Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B1: Chapter 38 - "Stagnation Waits.”
🕑 Added 2025-05-15 03:32:45 +0000 UTC————————————————
Sunday, September 25th, 2253 - 7:03 pm
Tall Tale Apartments - Jeremiah’s Apartment.
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Jeremiah leaned back against his old, groaning couch, one hand absently stroking the slick, cool surface of Billy’s head. The young kraken sprawled contentedly across his lap, a tangle of playful limbs that twitched with anticipation. His wide, curious eyes tracked a school of holographic fish flitting through the air, each flickering with silvery light. One tentacle shot forward, snaring a darting form mid-flight. The captured fish flashed green before dissolving into a spray of motes. Billy warbled in delight, the sound a bubbly trill of victory.
“Gotcha,” Jeremiah murmured with a faint smile, patting the kraken’s rounded mantle. He reached over and tapped the device’s side. With a soft chime, a fresh school of silver fish blinked into existence, gliding lazily through the air above it. Billy waved several limbs in glee, bobbing in place as he prepared for another round.
But even as Jeremiah smiled, his gaze drifted past the dancing fish, past the scuffed walls of his cramped apartment, toward the dim alley beyond the narrow window. The world outside was still, broken only by the occasional stir of wind rattling brittle leaves. His eyes pulled instinctively toward his shop. He couldn’t see it, not from here, but he could feel it, its presence humming at the edge of his awareness, like the phantom awareness of a limb. Familiar. Constant.
Mero’s words echoed in his mind, sharp as glass:
“The System was forged for one purpose only: to allow the Reliquum — the remnants, the survivors, we scattered shards of what once was — to fight back… to strike out against Stagnation.”
“Stagnation…” Jeremiah whispered the word fragile in the quiet room. Yet in his mind, it rang, reverberating through him like the toll of a distant bell.
Billy’s happy warble faded into a curious trill.
Jeremiah blinked, tugged from his spiraling thoughts. He glanced down to find the young kraken peering up at him, mantle tilted slightly, one tentacle half-raised in a hesitant gesture, as if asking a question. His eyes shimmered with a soft, inquisitive light.
“You heard that, huh?” Jeremiah murmured.
It had only been a few days since they’d forged their contract, but the change in Billy was impossible to miss. He’d always been clever. Smarter than any animal had any right to be, Jeremiah now realized, but something had shifted.
In the time since their bond, Billy’s eyes had grown sharper, more alert. He was more curious, more daring. Jeremiah had come home the day before to find the little kraken had somehow escaped his tank and ransacked every cupboard in the apartment, strewing half its contents across the floor. Before, he’d been content with simple play and the occasional snack. Now, he wanted to touch everything. Examine everything. Understand everything.
It was like waking up to find your infant had skipped straight to toddlerhood — bright-eyed, eager, and terrifyingly mobile.
A flicker of pride stirred in Jeremiah’s chest, followed quickly by cold dread. How did you baby-proof an apartment against a magical cephalopod?
Billy chirped again, the sound higher now, puzzled and tinged with gentle concern.
“Right,” Jeremiah exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Right. I guess you wouldn’t know about all that yet. They don’t exactly teach things like cosmic decay when you’re not even a year old.”
Billy blinked, watching him patiently.
Jeremiah looked back toward the window, his gaze lingering on the shadows outside. “Alright, kiddo. Lesson time.”
He shifted, cradling Billy more securely in his lap. The holographic fish still looped lazily in the background, but Billy had forgotten them entirely now. His attention was fixed, silent, and intent.
“So,” Jeremiah began, his voice quiet. “Stagnation. Where to start…”
He stared up at the cracked ceiling for a long moment. “Once, we believed in eternity. That existence would just… keep going. Not necessarily us, but someone. Somewhere. That someone would carry the torch forward.”
He paused, brow furrowing. “It was hope, really. The belief that no matter how dark the night got, morning would always come. That the stars would keep shining. That even if our stories ended, others would go on.”
A bitter laugh slipped out, bitter and hollow. “Then, one day, we realized… eternity is a myth.”
He looked down at Billy, who remained still, eyes wide and unblinking.
“We learned, some would say too late, that even the universe has its natural end.”
Billy shivered slightly, drawing his limbs closer to his body. But his gaze never wavered.
Jeremiah went on, slower now. “It didn’t happen all at once. It took billions of years. But eventually, people started noticing. Fewer stars in the night sky. A gradual cooling of… everywhere. Civilizations rising slower… falling faster. At first, it was subtle. Easy to ignore.”
He swallowed. “But the signs piled up. Different people gave it different names: The Great Winter. The Encroaching Darkness. Entropy. But eventually, across thousands of worlds, one name took hold.”
He met Billy’s eyes. “Stagnation. The cessation of… anything.”
Billy’s mantle twitched at the word, and Jeremiah reached down, stroking his back gently. The little kraken quivered beneath his touch, but there was no fear in their link. Just a quiet sorrow, as if Billy understood, somehow.
“And by the time we realized how bad it was, it was too late. Even the so-called gods couldn’t stop it. All their power couldn’t hold back the heat death of everything.”
Jeremiah gave a tired, rueful smile. “Because Stagnation isn’t a monster to fight. It’s not some ancient tyrant that can be slain. It’s not a disease to cure.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“It’s just… the End.”
Another pause.
“As more stars faded and darkness crept in, the most powerful beings left in existence made one final gamble. They gathered everything that remained — every star still burning, every world that hadn’t yet crumbled, every soul still clinging to warmth and breath.”
Jeremiah cupped his hands as if cradling something delicate, then slowly pressed them together.
“All that was left of ‘what was,’ they brought it here. To Reliquum. The Last Galaxy. And for a time… it worked.”
Billy let out a proud chirp, puffing up and waving his tentacles in the air like he was celebrating a personal victory.
Jeremiah laughed softly. “That was a long time ago. And for a while, things really did seem better. Those who remained spread out, seeded new worlds, built fresh civilizations. Life bloomed again.”
He paused, then sighed. “But—”
Billy froze mid-wave.
“Even that wasn’t enough to stop Stagnation.” The little kraken slumped, limbs sagging slightly.
Jeremiah reached down and gently stroked his mantle. “It still creeps at the edges of Reliquum. With each galactic turning, a few more stars blink out. A few more worlds go dark.”
His expression brightened slightly. “But don’t get me wrong, Billy. I’m not saying the universe is ending tomorrow. According to the latest projections, it’ll still be millions, maybe even billions, of years before the edge of Stagnation reaches Nexus.”
He shook his head, lips quirking faintly. “Most folks figure there’s no point worrying about something they’ll never live to see. Better to live fully than obsess over an end you’ll never reach.”
That was the philosophy Jeremiah had clung to most of his life. If even beings who could drag suns across the void had failed, what hope did someone like him have?
Now these days, Stagnation was taught in schools as part of natural history. Like tectonic drift or the formation of stars. It wasn’t something to fear. Certainly not something anyone actually expected to fight. It simply ‘was’.
Apparently, Sarah had disagreed.
Mero’s voice echoed in his thoughts again. A weapon. That’s what he had called it. That was what Sarah had created. Not just a tool, not some game, just because she could. It was a desperate, last-ditch weapon against the end of everything.
A soft, rubbery nudge at his side pulled him back to the present. He glanced down to see Billy staring up at him, a small tentacle poking his chest with unexpected insistence. The kraken chirped softly, eyes wide with concern.
Jeremiah sighed, his fingers gliding gently across the creature’s smooth, slick skin. “I’m fine, Billy... just thinking.”
Another nudge. Billy clearly wasn’t convinced.
“Yeah... I know,” Jeremiah murmured, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “It’s just... a lot. I don’t know what I expected the System to be. Maybe just one of Sarah’s pet projects. Maybe just something Sarah cooked up because… because she was brilliant and curious and didn’t know how to stop herself.”
He exhaled, his voice quieter. “But this... this is something else. Something far beyond what I imagined. And I’m scared. Scared I’m going to mess it up. That even with everything Sarah built, it won’t be enough... and it’ll be my fault.”
Billy responded with another soft warble, curling a limb around Jeremiah’s wrist in a comforting squeeze.
Jeremiah smiled faintly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m probably overthinking it.”
A laugh escaped him, tired, but sincere. “I mean, I’m just the ‘Beta Tester,’ right? Still... I want this to work. Not just for me. Not even for the universe. I want it to work because she believed in it. Because if anyone could pull off something this insane... it was Sarah.”
A soft pulse of light rippled across Billy’s limbs, a wave of soothing blue that spilled over the room like moonlight on water.
Jeremiah’s fingers stilled, resting on the kraken’s warm body. He chuckled again, quieter this time. “Yeah... you’re right. Maybe it’s not my responsibility. I’m not some chosen hero meant to save the universe. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a role in all this.”
Still, the doubts lingered. Quiet questions that curled like smoke in the corners of his mind.
Only for light to cut through them like a lighthouse through fog.
In an instant, the little kraken lit up like a nebula, bioluminescent patterns swirling across his mantle in intricate constellations. Tiny starbursts shimmered along his limbs, casting a dreamlike glow across the room. Jeremiah stared, entranced. Billy had shown flashes of light before, but nothing like this. This was… ethereal. Beautiful.
Magical.
The more he watched, the more his tension faded. His shoulders slackened. His breath slowed.
Slowly, reluctantly, Jeremiah felt his eyes drift shut. Sleep crept in on gentle feet.
He yawned and stretched, one hand drifting back to rest on Billy’s warm, pulsing side.
And then he slept, drifting beneath a blanket of stars, his worries swept away by light and lullaby.
Somewhere deep within those dreams, a spark took root. A flicker of quiet resolve, fanned into something brighter.
And somewhere far beyond the narrow window, beyond the alley and the city, beyond the shining stars of the Reliquum, a quiet, patient darkness waited.
Comments
Moon Winchester
I love it, Stagnation. A natural phenomenon. Hell yea. Nothing evil, sinister, or some grand villain to hate. Just a cold hard fact. Everything has an end.
