Young Writers Society

@OrabellaAvenue , there you go! This is the next chapter. I have started writing the next chapter already, but my headache is really slowing down the process. It will be a while before it's complete. Thanks for reviewing my works! :p

Hey Rebel, Icy here for a quick review today!

I'm pretty sure I'm not up to date on this one but I noticed it's been sitting in the Green Room for a little while so I'm going to do my best to review it.

I already love the comedic tone of this. It feels like it would do very well as a tv show, with all the breaking of the fourth wall that's going on. It makes me feel a lot more connected to the characters than I think I would otherwise, coming in at a random chapter.

I will say that the pacing is a little chaotic, and it required quite a lot of my attention span to actually deduce what was going on. That's definitely in part due to me not having read this in order, and it's not that anything is actually incorrect. It's more that we jump around and back and forth a lot, so I found myself having to pause quite often and reread what I'd just experienced. I think an occasional line of description, or just a clear statement of what's going on would really help with grounding the reader.

I'm a big fan of including the (Great) Grim Reaper as a character. I always think that adds such a fun dimension - it makes me think of Terry Pratchett - and that's no exception here.

This is maybe the kind of work where you could add a short summary of what's happened so far at the beginning of each chapter and have it totally fit with the narrative tone of voice. That might be a good balance between keeping the theme but also helping your reader to navigate through the fun chaos.

I'm not too sure what I've just read, but it was definitely a fun experience! I'm making a mental note to try and catch up with some of the other chapters here when I get a moment.

Thanks for sharing!

Icy

Hi there again, Jit! Here again to review this still amazing story, and honestly I'm loving this story more and more every time I read a new chapter. :p

The 4th wall breaks are actually so awesome. They're so much fun as a reader to see, and honestly it perfectly fits this story, and makes it feel more close to me? Like, they add more personalisation to this story, which definitely helps me connect better to the characters, the story, and your writing! Most of them are so well placed, too, and I was trying not to burst out laughing in my room at 12 AM XD

And OMGOSH we finally met One!! I'll say more about my reaction later on in the review, but this is so exciting. ^w^

As for ways to improve, which I know you're not really looking for, so I'll be brief, the story is a little hard to follow when reading it through the first time, as there is a lot of stuff that happens that requires you to understand before you move on. Reading it through more than once, however, it's perfectly clear, and all the small areas that were confusing are there no longer! Honestly, this isn't necessarily a bad thing? It kind of depends what you want. If you're trying to make a story that super easy to follow, then maybe some editing is required, but if it's just a story on YWS that you want people to review, then it's honestly a good way to get people to read it more than once and understand it.

He asks me, “Who are you?”

I say - I am the Son of Chaos and Order, I am… Liberty.

Just kidding, I am gaanja.

“Who are YOU to mess with The GREAT Grim Reaper!” Replied the Grim Reaper.

“Not the Grim Reaper, you bastard,” said he, “the GREAT Grim Reaper.”

Bene, I guess, O, the GREAT Grim Reaper!

The GREAT Grime Reaper then asked me, “What do you want from me, human? I am tired of granting people the power of killing anyone they want, also please don’t tell me to exterminate a race or a species or something like that - I am tired, what do you- ?”

Nihil, to be honest, just a whim. But, well, now that you want me to do something - I guess I will throw a custard-filled profiterole at the speed of light, tell me if it hurts.

“HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE PRIDE OF THE GREAT GRIM REAPER, YOU PUNY LITTLE SNUBHEAD - OW!”

Bene, bene, bene - does it hurt being hit by infinite viscosity? It seems so. Let me throw another.

“OW!”

And another, “OW!” And ANOTHER, “OW!” This is fun incarnate! I am just gonna make a shotgun of custard-creviced, caramel-cantered profiterole and shoot it at lightspeed, tantum iocum!

“OW! OW! OW! OWOWOWOOWOWOWOOWOW! YOU IMBECILE - OW! - YOU MADMAN - OW! - DO YOU HAVE - OW! - ANY IDEA - OWOW! - WHOM YOU ARE DEALING WITH?!”

Ah, ita, I do. You are Death, the End of All.

“Then, knowing that, why do you think that you can mess around with me?”

Verum, uh, not any particular reason, no. I was just bored.

“Alright, THAT’S. IT. You are dead. It was NOT a pleasure to meet you.”

I am sorry, I’d rather not be dead. Thank you.

“Wait, what- YOU CAN’T JUST REFUSE THE GREAT GRIM REAPER LIKE THA- Wait, seriously though, how- how are you still standing? You should have died-”

I mean, what can you kill?

“Anything - any lifeform, any structure, any non-structure, anything that can be changed or manifested across all existence, all omniverses. BUT HOW ARE YOU STILL NOT DEAD-?”

Can you kill the concept of death itself?

“I mean - no, ‘coz I am Death, it doesn’t make sense to kill myself. Speaking of nonsense, HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD! I HAVE KILLED YOU A MILLION TIMES! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!”

Well, primo, riddle me this - how powerful are you?

“I am Death - inevitable, yet simple. I am Time. I am Space. I am God. I can kill Fire and create Ice out of it, and melt universes to create new ones. For, death is but a change - a change to another state, for better or for worse - BUT TELL ME WHO YOU ARE - LIKE WHAT ARE YOU? - HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?! WHO ARE YOU?!”

I am All, I am None, I am One, I am Done, I am what Will Be, I am what Has Been, I am what Is, I am great Bliss, I am Life, I am Death, I am Something, Nothing, and Everything. I know All, I am All, and I can Do All. I am You, You am I.

And yeah, author, just add some elements that make it seem like a grand universal show is going on in the background while I am talking. Or don’t, that’s fine too. I know you procrastinate more than Leo.

“WHO ARE YOU EVEN TALKING TO?!”

Eh, the last Grim Reaper was better than you.

“I am the GREAT Grim Reaper! The ULTIMATE form of death! The Master of All Grim Reapers across all of existence! Whom are you talking about?”

Have you forgotten what killed the previous You? Or are you too ignorant of Your past self?

“Ha! Killing Death? What a joke! I, who can break down logic, who can break down causality, time, space, and reality - who or what can kill me? - BUT WHY CAN’T I KILL YOU?! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD SO MANY TIMES BY NOW!”

Well, I am existence itself.

Anyway, I am bored. Vale! I will return to kill your future reincarnation someday, when I'm bored enough.

I turn around. I fart. Death dies.

Anyway, let’s check out what Nine is doing - oh, he’s alright, just being flagellated by ninja flagella of galactic amoebae. Bene, he will be fine, don’t worry - you will hear his story in the next chapter. For now, let’s mess with our author. What’s our author doing? Oh, I see - he’s playing UNO with a couple of friends. Ah, he’s having a rough time. Let me fart to help him. *Farts*

“Ki baaje gondho - chhele, tor Paadruman eschhe! (”Such a bad smell - bro, yo’ Paadruman’s here!”) Said the author’s friend as he used the hand in which he held the winning card to cover his nose, mistakenly revealing his final card, the six of blue.

“Aha! Joy Paadruman! (Hail Paadruman!) Hehe,” said the author as he smashed a wild card onto the deck and laughed like a maniac all throughout the remainder of the game - which he won.

“Sala, tor Paadruman toke baanchiye nilo. (Bastard… yo’ Paadruman saved you.)” Said the friend as he cursed me repeatedly.

For reference, if you were to translate Paadruman, it would mean Fartman or Farting-man. The friend, hinc referred to as T, rechristened me as Paadruman after he read Chapter 4: The League of Life - where I mentioned how I filled a 5D universe with fart.

Well, talking about 5D universes, that’s the exact same name I introduced myself in the 5D universe where I farted - I call that universe “pepedi”, meaning “I have farted” in Latin, just for reference. Let’s see, what’s my friend Merlin doing there?

“Merlin biddeth thee, hola amigo!”

Salve, Merlin!

“Still talking in Latin,” said Merlin, “mitram mam?”

C’mon, speak in English or something, most people reading this don’t know Sanskrit.

“Fair, fair,” sighed Merlin, “so, why here in Merlin’s woruld?”

Well, just to get you to be a narrator, I am not that good at the job, videtur.

“Now, now,” laughed off Merlin, “why do you think that you’re that badde at it?”

Just read this - I said, as I handed Chapter 4 of Nine to Merlin.

“It’s not… bad, per se…” murmured Merlin as he slowly read through the pages, “but you coulde improve a bit in some areas. Hmm… There’s too much thinking about the immortality of the crab here… and some weirde stuff here…”

So, want to take over the job of Narrator for my chapters from me… that is, as long as I am too bored to narrate, quippe?

“Ha!” He exclaimed, “then that will be just one chapter! Merlin’s jocund narration shall gruntle you in no time!”

Iam, iam, don’t get on your high horse already! There is a challenge.

“Merlin loves challenges! What is it - eh? What is it?”

You have to change your modus narratus whenever I ask you to. For example, first, describe yourself and your history in Shakespearean iambic pentameter - in couplets!

“Challenge accepted! Ahem, ahem -

Merlin is this who speaks to thee, Reader,

I do deceive in mirth and go thither

Where naught has gone - I go to create ‘new -

Reality and sooth and time to sew

Afresh universe where trickster can I

Be - forge great tales, deceive and stupefy!

Merlin does bend fiends just to have fun-”

Alright, that’s enough, you are capable. I get it, bene, you don’t need to make a sonnet. Now, start describing the events after Chapter 5 - and add in as many mafia allegories as you can!!

“Sure! Ahem, ahem-

“ ‘Sherlock,’ shot Ramanujan as he metaphorically felt his heart pound to a halt, ‘Remember that you told us to perform the routine Field Signature check? Our readings… look at this…’

The graph glided through zero metres before landing on Sherlock’s unbruised hands. The impact of the graph was not in its firing potential, but its contents, and unprecedented accuracy.

‘What,’ shot Sherlock as he perched a pipe on his pip, then gunned he, ‘No… not these asymptotes… Do not vouch me that this is a Field Signature graph… is it?’

Srinivasa Ramanujan’s voice convulsed as he blasted, ‘Y-Y-Yes… O Lakshmi Namagiri… Help me… What asura can be this… powerful?’

Sherlock, with the horror pouring down on him - like the oil reeking out of a burnt car after a mob fight - glared at the graph. They had been trying to monitor this peculiar universe since the first 5D monster emerged - yet, every time, the machine’s magazine muzzled with malicious mallets and could never register a number. Many a times they’d shot their chance, many a times they’d failed. But now, when they’d finally clipped their target, the graph stared back at them like a button with a glock in point-blank.

‘This is not good,’ Sherlock whacked, ‘Prithee, 3L-Threes, pardon me for a second, I have to check through all spacetime of this universe for probable suspects causing the asymptotes. I think we might finally find them this time.’

‘Damn,’ ratted Michael to the Don, ‘Sherlock, d’you think it’d be good to mess with a guy like that?’ “

Change! You are nunc a classicist who has a penchant for Greco-Roman mythology!

“ ‘That’s enough, Michael,’ Thena interrupted, the capable Secretary of Sherlock - unlike the disloyal page hurled over the Euboic - ‘The Leader knows what he is doing.’

‘Always the loyal dog to your master - eh, Thena?’ Lapulapu tried to spark Thena - like when Thersites the deformed Achaean sparred with King Agamemnon when the latter alienated Achilles. However, the self-same Thersites got punched to death by Achilles when he mocked the latter for fighting Penthesilea - and so did happen to Lapulapu. Thena - as enraged as Artemis when she massacred Niobe’s daughters because she insulted her mother Leto - punched a Nullifying Smash which cindered Lapulapu’s face in an instant, but, like a Phoenix, his ever-stubborn head rose up again from the ashes on his neck - as if never struck in the first place.

‘C’mon, don’t be mad, Thena - you should be used to it by now,’ said the regenerating mouth, as Lapulapu’s head regrew like that of the Lernaean Hydra.

Replied Thena, ‘Never in a million years will I accept disrespect to Sir Sherlock.’

Shakespeare joined in, ‘It is good that thou wert not there in the / Hujubuju Expedition, Thena - / Or else, we would have had heads cauterised / everywhere due Sherlock’s slow-wit mistakes.’

‘Not you too, Sir Shakespeare!’ Thena bemoaned - like Aeneas lamenting fallen Troy in the temple of Saturn’s daughter.

Fakir says, ‘Fakir says that Sherlock is not as great as you think him to be - you just adore him because he rescued you.’

Thena was about to throw another Nullifying Smash, this time on Fakir, when a long heavenly rod interrupted her. ‘Hey, c’mon, everyone, relax,’ said Sun Wukong the Monkey King while holding his Jingu Bang - like when Zeus persuaded Eos to let the Sun arise again after the son of Peleus killed Antilochus, ‘it really shows that stuff is in disarray when the King of the Monkeys is the most sensible person in a group of thirteen people.’

‘Silence,’ said Sherlock as he finally came back from his reverie of the universe - and everyone was indeed silenced, such was his aura - akin to the stillness imposed upon the Trojan survivors when Aeneas and Achates were revealed from a halo of clouds after Queen Dido finished addressing Ilioneus.

‘I have found something even more concerning than what we anticipated,’ said Sherlock, beginning his speech like the self-same Aeneas, ‘There are not one - but two infinite beings in this universe, and one of them is barely aware of his predicament. We have met one and we haven’t met the other-’ “

Change! You are now the author of a parody weekly Mathematics journal!

“Adolf said, ‘Herr Holmes, please don’t make it cryptic and go straight to the point.’ Ever unchanged, like the derivative of ex. Even in his universe, he never liked long-drawn conversations - unless it was about his wife and love Stefanie Hitler née Isak. And-”

Oh, please stop! Odi Math professors’ ramblings about completely unrelated stuff-

“Hey c’mon, readers would wante to know this Hitler’s history, it’d flesh out his character.”

Fair point. Carry on. Hey, author, don’t rewrite that line - it’s okay to leave it out there.

“Yes, anyway-

Sherlock replied, ‘One of them is Nine, and the other is whom they call Salai or Zero. Nine doesn’t know that he has such powers, or even if he is in possession of the knowledge of his infinite power - he still can not wield it of his own volition.’

A moment of silence permeated, which permuted the atmosphere from 1 to 1/0 - that is to say, it sent all the 3L-Threes, i.e., Hitler et al. into total shock. Ramanujan, with his voice convoluting to and fro from Lagrangian to Hamiltonian and back, ‘I guess that’s how he was able to make a blackhole out of gravitational waves, without even realising…’

Fakir asks, ‘Fakir would like to ask the 3L-Three Council about how the Council wishes to deal with the infinite beings? Does the council want to exterminate them or befriend them?’

Beethoven, who had been listening to old techno-jazz - also known as Jazz-House music, for reasons unknown (for more information, check the references definitely given at the end) - till now, spoke up, ‘Ich habe heard that the infinite being named Nine is a phenomenal composer, I’d like to request the 3L-Threes to let him be - for now, at least.’

It has come to the attention that the terms ‘infinite being’ and ‘3L-Three(s)’ have not been defined adequately till now. Herewith, an ‘infinite being’ is any structure or lifeform such that it has an infinite, undefined, or indeterminate form of Field Control over one or more physical objects, ideas or structures - that cannot be measured in finite values. E.g., Salai or Zero (he shall also be referred to as Paadruman by me hereby)-”

Noice. I prefer it that way.

“-is an infinite being with control over everything in all existence, as he is existence itself - he is him. Merlin, the current narrator, is an omniscient being with infinite control over knowledge and illusions. Fakir, the ‘Earman’-”

That’s the best superhero name ever. Period. Non argumenta.

“-has infinite control over his ears - i.e., he can change and/or modify the size, shape, configuration, physical and chemical properties, and the function of his ears in accordance to his own volition and imagination.

The 3L-Threes are the top thirteen members of Halcyon, a multiversal organisation from the three-dimensional plane of existence that deals with threats to the fabric of reality. The ‘3L’ in ‘3L-Three(s)’ is an abbreviation of Halcyon’s motto - ‘Love, Life, and Liberty’. The ‘Three(s)’ stands for the original three members who founded Halcyon - Sherlock, Shakespeare and the Statue of Liberty. Originally, it was just a name - then it became a title for the top members of Halcyon whose Field Control levels were unparalleled. Gradually, it came to encompass all the thirteen infinite beings in Halcyon - S. Holmes, Thena, Lapulapu, A. Hitler, Fakir, Amina, M. Jackson, L. van Beethoven, S. Wukong, S. Ramanujan, W. Shakespeare, and the S. o. Liberty.”

Man, I’m bored. Change. You are now the narrator of a high fantasy novel - wait, no, that’s the genre of this novel - but wait, every chapter has a different narrator, and my auto-diary is supposed to be the narrator for my chapters, so… you… are my auto-diary…? Quid am I even talking about…?

“Get a holde of your thoughts, bruther, I know what you mean.

Placing the cherrywood pipe in midair and donning his ulster, Sherlock said, ‘Although 72589 out of 72599 encounters with infinite beings ended with hostilities and several thousand deaths of Halcyon members, I would recommend gauging our interactions with them - because we have no idea about their power. Although my intuition tells me that Nine will be an easy prey, I have no idea about President Zero’s Field Control levels.’

‘Still,’ said Sun Wukong - with a devilish smirk on his simian cheeks, ‘Are they strong?’

‘Again,’ Sherlock said, with serenity exuding from his seated posture as he sat down on air and crossed his slender legs, ‘I probed through all time - Nine, despite having some extremely interesting quirks, is not a threat. Moreover, he’s an adorable, smart and wonderful kid - he won’t be a nuisance to us. However, President Zero - or Salai as they call him - is extremely elusive. He’s powerful - he has - at the very least - omega-tier omniscience, psi-tier energy control, omega-tier matter control, tau-tier mind control, and beyond omega-tier reality manipulation - for example, there were some parts in the timeline of this universe which I couldn’t access, that has never happened before. So, his strength is an unknown variable.’

‘I don’t give a Jade King’s damn about that,’ said the Monkey King, disgruntled, ‘what are his combat abilities?’

‘He rarely needs to fight,’ said Holmes before picking up the pipe and giving it a puff, ‘His combat strength and skill is a highly variable factor - I would have forewarned you about not getting into a fight with him if I did not possess the predisposition that you would simply ignore it.’

As he rotated his monstrously heavy staff Ruyi Jingu Bang so fast that it could have blown away the Earth’s crust, mantle and atmosphere if it were not for what happened next, Monkey King Sun Wukong said, ‘Leave him to me, I will deal with him if he’s a trouble.’

Suddenly, as if the heavens themselves roared and existence itself shook, there was a clamorous cacophonous clangour - when a grave voice whispered fear into his heart, ‘Oh no, you won’t.’

Everyone in the room - even the asleep Pythagoras who was abruptly awoken by the asperation of Paadruman’s arrival - started all-alert as they stared aghast at the hole agape through both of Sun Wukong’s acoustic meatuses. The Sevenfold-Immortal slowly turned to look at the ever-expressionless Salai as the former's pupils slowly dilated and life abandoned his body and soul.

Within a femtosecond, which was further accelerated to Planck time by Sherlock, all the eleven other 3L-Threes of Halcyon present in the room were in a string’s distance to Salai’s epidermal skin - Sherlock’s Webley was pressed at his forehead; Ramanujan’s Chakra despaired to decapitate him; Amina’s heart-tipped Zuciya Ida was pressing against the foramen magnum; Lapulapu’s uppercut had almost smashed his groin; a violet laser beam from Fakir’s left ear was about to pierce his pectoral bone; Pythagoras’ concentrated Death Hypotenuse: Square Breath had barely perforated the nasal cavity; Thena’s Infinite Nullifying Smash had scarcely scratched the vertex of the bold, golden L sewn in Salai’s shirt representing Paadruman’s everlasting love for Leonardo; Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony had hardly skimped his auditory canal; Hitler’s Nihil was at the whiskers of his right kneecap and Jackson’s Moonwalk Max: Hee-Hee had scantily scraped Salai’s shoe when -”

Damn, tu have got tons of synonyms, similes, and metaphors for ‘hardly’ and ‘barely’.

“- I know, ryghte? Thank God I’m omniscient -

When Paadruman let out a singular audible chuckle, ‘Ha.’

All of those weapons from the eleven 3L-Threes had successfully hit him - he was decapitated from his collar bone to his chin, and from the base of the jaws to the hollow bullet wound through the cerebrum; his ankles were fire and brimstone, and there was a cavernous crater in his pectoral cavity which was further fettered by cracks and crevices indented on his body like the leafy tendrils of a vine labyrinth all the way from the pelvic girdle; all life was imbibed out of his body - and yet he stood, juggling his decollated head in his two hands as blood and entrails spewed out of his seething body and decollated head.

‘Ah,’ said Paadruman, the God of Flatulence, ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had so much poena… I feel… reinvigorated.’ - And then all went numb as time froze.

The ornately decorated guest room of the Agents’ Mansion in which the 3L-Threes were holding their meeting started metamorphosing - the enchanting chandelier which enlightened the room started to decompose; the flamboyant wallpapers that once adorned the workshop of Leonardo da Vinci started to frill into higher dimensions; the cushy sofas and the scarlet carpet started fusing with the windows, and the door simply disappeared. All the 3L-Threes stood petrified, suspended in time - as one by one, each of them dissolved into the air like a colourful slinky slowly being liquefied.”

You should write a horror novel, amice.

“At first, Holmes thought that all of this was an illusion propagated by the infinite being by his reality manipulation. He tried to sense his friends’ Field Signatures, and sighed a breath of relief when he detected them - however, it was a little odd. The Field Signatures felt like they were fused into each other, somehow. Their auras… were dim, yet scintillatingly bright together. Wait, no… This can’t be… Sherlock couldn’t detect his own Field Signature. No… it is there but… it is not his anymore… How does that make sense? He can now detect his Field Signature but… it is the same as Zero’s signature! Not just his… ALL FIELD SIGNATURE IS SALAI’S!”

I am the Field, frater, you don’t need to yell it at the reader. They know it already. Probably.

“ ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ said Salai, still juggling his bloody head, ‘I have come to warn you - do not mess with me or any other Agent, or even worse - try to find out my past.’

‘Who… what are you…?’ Sherlock murmured in dread.

‘I am.’

The floor and the ceiling ceased to be, the walls and the furniture faded to black. Only the trembling Sherlock and the dismembered Zero remained in the abyss. Then, there was another Salai juggling his head standing beside Paadruman. Then another. And another. And a billion more. Then another billion. And another. And an infinite more, till all was Paadruman.

‘All the 3L-Threes,’ said the infinite Salai’s surrounding every Planck unit of everything around Sherlock, ‘are seeing the same thing as you, even the Statue of Liberty whom you sent to scout the 5D forces. I went to him to inform that the force fought by the League of Life on Earth was just the vanguard, and that the main army was yet to arrive - but he was so terrified of my Field Signature that he attacked me, so, well, I decided to flex, scis tu? So, that’s why I’m here - to inform you about the upcoming attack as well as to have some fun. Ut ita, that’s all. I am gonna go and deal with a traitor now - and don’t worry, all of your friends are alright.’

Then he snapped his finger, and everything went back to normal.

‘That man… that beast… that... Thing…’ a shrunken Statue of Liberty said, panting, kneeling, and punching the floor in front of the other 3L-Threes, ‘I… I don’t know what to say or think anymore…’

‘Nor do I,’ said Michael, the King of Pop, ‘That… was an experience…’

‘I felt like,’ professed Ramanujan, ‘I felt like I was Arjun on the fields of Kurukshetra… watching the true, divine form of Lord Krishna… I am terrified yet exhilarated at the same time…’

‘That’s… enough,’ said Pythagoras, ‘I saw something beyond my comprehension… something non-Euclidean… I don’t want to talk about it…’

‘Let’s calm down,’ opined Sherlock, still trembling in trepidation, ‘And plan for the upcoming attack… after an hour… I think… I need to vomit.’

The rest of the stupefied and traumatised 3L-Threes concurred with him.”

Change! Now you are a pretentious Victorian author trying to meet their word count!

“Scarcely after he made himself scarce and commenced his departure from the Halcyon Council, a deafening roar caused by Salai’s Drive manifested itself in a forlorn oasis on the celestial body denominated after Venus, the Roman Goddess of Love herself. What awaited him there, however, was the epitome of irony. Dwelling in her pretty bijou mansion cradled in the centre of the Cupid Desert was Hatred herself, Agent One.

A solemn smile sheared across Salai’s severe countenance as he greeted, ‘Salve, Una! Long time no see!’

One replied his gratuitous greeting with a plastic smile and a hand gesture as her heart blazed with a burning passion to impale her defiler with a scorching skewer - yet she was well acquainted with the fact that she was not in possession of power that is remotely contiguous to his. Thus, Hatred endeavoured to her optimum to induce her utmost savoir faire in order to douse her hatred towards Zero - as his cause for visit was known to her.

She measured Paadruman up with a quick glance and proceeded to say, ‘So, uh… isn't the weather nice?’

‘Ita,’ replied her degrader as he held in view the flurrying flinches of free clouds drifting along the azure sky, ‘thanks to me, Venus is verum the sister of Earth. I still remember when in 1969, I made this home for you in the newly terraformed planet for you and-’

‘DON'T,’ yelled she, ‘DO NOT REMIND ME OF THAT DAY - the day I got spoiled by…’ she grimaced and she glared at Salai's glacial eyes, ‘A disgusting sapphic man like you.’

‘Bene,’ Salai, ever-unperturbed, replied, ‘I wouldn't have been mad if you didn't spew your narrow-minded ultra-conservative hatred at Leonardo's preferences and hadn't glorified British treatment of Alan Turing.’

At once, she jettisoned off the jagged sand into the wry sky, carving a crater comparable to the size of New York on the arenaceous surface. However, ever so expeditious, Salai's leap sent shockwaves across the planet following which he grasped One's profile in an instant and lunged her back from the welkin to terra firma.”

This doesn't sound Victorian enough.

“What? Why?”

Ramp up the verbosity.

“Alright, but won't that bore the reader?”

Meh, who cares? The author’s gonna deal with it, cur should we care?

“C’mon, that’s not faire. I am sure that the author agrees with me, ryght?”

Ita, he does. But why should we care?

“Because this is his story! Be less of a jerk sometimes, Paadruman.”

You know what, fair. Anyway, continue.

“The Lord of Flatulence hence spoke, ‘You aren’t going anywhere, Una, till Nine, Halcyon and the other Agents fight the main army. You are the final boss, traitor.’

‘Traitor?’ One spoke, with her voice trembling, ‘Traitor, you say? You hypocrite - Betrayal… Treachery - what do you know of treachery?’

Paadruman replied nonchalantly, ‘Everything, actually.’

‘Then,’ with trepidation in her voice giving rise to inundation from her eyes, ‘Why did you betray me…? Why did you leave me alone with a child I didn’t consent to, like those nauseating boorish teenagers these days? Why t-torture me? Why dislike me? Why destroy me? Tell me… why did you trample over my beliefs, f-faiths and ideals as if I were a filthy Creole… and take away my dignity and torture… me… by s-shredding each of my cells over and over and reg-regenerating them again just to cut it down over a m-million… sob… times…? You filthy man… Just because I bad-mouthed those queer simian humanoids…? Just because I insulted your friend and your love?’

Zero replied, with zero remorse, ‘Just because I can.’

‘Then…’ One wailed, ‘Why not be kind… and merciful… and good like God wants you to be…?’

Salai chuckled, before replying, ‘I don’t want to be.’

One screamed, ‘WHY?’

Paadruman replied, ‘It’s not fun… I mean, it is sometimes fun to be good, sed not always.’

‘I hope…’ She said, finally calming down after wailing out the thoughts buried deep beneath her heart for over five decades, ‘I hope… I want… May you be struck down… like Saul… by the Lord Himself…’

Hatred herself suspired a groan of languish. She was aware in thorough that Zero was in complete perception of the fact that she had, in truth, led the creatures of the fifth dimension to this world - in order to reap vengeance. However, once more, in truth - it was simply an act of despair, an action grounded upon decades of humiliation and trauma which ultimately manifested in despicability and death of uncountable innocents - caused by a rift between a man sentient simply for jollification and a woman abhorred for her unjust, grotesque, hateful and genocidal treatment of all non-Caucasian races, non-Catholics, non-humanoid species and every masculine being.

Then Paadruman said, ‘Alright, enough crying, you’re not going anywhere till Nine and co defeat those 59,732 hundred-thousand-lightyear-sized Sauriae and their Marshal - you are the final boss maniacally trying to destroy everything because you hate existence. Of course, you are fated to lose, but the fight spanning across universes would be spectacular. I will make Merlin narrate it - Oh, here they come, this is going to be fun! Evax!’ “

I think that’s enough for this chapter, Merlin.

“Yes, I thinke so too.”

By the way, Merlin, tell our readers what you are doing in this five-dimensional universe - also called pepedi.

“No one calls this woruld ‘pepedi’ except you, Paadruman.”

C’mon, don’t be pedantic, just end this chapter by telling the readers what you are doing.

“Oh, well, I am currently organising a revolution with some pacifist rebelles who are tired of this frantick search for the one who transformed their universe to an abyss of fart. We want to overthrow the militaristic governemente ruling this world and just adapt to the abundance of methane present everywhere - basically, I am just cleaning up this bastarde’s mess.”

Sheesh, that was harsh, amice.

“It’s the truth, bruther.”

Anyway, everyone, so the fight between Nine and Co. versus 59,732 Sauriae is going on right now. Sum kinda tired of narrating, so I will just go on and read the eighth chapter narrated by Six.

“I narrated everything, bruther, give me some acknowlechmente.”

Fine, fine - I am too excited to hear Merlin narrate everything, and I want to read it myself. So, yeah, see you in the next chapter!