50 'I Am the Antichrist to You'

"Say again..."

"My master is Logean Wuji."

This time K was sure of what he heard, and so he stiffly exhaled and rejoiced that he had not admonished her for almost breaking the Silver Personage.

Of all the descendants of persons affiliated with the United Sect, he would never have thought that the Empress' son himself would have sent his disciple.

Was he not beyond the level of a Sovereign God? Could he not immediately make her the most powerful person in any dimension or reality?

Why, then, had he sent his disciple here?

Of course, K was not so ignorant as to inquire of Pixie regarding her master's motives. This could possibly be seen as a blasphemous act, and he did not wish to perish just yet.

Instead, he cleared his throat and gave a warm smile. In his mind, he immediately formulated a route that would allow them to bypass the less impressive items in the collection, while also ensuring that they arrived at one of the greatest items- in his opinion.

"This is the 'Recollection of Mother's Lashings' by Werren Lue of the Heavenhorn Worlds, Tenth Void. In that stretch of the Infinite Expanses, he is a well-known connoisseur of the arts."

Pixie perused a statue of a woman in rags holding a slipper above her head, ready to whoop some ass. Pixie hadn't had those sort of hellish, traumatizing experiences, so she could not fully grasp the meaning of the artwork.

"This is an oil painting named 'Maou' by a man known only as Rengoku. Little is known about him beyond his fascination for female devils, which is reflected in his work. In fact, he is part of the reason an entirely new principle of art was created in his world: Rule 34."

Pixie's brows twitched. The image was a bit much for her. It was raunchy and embarrassing, to her, to have to look at this lewd form of art. The image was of a grey skinned demon with long white hair. Her body was scarcely covered with thin straps, exposing almost everything to the observer.

To top it off, her expression was that of some kind of bold cock slave, begging to be taken.

Being inexperienced and somewhat pure, Pixie increased her pace and shook off the effects.

K chuckled nervously, thankful that her reaction was not worse than this.

"Here we have 'The Scripts.' These are the writings of a songwriter who, despite what some say, was exceptionally skilled."

Pixie got closer to the display case and found the closest sheet of paper to read. On it was a bunch of writing she could only call chicken scratch. To her, it was unreadable.

"Allow me."

K reached forward and waved his right hand. Immediately, the gem embedded on the back of his hand glowed and a dust-like energy pierced the transparent material.

That caused the image of the writing to blur before it transformed into a language that she could read.

"You can find me in da club? Bottle full of bub... I'm into having sex, I ain't in to making love- Just what is it with these people and sex?"

K laughed but said nothing.

The tour continued, leading her to inspect all manner of items. Eventually, she stopped taking the time to observe them in detail. Only if something truly piqued her interest would she actually veer off the 'path' and peer into the display.

K was beginning to think she would start getting bored, so she adjusted the path. Instead of taking a winding route, he chose for them to walk on in a straight line toward one of his favorite pieces.

"In all of my grandfather's collection, few things were given as much effort as the ones we are about to come up to."

Pixie's eyes widened, "How do you mean."

K folded his arms and thought for a while. "Well, he put a lot more work into their presentation. Not only did he arrange the scripts, but he also added other affiliated pieces that could enhance the beauty of each other, thus strengthening the thematic essence."

Pixie nodded, making an 'oh' sound as she grew excited. A soft blue glow met her gaze and she looked up, seeing a slightly different color of light above her. It was a very bright blue, almost white, but she caught on.

This bright blue light hung over a massive, open display. It consisted of a number of levels, each of them containing some form of work. The lowest level had a bunch of scripts, the second had small painting, the third had larger paintings and the highest had a bunch of figurines, depicting a variety of beings.

There was a seraphim, a cherubim, an ophanim and also different denominations of demon. The tallest figurine, however, was the humble figure of a man, dressed loosely. He did not seem like much, but the way the figure glowed characteristically and emanated a naturally royalty, it was clear that he was beyond grand.

K stepped forward and gestured toward the scripts.

"This mini-exhibit is dedicated to a particular clan from the Mythical Realm. Hailing from the Seventh Void, which is a realm of beings that have a unified belief in their creator, the Yahweh Clan inspired many versions of the same myth."

Pixie took up some of the scripts, careful with them as she lightly read. She was searching for something that struck her- something that appealed to the deepest dao within her.

"A dissatisfied son, rebellious and unwilling to submit. In his eyes his father played favorites, and so he lashed out because he was jealous and angry, but also because he was deeply hurt."

Pixie's eyes glistened as she listened and searched. The feeling grew in her that, soon, she would find something that touched on her dao-heart.

"That son, known by quite a few names, was punished for his rebellion. He was cast out of his home, he and all those that chose to foolishly aid him. Unworthy of the divinity that made him truly holy, he and his followers were forced to live amongst the mortals."

"You can imagine how their tales and legends would be inspired by this as time passed. Interpretations of his life among the people varied immensely from culture to culture, people to people, era to era."

Pixie stopped, frozen. In her hand was a script full of writing- teeming with beautiful, masterfully construed, meaningful words.

She whispered as she read the title at the top, repeating it a few times before increasing the volume of her speech.

"I Am The Antichrist To You..."

K nodded, remaining silent as she read.

"Who are you? Who am I to you? I am the antichrist, to you. Fallen from the sky with grace, into your arms race... This seems so heartfelt... emotional... full of pain and misplaced love... Please explain it to me."

She turned to K, eyes already red and brimming with tears.

"A master of his craft, Kishi Bashi gives the story a humane and personal interpretation. It is so close to his own heart that, if not for the clear allusion, it could pass as something completely unrelated."

Pixie nodded and went over what she had just read.

K continued, "Who are you? Who am I to you? The Fallen Son arrives in the land of the mortals. After all his life thinking himself above them, he is now forced to confront the reality that, in a sense, he is no better than them."

"I am the antichrist, to you. This alludes to a certain interpretation of the history, in which the Fallen Son is named the Evil One who is against the Creator, who is Good. He is called the antichrist in that story, because he is against Christ, which is a name they have for the Creator."

"Him saying 'I am the antichrist, to you,' implies an almost helpless persona. It feels like he isn't even trying to be anything, but has already been given a label to live by. It is meant to cause a conflict between two interpretations in the mind of the reader."

"Fallen from the sky with grace, into your arms race. Painting the image of the Fallen Son literally falling, I believe Kishi Bashi also intends to introduce the idea that there was little the Fallen Son had control over. His father was the one behind his punishment, and so he was also the one responsible for whatever his son would do in the mortal world."

"By 'into your arms race,' he could mean that the Fallen Son had already fallen into a world of chaotic violence, which is a contrast to what is normally believed. I believe it is also meant to hint at the writer's own dilema, as the words 'into your arms' are also present."

Pixie listened but felt like she did not even hear. She held the paper in her hand and looked around, but did not feel like she was there. It was surreal.

"Do continue, Miss."

She continued, and K kept on giving her some of his detailed insight into the deeper meaning.

"And my heart, it shook with fear. I'm a coward behind a shield and spear. Take this sword and throw it far, let it shine under the morning star. This verse feels so rich, doesn't it?"

Pixie was already in love with the story being told, even if she relied on K to explain what she missed- which was a lot.

"It really is. There are many shifts in the persona that can get confusing for some. The best way to go about understanding is to not look at them as two different personas, but as one. Kishi Bashi's persona and the Fallen Son's persona are, I think, meant to meld into one as the script progresses."

"And my heart, it shook with fear. I'm a coward behind a shield and spear. In response to the arrival of this 'Evil One,' the mortals took a strong stance. Many were against the Fallen Son. However, adversity is something all must face at some point. It is something that strengthens our character. Both the Fallen Son and Kishi Bashi have experienced adversity from mortals, and so the similarities make for a connection."

"Take this sword and throw it far, let it shine under the morning star. This feels like a plea, almost. A desperate wish for the violence to end and for the hatred to cease. It also seems like a surrender. A way for both the Fallen Son and the writer to convey that maybe, just maybe, they never wanted to fight to begin with. There is also the possibility that it is a reference to the instance wherein the Fallen Son is referred to as the 'son of the morning.' However, I believe it is meant to be a reference to the popular phrase: 'before heaven.' For example, performing an act and saying that it was performed before heaven, to be seen as proof of your deeds in the mortal world."

"It was indeed rich in meaning," Pixie marvelled.

"Who are you? Who am I to you? I am the antichrist, to you. Fallen from the sky with grace, into your arms..."

Pixie was a bit out of breath. She felt, in her heart, mind and soul, that she had just witnessed something monumental and terrifying, divine and demonic all at once. It was an entire life's story playing out before her eyes that had, now, come to an end.

"It ends, with the same feelings from the beginning resurfacing. The outer perception- the way the world sees him- will not change. However, he feels now that he is accepted for who he is. He can fall into the arms of those closest to him. Sadly, the fact that the same words are repeated spells a sad end for the Fallen Son. He will always be seen as the antichrist, as the agressor, as being in the wrong. Siding with him will be seen, by the majority, as the wrong decision. Even so, there will be some who do not care about right and wrong."

"All they care about is how they feel about him."

Pixie's eyes overflowed. The raw emotion in her was inexplicable. Her frustration built the more she failed at expressing it and it drove her mad. She cried out, trying hard to get it all out of her system.

She could not, so she decided to say what was on her mind.

"This is true art. It is the deepest way to express the 'unexpressable.' It is what all art aims to be. This... is my dao."

Upon realizing this, Pixie got her pen and started making notes. Eventually, her time ran out and she heard the tattle stone within her spatial ring.

She told K she would see him later, then took out the teleport crystal and returned to the dorm.