Chains of the Cycle and the Designers' Weapons
Plottis Side
My name is Plottis Maxwell Angelique, the supreme and mightiest Scarecrow born from the parallel universe anomaly paradox reaction of Phineas Maxwell Angelique.
Yet even I cannot grasp my true identity, nor am I certain this is my real name, so I am often referred to merely by this epithet.
Thud.
Thud.
Whoosh.
"Is everyone prepared?"
"Yes!"
"Good. We cannot simply abandon this situation forged by my own momentum. To that end, we must clearly demonstrate that everything is tied to me alone—and thus not to be tampered with lightly!"
"Of course, Your Excellency Plottis. At this juncture, nothing but your supremely dignified renown could unite our kind. Without you, extinction at the hands of the Mighty Walker would be inevitable. You are our savior."
"Yet your benevolence aside, the humans—along with the Mighty Walker—remain a thorn in our side."
"Especially that great prophet of insight and the holy saint, who, though no longer human, cloaks themselves in human guise while openly targeting us."
"What do those hopeless wretches lack that drives them to craft such massive caliber munitions just to kill us...?"
"In the end, if they fall to us, they'll simply become one of our own. Don't fret too much. That said, any worthwhile specimens must be preserved as they emerge. There's a high chance the elements to beguile those three lurk among the humans."
"Indeed."
"Our Mantra is our energy source. It powers everything, and everything obeys our will. And when it generates that grand rotation, the laws of the universe will finally open a new paradise befitting another world—through us. The separation between the non-material realm and the material realm must vanish. That is the shortcut to becoming one with the Mantra's rotation, where all our imaginings and mental images become reality."
I gripped my Scarecrow mask and straw hat tightly, ever watchful for the chance to annihilate every last human—those inferior, malignant cultural genetic dregs writhing in a living hell, blaming their nonexistent convictions and ideologies on each other while slaughtering one another ceaselessly, begging for salvation from their own nature.
Even their 'useful genes' amount to nothing; humans lack our hive mind unity, yet they constantly threaten others to conform while claiming they're the exception. Inferior in technology and intellect to us, they refuse to heed our words. What could possibly appeal to those pathetic creatures?
Vrrrrmmm.
"But Earthlings weren't the only ones like that."
"No doubt. All lifeforms arise under similar conditions, so their downfalls stem from the same roots."
"We are healers. We gather all life into one. Within that unity lies an inescapable void. They live cynically, mocking others without question, deeming such petty existences worthwhile—yet failing to recognize the one who can rule them. What's the point?"
Before me sprawled fools who dared call my dominion 'mental strength' or dismiss it as 'stubborn bullshit.'
Some even claimed to oppose human nature—while thinking of nothing else.
"Ughhh..."
"Oh? Does the sight of your bodies turning ghostly white displease you?"
"This powder will render your souls transparent."
"It's the only path to repentance before us. Do you not see our white light?"
"All you possess is futile..."
Swoosh.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
As my subordinates traced sigils and assumed positions, the Mantra activated, harvesting their souls.
"Ugh... Aaaarghhh!!!!!"
The souls emerging from their flesh left behind only their pure, naked forms.
"Ah... Ah..."
Whooshhhh.
The Mantra's energy enveloped them endlessly, dissolving their sticky viscosity, and conjured a brilliantly glowing white star before their eyes.
"That is the amalgamation of every emotion you feel right now. What you cannot achieve is its true form—and the inevitable end of the limits you impose upon yourselves."
"We seek only to help you. Just as you always preached to your own kind."
Heh heh heh...
"So, will you join us?"
Snap.
Jeracle Side
With my psionic powers, I discerned the full scope of their scheme: the so-called 'Eternal Recurrence Rotation Operation' powered by their Mantra.
They induce a specific rotation, trapping the emotional vortex within it. Even if they yawn through sleeplessness, letting everything collapse into oblivion while attempting to warp fate to their whims, it all fades futilely in that repeating cycle. But I have no intention of letting it come to that.
Rooooar.
Let's see, then. Can they truly escape my influence?
From the calm of my office, I widened my eyes to unleash my psionics, pinpointing their locations. With a mere blink directed at them, cracks began to fracture their flow.
Crackkk.
The fissures initially ignored security partitions and content alike, nearly sowing confusion—but with all comms and electronics already under my control, such mechanisms were irrelevant. Their quantum fluctuations and positional data were child's play to non-localize and compute via probabilistic interpretation. Naturally, they couldn't match my instantaneous calculations and commands.
"Crude. Is this truly all you have? Very well—now I'll ensure you cannot evade me."
Viiiiing.
Dyson Spheres weaponized across the galaxies—installed in key locales—received my signal via their onboard room-temperature fusion reactors powering artificial stars. They accelerated magnetic fluxes, targeting their bases.
"If you wish to live, come out. Otherwise, this is your end."
Rooooar.
"Fire."
The entire galactic cluster, dark matter included, shuddered like a colossal bullet, precision-striking every one of their hideouts.
BOOOOM.
Bluish Cherenkov radiation vaporized everything in ferocious blue shift, and the primary impact followed, shattering ordinary matter to hydrogen atoms—stripping electrons to form quark-gluon plasma that scattered utterly.
"Aaaarghhh!!!!!"
"Wh-what?!"
"Damn it! Where did this insane power—?!"
"H-how did they find this place—?!"
Before my authority, defying all common sense, they regretted their arrogant folly in applying their petty logics to me—dying in the massacre.
A few desperately fled, but their positions were already locked; portal-deployed satellites shredded them with laser barrages. Their screams echoed hollowly in the airless void, vanishing with their bodies.
"To dare view me through the same lens as yourselves—utter foolishness. Blame not me. If even one of your words held truth, I'd deem this mere child's play. Ends exist for all things, and so opposites—but those are mere non-material ideals of the imaginal realm. Only I perceive and wield their true interactions upon formation. Your scant air and life? I'll reassemble them from your plasma. No matter what you do, you cannot bar me—not even cosmic expansion. To me, it's but a step in conquest. Plottis Maxwell Angelique: before the sanctity of my rationality and justice, rue this in death."
Then I psychokinetically seized their inhabited planets, spinning them into whirlpools before forging another Dyson Sphere.
Snap.
RUMBLECRASH.
Tactical ID codes QW, TY, OF, JL, et al.—total 5,871,561,432 strategic IDs at status 9999: planetary total annihilation complete. Elapsed time: 34 seconds. Material realm contamination: nominal. Non-material realm contamination: insufficient. Spacetime error contamination prevention: unconfirmed. Recommend dispatch of search teams. End transmission. Battlefield analysis interface and propaganda interface terminated. Switching to default dialogue interface.
At once, my blue eyes gleamed sharply, capturing the devastation of their bases and the construction of new sites—crowning the finale. As planned, I dispatched search teams.
Snap.
Ansorok Side — Simultaneous
Rooooar.
No sound reached us, yet no word captured its sensation better.
"My... God... Th-that..."
Only someone of my caliber could keep their mouth shut. The others gaped in awe at the majestic divine authority unfolding.
"The Minister has etched a milestone for our path across the cosmos. He who could ignore wretches like us without care has bestowed mercy upon us—our mission is to verify if those recipients truly deserve it. Forget not."
"Y-yes, Commander!!!!"
At my words alone, their awe turned toward me. They saluted impeccably, displaying utmost dignity.
"Yet I understand your bewilderment before the Minister's dignity. Defiers of his order prolong their resistance like a grave crime, only amplifying the damage. I, however, beheld his convictions from equal ground—and thus fear him not. Ignore the fools' screams; 'twas their fate since primordial times!"
"Yes!!"
With that, we descended triumphantly to Riverbed Planet, untainted by anomaly corruption.
Shoooo.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.