User:Nextoy/Dissidia Alto/Triplets in Dream

This world was unique. It gave him knowledge and insight. It was a world to be valued, above all else. It was the perfect brand of chaos. He’d seen it all before, where people die and are brought back in the same confusion.

Delta knew he was not alone in this knowledge. That wolf also shared these memories, as did the scrawny sanguinemancer and the wandering brawler. Someone on the enemy side likely did as well, but who he did not know. Although “enemy” is a meaningless word in this world.

We are all brothers in arms, just as we are all ancient evils to be destroyed.

Everyone has been on multiple sides. Once Delta had been on the side of good, another he had been the wandering free agent. Sometimes there is but one free agent, others only the guardians are summoned to take a side.

This is the world he had hoped for. One where the lines change so much that standards can not be made.

But this time the world was quiet. Even the manikins, those crystalline daemons, acted in a lull. As he stood atop this tower, Delta could only wonder if this world was coming to a close?

This world he loved so much.

This world that he dreamt of all his life.

He had but two other questions, should that be so. Firstly, what shall remain of this place once it crumbles? The memories could disappear as well as the physical landscape, but the energy surely will go somewhere. But more importantly:

Was it tears he felt against his mask?

When the curtains fall, is it not to prepare for the new act? Does a blank page not symbolize the next chapter shall begin once the reader turns a page? When a comic is drawn, is it not in anticipation for the next volume? Even in nature such answers ring true. A tadpole loses its legs to grow limbs as a caterpillar cocoons itself to grow wings.

Does this not, too, mean that this world shall be reforged into something anew? Will this newfound peace blossom, or simply wilt into a new kind of chaos? Delta hoped for neither. This world ran off the power of chaos it generated. It was like a living perpetual motion engine. However, even in this world such things are not true.

For the first time in what felt like years, Delta took off his mask. He stared at the world with his own eyes. He knew that knight would never climb the tower, he never did, but even if so his back faced the trap door leading to this island above the clouds. This world changes with each iteration, so he must show caution. Even dying prey has one last chance to surprise the hunter.

The sun hit his silver eyes and pale face, hurting him. He hadn’t felt warmth on his skin since he put that mask on. It wasn’t blinding, but instead burning; it was as though his mask had been outright erased rather than simply removed. The lightened sky was completely unlike the dark world at the base of this tower. Even the desert felt cold to him at times. Here, all was ablaze.

Delta surmised that this world shall die as it lived. Alight with the flames of war as chaos syphons the last drop of heat. Such is the world of entropy, it seems. A fitting death for this world only he loved.

No matter what or where he woke up in next, Delta avowed that he shall make that world. A blooming haven of immaculate chaos.