Re: Battle Royale! Final Round: Chaos Conservatory
07-06-2010, 12:25 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.
The halls were glowing. Not actually, literally glowing, but they seemed like they were, due to the ridiculously vibrant atomosphere of this godly abode. Its visual splendor was noticed by Whit for about a minute before he completely forgot about it. Like usual, Whit's mind was consumed with a singular desire, only at the moment it wasn't what it usually was, "win," but "find out, without a doubt, the nature of my luck."
A short while ago, he had been entirely pleased with his ability to succeed, even in a multiuniversal deathmatch- his successes were his own, entirely. They were the result of actualizing his fate with his own ability, grasping the ladder that luck had thrown him. His luck.
What was luck, to Whit? In simple terms, it was an universal bias. If the world was a betting table, Whit believed that he had several thousand times as many chips than normal. He had neigh infinite leeway, plenty of room for error, and the ability to turn any game on its head with the right move. With his luck, Whit was barely falible.
Of course, it doesn't sound fair, but Whit didn't care. Luck, also to him, was as organic and natural as a limb. It was a part of every being- his just happened to be absurdly superior. There was nothing wrong with exerting that luck- it was no different from flexing a muscle.
Whit's luck was a part of him, and he was proud of it. It made certain that he was superior to everyone, everything, even the absurdities he had met with in this battle royale. It was his luck that allowed him the edge over all else. That luck was why he could confidently face what appeared to be certain death and easily know that he was superior. Because of his luck, Whit had no doubts about where he stood in the realm of mortality- the very, absolute, untouchable top.
But there was the slightest, most minute, doubt in his mind now. A doubt the aggrivated his very core, twisting all of his confidence. Whit had to know.
Following the music, he found his god.
Spoiler
The halls were glowing. Not actually, literally glowing, but they seemed like they were, due to the ridiculously vibrant atomosphere of this godly abode. Its visual splendor was noticed by Whit for about a minute before he completely forgot about it. Like usual, Whit's mind was consumed with a singular desire, only at the moment it wasn't what it usually was, "win," but "find out, without a doubt, the nature of my luck."
A short while ago, he had been entirely pleased with his ability to succeed, even in a multiuniversal deathmatch- his successes were his own, entirely. They were the result of actualizing his fate with his own ability, grasping the ladder that luck had thrown him. His luck.
What was luck, to Whit? In simple terms, it was an universal bias. If the world was a betting table, Whit believed that he had several thousand times as many chips than normal. He had neigh infinite leeway, plenty of room for error, and the ability to turn any game on its head with the right move. With his luck, Whit was barely falible.
Of course, it doesn't sound fair, but Whit didn't care. Luck, also to him, was as organic and natural as a limb. It was a part of every being- his just happened to be absurdly superior. There was nothing wrong with exerting that luck- it was no different from flexing a muscle.
Whit's luck was a part of him, and he was proud of it. It made certain that he was superior to everyone, everything, even the absurdities he had met with in this battle royale. It was his luck that allowed him the edge over all else. That luck was why he could confidently face what appeared to be certain death and easily know that he was superior. Because of his luck, Whit had no doubts about where he stood in the realm of mortality- the very, absolute, untouchable top.
But there was the slightest, most minute, doubt in his mind now. A doubt the aggrivated his very core, twisting all of his confidence. Whit had to know.
Following the music, he found his god.