Re:write The Authors Transmigration

Chapter 325: The Fathoms Of Christoper Morris [5]

What is Evil? A vile crude malevolance? If so then Good is the unnatural movement of kindness and support. Are they a standardized flaw, a line that separates, or an ideology that fuels conflict, despair, and prejudice? If so why have we not chose to rid of such existence? Are they necessary? Do these accursed labels provide serenity in disguise?

"Every man for himself!" His alter ego loudly yelled as they spread out from the siege of fiery flames.

"Oh fuck! It’s got a homing tech on it! Run for your lives!"

As William stated, the moment the flames exits it maw, it grew a mind of it’s own, as these ball of fire, locked on to them. The Radiant Knight swoops in along with his other side, Zen Blerightrol and they held their great sword high and slam it to the flames. Destruction of metal should’ve been the result yet the flames was pushed aside and it withered as a greenish substance oozes.

"It’s a Demon! These balls of fire are nothing more than fiends. Come hither Zen. Let us quell these falls pyre!"

Zen followed behind as the Radiant Knight took the lead, the ground ruptured in their thunderous legs. They leap in such speed, and found themselves at the foot of their vile and devious enemy and they SHOUT! The echoing wailing of there’s aggroed the summoned flames yet doing so caught the colossal demons feet to stomp.

"Darkness Manipulation!" "Glacial Array!"

The ground below the raised foot burst in cold fury as it kept it in place, freezing it’s attempts from ever going forward. Shadow like tendrils bound the already stunlocked leg and reinforcing it’s defense, denying its freedom halting it to a stop. The now in control alter ego Uberious, and William the womanizer, temporarily bound the left foot in place long enough to assist the two.

"Dainslef!" "Excalibur!"

A sword of natural opposition to Chaos manifest in their hands, a searing intensive pain penetrates their core. Wielding it was torture, yet by pure grit, they cleaved the demons with it’s divine force, a brilliant slash engulf the ground. Light emerged from the dark as it replaced the raging fury of the flames, and in their succession, they climb the towering demon.

"Look out!!!"

A sprouting alter ego shoved William and Uberious aside, as the fiery breath claimed it as it’s victims. Surge of emotions poured out from the nameless and it resonated with the flames with it’s burning unfiltered fury. A shockwave of energy quelled the flames, pushing it back to it’s origins, the injured alter ego finally take shape.

"You mother fucker?!! You think you can get away with that? Let me tell you something, you ain’t tuff, and I’ll show you!"

Qi and Mana began to well up inside his fist as he vanished, and appear at the face of the towering menace with a raging knuckle. A flash like strike, piercing, and there after followed by a a thunderous strike, it was Christoper Morris’s original technique Roaring Needle. The alter ego pulled off a skill with it’s first execution and it landed a clean hit on its head, shattering it to pieces, before it revives.

"That didn’t kill him- argh!" The alter ego was knocked by its sword to ground, as it held the giant blade in place.

"Congratulations, Rage! You finally transformed. Allow me to help you..."

Spell Thief descents above the sword and with a clean precise cut, the blade was severed, freeing the alter ego Rage. Although his attack disarmed the colossal demon, Christoper Morris notice something odd, the blade mended itself. Same with how the time, Rage eviscerated the head clean off the map yet it grew back, and just like before, Spell Thief was struck by the blunt edge of the sword.

[It’s useless. Everything you’ve been doing up til now, Morris. You can’t die, and so does this amalgamation of Demonic Wills.]

’Sage? You’re still here? Forgot you’re broadcasting the whole fight-’

[Oh I took the broadcasting down way before things get a little too emotional. I made sure to filter out your face. No one will find out who you are]

’Oh gee, thanks for not being so insensitive. Also what’s that about your previous remark? That it can’t die...’

[Oh, dear are you seriously that idiotic? Forget it, that pre-recorded memory didn’t gave you clue. Guess you need to figure this one out for yourself-]

Although the system was currently online, he felt the voice of his contracted deity slipping away from his mind. He tried to recall his memories from the first time he set foot on the third trial and the things he learned and experience from. Everything was dark, there were no formula for happiness, his laid out path had nothing but trials and tribulations.

"Split Personality... Union!"

The moment he invoked that chant, each enhanced Mirage holding his alter egoes blacked out as they became one. Unlike before, he was truly complete, Christoper Morris descended to the ground, his appearance returned to his base form. A four eyed nerd, like the time he first unionized with his alter egos and yet it felt different, he walked towards the colossal demon.

"Die!!!"

The gigantic demon sent a fiery breath to his path, yet as he bathe in it’s attack, he exited unharmed, unaffected, even. He raised his right arm and made contact with it’s still frozen foot and the darkness proceeds to swallow him whole. Christoper Morris found himself devoid of light, just like the first time he risen from the third trial in a bloody skirmish.

"I’m back... the demons, these corpses. I vividly remember how I tore through their body’s. So their the demonic wills?"

His eyes lit up, the area around him grew bright, as the night vision of his divine blessing of sight kicked in. This place, was truly the venue of his awakening, the demons that lay dead on the ground were the same ones he killed. As he reigns to be the victor as the sole survivor of this death, match he absorbed their power and thus became one with him.

"That wasn’t there before."

He saw a sphere on an erected monument that wasn’t present in his first arrival of this dark and damped space. A single stone monolith rest at the center, a broken sphere came to be present, in his approach, it naturally flew to him. The rough sphere smacked his head, before it lay and merged with his chest, and a memory played throughout the process of merging.

"Diabolus?"

The cut memory left off from the world tree begins to play, a day after the finishing touches of Deus Ex Machina. A siege broke the defenses of the mechanical walking fortress, every personnel slaughtered In cold blood, including Makino himself. Like he experience the angels took the now completed Golem destined to be the new god of the world and broke the Demon thats yet to bloom.

’Why do I exist? No one has ever truly cared about me. My creator shunned me. His eyes full of hatred whenever I come so close. A programing to cause chaos and despair brought hatred to me, the assistants saw me as a thorn, yet that was my purpose, why were they angry? I was simply fulfilling my destiny, for what is a creation with lack of purpose, who am I if not the vile crude malevolance I’m programmed for?’

The voice crept deeply to his mind. A cold and depressing chill. A yearning for admiration, but met with ugliness. It only served to do it’s purpose, yet instead of praise, it’s met with fear, disgust, and hatred, as the negativity fuels it’s completion. Even though it’s purpose was being fulfilled, the machine felt numb, it was empty, it yearned for something outside it’s purpose.

"In the end, Diabolus was a mistake. I guess I made it too imperfect. I lost track of what it was supposed to be. Rather than it’s purpose,"

Makino pulls him up after what felt like a long time that he lay in the ground, as he rose back up, after viewing his misdeeds. Although it was a machine, Diabolus went through neglect and abandonment in his care, he felt empathy upon viewing it’s memory. The creator of the golem smirks, as if that aggression he displayed was the fruit of his labor, as Morris assimilated with Chaos.

"I didn’t show you all that to get nicked in the face. Evil is necessary. You may think good and bad is pointless, but they’re needed."

Makino slides his glasses back as a flash of light covered the lenses, even though where they stood had no light to reflect on. Everything he went through was in preparation of whether or not his ideologies will remain, even after his passing. That the will left behind on his creation will bring forth a world he could hope to achieved through their sacrifice.

"Good and Bad, there mere labels. Yet they hold power. The ability for us to remain alive. Either by sheer cruelty or martyrism,"

Makino pause. Then added...

"We can be kind so as to form a bond with others. Cruel to betray and leave them to rot. They are a means to get by in this world,"

To Makino, being a saint and a villain had no difference, just opposing ideologies, yet a way of life, a way to survive. As Christoper Morris heard his explanation, he recalled his past grievance, as he tread from villainy to heroism. In his life in the world of trials, he wasn’t a hero, nor a villain, but someone walking the line of both, using any means to get by a day.

"So you’re telling me that I became the Demon King because I wasn’t fully evil?"

Makino slapped his forehead in response.

"Everyone can be a murderer. You can still become the Demon King. So long as you found Diabolus and find your way here."

As Makino said that, he went ahead and cleaned his mind of corruption, as soon as he take hold of the darkness.

"However if you fully grasped the purpose of my creation, then you’ll be blessed to see my pre recorded memories. At this point I may not be a memory, a fragment might be the best possible deduction of my existence. You have fully understand the meaning of my life’s work, that a life isn’t all black and white, sometimes it’s grey and it might be colorful."

The scenery seemingly becoming blurred out, a blinding flash ever so growing intensely.

"It looks my sweet time talking with you. Thank you for listening to this old man speak. It’s time to wake up-"

Makino’s image seemingly glitching out in the very last moment, until he eventually fades from existence.

"..ake ... up!"

"Wa.. up!"

"I said wake up you asshole!"

Christoper Morris opened his eyes in cold sweat. A rude awakening took place. He rose from his sleep as Jin bitch slapped him

"Oh, fuck me... how long was I out? Also you guys look like shit. What did I miss out on?"

As he gaze upon everyone, they all tried to jump on him as he finally woke up, but in a swift and merciless way, he was struck. Everyone felt frozen at that moment, a spear made of Heavenly Aura penetrated his Demonic Core, and in it’s wake he collapsed. His consciousness fading, he tried to fight it, this time he wasn’t going to let it through, he forcefully rose from his sleep.

"Everyone?!!!" As he woke up, he found himself back at his apartment complex, the set up, the trash, it was the same as when he slept and transmigrated.

"I’m back home?" The moment he realizes it, he went straight and opened his door and saw the mundane view he witness for 10 years or so.