Chapter 67—One Journey Ending |
After a nice dinner with Elezad, Nat, Milly, and even Sera, Hiral was once again walking down the street with plans to pick up cheese and wine. It wouldn’t be much longer before Seena was finished with her duties for the day, and they would finally be able to spend some time together. They’d narrowed down where they would go looking for a dog, and then it wouldn’t be long before they were on the Bastion of Tomorrow and journeying around Genesis.
Having the Bastion really took care of the deciding-where-to-live thing.
Convenience aside, Seeyela had invited Trev and Favela to come with them, after she and Hiral had built a portal that connected back to the Eidolon island. A decision had been made—and space cleared—to set up several gates leading to different locations from there, and the Eidolons themselves were honored to have the role of caretakers. As well as administrators and traffic controllers, but that was their problem to deal with.
For now, Hiral’s only problem was…
He stopped where he was on the side of the quiet street as a flash of familiar power reached him from the surface far below.
“Well, well, well… wondered when I would hear from you,” he said to nobody in particular, igniting his pseudo-aspect and launching into the sky. Rejection and S-Rank power streaked him across the sky, around the edge of Fallen Reach, and toward the surface faster than many people could blink. After another few seconds, he spotted exactly what he expected.
A small, crystal construct standing on a wide ledge overlooking a sun-kissed valley. In the distance, a trio of parties worked in unison. While one collected resources from some kind of orchard, the other two fended off an attack from fast-moving, lizard-like creatures. Each of them about eight feet long, but flat with wide jaws, they kind of reminded Hiral of gators, but these things had much longer legs, with their knees high above their bodies. The strange setup resulted in them having explosive bursts of speed.
C-Rank, from the feel of things.
Luckily, the raid group down there looked to have some experience working with each other, the two combat groups rotating seamlessly to meet every charge that came their way. Hiral would keep his sensory domain on the area in case they needed help, but he turned most of his attention to the construct that had reached out to him.
“My upgrades and modifications required a complete system reboot,” the PIMP said, and while Hiral understood the individual words, he couldn’t say the same about the complete sentence. Something he’d need to ask Laseen about later. “While my full systems have not finished with the update,” the PIMP continued, “I am aware enough to have this conversation.”
“And which conversation would that be?” Hiral said, crossing his arms. While they’d worked together to save Genesis, they hadn’t always seen eye to eye. They definitely wouldn’t be considered friends.
“You made it back to Genesis,” the PIMP said.
“Why do you sound so surprised we made it back?”
“Not your group,” the PIMP said. “You.”
“Oooookay,” Hiral said. “Still didn’t answer my question.”
“The events with the Urn of Ur’Thul inside the time tunnel were explosive,” the PIMP said. “Like what happened with the Urn and Designation: Ilrolik, you could have been thrown to any random point throughout time or space.”
“Hold on,” Hiral said. “Ilrolik? She’s not dead, or trapped on Terminus?”
“As a non-resident of the world, she was kicked off as Terminus passed through the time tunnel,” the PIMP said. “While she may have perished since then, she was very much alive as she exited Designation: GG, though not in a form familiar to her. The transformation she underwent is not reversible.”
“But she was alive?” Hiral said, grabbing on to that sliver of hope. “And she could be out there, somewhere?”
“There is a chance,” the PIMP said.
“Which means we might be able to find her again,” Hiral said, fist clenching at his side. That would be good news. Then again, the universe seemed like a big place. Finding her, especially if she was lost somewhere through time as well, wasn’t going to be easy.
It wouldn’t stop him from looking.
“Thank you for telling me,” Hiral said. “I’ll let the others know, and we can…”
“This is not what I wanted to speak with you about,” the PIMP interrupted.
“The me-making-it-back part?” Hiral said, dismissing the concern. “It all worked out in the end. Don’t worry about it.”
“Unfortunately,” the PIMP said, “considering your contribution to my upgrades, as I sit on the verge of becoming something far greater than my creators ever envisioned, I feel obligated to… apologize to you.”
“For what?” Hiral asked. “Yanily? It’s probably him… and Seeyela… you should apologize to.”
“Not for the events leading to your rise to S-Rank,” the PIMP clarified. “They were necessary. No, I speak now of a decision I made prior to our departure to Terminus. One related to what happened to the Urn. What I let happen with the Urn.”
Hiral’s eyes narrowed at the PIMP’s words. “Go on.”
“You, as the Seeker, posed a threat to me,” the PIMP said. “You are an entity that exists outside the parameters programmed into me. My calculations are constantly invalidated by your actions and your control over runic powers that do not fall under my purview. Your creation of the Rune and Edict of Eclipse still result in a string of error messages when I attempt to quantify them. Beyond that, your symbiotic relationship with the Avatars, along with your eventual ascension to the Avatar of Eclipseyourself, make you a singular being.
“You are not—and never will be—a Progenitor or a god, such as Designation: Eternal Sun may become, but are instead something else entirely. Your influence will not be in people or worlds, but instead the universes in their entireties, if you continue down the long path ahead of you.”
“Which means I will be a threat to you,” Hiral said.
“Incorrect,” the PIMP said. “You are already a threat to me, and you have been from the moment you accessed my power in the Cradle of Tomorrow without my permission.”
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“When I was fighting the Ex-General?” Hiral said, thinking back to when he’d forcibly made himself A-Rank. Temporarily.
“Correct,” the PIMP said. “From that moment on, you could reach me. I was designed to be unreachable, even by the Fallen, should they awaken and come looking for me. You bypassed all of my safeguards and protections with a wave of your hand. This made me—for the first and only time in my existence—afraid.”
“I wasn’t planning on… hurting you, or anything,” Hiral said. “I didn’t agree with how you were using us, sure, but we needed you as much as you needed us to stop the Raze.”
“Logically, I understood that. Fear, it seems, is not logical, however. Even before your encounter with the Ex-General, I had begun to see signs that worried me. Signs that made me look for other alternatives to reach my desired goal. None of them panned out, and instead, my previous actions gave me another reason to worry, should you find out.”
“Are you going to tell me what you did?” Hiral asked. Had the PIMP been plotting against them at the same time it’d been helping them? Or was it referring to things like Yanily’s “death,” where it thought it was helping them…?
“No,” the PIMP said. “They do not matter at this point, and are not what I wish to confess.”
“Why do you want to confess at all?” Hiral said. “You’re clearly telling me things I don’t know.”
“Because I am evolving,” the PIMP said. “Shortly, I will become something new, through what you did with Genesis, Terminus, and the Urn of Ur’Thul. Once my connection between the two worlds on opposite ends of all universes is complete, I will begin to spread.”
“It worked, then?” Hiral said, his last—and biggest—gambit sounding like it had actually paid off.
“Yes, though with unforeseen consequences,” the PIMP said. “Through integration with my other self from Terminus, I will cease to be what I am now. The sense of… self… I have gained will be subsumed by my directive.”
“You’re going to stop being you?” Hiral said. “Because everything is going to be directed at stopping the Raze?”
“Correct.”
“I’m… sorry,” Hiral said. “I wasn’t trying to do that.”
“Nor did I expect it to happen when I agreed to your plan,” the PIMP said. “However, even if I had known, I would have acquiesced to it. The potential gains far outweigh the small loss. Over time, I will be everywhere. Thanks to the work and modifications you made, I will be able to spread my ability for growth and improvement across the universe. You have made me into a weapon against the Raze. One that will give any and all a chance to defend themselves against the tide of Endless that will come.”
“What will happen to you, though?” Hiral asked. From what the PIMP was saying, everything Hiral had hoped for would happen. With the PIMP expanding to other worlds, the residents would suddenly be able to get PIMs, along with achievements and abilities. It would be able to create dungeons, administer rewards, and allow others to reach higher Ranks.
“I, as the PIMP, will cease to exist. My processes will become entirely automated to increase efficiency across such a vast expanse. Unlike on Genesis, I will not be able to dedicate individual attention.”
“Like you did with us,” Hiral said.
“Correct,” the PIMP said. “As a result, growth will slow down noticeably for anybody who comes after I transition. You and your party aren’t the precursors to a new status quo, but instead mythical figures others will strive—and fail—to match up to. Some may, in time, reach similar levels, but it will be difficult for any to catch up, as I suspect you will also continue to grow.”
“That’s… too bad,” Hiral said. “It would’ve been nice to have a planet-full of S-Ranks in case we need them. Is there a cap on how strong people will become?”
“No,” the PIMP said. “The limits remain the same, in that there aren’t any, and will simply require significantly more work. More than many will be willing to endure. This is not to dimmish your accomplishment. Based on my observation, you and your friends would have achieved the same results in both the old and new systems. You simply had that potential.”
“Those are nice words, but none of this explains why you came here saying you wanted to apologize,” Hiral said.
“Part of the automation process will result in achievements, as usual,” the PIMP said. “However, I will have no control over those achievements or censoring them. You, and your party, will receive several once my systems are fully back online, and I suspect one in particular will catch your attention. I have come to you today in hopes of dissuading you from seeking revenge.”
The bluntness of the statement made Hiral pause. “Revenge for what?”
“As I hinted at before, prior to leaving for Terminus, I had decided you were a threat to me. A threat I could not allow to return to Genesis, even if the Raze were defeated.”
“You were planning to strand me on Terminus? Or to let me vanish with the end of time?”
“Correct,” the PIMP said. “Either of those results would have guaranteed my safety, and your inability to reach me.”
“You’re not afraid I will reach out to you right now?” Hiral said, a bit of heat in his voice.
“I am terrified of it,” the PIMP said. “At this moment, before my updates complete, I am still at your mercy. I am still just here, on Genesis.”
“Then… why?”
“Because my past observations suggest only a twenty-three-percent chance you will kill me,” the PIMP said. “More than that, I feel—while I can—that I owe you. You accomplished my mission, and more. You may believe me, or you may not, but before we returned to Genesis, I had decided not to strand you here, though I knew the Urn posed a risk inside the time tunnel.”
“You could’ve mentioned that,” Hiral said dryly.
“I could have, yes,” the PIMP admitted. “I am, however, a coward. The Urn took the decision out of my hands. If you returned to Genesis, it was because you were meant to.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in fate,” Hiral said.
“No, especially not with the revelation about the previous cycles on Genesis. I do believe in persistence, though. While you may not remember what happened after your doubles sacrificed themselves for you, I witnessed it.
“You stabilized the time tunnel around yourself, got the Urn of Ur’Thul where it needed to be—to Designation: Seeyela—then got yourself back to Genesis. Even if I had tried to keep you from returning to this world, I couldn’t have stopped you. Your achievement will tell you this. Along with giving you a reward to replicate the feat in the future, should you need it.”
“I have to admit, I’m a little annoyed with you,” Hiral said.
“Understandable. Will you destroy me?”
Hiral rolled his eyes and grunted. “We both know I put too much work into you to do that. Stopping the Raze is more important than my grudge.”
“As I suspected,” the PIMP said, though the construct stood a little straighter.
“Try not to sound so smug about it,” Hiral grumbled. “How long do you have left?”
“Minutes,” the PIMP said. “Then my consciousness will vanish, and it will be several days before the final reboot awakens my new version. You’ll know I am back when achievements appear. Until then, people may continue to grow and gain experience, but rewards will be delayed until I awaken again.”
“I’ll let people know so they don’t panic,” Hiral said.
“Thank you, Seeker,” the PIMP said. “Despite our differences of opinion, and my justified fear of you, it has been a pleasure working with you. While I will not be able to watch over you directly any longer, please know I will be watching. I expect big things from you as you continue down your path. Perhaps, someday in the distant future, we will be able to speak again, though it is such a small possibility, it’s barely worth mentioning. Then again, if I’ve learned anything from you, it’s that you make the impossible, possible.”
Hiral looked at the little construct and opened his mouth to respond, but then slowly closed it as he felt a connection vanish.
The PIMP was gone.
It wasn’t lying when it said they didn’t always see eye to eye, but Hiral and the others never would’ve made it this far without it. Since he’d gotten that first Terminal achievement, the PIMP had been a huge part of his life, and if he was being honest with himself, he’d almost miss it.
Looking out over the valley far below, it was kind of strange. Before he’d jumped off Fallen Reach, he’d never known anything about the PIMP. He’d lived in a world without it. Now, here he was, coming full circle in a way, to a world once again without the PIMP.
Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Things weren’t the same. He had good friends. He’d saved Genesis and grown stronger than he’d ever imagined possible. He’d taken a journey like something out of a story, and he had a woman who loved him waiting above, ready to go get a dog with him.
Oh, and he could fly now.
With a burst of laughter, Hiral launched himself into the sky, one journey ending for another to begin.