198. A Theatrical In Development

“But a tale can be interpreted. Our world is a tale itself. Our fabric of existence is but a page, written by the ebbs and flows of the metaphorical pen we call time.” The woman whispered, her grimacing at the quality of their catch.

“I suppose that’s why Stir Cube is fascinated by the Eternal Library. Compendiums of the past, present and future. Our future is already prewritten. But it has begun to change. Have you heard of the Amalgam?” He asked as a lumbering, mass of flesh approach and bared its fangs.

He simply threw the letter ‘X’ at it like a throwing blade. The letter expanded and grew a metallic luster, becoming a large, spinning blade which immediately tore the mass to bits.

“Even as allies their hunger knows no bounds. So putrid.” He scoffed, trampling on the squirming flesh. “But our collaboration is needed, unfortunately. Have my spit.” He then spat into bloody sewerage, where various fleshy tentacles swarmed for it, amusing him to no end.

“I know the Amalgam only by name. Is it our enemy?” The woman asked, reaching for the bride as the amalgamative mass lowered itself towards her.

“The one who will burn the books. You felt it too? That flame?”

“… that was the Amalgam…?” She said in disbelief, touching her chest where her heart would be. “… I forgot. My heart isn’t here anymore. It must be nice. Living to get married. A life without worry. With love…”

Blood dripped from the bride’s wrists. She was sound asleep, waiting for her time to come. But it came much sooner than expected. Because upon further inspection, the woman found her to be unfit as a material and stabbed the mass with a quill-like blade which appeared from the long sleeves of her robes.

This caused the ball to close in on itself and crush the bride, churning her into paste that dribbled into the sewerage.

“You’re unfit. No known groom. That man has family? We will show this place what it means to betray members of the Authors of Existentia.” She sealed her eyes and began to backtrack towards the entrance.

The Expositionist then followed with a hearty hum.

“Funny. Her death is but a chapter in this grand tale. To the Gears, her death is one less cog in the machine. Or a cog that has fulfilled its purpose. The Maestros of Flesh will call her snapping bones a part of their grand symphony. Our Festival friends will call her death a necessary means for our happiness. And for them… food. To reconstitute their lost selves.”

Suddenly, a faceless slime bounced along the walkway. It had no sensory organs to tell which way was where, only that it could move its body in hopes of returning to its original self. The woman suddenly froze, her foot raised above it.

She nearly trampled on it.

“Do you believe what we are doing is wrong?” The man suddenly asked.

“Better them than us. We all have our situations that lead us up to where we are. The backstories of our tales. I want to survive as much as they do.” She said, stepping over it.

“Spoken like a Scarlet Logic slave. Bravo.” He applauded and crushed the slime beneath his boots, much to the woman’s annoyance.

“A Scarlet Logic dog would bite before they bark. I’m less inclined to call them allies than they are ‘stepping stones’.” She clicked her tongue. “What a waste. At least leave it as something for our targets to see.”

“We still wouldn’t mess with the blood-lusters at Scarlet Logic directly. They are the ones who revealed the prophecy in the first place.” He said.

“Of the Amalgam. I wish to preserve this world. We should not be denied the right to exist.” She scowled, reaching into her robes for a small handbook.

“Precisely.” He hummed, plucking out a quill. “Do you need a normal one or a ‘Healer’s Quill’?”

“Normal. Else Inflow Direct will become suspicious of us. They’re under the impression that Caldera Industries are snatching them. Regardless, they are sharp when it comes to their healers.” The man pulled out two types of quills.

Both were white, but one was made of a feather so radiant that it could pass off as a treasure. This quill was made from a healer. Like a Dove, Healers were valuable materials. Whether by mercy or luck, the Healer that the quill originated from was not injured.

They have just lost a mere fraction of their healing powers.

“As the Authors are with their stories. And the Archivist with the all of us connected with the books. She still watches us, you know? That little voyeur. Stir Cube will be the first compose a ‘Masterpiece’. What a curious tale. A pair of star-crossed lovers from different families~”

“Is it wise to talk out loud?”

“I exist solely for exposition, as my Namesake entails. What the Archivist does with our present will dictate the future. The texts will change, as will the Eternal Library. What a shame~” He uttered, handing the quill to his companion, who began writing something in her handbook. “She could have just stuck to picture books. I wonder how the Amalgam will react when they realize their precious Moon friend’s piece of history could have been averted if her librarian friend was a little braver.” He taunted, knowing that the Archivist could hear him through the books.

Suddenly, the pages tore themselves free from the book, creating a small figure which slowly began to materialize its flesh and organs. The being that formed was none other than the handless, sobbing wolfgirl who had tormented its older counterpart.

This was Ber.

“This moon has a peculiar history. It was unfortunate that we could not gain the others. But this and the ‘Masterpiece’ will suffice.” He said as the false Ber followed with her head down like a slave.

“… Will it kill the Amalgam?”

“Oh no. Oh dear no Mrs. Scraper! The Big Red Heart was destroyed. The Gears cannot fathom the Amalgam. They are backed by two Beholders. A single Midnight Team can destroy us, you know?” He laughed. “But, you heard that anguish as the flames burnt in your chest?”

“I did… And drop the Mrs. My husband is long dead.”

“I forget. My apologies. Did you know that the Amalgam prides themselves in the salvation of others?”

“Like a Wandering Healer…”

“Precisely. It is this flaw that we can violate. They have reached a point where it is difficult for us to deal with it without appropriate measures. The Apples are not yet ripe. We only have the seeds. We must sow them. It requires substantial Nex.”

“Emotionally harm the Amalgam… Will this work?”

“We must not question the Authors. We must follow the guidance of the Sect of Gears. Entrust yourself with them. Your heart is already theirs, no?” The Expositionist said as they left the sewers and followed the alleyways until they reached the main, deserted streets of S4.

Every window and every crack were boarded up with planks of wood, furniture, and rocks. There was no telling who lived inside each home, or if anyone was there to begin with. The area they patrolled in particular was relatively abandoned and was the home territory of the Hungry in S4.

“I suppose so… Shall we find a populated area then? To set up the stage for our theatrical?” The Scraper suggested, much to the delight of the Expositionist.

“That we must. Two lovers will be required for this ‘Masterpiece’. What follows will dictate the future. The Scarlet Logic will take care of the rest.”