Never exit the stage like this!
Even if I can return before long, do not fail so pathetically.
The Haunter of the Dark's three-lobed eye blazed violently.
Within that eye burned an inner fire that no known means could extinguish, and now it burst forth with a piercing, ghostly-blue glow.
And that glow was not light but pure malice — the embodiment of fear itself, the despairing scream of countless civilizations in the last instant before their annihilation, the terror of the cosmos, the essence of chaos, knowledge the human mind was never meant to bear.
It gazed at Amamiya Rin.
In that instant, the void all around twisted.
The already unnamable colors began to whirl madly, the indescribable sounds began to howl madly, and logic and thought lost all meaning before that gaze.
This single blow was enough to shatter the most resolute will utterly. Even the Gray Weaver's servants of Atlach would collapse and die in an instant before such terrible malice.
Ultraseven gazed at that eye.
Not a ripple stirred in his eyes; his gaze was perfectly clear, holding only the resolve to bear whatever malice came, no matter its shape.
The Haunter's malice was like a stone dropped into an ancient well, stirring ripple upon ripple yet unable to disturb the serene, bright moon resting at its depths.
Under that shared gaze, the Haunter's body twisted violently, the darkness that made up her form dissolving and collapsing.
Because she had seen a deeper light.
Not warmth, but a scorching white light — scorching not in temperature but in will.
Blazing as if a million suns had exploded at once, pure as a will and a resolve that would burn every last impurity to nothing.
At the deepest heart of that white light, a figure stood towering.
The figure burned all over with dark-red flame, its face ferocious, its eyes glaring wide, a sword in its right hand and a rope in its left, raging fire blazing at its back — Acala the Immovable Wisdom King, the demon-subduing lord, in his aspect of wrath.
Endless malice and terror surged madly before this figure, yet the moment they touched it, they burned to ash in an instant, like dry grass cast into a furnace.
Those wrathful eyes fixed upon her, and the Haunter's eye felt a fierce, searing pain. She felt her own dark essence trembling violently before that light of the heart that struck straight to the essence of things.
She had meant to snatch Amamiya Rin away, only to be countered by Amamiya Rin's light. She had meant to destroy Amamiya Rin's mind, only to be countered once more by the light of Amamiya Rin's soul.
"Heh heh heh heh…"
The Haunter laughed.
It was a powerless laugh.
She stopped moving, resisting, fleeing, struggling — she gave it all up.
Realizing just how wretchedly ill-matched she was against Amamiya Rin, the Haunter threw in the towel completely.
"Emerium Ray!"
The next moment, a deep voice echoed through the void, and a piercing radiance erupted from Ultraseven's forehead, a dazzling beam lancing out from the beam lamp on his brow.
The emerald light, like a blade tearing open the curtain of night at daybreak, slashed through the void — illuminating that eternal darkness, illuminating those twisted colors, illuminating those howling sounds — and pierced straight through the Haunter's chest.
The Haunter's body began to disintegrate.
Starting from the chest, great chunks of dark matter peeled away, scattering into ash in midair, leaving not the faintest trace behind.
Yet in this final moment, the Haunter's form reverted to that darkness-shrouded loli shape.
"So merciless, big brother."
The Haunter's voice turned childish and innocent once more.
"But it's okay, you know."
She laughed, and into that soft, childish voice there gradually mingled the murmurs of ancient palaces, the mad cackling from the bottom of the abyss, and the sighs of countless civilizations lost to time as they sank into eternal darkness.
"Let's say you've won this round of the game. But do not, ever, let your guard down — for I am the Messenger, the sole walker of the Outer Gods' will in this world, the Chaos that creeps within every shadow. And the one who wishes to see you is not my will, but blind, idiot Azathoth. That is His will."
His voice carried a shudder-inducing allure, seeming to come at once from the deepest abyss at the core of the earth and from the farthest edge of the stars — low, resonant, and beneath its surface surged a madness on the verge of breaking loose, ready at any instant to erupt and devour all who listened.
"Farewell, Amamiya Rin. Fend for yourself. Pray to the whole universe — pray that you never, in some restless Long Dream, run into the other thousand faces of mine; pray that you are never led by me to that dwelling at the end of all things, to look upon the blind, idiot Azathoth who slumbers at the heart of Chaos. For I am Nyarlathotep, I am the Crawling Chaos."
The instant the words fell, the sniggering of a thousand demons thundered through the void.
The figure disintegrated entirely, dissolving into countless shards of darkness, utterly annihilated within the torrent of light — yet it left Amamiya Rin a blessing that was very nearly a curse.
Gazing at the stretch of void where the Haunter had vanished, the Giant of Light's face grew heavy.
Even in defeat, she could leave the victor ill at ease. As an avatar of Nyarlathotep, she had exactly that talent.
Amamiya Rin looked toward the distant darkness.
Beyond who-knew-how-many light-years lay an ominous silence.
Great throngs of amorphous things, lurking and capering in the dark, were joyfully singing that Siren's Song performed by night and stars, while the shapeless power of destruction seated at the deepest heart of Chaos waited at the center of the infinite, roiling and bubbling, blaspheming against every god — that was Azathoth, the mindless Demon Sultan, gnawing greedily and formlessly at all things.
If this world were a game, then it had to be the shittiest of shit games.
Amamiya Rin passed his verdict on this world.
From the Vampire to the Apology Demon that could dissolve all of humanity; from the Slit-Mouthed Woman to the Twilight Kintoki duo whose psychic power rivaled an entire nation; from Kayako with her world-ending potential to the Haunter of the Dark, an avatar of the Outer Gods.
And finally, that blind, idiot god whose might no words could describe — the source-core of primordial Chaos, the head of all demon gods, the Lord of All Things, Azathoth — lay within his reach as well.
What kind of bullshit game balance was this? Where was the gradual difficulty curve? Was there any normal logic to it at all?
What game throws a newbie-village player who's only just learned to fire off a skill straight at the final boss?
What game lets a player finish off some trash mobs, look up, and find a level-100 boss squatting right there in the doorway, waiting?
No game did — but reality did, right in front of Amamiya Rin.
Facing a situation like this, Amamiya Rin found even snarking about it thoroughly futile.
Because no words of any kind could change this sorry reality.
"Don't overthink it, Rin-kun. It's time you went back."
All at once, a voice sounded beside Amamiya Rin's ear, urging him to leave this void.
____
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