A Zanpakutō at the beginning of Meiman

"Sorry, Lord."

Hastur shook his head and said, "There is no such thing as 'fate'. "

Black Panther said:

"Obviously, the protagonist doesn't understand, he's speechless."

Rhodes followed closely, saying: "He frowned again, anger filled his heart, mysteries troubled him, too many doubts covered his eyes, so that he couldn't see those things, it should have been very Clear facts."

Natasha on the stage stopped, looked at Lord under the stage, and said softly:

"From the very beginning, there was no great script, no great design, no predetermined destiny."

Hastur floated onto the stage, and then said: "It's just a series of choices you made yourself. The inertia of the choices... led to the final result."

"And you... regard this result as the shackles of "fate", trying to break free from the so-called shackles. "

"Someone can predict it, but because of the inertia of choice, it is too easy to be guessed, so things like "prophecy" and "fate" become disgusting. "

"Are you trying to say that there is never destiny?"

Lord said coldly: "Everything is my own problem, so there is no need to pursue the truth behind it?"

"Your choices make you who you are today."

Hastur said slowly: "You feel that someone is manipulating your destiny, there is a high-ranking narrator who describes your story, but...in fact, all this is just your choice, nothing more, because you The choice has never changed."

"For example...you know that Nyarlathotep is pretending to be me, and is planning to unseal the seal of the earth, create great fear and panic, to release his last clone, and then you will take action to stop him, triggering a battle."

"Another example……"

"After you know that Michael will die in this world because of the third key, you will take back all the fragments of hell and go to the final place in a state of grief and indignation."

"Michael?!"

Lord's pupils shrank, and he subconsciously clenched the knife.

"Ha, can you see?"

Hastur smiled, and said: "Once again, I missed the focus, focusing on the second act, but ignoring the last act."

"Who are you... exactly?!"

At this moment, Lord has deeply doubted the true identity of the so-called Hastur in front of him: "Why did you tell me this? What's the purpose of telling me about Nyarlathotep?!"

"Me? Who else can I be?"

Hastur said strangely: "The lord of the starry sky in the deep sea, the nameless one, the king in yellow, the brother of Cthulhu, the old ruler who symbolizes the wind, Hastur."

"There is no need to tell such a clumsy lie."

Lord looked directly at Hastur, as if to see through his disguise.

"Then who do you think I am?"

Hastur asked him back: "What is the purpose of telling you this?"

"How do I know who you are?"

Lord's tone was a bit bad, he hated other people telling riddles.

"Oh, let me change the question."

Hastur floated down from the stage like a ghost. After approaching, he stared at him and said, "Are you asking about the king in yellow? Or Hastur? Or... Hastur the king in yellow?"

"Is there any difference?"

Lord asked with a frown.

"Of course... there is a difference."

Hastur slowly floated backwards, and stretched out two sticky tentacles from the tattered yellow robe, a huge octopus-like monster was drawn on the left, and a blurry figure was drawn on the right: "The one on the left It's Hastur the king in yellow, the one on the right is the king in yellow, and I...is Hastur."

"???"

Lord was confused with question marks.

"Forget it, why don't I say so."

Hastur waved his tentacles to disperse the drawn phantom, and said: "The king in yellow is a script, Hastur is a story, and Hastur the king in yellow is a sealed The Old One in the Pleiades."

"Ambrose Biers created Hastur, and Robert W. Chambers created the King in Yellow."

"Auguste William Dries, fused the two to create an Old One."

"Now...do you understand?"

After Hastur finished speaking, he looked at him with interest.

"you……"

Lord's heart was a little shocked, and his pupils shrank to the size of a needle.

This was the first time he heard a familiar name, and... he was also the creator of the Cthulhu mythology system in the original world——August William Dress!

"Back to the original question."

Hastur said leisurely: "You think he created us, so we exist, we are just a story written by that narrator, don't you?"

Lord's heart was shocked, and he didn't know what to say for a while.

"The answer is...No!"

Hastur waved his tentacles, and said: "The real situation should be that it is because of our existence, through the influence of the dark, that they recorded this story."

"They...are not narrators."

"Or...in this world, there is no narrator. Behind every story is a real world."

"Wait, if it follows what you said, what about your identities as the King in Yellow and Hastur?" Lord was keenly aware of the flaws in his description.

"I was born before everything, just like the Three Pillars God."

Hastur said lightly: "I used to pursue the "truth" like you, but in the end... I gave up those, stripped off the external factors, and became the pure me, the king in yellow... Hastur . "

"What is your relationship with them?"

Lord suddenly felt confused, rubbing the center of his brows, and said, "No...what is your purpose? Why did you tell me this? Why...help me?"

"If you insist on understanding..."

Hastur looked down at the starry sky below, and murmured: "Maybe it was a whim, maybe it was... I wanted to see the final result, in short... I am not like them, I hope that thing wakes up, it's better to say that I I hope that thing will continue to sleep."

"After all...in my opinion."

"In this world, there is nothing that attracts me more than human creations and those arts."

"Very poor excuse."

Lord sneered, he is not a three-year-old child, how could he believe Hastur, such a ridiculous excuse.

"Hehe, I like your script."

Hastur grinned and said: "But unfortunately, it will end soon, and I hope it will not be a tragedy by then."

"Goodbye."

Lord didn't want to hear his lies anymore.

After bringing Natasha, Black Panther, and Rhodes into the shadow space, he walked out of the theater without looking back.

From behind, a girl's song came.

In the unfathomably vast abyss, black and white swirled.

The cunning messenger in black blew the alarm to wake up.

The ancient fool will wake up from his slumber and come to the world again.

He will step over the stars and spread over the worlds.

Pain, torture, silence, despair, howling.

Two identical white flowers will slowly wither and wither under the sacred tree.

Whether it's escape from the cage, or eternal reincarnation, but the power of the final choice is not in his hands.

Relying on humanity and transcending divinity, under the witness of the sacred tree, falsehood will turn into reality.

There is no end to this journey.

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