The Grand Battle II! [Happy End!]

Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.

---

Gestalt allowed himself a moment of elation at Clara's support, but Vyrm'n's continued obstinate apathy was something the schrotgolem could not afford to ignore. The black hand began its laboured trudge across the paper again.

ARE THEY SAYING EXIMO IS IN THE CARVINGS

yes

WHAT ELSE IS THERE

much and little is useful to us unless the observer or the other grandmasters grace these walls

"That would be more helpful for us, Gestalt, I agree, but Vyrm'n... can't you see this?"

CLAMOROUS She gestured roughly at Gestalt's writing, as Maxwell and Konka left the chamber, heading back toward the main room with eight doors. THIS I CAN CONCENTRATE ON

BUT THE STONE'S SONG TIRES ME

Vyrm'n dropped the pen, the arm liquifying into a tendril which leapt round the nun's hand.

Gestalt I know you can hear me and I don't to write anymore I can't explain it takes too long

So I don't want to help you I don't want to help Amethyst I don't want to destroy the Observer I'm tired of this battle.

I'm tired of fighting and listening and thinking. Killing them letting them live letting them die it all means problems and Gestalt I don't want anything now except for it to stop

Gestalt processed this, before scrawling then destroy me now

A prickling surge of anger through the shadow made Clara try to jerk her hand away, but the Faceless had gripped it tightly.

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. I'M DYING.

Vyrm'n recoiled sharply from Clara, crouching in a way that Gestalt recognised as the Faceless preparing for flight. The schotgolem's consciousness reached out tentatively, ready to retreat if Vyrm'n dredged up the Void.

your deaths only assure that the universe I came from is the one that has the final hateful joy of devouring the last of me what kind of prize is that

Clara backed away cautiously as the Faceless broke their connection; faster as a box burst open, several wedges of stone leaping out and hovering about the golem. The bricks didn't strike, but instead snapped into a few smaller pieces which served to bail Vyrm'n into a corner. Faceless and Necropolitan were expecting the stone to tear into the former, but instead a tattered glove motioned, unfilled, to wait a moment, before it reached out and rested its fingertips upon the stars.


You can be killed?

I don't know. I don't want to know. But everything ever burns and scratches at me and where do I hide when it's all been clawed away?

She was still considering making a break for it - Gestalt could tell, but didn't want her to. Under different circumstances, the mortality of a creature like Vyrm'n would've intrigued the schrotgolem. Instead, he pressed onward.

Vyrm'n, we are all dying, and not a single one of us could avoid that by emerging from here victorious. In saying that, there is one we know with the power to extend your lifespan, if that were what he wished to do.

The Observer.

Yes. But he will not help you. He does not care if we live or die, and you are no different. If one of us dies now, the other two are sent to a place of his choosing, far from him, and nothing changes. Perhaps there will be a way to destroy him in that final world. But the risk is too great and so I begin my campaign here and now. If you must insist on perpetuating this selfishness, then realise: if you cannot wrench the Observer's powers from him, you will die, Vyrm'n.

And if your fate, come any circumstance, is to die and you are so resigned to it... then please, at least assist us.

The Faceless was silent. With a certain reluctance, the chunks of jagged stone lowered. Clara muttered a quiet incantation, got enough of the exchange to figure what Gestalt was doing, and ducked into the next room to examine the carvings therein.

I will deceive neither of us; I cannot coerce you to join this fight against your volition through threats or browbeating you into reluctant assistance... But I need you. I believe you alone among us have the force necessary to destroy a Grandmaster, if only you could reach him.


With an unpleasant grating, Gestalt dragged the pieces of the Labyrinth Field walls and packed them away. I don't know how else to convince you, Vyrm'n. It's your choice.


...

I'll help. And if I have to fight the Observer... I'll win.

The glove sprung away with the mental undertones of a nod of grateful acknowledgment. The telepathic exchange had taken only moments, when Clara burst in.

"Gestalt - the next chamber..."


Curious, the schrotgolem followed the nun, with Vyrm'n close behind (if less interested). The trio passed through a narrow corridor, which had an eight-point sun design on one side, the gap for two missing rays conspicuous. On the other was a carving of a man, a woman, and that geometrical arrangement symbolic of Eximo. The hallway opened out to the next chamber, its ancient floor littered with fresh rubble. Even Vyrm'n could see the extent of the damage - some unnatural beast had clawed over every inch of the walls, gouging the carvings and rendering their story unreadable. While Clara could only stare and feel vaguely sad at the willful damage, Vyrm'n tersely asked Gestalt to give her some room. The schrotgolem complied, shuffling to a far corner, while the shadow concentrated intently for a moment.

The dust still hangs in the air... I'm not certain, but I think this happened recently.