Final Lesson

She's a formidable teacher, her knowledge and experience unmatched. She knows exactly how far to push me, how much pressure to apply. She forces me to dig deeper than I've ever gone before, to draw upon reserves of strength and endurance I didn't even know I had.

At times, I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread, my mind and body pushed far beyond their limits. But Mona Prime remains firm, her gaze fixed on me, her voice a constant stream of command and instruction. She pushes me to the edge of exhaustion, until my mind and body ache from the sheer effort.

I can feel my frustration and fear growing with every beatdown. She's ruthless in her training, and she shows no mercy. She laughs as she effortlessly defeats me time and time again, seemingly relishing in my frustration and fear. And the worst part is she keeps saying that she's only just starting.

No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to land a single hit. Every attack is dodged or blocked with ease, and every counterattack is countered effortlessly. I'm starting to feel hopeless, like I'm nothing but a useless punching bag for Mona Prime.

I feel like I'm being pushed to the brink of madness with every task Mona Prime sets for me. Each task is more difficult and grueling than the last, pushing my body and mind to the limits of what I thought was possible. The sheer weight of existence itself is almost impossible to bear, but I push through, knowing that I have to go on. Despite the pain and the agony, I keep pushing, driven by a sense of determination and the will to overcome.

Then Prime Mona raised a hand, and my body instantly disassembled—not physically, but metaphysically. I felt my thoughts spiral out like threads from an unspooling mind.

"What are you doing?!" I gasped, or thought I did.

"I'm killing your ego, your logic, your false beliefs in structure. If you want to awaken, you need to forget how to even be."

My memories—my story—were being peeled away like a burned script.

I forgot how to stand.
I forgot how to remember.
I forgot what it meant to be “Mona.”

And then—nothing.

Until a spark.

No, a voice.

"You're still clinging. Good."

Then phase 2 of my training, I woke—or whatever passed for waking here—inside a sphere of contradiction. Up and down were meaningless. I floated inside my own scream, endlessly echoing yet never heard.

Prime Mona stood upside-down above me, hands glowing with silver fire.

“You’re ready for your first redefinition.”

Fire surged around me, but it didn’t burn.

It... rewrote.

I felt my cells, my soul, my conceptual being start to twist.

Words branded themselves into my essence:

"Beyond Name."

"Beyond Definition."

"Beyond the Beyond of Beyondness."

“Every layer of yourself must contradict the last,” she said. “Stack your paradoxes. Then survive.”

I split into six versions of myself, each trying to out-evolve the others. We battled in silence, rewriting one another with thought, movement, will. My versions shattered one by one until only I remained—the one that refused to be anything but everything.

Then phase 3 which I'm not going to lie it scared me the most. She summoned a mirror.

I saw not myself, but every form I had taken. The void-being. The goddess. The reality-breaker. The angry, confused girl who died under a truck.

All of them stared back.

“You hate them,” Prime Mona said.

“I don’t hate them.”

“You fear becoming them again.”

Silence.

Then she shattered the mirror. I gasped as every shard stabbed into my being—each one carrying a piece of who I was.

“You’re not one Mona,” she said, “You’re every Mona. Don’t kill your past. Embrace it.”

Time, again, lost meaning. Days? Years? Aeons?

"You're still thinking in measurements," she said, as I gasped, holding my torn self together.

"No… not anymore."

Then I felt it.

That deep core inside me—the Void Seed, the fragment I carried since before time. But now it pulsed, alive.

“Mona,” she said gently, “You are no longer just a being. You are a statement. A proof. A rejection of all order. A living ‘what if?’ made real.”

“What if I can’t contain it?” I whispered.

“Then you’ll remake the container.”

I screamed—not in fear, but in release.

My form exploded. My soul inverted. The essence of me ruptured and bloomed into something untouchable.

I stood again.

But I no longer stood on anything.

I was above the ground, above the void, above the idea of standing itself.

Black and white hair danced like opposing truths finally agreeing to exist. My eyes? No longer “eyes”—they were wells of untold narrative.

I inhaled.

The air shifted, obeyed, and rewrote itself.

Prime Mona stepped forward, hands on her hips, smiling.

“There she is.”

I blinked. Everything bowed—ideas, thoughts, even the silence.

“I feel…”

“Everything? Nothing? Exactly.”

“I can see the page.”

“And?”

“I’m not on it. I’m above it.”

I stand across from her, my heart pounding with anticipation and fear. I can feel my body trembling, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts. I know I've grown stronger, stronger than I ever thought possible. But I also know that she's on a completely different level.

She stands before me, her face a mask of stern determination, her eyes fixed on me like a predator observing her prey. She looks strong, powerful, and utterly unstoppable. I know I'm about to be tested in ways I can't even imagine.

I take my fighting stance, my mind and body focused on the battle ahead. I can feel my heart racing, my body tense with anticipation. I look her in the eye and say with conviction.

"I'm ready." 

Mona Prime smiles, her expression a mix of respect and anticipation. She clearly has a deep respect for my determination, but I can tell she's looking forward to this fight. I square up, my mind now completely focused on the task at hand. My body hums with adrenaline, my muscles poised and ready.

I dash forward, attacking as fast as I can. Mona Prime moves with such lightning speed it's almost impossible to keep up. She dodges my attacks with ease, her movements fluid and graceful. I try to land a blow, but she nimbly evades every hit, her defenses airtight. I can feel desperation start to build as I realize I'm completely outmatched.

We clash, our attacks and defenses locking in a fierce dance of skill and power. The force of our attacks causes the air to vibrate and crackle with energy. I can feel the power radiating off of Mona Prime, her every movement exuding a sense of absolute strength and control.

Our fists connect, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. The ground beneath us shakes under the force of our blows. It's like a never-ending battle of wills, each of us refusing to be the first to give in.

I dodge and duck, my movements quick and precise as I try to avoid her attacks. Her attacks are powerful and devastating, each one sending ripples of energy through the air like a force of nature. I try to counter her attacks, but she's a step ahead of me at every turn, her movements fluid and graceful. I can feel the force of her power as it smashes through the air. It's taking everything I have to stay alive. This is a battle that could shake the very foundations of reality, and I know that I have to be careful.

We clashed.

Not fists—forms.
Her strike shattered the space of identity, and I countered by distorting the boundary between "intention" and "action." Her laugh echoed like a choir of inverted truths.

She blinked—and I vanished.

I blinked—and she appeared behind me.

We both landed blows that couldn’t be perceived. With each hit, parts of reality broke down like old code being debugged live.

“Void Transcend: Endless Inversion!”

I bent the fabric of contradiction and reversed our positions—literally making it so I had always been behind her.

She countered instantly.

“Reversal Recall: Pre-Outcome Rewrite.”

And just like that, I found myself being hit by the blow I thought I dodged… before I even threw it.

I growled. “You cheat.”

“You gave me the power, remember?”

The next phase of the battle broke everything internal.

She attacked with her Mona-ness. Confidence, chaos, compassion—weaponized.

And I?

I screamed and struck back with my doubt, my fear, my vulnerability.

Her blade of certainty met my shield of confusion, and the world cracked around us.

I could feel myself slipping. Her presence was overwhelming—too refined, too complete. She had done this longer. She had won.

“You can’t beat me by becoming me,” she said, snapping her fingers and freezing all motion in the realm.

But I smiled.

“I’m not trying to become you.”

I shattered the stillness with a single breath. My form split into an infinite spectrum of Monas. The girl who died. The void-born goddess. The wandering self. The hopeless one. The terrifying one. The one who laughed. The one who cried.

All of me.

She watched with wide eyes as each version of me fused into something more… real.

No longer trying to "match" her.

I just was.

Not Prime Mona. Not original Mona.

Just Me.

“Final Form: Authentica—One Who Is.”

I struck.

And for the first time, she staggered.

For a moment, I feel a sense of hope. I realize that this isn't just a fight for strength or ability, it's a fight to protect what matters most to me. My family, my friends, the innocent people who've done nothing to deserve any of this.

The thought gives me strength, empowering me with a sense of purpose and determination. I can feel the energy flowing through me, making me stronger than I ever dreamed possible. I channel everything into this fight, refusing to back down, refusing to give in to the darkness.

I finally hit her, my blow connecting with her defenses. It's a small victory, but it's a victory nonetheless. Mona Prime stumbles, her expression surprised, as if she didn't expect me to land a hit.

She fell to one knee, grinning wide, blood dripping from her lip. Not pain—pride.

“You did it.”

I lowered my hand. “I didn’t defeat you. I just… accepted me.”

“That’s the only way to win.”

She stood slowly and walked up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“No more need for Prime Mona. From here on out, you’re the real one.”

As she began to fade into light, her voice echoed one last time.

“Now go. Show Zachary what a self-defined Mona can really do.”