Through the Living Heir

Because he doesn’t want to mess up the character development/mental breakdown. Getting hug from the Antagonist himself is a good way to decide people maybe do care after all. - Rebus appeared with a thunderclap of displaced air, striding up to the table Viper was strapped to. “They’ll escape the second they wake up, unless you’ve made those straps antiteleportation and antiNarration - Nullite should work. In addition to their magic, the sword they had is immensely dangerous. Where are you storing it?”

Rebus left a clone there, presumably to be hugged until both he and Atlas fossilized. - Oh - I’d thought one of them stayed behind. Rebus, aware that there might be protections against it, tried to teleport there.

Oh, fun! I’m not sure if I’ll get to Utah in time for it, though. Rebus waited for Atlas to stop hugging him, then turned to whomever else had remained with them. “May I speak to Viper?”

Invention was still focused on the movements of the leylines - an interesting pattern of movement had developed, one that sent waves through the Laykium dust in both directions. Any other pattern broke down if it traveled nearby - the pulses colliding with it and disrupting the propagation.

“I understand what you mean. Perhaps you are even right.” Rebus gave a sagely nod, his interest in this development absent from his face. Atlas’s voice had changed - the cynicism could be a sign of something more. Rebus dropped to the ground, landing smoothly on his feet. “I know more than you seem to think - mere age does not determine wisdom. Creating history is not the same as changing it, but perhaps I was unreasonable in my judgement.” Though Rebus’s rage had truly cooled, he had also realized that Storm was far more dangerous than even what he claimed Cricket would be. “I await the return you have promised. You may not have noticed the relevant post, but my Author did write the beginning of the duel after Cricket appeared to challenge me. You could alter what has occurred and pick up from there as though none of this has happened. Or you send all of this in a very different direction - because I too am dangerous.” Rebus blinked out of existence, leaving only the memory of his words and the sound of a collapsing vacuum. Jack reached his hand out as well, baffled. “That looks like empty space to me - just now, we passed through a wall.” Rebus nodded. “Should this have occurred at another time - should Sequence, Cricket, and Malevolence not have all abruptly changed in status - it would have been less jarring. I understand your motives.” Rebus paused for a moment, then began to smile. “Yes. I understand your motives quite well…” Rebus’s eyes were dull and hollow. He stood stiff, stillness broken only as he began to speak. “Axzi - Vengeance, in truth. You wish to be my equal, and yet you clearly state I could defeat you. I have some advice for you. Before crushing the will to live, ensure there is nothing to fill the gaps.” And then, still with the dead-soul eyes Vengeance had instilled, Rebus smiled. It was a grin of bright-white teeth and murderous anticipation - a smile far removed from the expressions of a sane man. “But you are in luck, Vengeance. There are things more important to me than killing those who lie to me, twist my emotions, and then believe I shall accept them as my equal. Things far more important than that.” Patterns of light and darkness shifted around him, and Antagonist seemed to drink in the aura Vengeance was emitting. “A template will be quite useful to me.” Rebus echoed Vengeance’s laugh as a jewel of swirling blackness formed from the air and embedded itself among the tines of the crown.

Rebus’s face softened, the part of him that really did care emerging from beneath all of the facades and schemes. “You want to help others… Choose someone else, kid. I don’t need you, and you definitely don’t need me.” Rebus watched him leave, silent. And as the Trisolarians arrived, he watched them, silent. Jack frowned. “I think you are right. We just passed through a wall.” Rebus seemed uncharacteristically vulnerable. He had been outpaced, and he was tired - tired of pages and pages of preparation and scheming being abruptly invalidated. Rebus stood still for a moment, smiling with unfocused eyes. “So this is what you did.” He said, speaking slowly, energy beginning to collect around him. “You call off our ‘deal’.” He had stopped smiling, had dropped any semblance of placidity. “You simply invalidate everything that has been agreed. Continuity is all that this world exists upon!” Rebus lifted off of the ground, held aloft by power and anger. “Only consensus keeps the Thread as a world. Only respect for decisions and events even allow all of this to exist! Without that, I could kill Cricket a thousand times over with no more effort than a breath. And yet it would mean nothing!” Rebus’s eyes flashed, punctuating the statement. “If every Author acted as you have, it would destroy this world far more surely than the mere release of the Witherlord. We would fall to chaos - nothing would matter, and none would care. So think on that, Author. Contemplate what you have done, and decide what it is you will do.”

“That makes sense, though you are hard to read. I do suspect, however, that lore and reasons for a plurality of characters shall develop in time.” Heir had found a party hat somewhere - though he would only wear it for around an hour more.

“Sequence? Sequence is dying, I think.” Rebus’s face was solemn, his eyes kind. “But that does not mean you are cursed. The favor of the Authors is a fickle thing - sometimes they simply leave, stories and lives stagnant in their wake. And sometimes they sacrifice us for the sake of the story - to drive activity and emotion. But even in this you are not cursed. Perhaps worse, you are forgotten - the Scribe was allowed to die so as to release his creations, and Sequence has fallen so as to galvanize Unintelligible and Nikkō into action, to stir up activity where there was none.” Rebus looked Atlas directly in the eyes. “They don’t care about you. But I can change that. I do not claim to be good, but I am honest, clever, and determined. I would change you - your morals and your actions - but I would not abandon you, so long as you stuck by me in turn.” Rebus processed the mix of crossovers with slight surprise. “You may go - I suspect you are needed, and should that change you may return. And should you manage to direct to the Thread those coherent enough to remain here, it would likely be welcome.” Jack frowned, but took Lyric’s hand, following him as he walked. If that wall really was a hallucination, he would pass through it. And if it wasn’t, either Lyric would walk into it - which could be bad - or he would pass through and Jack wouldn’t - and that would show something strange was going on.

Ah, that makes sense. Rebus stretched out his hand. “It is not your fault. And Cricket will walk away safely, no matter who wins.” Then he frowned, turning to Jack. “You are aware that you took one of the only available people powerful enough to face a Narrator in single combat away from a murderous and potentially brainwashed Narrator with a sword that can hurt gods, leaving them to freely escape and go on a rampage, correct?”

“Then why are you a different voice from bartender Coder?” Heir ducked something thrown by the people in the bar fight.

I was under the impression they thought Rebus was Hela, whoever that is (it may have simply been Rebus autocorrected). “I could assist with that.” Rebus became more composed, returning to his normal behavior as he realized that he was not being mistaken for someone else. “Cricket is beginning his duel with me as we speak. There are spectators, if you desire to watch.” Rebus smiled - this would benefit him, perhaps. He already had a method to enter - three separate methods, in fact. Being one of the only people to possess such a thing would make good leverage - and prevent anyone unwise and unprepared from ending up with the Lost Page.

Rebus tried to figure out where his actual body had gone - and what had happened to the mind of whoever he was supposed to be. “I could say the same thing - but thank you for rescuing me.” Yeah, that works. Brain, blood, magic. Rebus studied Named’s expression, wondering if he was considering this at the same time as his Author. Rebus looked Cricket in the eyes, a conveniently dramatic wind causing his coat to billow behind him. “It is time, then.” He snapped his fingers, and they were transported into the very same arena that Platypus and Subversion had fought in, standing perhaps fifteen feet apart. The various hazards were deactivated, however - mortal contestants did not do well with volcanos. An announcer’s voice echoed throughout the arena. “Rebus Honesty Clarke, wielder of Antagonist, and Cricket Chaisler, seeker of Protagonist, let this duel, commenced in honor, satisfy, in part, your conflict. Use of magic of any kind for the duration of the duel is forbidden. Use of advanced technology to gain advantage is forbidden. Outside assistance is forbidden. Use of weapons other than knives and unarmed combat is forbidden. Exiting the arena before the completion of the duel is forbidden. The duel shall be to the death, or to the voluntary surrender of one party. It shall also be ended should cheating occur, with that party considered to have lost. Should Cricket be the victor, Rebus shall surrender unto him control over his empire and possession of Antagonist, and shall come under the service of Cricket for the duration of the completion of a task decided upon by Cricket. For this time, Rebus shall cease the pursuit of villainy or other aims not approved by Cricket, except as required to fulfill preexisting obligations. Should Rebus be the victor, he shall return Cricket to life. Cricket shall procure the Lost Page and surrender it or full knowledge of its contents to Rebus. He shall then ‘remember that [he] could not best [Rebus] in an even match’, presumably for the facilitation of future gloating.” The announcer paused, waiting for Cricket and Rebus to ready themselves. “Let the duel begin!” “Fate and both advocated for me to do this - I am arguably the safest person who would still agree to do so.” Rebus paused, his polite smile morphing into a wicked grin. “But if you wish to fight me…” Yeah - it talked to Rebus and invited him into its realm.

Rebus blinked - this was a strange development. Had that even been real? He reached out to the Thread at large, trying to see if any posts would tell him what was happening. “More or less,” he mumbled, guessing that was an appropriate tone for someone recently unconscious.

“Again?” “I also do a lot of things. Perhaps they some of them are the same.” “Does this mean I can have multiple characters as well?” Heir asked the weirdly bracketed words. They seemed like they were from that webnovel, or at least related to it.

Rebus’s eyes widened, and he tried to strike the figure with Antagonist, unsure whether he, it, or both might be intangible. “Symbol, can you hear me?” I’m torn between approval and terror… Flight should be possible with iron feruchemy and sub-red luxin (which is lighter than air). And there’s no reason to keep the same shape all the time, if one is skilled enough (green golem proves one can do it).

Rebus’s brain felt a little fuzzy - he couldn’t figure out what had caused this, even by reading the posts. Symbol would feel her body starting to go numb. “I gave you an analgesic - painkiller - it should help. What happened?”

“Hello.” Heir was kind of standing around, not really sure what to do. “Hi, thanks, sure.” “Thank you! I do feel the name might get confusing…” Heir continued to stand around. “So what are we doing?”

Yeah - let’s make sure at least most of that never happens. Rebus ran to her side, or at least attempted to do so. “Symbol, what’s wrong?” “You could destroy it,” Rebus noted. “The vault is in your basement, after all.” Rebus was somewhat suspicious that Ivisyre was doing this to avoid a fight, rather than to stop the Witherlord. He would take other payment, though most of it would be equally dangerous - Endings, Conflict, Protagonist, or Lore; fealty of Sequence (or Ivisyre, for that matter), several cubic inches of Luxite, ownership of Sequence’s World, etcetera. Honestly do not know what I was doing with that math… Remote humanness is indeed rather overrated - if I could reshape myself I would definitely pick something better. (For one thing, sub-red luxin is lighter than air - who needs legs)

Heir was awake again, and actually walked into the room. He would have done so sooner, but made the foolish decision to try and figure out what was going on by reading all fourteen pages of the thread (and gave up on page seven). “Hello.”

It’s perfectly fine. I concur (in fact, I should probably be doing homework right now).

Rebus had been forgotten. Nobody cared about him. Even his Author had stopped writing him, and Rebus was slowly disappearing from even his memories. Rebus floated in the void of nothingness, then frowned. “I exist. So I haven’t been forgotten.” The vision broke, then returned. Rebus was forgotten, unwritten- “I’m here. I’m still existing. This is a vision.” The vision shattered again, trying to make Rebus experience nonexistence. Rebus was- “No.” Rebus was- “This isn’t real.” Rebus- “I’m being written more because of this.” Rebus- “I already experience oblivion all the time.” Rebus- “This will do nothing to me.” The vision gave up, trying to find a fear that would work. Rebus was being ignored. His Author wrote him, but nobody cared - his plotlines stalled and died, few Author still remembered who he was. And even his Author had less time, less interest - each attempt to start something new was more spread out than the last. Rebus tried - he tried to attack the new plotlines, he tried to get people to make new characters for him to talk to, he tried to get his Author to write adventures for him and post them to the Thread, he even tried turning good. Nothing worked, and nobody cared. The Thread was becoming sporadic - no activity for days and days, then a burst of posts Heir never managed to read all of before everyone was gone. And then even those started to fade, the gasps of the Thread, dying after all these years. And Rebus watched, and tried to stop it. Nothing worked. He watched the end of his world, straight-backed, tears in his eyes - and he would never know that it was The Longest Thread’s very last post. Jack thought, a blank and vaguely panicked expression on his face. “I do not know.” *twirls knife innocently* I think that metaphysically, the number of colors has to be odd - the way color imbalances work in the book demands it. Rebus could, however, give Named three arms - either three fingers on each hand, or adding in the allomantic metals so there can be seven on each hand. Rebus watched Named, truly unsure of what to do until the last general could be killed. The one with a dagger was being consumed by the Von Neumann Machines, unless otherwise noted. @Sequence “If only there was someone with enough magical power, combat capability, plot armor, and cleverness to take on Ivisyre, who might conveniently be magically forced to keep promises and could be paid with a particular piece of paper he’s going to end up with anyway.” Rebus mused aloud, clearly directing his words to a certain Narrator. @Sherma Main Rebus blinked, having been frozen trying to walk through itirSp’s portal for several pages now. Sain was still a half-dead pile of Strands on the floor, and the Plague was spreading through the air, infecting the utility fog. “@TwinStorm,” Rebus said. “You stated you’d post something for Cricket some time ago. If you’re still working on that, carry on, but if desired, my Author can write up something for the beginning of the duel.”

It didn’t move quite right, given the nanomachines, but that would hopefully be fine. Rebus frowned. He really needed to put together an actual plotline - and to get at least a subsection of Wrath, Twinstorm, Haly, Chips, and Xino to engage with his actions as well.

Heir existed! Briefly, at least - he was mostly acknowledging this thread before he went to sleep.

Rebus smiled, almost gleeful. He didn’t move, though - that sword was dangerous. “Perhaps you shall. It will certainly hurt, but there once again has been a mistaken assumption that I care.” Rebus smiled back. “Those powers are from a book - all of your powers are from books, actually - and it seems your Author has now read more of the series.” The visual overlay nanomachines updated, adding the last two colors and a source of white light. Jack stood up again, brushing himself off. “I will follow you.”