Identity Story |
| Speaker | Dialogue | |
|---|---|---|
 | ||
 The One Who Grips Faust |
Sinclair. | |
| A soft and gentle voice enveloped the area. | ||
The One Who Grips Faust |
Look this way, Sinclair. | |
| The voice is wrapping- perhaps coiling, even. | ||
| Alas. | ||
The One Who Grips Faust |
Keke… Kahah! Isn't this a magnificent sight? | |
| The laughter of the one standing next to the child completely twisted the air, like a hair-raising shriek made by two sharp pieces of metal scraping against each other, then flicking away. | ||
| Its tiny, glowing letters read “Emil”. Following the name, that must be the “key” she got from Sinclair. | ||
| Examining the area closely… | ||
| One could see that it was surrounded by raging, knifelike flames. | ||
The One Who Grips Faust |
How does it feel, Sinclair? How does it feel to witness this sight ablaze?! | |
| Her voice could even be described as manic, her wry smirk more twisted than the fire around her. | ||
 The One Who Shall Grip Sinclair |
…Ah. | |
| That is when the child opened his mouth. | ||
| His lips trembled, his lungs brought up gasps and huffs. | ||
| Could this be a response of fear? Indeed, it may seem that way. | ||
| The child most certainly had something that one could call a chance. | ||
| He could've hatched out of the shell that is fate with his own strength, and gripped control over the path his life should take. | ||
| And yet… | ||
The One Who Shall Grip Sinclair |
It's beautiful… Faust. Beautiful to look at those vile and repulsive things being purged. | |
| It's not so easy to reject the ease of letting another crack the egg from the outside. | ||
| Even if they aren't your mother bird… | ||
| Even if they wrest hold of your path and jostle it… | ||
| That disquieting flame, almost mistakable for warmth, lures you into giving up your strength before it like a comforting bonfire. | ||
The One Who Shall Grip Sinclair |
Why didn't I let go earlier, Faust? | |
The One Who Shall Grip Sinclair |
I didn't need to bother trying to think or ponder so much when there was a clear answer laid right before me. | |
| The child spoke with a trembling voice, whimpering on the verge of tears. | ||
| Pushed out of his nest all too soon, feigning the confidence he sorely lacks… | ||
| A baby bird who hasn't even broken his shell fully. | ||
| That would be the description most befitting this child. | ||
The One Who Grips Faust |
Not just anyone can be like Faust, Sinclair. | |
The One Who Grips Faust |
However, it's alright… Nfu. | |
| The child with silver hair spoke, pointing to the sky. | ||
| Up above, something muttering indistinct mechanical noises was skewered to a nail. | ||
The One Who Shall Grip Sinclair |
Ah… Ah…! | |
| The child's pupils further shrink, while his tremble grows yet more intense. | ||
| It was painfully evident that he did not wish for what he was witnessing. | ||
| Despite him knowing this as well, he has decided that he will be ignorant of it. | ||
| Despite thinking that what he is doing isn't right, he cannot resist the convenience of letting this mysterious mother bird bring him food. | ||
| A pink chick who does nothing but gape and swallow. | ||
| Having dived into a pot of boiling oil, the child had no choice but to flutter with his melting arms. | ||
| …Though, by the time the fire dies down, he'll have been reduced to ash. | ||
The One Who Shall Grip Sinclair |
Ha… Haha. | |
| The child laughed. | ||
The One Who Grips Faust |
Congratulations, Sinclair. Now you've become someone who can laugh at that sight. | |
| The one standing next to the child celebrated him with sincerity. | ||
| In truth, she was lauding her own achievement more than anything; if there really were possibilities diverging into numerous worlds… she had managed to mold the child into a form one of those worlds must envy. | ||
| It may even be that someone from another world has already been infatuated by a glimpse of the changing and charring child. | ||
| Soon enough, that world too will face a storm of fire, oil, and sparks; the child there will face a similar yet distinct trial. | ||
The One Who Grips Faust |
Now, let us begin, Sinclair. The cleansing of this world. | |
 | ||
The One Who Shall Grip Sinclair |
…Okay. | |
| The child weeps amidst the fire; he shall ultimately be snuffed out in flame, unceasingly swinging the steel in his two arms and failing to grip anything in his hands, unable to tread the path he chose. | ||
| Whether he will break the shell from inside, or instead yield himself to the ease of being gripped open… | ||
| What happens in that world will stay there. | ||
| Though, if you ask which world will be the first to reach that point… | ||
| Who could ever know? | ||
 World of N Corp. Identity Stories | |
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