A World (A Mind) In Shambles

Anno is currently filled with confusion, as he sits at a bar stool along with his "savior." He feels a sense of discomfort.

"And sho, I'm 'ittin here, then dis dumash tells meh to MOVE! How meshed up is dat? Of coursh, I kicked him to the floor."

"What does this have to do with helping me out?"

"Huh? Whatchu talkin bout?"

Nothing seems right since my arrival.

***

The morning in which Anno set off quietly has turned into evening.

"I'll be real with you- I'm pretty lonely. So, a complete stranger like you seems like the perfect drinking buddy."

"Sir, how old do you think I am? Also, I don't even know your name."

Following behind the pretty boy guard(?) captain(?) who seemed to have a screw loose, Anno could not help but be lost for words. But even more was a sense of suspicion.

Is it common for people to be... like this? He couldn't help but wonder.

His minimal knowledge of things outside of his town led to his renewed "understanding" of how strange people can be.

Yet even with this strange situation, he felt a sense of... familiarity with the man. And a sense of deja vu. How come?

"Huh? Oh right. Names. The name's Arthur. Yours?"

"Anno."

"Weird name."

"... That is rude. Also, I am not an adult, so I can't drink."

"Can't, or won't?"

Do you really have to ask?

In his exasperation, Anno turned away his gaze, and instead looked around him.

The sun was falling below his sight- bathing the cobbled streets in shade, as the relic lamps lining said street lit up one by one. A dim light, but enough to light one's path- provided you knew where you were headed to begin with.

But something was... off.

The hue of the world around seemed strangely red...

And the streets are strangely empty for a primetime for unsavory characters...

Perhaps the bad reputation he'd heard of was merely an exaggeration?

Wait... where did he even hear about it from?

Before Anno could ponder this further, he was already in front of the bar with Arthur.

Following behind him as they enter, the current state of affairs of listening to drunken ramblings occurs shortly after.

***

"Ah, wew. I feel better now. So, what's your story?"

"You recover quite quickly..."

After a moment to collect himself, Arthur seemed to have quickly recovered from his drunken state- as if it hadn't even occurred. What a strange man...

"I come from the plains just south of here. I'm looking for my father. Wasn't much of a walk- I could see Leneer from there."

"Huh? What are you talking about? There's no plains nearby for miles."

...What?

"I'm afraid I don't understand. I clearly came from them, so I don't know..."

"Ah! There were grassy plains there around... seventy years ago. Wiped out when the Hellfire touched down. Say... you don't feel like there's anything strange about that?"

...Seventy years?

The hustle and bustle of the bar patrons seem to have fallen silent. The air turns unbearably hot.

"Hey, Anno. How old do you think you are?"

The discomfort was certainly noticeable.

I feel eyes on me. They are looking at me. All of them.

My eyes are tearing up. What's happening?

"How... old? I'm... I'm..."

Arthur smirks, as if he'd just won a bet.

"You don't remember me do yah? We were friends you know? You were always strong, brave... but you're the reason we're dead. We know about the Hands. But it seems you don't. As the Feet, you should know your transgressions. The holder of the Hands should've found out by now."

What? What is going on? None of this is making sense...

"My- my father! I'm just trying to find him!"

"He isn't your father. And we aren't even real- now it's up to you to decide what is. You've got that ability you know? Hands and Feet- both important for a complete human body."

"Remember- you can't fight God. Even if you're a Fiend."

"You're stuck here forever."

A feeling of nausea assaults him, and a pounding headache takes hold, forcing him to close his eyes-

When they open again, The city is gone.

Who am I? What's wrong with me?

Looking down at his hands, he sees a dried, reddish brown substance on his palms.

Blood.

He looks forward at the ground beneath him.

Dust, and rubble.

He looks southwards.

A large grassy plain, freshly burnt.

He gazed at his skin.

Wrinkled, scarred.

And the smell. The acrid smell.

The smell of death.

A cracked voice spills out two words.

"...A cycle."

Anno is cursed. Him and his "father"- forever doomed to suffer for their attempts to fight the Almighty.

"The Hands... I must find... the Hands... I'm coming..."

***

What did we do wrong?

Why must we be punished for attempting to touch the stars?

We were called Fiends. Our desire for a touch of divinity has doomed us.

I saw my loved ones and comrades burn, suffer, and die.

I held my hearts companion in my hands as she bled.

Theresa-

Arthur-

Your blood is not the only one on my hands.

I did the only thing I could-

The accursed relic was split in two-

I simply need to put them together again.

Even Heaven doesn't bring back the dead.

But If Heaven has hands to build roads-

Then Hell has Feet to walk them.

A town of spirits, a false childhood and rebirth-

I could only escape the gaze of divinity for so long.

I must bind together with my core- my "father." Wielder of the Hands.

Me. Only me. I am a Champion. I am invincible. It's not my fault. It's not. It's not it's not it's not it's not

No. I can ascend. I'll bring them back, I swear it. I can do anything.

A ruined city. A scorched land. Testaments of our race, removed from time.

This world is empty.