ̷̲̮̋͛̓̐̀͊͒̈̃̆̕n̷̙̯̿̈́̋͝ͅg̶̛̞̬͎̹͙͔͉̺̬̽̾͛̈́̋̈́̈́̅́̾̒̆͘͘.̷̟̤̖͉̰̥͚̅̑̅̽̀͐̍ ̶̝͖͇͈̥̩̪͈̥̬̙͎̐̓̈́͑̆T̴̡̮̤͎̬͍̪͍̮̜̜̩͗́̂̄̓͌̊̾͌̈̈́́̕h̸̨̛̛̛͚̝͈̪̥͌͂̓͆̇͒̚ȩ̶̧̡̡̢̛͙̪̙̱̣̭̻͖͕͔̀̕s̶̞̖̲̣͛̂̿̆̈́̊̾̉̀̔͝͠e̶̡̨̢̝̗̰̟̩̰̓̿̓͒ͅ ̴̨̡͚͍̱̮̪̰̯͉̤̟̱̏̆͒̍̓̾̋̽͗̔̂͐̉͠d̸͎̙̠̼͔̰͖̞̺̗̼͎͔̝̅̎̐͑̽̊̃̐́̔ǫ̷̢̖̗͕̲̩̞̝͐̚ ̵̥̫̞̑̔̇̌ņ̶͙͉̜̗̋̑ơ̷̰̘̥͉͚̼͎̋̓͐̎̐̚t̷̺̒̑ ̵̛̖̳̤̄̍͒̈́͐̏̏̐̈͋̈č̸̨̢̛͚̖͙͙̭̱͚͍̪̟͓́͌̊͗̈͝ǫ̵̪̲͖͈͉͓͚̫̘͔̈́͘͠n̴̨̩̫̺̺̩̖͚͌̔͆͌̽͑͐̂̿̀ͅt̷͎̻̼̪͔̗̱͊à̵̞͗͐̍̔͐̆͘̕ỉ̶̢̝͓͔͖́͆̇́̓͐̄̾́͘͜͝n̴̞̑̈͊͊̈́͑̾͂̇̇́̈́ ̸̪͈̭͎̞͕̼͖̦͓͊̿̀t̸͕͕̖͚̫̥̥̰̗̬̐͆̔̀̐̒̏̽̓̄̾̓͜͝h̴̡̯͉̮͍́̃͋̿̈ẹ̴̱̗͓͐́͋͗́̓̿͌̈̓͝͝ ̷̡̨̛̱͓̫̖̙͍̱̘̦̼͚̮̆̏̒â̸̰̝̜͍̙̲̅̏͋̌̿͠n̵̪̻̙͐̄̀̀͂̽̾̌̾͒́̈́̚̚͝ş̶̝̟͈̙̰̩̝͖̖̜̆̒͐͂̓͆̽̓ẃ̶̨̛̟͉̪̥͖̹̿̐̒̂̓̊ͅͅe̷̩̫͚̺͒͆́͑̽̏̅̆͂̄̏̈̋̈́͒ŗ̷̹̣̥̬̊̓̅̓͑̅̄̈́̄̈́͑́̀͜s̷̡̻̹̗͇͈̺̮̲̥̳̬͚̱͊̍͛̋ ̵̙͎͇̘͇̣̖̬̦̙̝̹̲̑͒́͒͊͌̋͑̆y̵̢̠̮̝̹͑̋͊͛̀̇̐͘ͅo̸̫̪̔̎̅̈́͋͌͐ų̸̰̜̙͓̻͕̤̝̝̫̓ ̷̧̙͔̬̰̜͚͊͊̒̓͆̉̇̃̑̓̄̇͠͝n̷̢̗̣̪̙̙̦̥̋͑̉̔̓̀̒̚͘e̸̡̫̰̙͕̱̟̝͔̬͒̕ȩ̷̩̟̬̟̣̈́̒͊͐̆̀͆̏̄̐̋̑͠d̷̨͈̝̣͚̠̼͖̞̣͕̎.̴̢̨̜͔͉͔̩̘͉̌͐̈́͑̉̍ ̷͍̰̈́́̈́͊̑͜T̸̛̫̖̩̺͇̖̋̄͂̀̎̄̕͝ͅh̸͕̫̖̜̯͕̥͇̤̞͙͇̼̬̐ẽ̵̡̗̩͖͔̬̹̞̫̳͖̼̋̀̑ȑ̸̟̙̬̰͕̰͎̥̗͖̪́͌́̀̏ę̵̩̬͇͚̘̭̟̟̫͖͎̪̟̬̌ ̵̫̖͉̗͎̠̑́̀̀̋̆̚a̵̬̩̝͍͍̼̗͈̣̝͒͊̌̄̏͋͐̑͗̈́̒̉̒̆͘ͅͅr̶̤͆͑̿̈́̅̽́̒͝e̸̢̢͇̰̦̙̦̙̲̺͈̅̈́̈́̎̇̓̈̀̓̎͠͝͠͠ ̸̱̝̣͈̠̳̖̹̠͗̆̐́͜ạ̵̘̬̹̭̰̟̯̯̹̫̑̒̅̆͂͜͠͝ņ̶̧̺͙̩̪̟̩̮̭̯̠̀̑͐̔̀̉̈́͒́͜͜s̴̪̤̑̋̄̑͐̔̂̊̃͘͝w̴͇̒̄̓̓̈́̓͋̈́͝ͅę̸̜͉̣̪̘̩͈̙̟̪̱̑̀̐̀̋͒͝ͅr̶̪͖̲͖̳̲̣͓̀̔͆͋̓̋̿ś̷̜̗̂̉̆̋͂͛̐̐̚̕ͅ,̸̲͈̺̮̠̗̖͖̖̤͆̀̆͋̀̎̋̀͜ ̸͖̻̊̃y̵̧̙̯̮͙̙̿̈̔̐̃̈́̓̃̕̚͠e̶̛̳̖̐̀̅͐̄̈̄̓́̽͐͝s̵̛̖̝̝͕͚̒͒̍͌̀̒̒͊̍,̸̟͉̰̪̬̫̳̋̓̄̔̈́̚ ̶̢̢̢̛̘͍̦̩̝͉̬̝̑͗̐̀̇̀́b̴̡̛̼̮͕̰̦͓͓̭̰͗̍͗̇̔̅̔̄u̷̻̖̅͌̆̐̓̂̋͘ṭ̵̡̪̣̿̍͑̂̓̃͂̚͠ ̶͎́̀̀̾̈̀̐͌̅̀̽̓̚͝t̶̢͉̥̮͊ḣ̶̡̟̱̣͇̘̗͉̰̙̜̬̆ḙ̷̢̧̧̛̗̲̯̻̗̺̮̩̲̌̋̑̒̌͑̽̈́̏̔s̶̢̭͇̹͓͕̗̼̟̄̆͛̎̈̆̚e̷̡̨̮͎̮͓̬͍͎͕̓͜ͅ ̸̧̯̞̳͙̂͌̿̄̾̍̓͛͆͑͘͘͜ą̴̢̱̻̤̬͇̩̗̬̙̲̣͋̍̀̔͝ͅń̴̩̘̟͙͓͐̓̈̎̀̄͛́͊͋̄̕͝s̵̛͈̝̅̐͂͛͌̈́̏͆̅̀̐͝͝͝ẁ̷̨̦͔̻͉̝̞̯̞̥̮̻̱̻͛̉̑͂̏̐̈́͋͌̕͝ę̵̯͕̱̼̻͔̦̱̂̐̋̂̎̎̋r̵͉͖̠͙̋̇̑̈́̍͋̄̄͌͑s̴̢̛̹͙̻̖̮͖͚̝͑͊̌̋̑̃̐́̒̚͝͠ͅͅ ̴̨̨̬̞̗̜̖͚̫͇̖͇͍͕̽͜å̷̧̡̧͈̪̙̠̱̭̹̰̍͝r̷̼͙͍̺͔̱͑̆ͅȅ̷̬͈̖̯͔̭̪̻͑̈́͑́̀͒̊̌̏̌̍͝ ̸̧̛̛͇̰̯͉̝͇̞̖̯̦̟̑́͋̈́͂g̵̳̯̝̤̥̩̬̳̈́̄͌́̐͊͝ͅŕ̴̨̧̨̨̩̰̟͎͍̮̝̹͈̽͂̊̃̔͋̚͘͘͝e̶̖̙͖̼̤͔͔̖͊͂̄̊̈́͆͌͗̾̀̕͜͝͝ͅä̴͕́͆͘͘̕͠t̷̢̨̧̛̜͚̣̘̳̭̙͉̑̓̑͗́͒̕̕ë̴̟͉͈̘́͐́̊͌͘ŗ̶̡̢̫̻̘̤̦͕͎̤͐̅̋̈́̅ ̴̡̡͍̭̣́́̿̽̽͐̄͆̇̈́̆͌͂͝͝t̵̢̧̛̤͕̱̰͉͎̗̯̙̫̣͇̫̐͑͆̐̒̌̂̂̐̑͑͠͝͠r̵̡̼̥͖̝̘̟̺̈́û̸̝t̵̛̘͓̯͉͙̞͉̳͉̩͒̈́̓͘h̶̠͐͊͑̈̅̄̄͝ś̸͚͕̆̉͂̂̈́̓̌͑̎̇̇͘ ̴̡̛͚̣̲͈̤̣̏̃͂͒͐͘͝ỷ̴̡̞̗̠̼͇͚̘̰̣̝͈̤o̶͉̬͕͍͉̯͇̯̤̯͚͕͈͑͐̂̓͛̓́͋̅̒̔̆̃͝ư̴͇̠̋̈́̌͗̊͛̽̃̌̐̈́̔̕͜ ̸̢̘̙̠̜̳͔̥̳̼̩̉̌͋͗̋̕̕͝a̸̡̧̻͕̞̘̫͎̰͎̳͖͇͜͝ŗ̴̡̺̗̘͕̪̟̙͖̘̅̾͊͜ͅë̴͔̼͈̖̩̣̩͔̘̟̜̼̯́̿̂̀̒̏̍ ̵̡̢̧̨̨̛̛̦̻͕̭̺̦̗̫̜͂̏̑͊̇̉͐̈̔͝ñ̴͚̱̤̌̀̎̀͆͝͝o̸̡͓͈͚͓͈̪̖̜̙͍̘͚̽̆̎́̿̐͋̈́̚͠͠t̵̡̨̞͈͚̭̹̤͊̈́͑͊́̑́̄͂͒̑͝ ̶̗͖̬̳̖̻̩̋͆͗͋̿͊͊̂̉̕r̷̹̼̺̯̟̉̈́̃̉͐̉͂͂̔̅̈́̊̈́̕e̷͉̐̀a̶̛͈̘̙̜̻̬̮̝̳̹͐̂̌̎̄̉́̕̚̚͘̕͝͠d̷̛͔̼ͅy̸̤̳͚̳͚̲̹͙̱̥͚̐̈́͂̆͂͛̀͆͝ͅͅ ̸̧͈̭̭͛̎̍̉̇̐͋̀̈́̈́͋͒̑͝f̵̡͔̖̘͈̙͇̤̏̏͆̌̾͊̀̏̅̒̒͌͜͝ͅó̷̝͈̊̒̐̿̄͆͘͘͠ͅr̷͎̤̠̥̞͎̞̋̏̿̎͒̕ ̷̧̡͓͚͐͋̇̒́̈́̂̑̀͌͂̎̅̚t̶̢͚͎̫͒́́h̵̨̡̹̟̙͖̠̲̰̘̫̍̈́́̇̒̽́̈́̊͛̐͘̕̕̕o̴̡̹̲̙̼͎͔͙̹̩͚̱̐̀̓̒̂̒̑̔͛̅͑̕͜͝͝s̴̛͓̖̯̫̤͌̑̂͑̉͛̑̅̓͘̚ȩ̶̛̝̪͉̉̐̒̌̃̄̒͑̃̚̕̚.̵̢̢̢̩͈̰͔̦̥̎͛̍͌̍̿̓͂͗̕̕͜͠͠
You may know these, and think you know me, but you don’t.
Į̴̛̣̳̟̪̫̦̘͛͒̃̓͌̉̅͘͜͠ ̵̫̣͓̞̳̞͕̣̮̪̰͕̀̋̇̇͆̃͗͋̍͠d̵̯͉̼̯͈̾͛͆̄̏̄͠ö̵̼͎̺̠̱̑̈́̈́̆̓̑̈́́̏̏̚,̶̻̤͓̒͆̊͂̈́̕͘͝͝ ̴̨̨̙̦͖̭͍̑̈́͊͂l̴̲͔͖̟͌͗̑̈̈̈͑͂̓̕̚͝͝͝i̵̥̞̲͓͙͐͆̐͝t̵̹̱̥͇͕̼͔͂͐͑́̂͆͂̈͊͝t̴̻̖͚̞̣̪̖͚͋̐̿̈́̀͒̃͒͆̚ḷ̸̡̙̝̗͎̥̣͛̑̏e̸̛̖̯̺̗̥͚̣̬̟̣̗̺̫͛̎̽̍̋̓̆̈́̀ ̷̡̛̝̭͙̗͖̰̱̙̳̰͚̲͉͚͑͒́̈́̒́̀̎̄ǵ̶̢̛̭̥͖̲̗̹̑̈î̸̛̠͎̮̤̩̥̰̬̀̀̿̓̆͆̄̔̚͝r̶̜̯̹̄̂͊̓̎̚l̴̰̭̪̱͓͈̍̌̄͐̊͜ͅ.̵̧̫̬̤̰̭̖̰͚̱͔͙̘̟̩͂̓̀̂͒̅͆͝͠ ̸̡̻͓̣͎̞̣̊̓̈́͝Ī̵̳͎̗̅̍̌̐͊̈͋̈́͘ ̶̛̼͖̖͈̥̠͎̼̔̽̀́̏͑͋̍͌̈̀ĥ̶̰̖̙̔͆͒͊͊a̸̤̤̮̖̭͍̥̣̯̟͛͂̋̐̇͒̇̓͆̀̚͠ͅv̴̧̹̯̳̣͋͆ë̶̩̠͎̠̜͔̖̜̙̯̭̠̤͙͜ ̸͙̥̻͉̲͚̣̗͙̩̤̖͕͗̾̉w̸̘̍́͌̄̀͘ͅa̴̢̟͈̪̳̤͔̟̫̽̌̍͗̈́̿̿̑̕͠͝t̸̛͎̱͊̀͌͌̑̈́͂̾͑͝c̸̨͕͎̜̠̺͚̞͔̞̃̂̃̀͑̈́͋͋̌̽̔̌̕ḫ̵͔͛̄̇̓̈́̎̾̀̂̎̾͆̚ę̴̩̤̟͍̥̖̯̪̣̻̟̩͓̜̀͛̆̇̿̇͘d̷̻͕̟͙̥̪̗̠͌́̔̇̄͌͆̓͌̆̏̎͠ ̶̡̧̛̛̮̼̭̦͖̞̈́͋̎͊͆̑͑͆͘̕͠ÿ̷̳͕̥̣͚̥̤̩͚̻̗́̀͂ơ̷̢͔̦̹͍̞͕͕͔̒̓̓͘ư̵̧̛̛̛̤̲̟̙̯̱̹̳͉̼̭̒͒̔́̅̈́͌̓̚͠͠ ̸̺̼̹̻̜̣̜͖͉̘̲̜̪̜̅͌̓̀̽̌̓̍́̈̔̌͠f̷͙̪̹̫͓͙͔̘̺̼̗̥͓̂̅͊͐͒̊̽͒͝ͅở̸̰̝̝͙̪̥̈́̔͗̓́͒̏̅́̈́̇̒ŗ̸̛̛̠̮̝̲͓̤͈̱̰͛̀̎͒̌̿̀̔̅͊͠ ̶̖̈́̑a̵̫̝̰̳̯̎͌͐̄̚ ̵̢̟̥̗̝̱̩͙̑͋͋͗̒͝v̶̧̦̟̣͉̟͓͛́̆̅̌̾̾͒͘͠e̴̡̺̤̙̗̼͍͉̦̫͈̽͛͂͘ṛ̸̲̦̹̤̜͙̜̬͆͐̿̇y̷̛̤̘̠̿̓̄̂̒̒̒͋̄͋̈́̕͘ ̷̯̀̒ľ̶̨̢̡͖̩̞͇̬̭͔̾̽̑͛̀̈́̂̍̚͝͝͝ǫ̶̼̭̘̩̲͇͍̥̝̘͌̒͘͜͠n̴̨͎̝͕̟̖̏͂͜ͅģ̷̛̠͎̤͙̜̰̠̩̲͚̘̲̥͖́͌̈́͒͛̓̑͂̀̀̄̄ ̸͚͍̜̦̭̜̻͈͐͛̅͋t̸͖̺̪̥̫̲̣͙̣̦̦̗̆́͊̂̄̎̍̍̋̕ǐ̵͍̩m̷̯͖̫̦̞̟͖͙̮̙̆̂͜ę̵̧̡̟̯̻͈̬̠͇̔̾̿́́͗.̶̥̪̱͔̱̦̃̄̀́͋̓̊͌͝ ̴̯̫̦̽͂I̸̡̞̖̘̮͖͚̦̰̫͔̣̰̮̲̓̔̐ ̵̡̛̩͈̪̮̈́̋̀̐̄̾́̿̅͆͘͝͝͝w̴̡̡̧̹͕̹̗̣̠̤̟̹̥̽̑̂͊̿̐̽̉̄̏͑͝͝i̸̟̬̝̇́̽̒̀̓̽́̄̍̉̈͘͘̕l̴̨̧̢̡̙̲͖̜͕͎̼͚͓̦̀͆̃̂͌̓̾̈́̕l̸̢̛̩̤̹͚̰̗̹̼͚̭̝͉͔̈́̍̑́͒̃̔̒̃͗̂̆̚͜͝ ̴̢̢͚̝̘͍̮̀̄̉͗̒̓͜g̸̛͖̬̦̩̙̺̼͓͑͌͋̈́̈́͝į̸̛̗̻̬͉̳̜͚̓̄͊̓̎͛̾̄̿̀͐͝͝v̷͖͍̉́̔̂͗̈́͑͂̃͊ȩ̶͓̖̗̰̩̹͌͌̒̃̔̒̈̇̅̊̓̄͜͝ ̵̬̥͕̭͍͕̖̀͜͜͝y̷̢̰͇̩̻̜̟̠̟̘̹͛̈́̋̈̂̍́̌̑̓́̃̀͒͝ͅơ̸̛͙͉̼̤̲̩̠̝̯̱̭͈͛̏̅͛̾͊̈́̊ư̴͔̱͚͖̿̈̆̑̇͝ ̴̬̦̳̟͙̌͛̋̃̓̂̊̍͗͂͊͘͝a̸͈̞̜̝̪̐ṇ̶̡̗̱̹̝̔͋̃͊̂͘͝s̴̗̋̒͑̾͗w̸̢̛̠̟̎̒̋͛̃̑͛͆͒̀͜͠͠͠ë̷̙͕̩̱̗͚̘̗̲̲͓͍͕̜͗̽̊̿̍̈̊̃̐r̸̨̬̖̥̻̺̺͍͇̳̺̄̀͂͊̓͑̈́̈́͑̔̒́̂͜͜ͅs̸̨̧̳̻̱̱̯̬̘̫̰̱͕͖̀̊̈́̉̅̎͌̆̀͠ ̶͕͇͖̭̫̭͇͕̇̃̄́͐̈́͛̓̅̋̊͘͜͜͝ͅa̴̦̟̰̜͔͓͋̅̽́̈́͛͐́͝͝f̴͉̘͗͒̓̍̅̒̀̕͝ţ̶̱͇͒̀̄́́̉̈́͘͜͝e̶̡̧̢̢̛̛͍͚̳̤͔̝̞͎̓͂̎̋̆̍̀̍̔̈́͐͝͝r̵̨̢͉̩͙͚̰̙̟͍̃̏̽̋́̒͗̃̕͘͝ͅͅ ̶̝̘̺̟͕̜̱̜̼̤̘̗͒͆̏́̂͐̑̚̕͠ͅý̷͍̩̹́̂o̵̖̟͈͐̇̂̽̆̋̃͒͝u̷̧̨̙̣͇̞̥̞̇̈́̽̏̎̊̍͌̈́͛̓̑͜ͅ ̵̡̩̜̺̭̜͓͕̗͗̏͊̂̀̑̓̉͐͑͘ǹ̶͖͍̳͕̻͌͊̾̆̔͜͜e̷̡̢̛̱͇̲͔̗̲̍͌͊͋x̶̧̨̡̫͖̮̞͎̞̤͙̼͈͇̳͌̓̑͝t̵̞̣̬̺̐̓̂́͛̍͝ ̵̧͓̠̠̼̠̽̔̀́̂͗̓̊̕͠ḇ̸̤̱̠͔͇͊á̴͙̻̼̗́̄̉͜t̶͓͛̈́̃̄̐̃̍̆͘͜͝͝͝t̶̝̤̭̾͒̿̀͜l̴̛̰̗̫̺̰̬̼̯͌͆̊̒e̵̦͙̪̞͗.̸͍̩̠͖̺̱̍̒͂̿͗ ̷̧̡͙̹̹͔͓̅͗̈͋̅͑͠T̴̫͝ͅh̶̡̧̘̒̎̅͆ȅ̵̢̺̳͈͆̎̈́̉̇̓̚͠ ̷̢̨̨̗͔̦̗̩͖̘̥͓̰̯̺̓̐̓̂̽̈́̕a̶͉̙̐̄͌́́̒̑̇̓̉́̈́̒̈́̚n̸̜̈́̐̓̄s̷͚̱͉͕̬̟̬̹͐͋́̀͆̓͛̽̓͜w̶̛̗͇̤̖̤̯̩͈̰̩͉̟͎͐̽̊͛̍̑̋͐͑̋̀̊͝e̶̡̦̘͈̲̝̳͈̻͐̉̈́̈́͜͠r̸̨͙͍̘͍̼͖͖͚̖͈͇̽͐̔̒͐̂͊̃̍͒͋̒̎͘s̶̢͙͖̯͎̥͕͕̭̭̓̈́͂̔̏̽͋͘͘ ̸̗̱̻̦͈̪̥͇̱́̋̿́̎̅͠y̸̰̰̖͓̩̝͇͇̋͘͜͝͝͝͠͝ö̵͓͕̹͇͎̙́̐̓̇̾̒͐ͅu̴͙̣̞͍̮̪̞̮͊̆̿́̃̆͛͠ ̵̢̢̩̥͉̜̳̤̰͍̠̳̘͇̠̿̑̈́̄̉̋̒̇̔̎̚͝͠͝͝n̶̝̯̮̥̙̔͊̈͋̏̕ě̶̛͓̪̿̽̓̊̇̄̍̂̋̍͒͝͠ę̴̡̛͈͕̗̦̖̉̃͋̉̀̀͗̆̕̕d̴̢̧̜̲̲̄͋̐̐̑̃̑̀̈́́̚̚͝.̵̘̥̪̋̈̀̈́̽̓͠
Where?
The voice, no demon, she’d confirmed that, didn’t respond. Getting up, she grabbed the books up, shoving them into a handbag. If this thing doesn’t give me the answers, I’ll get them myself.
First Round
Play of Shadows - Part I
Signature // Arena // Signature
Art: Andreas Rocha
First Round
Play of Shadows - Part II
First Round
Play of Shadows - Part III
First Round
Play of Shadows - Part IV
First Round
Play of Shadows - Part V (Final)
Art: Peter Mohrbacher
"What is your choice, Arnest?"
First Round
Seventh Conclusion
Seventh Result
Quality is more important than quantity. While Arn had much more story chapters than Tika, his other values were weaker. He did have some interesting story bits, but most of them were pure power fantasy with action scenes that reminded me of a television's static noise. I do appreciate the spirit of the character, and wish he would've lived up to his title a bit more.
@FourEyesIsAFish - Tika ran to the second round! You may create a new version of her or a new signature/companion card, but this time the maximum mana value of those cards is increased to 5!
@Tonysparks - Arn's tournament journey has ended, but you may write a concluding chapter where he makes the choice and then post any cards you had planned for him!
The Tournament Bracket has been updated!
Once again, sorry for the long time it took me to post this chapter, which got filled with so much text. I try not to bloat chapters as much in the future.
Ladies and gentlemen, Arn. Initially when I made Arn, I had no plans whatsoever for him, he was just supposed to be mindless and chaotic evil, I acknowledge this made alot of people hate Arn, but I will always have a place for my first Tournament character in my heart.
Arn's story at first was to be chaotic since even I had no vision of what I wanted Arn to become, but with the introduction of the abyss like in other tournaments, I found an anchor. All my arcs that were slowly tying in to the grander progression of Arn as an individual.
Arn is not a brute like most wanted to believe, and while I appreciate @TenebrisNemo's remarkable writing, I felt you did not capture the essence of what Arn is save for a few gestures and some notable segments. Nonetheless I am grateful for even the chance to even participate.
Arn is chaotic yes, but also sophisticated, cunning and manipulative. He only acts like a lunatic when he is in serious danger, otherwise he is a rather nonchalant, cautious and observant participant.
I initial Arn to begin noticing that his body was slowly falling apart since his soul was weakening after winning, he had actually noticed it earlier and began to delve into abysall magic to fix it. Contrary to the belief of others, his intent was not to become a god per say , but rather to fix his withering body and progress his control of wildmagic. He killed Mizor because Mizor held those secrets and could later use them against him, and instead got the incomplete research notes in order to fuel his life force until he could find a permanent solution, Ascendancy.
Arn's final goal, ascendancy, was less so for power and more so to extend his diminishing life, which he had began to notice in the past few days.
I again thank all of you for enduring Arn, I know some of you weren't big fans of him, I'd also like to thank @TenebrisNemo for an epic send off.
I have to admit that even if I lost, I would have loved to leave with Oko who is in Avelaide but now I'm locked between being sent to Eldraine and Oko assuming I'm dead and becoming an Agent.
Also Tenebris, I have decided to become an agent since its what is best for Arn. Also it saves me the space of making that chapter.
I will make the alternate where I departed to Theros or Innistrad (I'll roll a die for which) later.
Also, @FourEyesIsAFish I'd love to interact sometime after my battle
Joking, but I am kind of intimidated now.