Flossindune
patreon
Esaraphelscion's Memory Orb
🕑 Added 2023-04-06 20:54:58 +0000 UTCHello, Patrons! In the Extra Extras post, Anthony and Sara's first meeting from her point of view was the highest choice by a fairly large margin, and what better time to drop it than in between the last chapter of book 1 and the first chapter of book 2. This is going to be a Patreon-only chapter for my Regressor and Angel of the End tier holders, and if you guys would like to see more, let me know because I already have something in mind for Memory Orb 2.
I know I don't send many messages on account of being a really introverted person, but I appreciate you all for your support.
Hall of the End - 1st Run
The golden halls - my golden halls - surrounded me as they always had. Sometimes the hall was large, giving me a wide area to fly around in. Other times it was small, barely containing my wingspan. Today it was long, but thin, with four golden statues of stylized humans standing on either side of a raised golden pathway from the inert portal to the final scenario.
I flew forward to inspect the statues. Though they were mostly featureless, I could tell who they were. The first one was modeled after Maria Sarris, a Minotaur Slayer from Crete. One of the first players to catch my eye, she unfortunately fell in battle during a fight with the Giganbull in Barcelona. That was a sad day, seeing as her class excelled in fighting such creatures, but her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. Barcelona was freed that day.
The next statue was of an effeminate man, Marco Perez of Mexico. I had only caught wind of him during the late game due to his dealings with other Angels. The Angel Investor class was one I originally found tasteless, but the man's righteous fury and love for his people won me over. Marco was one of the last survivors in the Western Hemisphere, but also met an unfortunate end.
After Marco Perez was the Shieldmaiden, Klaske Bos. A fierce warrior woman who had made it to the final scenario but died early on in the crusade against the demons. It was a tragic death leaving behind many friends, family members, and a love that had blossomed on the battlefield.
My wings drooped as I reached the last and newest statue. Coe Valen, the greatest tank player I had ever laid eyes on. By far the most popular, too, based on how Patrons were tripping over themselves to sponsor him. He had caught my eye incredibly early with his tactics and out of the box thinking. I was devastated when I saw him get overrun by the demon horde just minutes ago.
Slowly, I shifted away from my true form and into my human one. My feathers and wings folded as my many eyes closed. The human form was such a strange one. Having skin was such a weird feeling, and only having a single line of sight made me feel like something was going to sneak up on me.
My feet, newly formed, touched the ground. I folded my wings against my back and adjusted my pure white armor. It fit my new form perfectly, leaving only my head unprotected. It was almost time, even if meeting my favorite player would never happen now.
Six years of the system on Earth and it led to this great disappointment. All because the team Coe Valen put his trust and faith in couldn't put out enough damage to save him. I should be thankful that there were survivors at all, but all I felt was an unrelenting melancholy. The same as ever, I guess.
My eyes lowered as I returned to my position opposite the inert portal. The pedestal I normally floated over changed into a tall-backed throne. It wasn't any less gaudy than the rest of the hall, but I felt like sitting instead of hovering.
It had been a long time since I sat down in my human form, and it took me some trial and error. My six wings made a lot of furniture impractical. I draped them over the side, but that didn't prove comfortable so I changed the back of the throne to allow them to be free.
I attempted to cross my legs, but the armor wasn't giving me the kind of mobility I wanted. Mentally, I adjusted it so that it changed into long, flowing white robes. I could change it back quickly if need be, and I didn't feel scared of one little player. This was much better than the sturdy, stuffy armor I would wear if I were ever called to battle.
Speaking of players, I looked into the distance. My eyes unfocused and what I saw changed. One of the perks of the Hall of the End was the ability to see what was happening anywhere on the planet. It was something I used constantly.
My gaze fell on a trio of… no, a duo as one of the three bled out. Geraldine McCoy and Anthony Franklin stood beside their now dead companion. They had succeeded in killing the final boss, but instead of one of them coming through my portal they stayed with the corpses of their allies. Five hundred strong at the beginning of the final scenario and now only two were left.
And they were just so uninteresting. That was the worst part. I tried watching those two when they were near Coe Valen and Klaske Bos but they were outshone in every way. Geraldine McCoy wouldn't stop talking about avenging her husband like it was her only personality trait. At least Anthony Franklin was flashy, but that was all he had going for him; he was just too angry under normal circumstances.
I tapped my fingers against the armrest of my throne. Hands, humans certainly did have those going for them even though telekinesis was a more formidable option. They got by with them, though, and made a lot of wondrous things despite their several handicaps. There was a lot of ingenuity packed into those short lifespans they had, I had to give that to them.
A frown crossed my lips as I stared at the two players. Lips were weird, too, but the players sure were fond of using them on each other even during the most inopportune of times. Personally, I didn't see the appeal.
My attention snapped back to Anthony Franklin and Geraldine McCoy as the latter sat. They had finished gathering the bodies of their allies and the woman seemed ready to take a break. The man looked towards the swirling gold portal, however. I suppose out of the two of them Anthony Franklin was the least terrible choice.
I mentally asked the system for information on him, and then I knew everything it did. Started in Florida and found a cache of weapons in somebody's house. He shared a lot of it, though he kept what he considered "the good stuff" for himself. Constant use of high caliber firearms and high explosives got him the Field Artilleryman class.
So, he was flashy with big attacks over wide areas with big weapons. It was like watching fireworks; eventually you just get tired of the light and noise and, I'm assuming, the smell. It was divine providence that he made it this far, I was sure of it.
After a few more words with Geraldine McCoy, Anthony Franklin stepped into the portal that would lead him to me. "Finally," I muttered to myself. I checked my feathers and adjusted my robes as the gold portal disappeared from where Anthony entered and another, darker one started to form.
My vision returned to my golden halls as the inert portal activated on the other side of the room. One last check of my clothes assured me that everything was in order and I crossed my legs comfortably.
Legs were also nice, I decided. Not as great as hands, but definitely well above lips.
Anthony Franklin stumbled through the portal into my domain. His light leather armor was close to tatters and the belts and bandoleers he had for his ammunition were all empty. His shaggy brown hair was lopsided from a close call with a demon's blade. Blood, both human red and demon purple, covered him.
He looked around the area with quick, sharp glances before his gaze fell on me. We locked eyes, his narrowing at my dazzlingly bright halo, and I was about to say something when he suddenly jerked to the side. From his inventory he pulled out a large, shining cannon in the shape of a great bell. Inside of the bell was a glowing ball of fire. Victa Solis, an incredibly powerful late-system cannon.
With no rhyme or reason, Anthony Franklin aimed at me and pulled the trigger. The ball of fire inside the Victa Solis shone brighter, matching my halo, and fired a beam of solar energy directly at my face.
My halo flew from over my head of its own volition and enlarged itself, spinning as it opened a defensive portal. I had been warned about volatile players before so while this response was uncalled for it wasn't completely unexpected. The energy beam safely entered my halo and came out of a matching portal aimed at the ceiling.
"You just completed the final scenario, Anthony Franklin," I called out. "Do you really want to get into another boss fight you can't afford?"
Instead of answering, Anthony Franklin waggled the Victa Solis in an attempt to shoot me around the halo. Fortunately, the portal tracked the energy beam and followed it wherever it was aimed. My frown deepened as my halo started losing its luster, a sign that it was going to drop the portal soon.
The Victa Solis gave out first as Anthony Franklin had to drop it to the ground. It started overheating from prolonged use, and I tried to hide a smug smile. I hadn't been the least bit worried, but I had been cooped up in my halls for so long that I didn't know if I lost my touch or not. My halo returned to hover over my head as I fixed the ceiling.
"Are you quite finished?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Just until it cools down enough to pick back up," he claimed cheekily, though I could hear the aggressiveness in his voice.
I shot him a glare but he didn't even flinch. He looked… exhausted, like he didn't even care that I could end him with a thought. All of a sudden he looked pitiful as I noticed his red eyes and shaking stance. Anger flared up in me; he made it all the way to the Halls of the End just to be sad?
Then I took a completely unnecessary breath and tried to put myself in Marco Perez's shoes. He had surrounded himself with other players and attempted to understand each and every one of them. It was tough because I had never walked amongst the players, only watched, but I tried to put myself in Anthony Franklin's size ten and a half combat boots.
My expression softened almost immediately. I thought about how worked up I was about Coe Valen and Klaske Bos' death and I had only been watching. Anthony Franklin fought beside them to get here. Well, he fought behind them at a safe distance, but he interacted with them every day during the demon raids.
Envy began to well up inside me for his proximity to my favorite players, but I pushed it down. That was an emotion unbecoming of any angel, let alone the Angel of the End. Anthony Franklin had to be in shock over the loss of such greatness. When I thought about it like that, I felt like I could understand exactly what he was feeling.
"You've been through a lot of heartache to get here," I said softly, my voice permeating the hall. "You've lost some very important people, do you need some time?"
"I don't need time," Anthony Franklin snapped. He looked around my hall again before glancing down at the Victa Solis.
I bristled at his tone, but nodded curtly. "Then I'll begin. Welcome to the Hall of the End, valiant warrior. You have suffered many trials and tribulations to arrive here, Player Anthony Franklin, and yet you arrived victorious! Here, you may claim your prize for making it to this hallowed hall."
The player glared at me. He kicked the Victa Solis into his inventory and started approaching me. "And who the hell are you?"
"I am the Angel of the End, Esaraphelscion," I answered proudly.
He glanced at my wings. "Angel? Or just playing pretend? Because it wouldn't be the first time I've been lied to about what is or is not an angel."
I scoffed. "Just what are you insinuating?"
"I just fought my way through Hell, lady," he said with a frown. "For all I know you could be some Lucifer analogue about to tempt me into giving up everything I've done to get here.”
“I’m not here to tempt you.”
I felt his eyes look me over, and I pursed my lips. When his gaze returned to my eyes, I did my best to give him a disapproving look. He chuckled. “Yeah, not my type at all.”
“Do you want to get this over with and claim your prize or not, Anthony Franklin?” I asked coldly. Any empathy I had for him and how he felt for the loss of Coe Valen and Klaske Bos was gone now.
Anthony Franklin stopped what I’m sure he considered a safe distance away from me and put his hands on his hips. “Sure, Sarfalcion, let’s see this prize of yours.”
“Esaraphelscion,” I stated clearly.
“Yeah? What did I say?” he asked.
“You called me Sarfalcion.”
“I think you’re just hearing things.”
“I heard you correctly, player. I’m a powerful angel with perfect hearing, and I know you called me Sarfalcion. My name is Esaraphelscion.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’m just going to call you Sara,” he said, a smug smile tugging at his lips for the first time since I saw him.
“It’s not all the same to me, but whatever,” I said angrily. I took a few breaths to calm myself like I had seen players do. Oddly, it worked. At least, it worked until I saw the amusement on Anthony Franklin’s face. Come now, don’t let this brat who’s been alive for less than thirty years rile you up. Empathy, Esaraphelscion, give it another shot. I waved my hand and the shop interface appeared in front of the player.
“The Prize is all of my points, huh? And what does that do?” he asked.
“It grants a wish.” His head shot up as he looked from the menu to me. “Any one wish.”
It took him a few moments to respond. “Like, bringing everyone back?”
This time, I perked up. Maybe Anthony Franklin wasn’t so bad. “Yeah, if you wanted to bring someone back like Coe Valen or Klaske Bos, then you certainly can. With the amount of points you have, you could even swing both of them.” The look of confusion on his face made me tilt my head. “Is… that not your wish?”
“I didn’t say bring Coe or Klaske back,” he growled. “I said bring everyone back. Why only bring back two people if it’s a wish?”
“Well, I suppose those two would be considered a part of a wish for everyone,” I said. Sitting up, I uncrossed my legs and set my elbow on the armrest. “But you have nowhere near the points required to pull something like that off.”
Anthony Franklin crossed his arms. “Okay, so is there something I can do to get enough points? How many would I need?”
I set my chin onto my hand and looked at the player standing before me. The anger in his eyes had changed to hope, which was unfortunate. “For everyone, way too many. More than you can dream of. It’s just not feasible.”
Anthony Franklin stared at me for a few seconds before swiping at his inventory. The Victa Solis fell out and hit the ground, still overheating. “And how many points are you worth?” he asked, clearly threatening me. “You said something about a boss fight earlier.”
I chuckled. “Okay, calm down there, player. On the off chance that you actually succeed in killing me, and trust me when I say it’s a very, very off chance, I’m not worth any points.” I held up my hand and made a circle with my fingers and thumb. “Zero. None. Nada.”
The hope in his eyes disappeared, anger replacing them once again. With a scream of rage, he kicked the Victa Solis with enough force to send it flying into the statue of Coe Valen. I nearly stood up when it fell over, ready to tear into this player for ruining it, but stopped. Anthony Franklin squatted down to the floor and held his face in his hands.
“Six years of god awful torment,” he whispered to himself, though I could hear him as plain as day. “Six god damn years and salvation is dangled in front of me like a carrot and this dumb ass winged bitch decides to go with the stick.”
I pursed my lips, but didn’t say anything. Instead, I opted to study him. His heartbeat hadn’t slowed down since he arrived, and was beating perilously fast. He wasn’t crying so he must not have been too sad about it, though he was obviously in some stage of despair.
Humans had so many ways to grieve and most of the ones I saw were very destructive. Anthony Franklin seemed like the poster child of self-destruction from the moment he asked how many points I was worth like I wasn’t so completely of his league. Well, not everyone could be as great at holding themselves together like most of the paragons of humanity. My gaze fell to the statues once more as the player held himself there, motionless.
Several minutes of silence passed before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was hoarse. “How many people survived?”
I consulted the system, and gave him the answer. “4,794 players survived, including yourself.”
Anthony Franklin nodded, and the silence continued. I leaned back in my chair, waiting. Being patient wasn’t a problem, and it wasn’t like there was a time limit until after he made his selection. Of course, I’d rather him not be here, but giving him time was what Maria Sarris would likely have done, so I tried it.
Another few minutes passed before he asked another question. “How many people were in the world when the system dropped?”
Once again, I consulted the system. “8,024,247,274 players were inducted into the system that day.”
“Stop calling them players,” Anthony Franklin snapped, though it didn’t feel like there was any bite to his words anymore. “These are people, okay? Human people who had feelings, families, goals, aspirations. They’re not just numbers, Sara, they all mattered. It didn’t matter if they were interesting or popular or even competent, you don’t get to dismiss them just because you don’t care.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it before I said anything. Calling me by a shortened version of my name aside, I recognized Klaske Bos’ rhetoric in his words. I smoothed my robes as I stood up and approached the player. He looked up at me with suspicious eyes, but didn’t move. “Most play… most people would have given up by now,” I told him. He didn’t respond, but he watched me even as I looked down at him. “If I say I have a way, would you be willing to trust me enough to take it?”
Anthony Franklin continued to stare at me with an exhausted look in his eyes. “You’ve done nothing to deserve it,” he said.
“And you shot at me before I could say anything at all,” I countered.
“I just spent months fighting demons, this easily could have been another trick.”
“Excuses. Come on, stand up and take a look at the menu again,” I told him. As he stood, I mentally asked the system to add a few items to the Endgame Shop. I knew they wouldn't make a difference, but it was what he wanted.
The play… the human looked through the shop again, his eyebrow arched as he looked through the updated list. “Where the fuck did these come from?”
“The system provides, Anthony Frank-“
“You don’t have to say both names, you know,” he said as he scrolled. “Anthony’s fine. Or Franklin. We don’t all go around calling everyone by their first and last names.”
“I know,” I said more defensively than I would have liked to admit. “The system provides to those who know how to ask for what they need. In this case, it’s the Ouroboros selection. It won’t bring anyone back, but it’ll send you back to the beginning.”
Anthony Franklin, or I suppose just Anthony, looked at me so quickly I was afraid he’d hurt his neck. “Go back to the beginning and live through that hell again?”
I nodded. “You won’t get to take your points, but you’ll need to spend most of them on what you'll need to survive as a regressor, anyway,” I explained. “It wasn't there at first because what kind of winner decides to try again?”
Even though I was speaking, I could tell that Anthony wasn’t listening. I frowned as his brow furrowed. “What do you recommend?” he asked slowly, as if he was still weighing his options.
“The Ouroboros Tattoo, obviously,” I said evenly. “That’ll make it so you start over, memories intact.”
“And then I’ll have to go through everything again, survive for who knows how many years, and make it here first. Again.”
“Yes, but you’d have another chance to save all the people.”
“You don’t even believe that,” he said, scoffing and waving a hand towards my collection of statues. “Six fucking years and you have, what? Four statues of people? Don’t give me that shit.”
“I am giving you facts. If you want to save the people, this is literally your only option. You don’t have the points, you won’t have the points, this is it.”
Anthony scowled but didn’t refute my point. He reached in front of him and started pressing buttons on the menu. “Fine, Ouroboros Tattoo. What else?”
I tried rolling my eyes like I had seen humans do so often, but based on the strange look Anthony gave me I wasn’t sure if I did it correctly. “You’re going to want the Ouroboros Cover-Up to prevent the administrators from knowing that you’re a regressor.”
“Because they’re all bastards who are high off their own power?” Anthony asked.
“Behave,” I chastised, causing him to scowl. “Then you’d want the Administrator Black-out, the bigger the better, because then you’ll be off their radar for the first few weeks.”
“I don’t need one of these Memory Orb things, do I?”
“No, because the Ouroboros Tattoo has you covered there. Those are if you want to take the memories of something back with you, though you would also need to purchase a Time Capsule for that.”
“And the Memory Orb, does the one using it have to do anything? Or could I just bang it against their head and it’ll absorb what it needs to?”
The way Anthony was looking at me made me tilt my head. “No, it’s activated by the one putting the memories into the orb,” I explained. He nodded his head and then added the Angel-specific memory orb to his checkout list before picking the weakest Administrator Black-out. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you with me,” he replied, still scrolling through the list. He added the Time Capsule next.
I bristled. “Why would you do that?”
His eyes met mine. “Because if I’m going to have to suffer through this, then so are you,” he said in a low, angry voice. “I have no idea how long six years is to you, but you’re going to be there with me every step of the way watching your precious heroes do the same exact thing they already did. You’re going to learn that people are more than just players, they’re people.”
I successfully resisted the urge to laugh at his misplaced anger. His reasoning was weak, but as far as I was concerned it didn’t matter; this was one of the reasons why Anthony wasn’t worth watching in the first place. Misplaced, misguided, and willing to throw away points because he couldn’t lash out any other way. What a pitiful man.
I didn’t bother telling him that the only way to get that orb back into my hands was to meet me here in my halls. He made his choice, letting him think he won a small victory was nothing. I wasn't expecting anything from him, but it wasn't as though I would remember this. Perhaps he would actually succeed in changing enough to get a better outcome.
“Sure,” I said with a smile. “Go ahead and purchase that Memory Orb. I’ll put my memories in it.”
Anthony stared at me, having obviously wanted a bigger reaction, but huffed before turning back towards the screen. He accepted and his points were taken away. I asked the system to speed up production of the items as fast as it could starting with the memory orb, and it appeared in my hand.
The Ouroboros Tattoo formed on his chest as he grimaced in pain and patted at it, tugging at his armor so he could give it a look. While he was busy with that, I closed my eyes and activated the Memory Orb. A pleasant feeling scattered through my mind as the system gently pulled and copied the memories I allowed. It was over in seconds.
I offered Anthony the green orb and he inspected its properties. He nodded in satisfaction and put it in a tall, fat canister that appeared in front of him, the Time Capsule. “How long until I’m sent back?”
“Thirty seconds, once the last item is finished being created,” I answered. “I sped up the process since you said earlier that you don’t need time.”
Anthony glared at me and stood up. “I don’t like you, Sara, but I’m looking forward to seeing how you feel about humans after another six years of this.”
I met his glare with a soft smile. “And I wish you the best of luck, Anthony,” I told him honestly. “Despite your hostility, bad manners, overall demeanor, really, it was… pleasant actually having someone come visit me in my prison.”
The human arched his eyebrow, confused by my words. “Wait, what do you mean by pri-“
And then the world reset back to the beginning.
Comments
Avery
Dang this could be a book all its own going through the memory or a like this.
Conor McGroarty
Anthony Franklin (first iteration) is the Gunman: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JPm46Qgyn24&pp=ygUGR3VubWFu
