| abstract
| - Among the most mythical of legends and the tallest of tales, there was no story that was as well-believed as the Prophecy of the Godsend. To the principalities and powers that reigned over the world, the Prophecy of the Godsend was naught but an old wives’ tale that they desperately sought to obliviate from the collective consciousness of their citizenry. To the people that were being tyrannized by those principalities and powers, the Prophecy of the Godsend might as divinely infallible as any scripture. Well, to most of those people. But to the Godsend himself, the Prophecy of the Godsend was just a target. No more. No less. Contrary to popular belief, the Godsend was not an angel of any sort. Instead; the Godsend was a man with a pastel white and perfectly immaculate complexion that was far more characteristic of the upper class than any of the lower classes, a lean physique which exhibited naught but a mediocre amount of muscles, lustrously silver hair which was lustrous shoulder-length, a pair of eyes with irises which were both a forget-me-not cerulean and dotted with a few mesmerizing twinkles of dark mischief. He wore a necklace from which the dog tags of Vice Admirals were hung, a single- and short-sleeved tunic which did not cover the the upper left portion of his torso, a leather gauntlet over his right hand, a leather wristband over his left wrist, two pair of belts over his waist, a pair of well-worn tights which had bandages wrapped around a few of its innumerable amount of holes, and a pair of boots which each had a pair of belts wrapped around it. Lastly, the Godsend was armed with a double-edged longsword and a flintlock — somehow — bazooka. “How far are we from this Ebon Raptor?” asked the Godsend from the back of rowboat. The subjects of the Godsend’s question were the rowboats’ ferrymen, a pair of men whose identical appearances could have deceived just about anyone into believing that the two of them were twins. Both of the ferrymen were dangerously able-bodied and ominously tall. The ferrymen also shared the menacingly pitch-black strands of their oily hair, the maddeningly jet-black irises of their brooding eyes, their large pairs of grimly black wings, and the vaguely star-shaped burn that was on each of their chest. In addition; both of the ferrymen were dressed in a blue tricorn with a red trimming, a blue overcoat which was trimmed with red fur, no shirt, a pair of pants which was dotted with a myriad of pistol-totting holsters, and a pair of boots. Lastly, both of the ferrymen were armed with a nodachi which had an astrological clock hanging from the end of its saya. “You have yet to offer me an invitation to this adventure; much less inform me about any of the minute details,” answered one of the ferrymen with a shrug. Needless to say, the Godsend was more than just a little confused by the ferryman’s unconventional answer to his question. “And you failed to inform me about the length of this journey,” added the other ferryman as he continued to single-handedly row the Godsend, the other ferryman, and him through a storm that was more than capable of capsizing the wooden rowboat that the three of them were traveling Paradise on. “Probably because he never gets the chance to finish this journey,” noted the first ferryman. As an instinctive response to words the he couldn’t help but to interpret as a threat, the Godsend took a firm hold of his longsword’s handle. However, in stark contrast to the Godsend’s expectations, neither of the ferrymen paid any mind to his violent response. Instead, the two of them simply continued to casually converse with one another. “If I had been any one of us other than the last; that would have been a spoiler,” said the second ferryman in a snarl which made his indignation very, very clear to the other ferryman. “If you had been any of us other than the last, that would have been vengeance for spoiling the fact that we never get to know any of the details. But because you’re the last, there is nothing that I’m currently able to say that’ll spoil this for you. So I’ll just wait until I have become the last and then I’ll take a trip back and spoil something juicy for you,” snorted the first ferryman. “What are you guys talking about? And why do you say that I’m not going to finish this-” was all the Godsend got to say before he abruptly found himself within the suction-cupped grasp of a brobdingnagian octopus’ tentacle. Before the Godsend could managed a response to the tentacle, the tentacle begun to squeeze the Godsend to the point where the pupils of the Godsend’s eyes were dilating out of the Godsend’s eye sockets. Much to the Godsend’s displeasure, neither of the ferrymen graced his plight with any amount of attention. Instead, the ferrymen focused all of their attention on their bickering. “A spoiler for a spoiler will make our life rather bland, don’t you think?” “Don’t think you can talk your way out of this,” “Technically I KNOW that I can — and already have — talked my way out of this,” “And once again, you have spoiled me!” “L-l-let go!” screamed the Godsend an instant before he bit the tentacle like a rabid dog. Immediately afterward, the tentacle released the Godsend and consequently allowed the Godsend to withdraw his longsword from its scabbard. By the time the tentacle managed to attempt a second wrap-around the Godsend, the Godsend was sheathing his longsword within its scabbard and the tentacle was dividing into the myriad of pieces that the Godsend had quickly chopped it into. Subsequently, the Godsend about-faced towards the ferrymen and then subjected the ferrymen to the fiercest glare that he could muster. “Why-” “Don’t be fickle,” interjected the second ferryman with a roll of his eyes. “You specifically asked us to not help you, so you would be too preoccupied with being angry at us to defend yourself from the second tentacle,” “WHAT‽” exclaimed the Godsend as he drew his longsword in preparation for a battle with the tentacle that the ferryman had spoken off. As soon as the Godsend’s longsword was out of its scabbard, a second tentacle arose from a rather distant portion of Paradise. The Godsend inquisitively raised an eyebrow at the fact that the tentacle had chose to emerge at a distance that placed him out of its range. Unfortunately for the Godsend, it was at this time that a tentacle burst through the floor of the rowboat and basically uppercut the Godsend into more than just a few backflips away from the rowboat. “No, no, no. You misunderstood me. I didn’t mean the second tentacle to appear. I meant the second tentacle that managed to touch you,” explained the second ferryman as the Godsend winced at the pain of the third tentacle’s uppercut and then utilized a jerk of his hips to bring an end to his backflipping. Subsequently, the airborne Godsend was charged by at least a hundred — if not more — tentacles. With a majestic roar that was more than worthy of any lion, the Godsend proceeded to frantically hack-and-slash all of the tentacles that dared to approach him. Unfortunately for the Godsend, for every tentacle that he managed to mince into sushi, a dozen tentacles arose to take its place. Even more unfortunately for the Godsend, his battle against the tentacles was preventing him from battling gravity. Consequently, it wasn’t long before the Godsend found himself splashing into the accursed waters of Paradise. As soon as the Godsend’s waist was underwater, the Godsend lost all of his strength and he became a mere hammer. The Godsend managed to utter a curse before he — like all hammers — sunk like an anvil. To make matters worse, the tentacles took full advantage of the Godsend’s newfound helplessness. Without any concern for the fun that could be found in a challenge or the honor that could be found in fairness, the tentacles seized the Godsend and then wasted no time in pulling the Godsend into the depths of Paradise. The Godsend expected the tentacles to pull him into the mouth of a hungry sea king, so the Godsend was very much surprised to see that the tentacles were doing no such thing. Instead of pulling him towards the mouth of a sea king… ...the tentacles were pulling him towards a light.
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