u/Mikrin

Who let the Doctor on a battlefield? Successfully punching an old man was an appreciable improvement in his physical ability.

IGN: Mikrin

Platform: PC

Gemstone: Emerald

Starsector?

Guilty Gear?

Harbinger blinked.

Then he blinked again, and once more for good measure. It was a surprisingly interesting feeling, especially since moments ago he thought he would never be able to do it again.

His armor clacked and whirred as he rose from what he thought what would have been his final pose, no sign of the catastrophic damage he knew it had taken. He breathed in the cool air without a cough or a wheeze or the taste of blood. He wasn't even sore, though he did feel... tired.

He looked down.

The shorter figure was dressed in soft, loose fabrics, beaming up a him with a wide smile. They gestured down the corridor before them.

"Walk with me?"

 

"Where are we?"

Harbinger and the stranger , the clank of his boots and the stranger's soft steps echoing briefly in the hall before fading. There was no other noise, besides gentle wind and what may have been distant bells, like wind chimes.

"Heaven," the stranger answered, "The Hall of Saints, specifically."

"...I thought Heaven was supposed to be brighter," Harbinger commented instead of saying anything else, glancing around at the dark stone and soft, sourceless light.

"Don't believe everything you read, especially from somebody who's never actually been," The stranger smiled at him. Their face was... it was like every genuine smile ever shown to him all combined into one, blurry but...beautiful. "Many Saints lived very exciting lives, and prefer a more restful experience now."

"...I thought eternal rest meant the grave, not the afterlife. Huh."

The stranger... The Angel 'hmm'ed, but said nothing else.

The two walked in silence for a while more.

 

"Why am I here?"

"Where?"

"The Palace of Saints. Heaven. I know what I did. Unless this is just some ironic facade over Hell... But I don't think so."

The angel looked at Harbinger again, an unreadable expression on their unfocused face. "Yes, what you did. Can you tell me, exactly, what you did?"

The corridor led to stairs going down into darkness, and Harbinger and the angel took them without breaking stride.

"I killed. Villains or not, madmen or not, I killed them by the hundred. I was the most dangerous villain in the world!" He slammed his fist against his chest, the BANG of metal on metal echoing cacophonously down the hall, "Because I killed my way to the top! I killed them all. Hunted them, assassinated them, slaughtered them all. I did it because I wanted to. I enjoyed it. WHY AM I HERE?"

"What separates man from beast?"

"Huh?" The fury was gone in an instant, just like it had it appeared. Weariness flowed into the absence.

Harbinger was so tired.

"Many things," the angel said blithely, "But what I am thinking about is laws. Not laws, really, but rules. Not rules, but... Lines. 'A man's got to have a line', I believe the saying goes. Could be simple, could be idiotic, could be ill-intentioned or self harming... But there has to be one, one that you would never cross. If that line is broken, or never existed... A river unbound becomes a flood. Fire unbound scorches the land. Man unbound becomes a creature of whims. Of instincts. An animal.

And if an animal cannot control itself... They are put down. By their fellows, or a predator, or... a hunter."

At last, the angel and the Villain come to a stop. The stone is darker here, the light dimmer, and before them is a doorway leading to an even darker chamber.

"You asked why you were in the Palace of Saints. Two reasons, really. The first is that you silenced many great evils, and died doing so."

Harbinger isn't really listening. He slowly steps inside the dark room, hands moving on automatic to remove his heavy armor. As he drops each piece, he never seems to hear it hit the ground.

"The second is... You were technically here first."

The bed is thin, but he falls onto it like it's the plushest mattress in any Heaven.

"May your thirst for retribution never be quenched, may the blood on your sword never dry..."

The door swung shut, sealing Harbinger away in perfect darkness.

"...And may we never need you again."

Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous

Blessed is the mind too small for doubt.

Which came first, the fog or the walls?

We appreciate your generosity!

One last lonely mote of green floated up into the night air, and I slurped it down like a noodle.

With the last of her magical power gone, all that was left was a exhausted, battered girl in a stupid frilly dress, lying alongside a motionless and equally stupid fairy-thing. She shivered as I loomed over her, unable to so much as glare.

"The Dark Consumes All," I whispered, delighting anew in her feeble attempts to squirm away. What a wonderful sight! The same girl who had cheerfully mocked me just a few minutes ago reduced to to a fearful puddle!

With a flourish of my hide-cloak, I turned and left the once-magical girl lying alone in the alley. The Shadows King's standing order was to return to the Shadow Realm after any significant gains, but why should I do that? I felt amazing! I could take on the whole city like this! A whole city's worth of energy would surely soothe any anger over my minor disobedience, with plenty left over for me...

 

Some time and a long trail of drained humans later, I felt the familiar prickling of Magical energy one the edge of my senses. Oh, double joy! Two feasts in one night! I couldn't wait to--

A new and distinctly different Magical signature entered my range. A team, then? Perhaps my first meals vengeful friends? No matter, with my stolen energy I could--

Another flare of magic--

And another flare--

And another--

And another--

And--

I was in trouble.

 

Chunks of concrete and asphalt sprayed in my wake as my claws gouged into the road, all thoughts of appearance and dignity abandoned for another scrap of speed as I raced towards the breach to the Shadow Lands. I could feel the noose closing around my neck, hostile Magic in all directions; my own trail of meals leading them right to me! This was completely unfair!

A flash of purple light and magic flared from around the street corner, and almost instinctively my four-limbed sprint changed into a leap towards the nearest shadow, my claws twisting painfully as they left the road.

Amethyst light washed over me from behind, highlighting my shadow against the building. And my foot was gone.

Not burned, not severed, not scattered to the wind-- Gone. Just gone. Gone! In all my battles with magical guardians, I had never been injured like this!

Crashing through the shop window in mid-twist, momentarily catching sight of my purple-rimmed stump against the light, I skipped off the floor and slammed into some kind of shelf and was promptly buried under wood, glass, and marketable plushies of Magical Companions.

Scrambling from the debris, I was greeted with a rainbow of colors blazing through the windows of the store-- My tomb. Magical girls of every color, armament, shape, and size stood or floated outside the shattered windows, with more arriving by the second. All bore expressions of deepest loathing.

No! It couldn't end like this! I had to--

A massive arrow, sizzling with acidic green, punched straight trough my chest, pinning me to the floor like a bug.

I screamed, in pain, then in fear, as I was surrounded at every turn.

Some measure of my former confidence chose to return to me; I would not beg for mercy, not like those other defeated Shadows I had mocked!

A moot point. My jaw was one of the first parts to go.

Inscryption?

Spin the wheel!

Thanks for your generosity!

The room shifted in a wave, as the heads of my fellow henchpeople and henchmonsters twisted to stare at me. Some, the newest recruits, looked grateful with me for speaking up. The more experienced looked at me blankly or with... Sympathy?

The Dark Lord Mazthos, Exiled Lord of the Unlit Shores, loomed over me, his massive form blotting out the light above me even as he remained seated on his throne. A stare without mercy or bored into me. But instead of smiting me on the spot... He sighed, and leaned back as his voice slipped into our minds.

"Magical Girls and the Shadow Realms... Are divided from the wider 'superheroic' environment. Our own separate ecosystem. We fight each other, and only each other. And while familiarity breeds contempt... It also breeds familiarity. We know what to expect from each other. Patterns of behavior, solidified over millennia... A Code."

There was a murmur from the ranks, quickly hushed.

"You asked why we do not attack mid-metamorphosis. You should also ask why we only drain humans of almost all their energy, instead of leaving them depleted husks. Why we not task spies with following the girls to their homes and destroying them in their sleep. Why I do not take the field at every opportunity and instead send fractions of my forces to battle."

Mazthos loomed again. I shivered, swearing I could feel the lap of a cold ocean again my shins.

"You should also ask... Why the girls merely drive off those fractions, instead of burning out the shadows among you with their light. Why they do not hand the mortals over to authorities that would be able to keep you locked away. Why they only intrude on the Shadow Realms to battle with those on the cusp of victory, instead of constantly chipping away at the kingdoms.

Do you know why we tolerate this?"

The freezing water was up to my chest. The room was utterly silent. I had to force my body to breathe.

"Because if we abandon this balance... If Shadow and Light hurl themselves at each other without restraint... We do not know who would win." His fingers tightened on the arms of his throne, the unbreakable material creaking in distress.

"And that is unacceptable."

"Anyone who threatens to abandon this balance... Will be Obliterated. By both sides. Burnt out root and stem. Because it is not yet time...

"And because it is comfortable."

The Dark Lord leaned back fully onto his throne. "Go."

I flee.

Would heat/overheating trip the protection? I repasted the GPU back in April and the shutdowns went away for a while.

If a PC shuts completely off suddenly (while gaming), but can be turned back on immediately after, what is most likely causing the problem?

There is no freeze or BSOD, just straight to power off. There is no information in Event Viewer. I upgraded my PSU and the problem still occurs.

"This isn't fair. It's not fair! You worked so hard!"

"I, too, wish it had been different. But the elders have made their choice. To protest openly would be a fate even less kind then this."

"Okay, let's... let's think about this, let's make a plan. How is it going to happen?"

"I will face my executioner in the Valley of The Shorn Scale. My next strongest clutchmate will be the one to carry out the sentence."

"... So either way, you were going to have to fight?"

"It seems so... In Dovahlaw, if the weakling successfully kill their opponent, they will be spared... But even I cannot recall when last this happened."

"...You'll be facing Obsdyix, won't you? Still a sadistic bitch, likes to savor the anticipation?"

"Yes?"

"I have an idea. We'll need to pay a visit to the naval yards..."

---

Feel the irresitable beat of my mighty wings! Feel the furnace of my deadly breath! Feel my indomitable presence wash over you! Stop hiding, weakling, come to your miserable and inevitable end!

Oh? You are approaching me? Instead of fleeing like the worthless wyrm you are, you are coming right for me? And that harness... You brought your squishy human friend to die as well? Well then, come as close as you like!

Look upon my shining scales! Look upon the gleam of my fangs and claws! Look upon the instrument of your imminent and painful--

What is that... Tube?

"Tally-ho!"

KABOOM!

Entrati: I seem to have upset an extremely powerful and eldritch being. How am I going to get out of this one?

Entrati: …

Entrati: BIGGER WARFRAMES.

The man really was an Orokin.

IIRC, the original Pina was stuck watching the transmigrator like Remillia until she eventually dissociated hard enough to completely detach from her body and wound up in the shadow spirit realm.

Mikrin

PC

Couldn't get anyone to take that on. Early lunch for Konzu!

The Fury of a Shattered Mirror agrees with you, and is also really good

There is a densely packed field of cloaked Ivaras on dashwires at rooftop height all throughout Hollvania, all trying to get the perfect sniper shot.

They gathered in the throne room. The vaulted hall and overgrown thrones seemed to shrink them, the carpets and tapestries silenced their passage. None would look at them and guess they were capable of what had happened that night.

"Is it done?"

There was no shine of crimson on armor or blade, no whiff of salty iron. They were professionals, even now.

"All but the youngest."

They bowed their heads as one, briefly.

"Then it is done. Collect your belongings and follow your routes. It is time to leave this place."

"Should we?"

All heads turned to the speaker. They were a mid-rank guard of no particular notoriety, standing with others of the same kind.

"Explain your question."

"The Iron Crown tortured the empire for centuries. The nobility have learned from their example, the commoners have come to expect nothing better. Will cutting off the head of the serpent spawn a crueler beast?"

"At dawn, all the city will know us for regicides. We must leave."

"Unless they do not know of it."

"You propose to kill every servant and lower guard in the castle?" The questioner's voice was dark and foreboding.

"I propose there be Iron Crowns to be found in the morning."

Silence.

"You cannot possibly be serious."

"We have followed in their footsteps for generations. We know their secrets. We have taken their lives. Now we will take their names."

"If you do this, and are discovered... You place all of us at risk."

The defiant guard reached up and slowly pulled their helmet from their head. They looked around the throne room with unobstructed eyes for the first time in their life.

"We have already cast down the masters that held our chains for a millennia. What is this risk in comparison?"

---

"So the Royal Guard didn't just die off-- they completely vanished one night?"

"Along with half the royal family, yeah. Absolutely no trace of them. If the remaining Crowns knew, they kept it to themselves."

"Well, maybe they just weren't needed anymore. Super soldiers or not."

"Yeah, the Crown Princes is just a celebrity nowadays, and he can punch your head clean off. What kind of guards do you need when you can do that?"

They could just be grabbing the first core in front of them when the objective updates.

"I guess I'm just not seeing the issue here," said Dark Lord Basilisk, Master of Caisleán Dorcha.

"Not seeing the issue?!" Shrieked Kazthuon Yag-Marap, Master of the Thirteenth Spire. "It defies us! It spits on its purpose! Our gifts!"

"Yeah?" Basilisk said, shrugging. "We've had Darkchosen fizzle before. I don't know why everybody is worked up about this one."

"Do you not recall the signs of her birth? The sky weeping in despair for the earth, the ground rifting apart to create future graves for her victims?" The Lord of the Gold Desert, Master of Uphonira, managed to loom over the over despite being seated. "The portents could not have been more clear. She did not-- could not-- 'fizzle'."

+RESONANCE+ Fanour Five-Eyes, Master of the False Coffin, whispered without sound.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you," Basilisk retorted as he tapped his copy of the Lord's gathered information on the Darkchosen. "She was given every opportunity to become enamored with the vast cosmic forces of Darkness-- traveling warlocks seeking apprentices, stumbling over mysterious caches of lost wisdom, visions of gods and ancients promising power and glory-- and missed every one. Instead, she's raising hunting dogs on the outskirts of town. It just wasn't meant to be."

"It IS meant to be!" Gold Desert barked, "Darkness will not be defied so easily!"

+Unforgiving+

"I think you guys are really focusing too much--"

"ENOUGH!" Kazuthon shrieked as it leapt from its chair, insectoid legs tracing eldritch patterns in the air as it's wings buzzed nauseatingly. "I will bring it here! It will EXPLAIN itself to us!"

"Wait, here?"

Too late-- The air above the stone table rifted apart, revealing a spiraling smear of light-dark-stars-dark-light-dark-VOID-light-- and when it receded and sense returned, it left behind a young woman, with the pale skin common of the Dark Lands wearing well-used but tough hunters clothes, a severed leash dangling from one hand. She squinted.

"Where am I?"

"Silence!" Gold Desert demanded, one overlong finger stretched imperiously towards the woman. "You will explain yourself, Darkchosen! Why have you defied your purpose?"

"Dark... What? Do you guys work for Baron Philomache? I told her not every dog is suitable for hunting..."

Hh-hmm, Basilisk cleared his throat loudly. "Apologies for the sudden... Summons, Miss. Allow us a chance to explain. You--"

"It was meant to bring destruction! Ruin! Doom!" Kazuthon shrilled, gripped onto the back of its throne. "It has done none of these! It will explain itself!"

"What?" the Darkchosen furrowed her brow. "I don't want to do any of that. I want to raise my dogs. I want to go home."

"You seek to defy your destiny? Our will?" The Lord of the Gold Desert unfolded himself from his throne, looming over the young woman. "You have been plucked from the mud of the pheasants and given a new and glorious purpose, girl. Are you truly so foolish to deny the Dark?"

"I want to go home."

+Inevitable+ Fonour whispered.

"I want to go--"

Basilisk dove for cover.

"HOME!"

Waves of impossibly-colored energy exploded from the Darkchosen with her shout. The meeting chamber's stone walls and thick wards buckled in less than an instant, ripped into bricks, then dust, then nothing. Kazuthon Yag-Marap shrieked one last time as it's throne was yanked into the air with Kazuthon still attached before being smashed to the shattered floor. The Lord of the Gold Desert attempted to teleport away, lost control immediately, and was torn apart and dissolved into the swirling vortex. Fanour Five-Eyes stared at the Darkchosen standing at the center of the maelstrom of destruction, all five eyes open wide in ecstasy.

---

A long time after the noise stopped, a pile of rubble in one corner of the new ruins began to shift. Tendrils of shadow pushed away the shards of rock and tile, and eventually Dark Lord Basilisk slowly poked his head out of his protective cocoon.

The Lord's chamber was unrecognizable. Ornate walls cast down, roof rifted open to the morning sky. Kazuthon was a drying smear on the floor. Gold Desert's throne sparkled with golden dust. Fanour Five-Eyes slumped in his chair, though it seems he died... Happy. There was no trace of the Darkchosen.

Basilisk fully stood from his shelter, cracking his back with a wince. "Well, that could have gone better. Maybe I could persuade one of the Forest Kings to foster a pup with her, as an apology gift? Or I could just leave her alone..."

Basilisk gazed around at the remains of his fellow lords, and shook his head sadly.

"Should have let sleeping dogs lie."

A chunk of rock fell from the roof and hit him in the head.

"Ow!"

To be fair, they weren't just abducting random strangers to marry off to their kids.

The ritual was written to find the target's 'soulmate', rifling through the myriad timelines and cosmos to find their exactingly ideal match. That they all seemed to be from fancy faraway worlds and usually brought along a few 'spares' really didn't give them a reason to fine-tune the damn thing.

I'll admit, the implications didn't hit me until a while after I got grabbed. I was lucky enough to be pulled in with my two friends-- not sure if we actually met the requirements or the ritual was just lazy-- and I happily let Sean do the talking while me and Charlie stared around at the big fancy castle and all the pretty statues and paintings and the (in retrospect) heavily-armed guards.

The High Priest, and then the King, gave big grandiose announcements of welcome and introduction, explaining our transport to their realm and that we would have the 'honor' of being wedded to the fancy girls and boys watching from the sidelines. That's when it began to sink in; I'd been yanked from my home, my family, my life, so that some stuck-up brat could have some exotic arm candy. I was feeling the panic set in when I looked to my left and suddenly felt a lot better.

Charlie was smiling. Not a polite everyday smile, or a happy joyful one. Charlie was smiling, the way they had had to learn not to when we were just kids.

And the Prince at the King's right hand, eyes locked with Charlie's, was smiling right back.

It seemed to me our stay in this world was going to be much shorter, more exciting, or both, than I had assumed-- But it sure as hell beat Tinder.