Wielder of Names 5-94
Aesma and the Red Eyed King
Final Part
So it was that the Red Eyed King rode Aesma through star-winds and yawning gulfs of space-time to where the Temple of the Disc of the Sun stood glowing in its stately majesty. And when Aesma landed with the King astride her back, the priests from the temple marched out from between its columns in graceful stride. Their aprons were neatly pressed, and their collars were starched and spotless, and their gleaming rods of office rapped out a pleasing synchronous pattern as they came down the temple steps. For indeed, the priests were expecting Aesma. Their hearts were full of the pride of their victory, and anticipation to see what manner of man had conquered Aesma the Wicked so thoroughly. Already they had spread the word of Aesma’s forthcoming wedding widely across the world, and it had become table talk across all creation in short order. The temple at that time was for that very reason bustling with activity. Worshippers, gossips, and philosophers alike had all come to see the triumph of order, reason, and light over womanly discord, darkness, and wantonness.
But as the priests descended into the temple courtyard, they beheld that the throng gathered there around the new arrivals was recoiling in horror. There was no proud and virtuous man standing there, for as the King dismounted, and as he stood to his full monstrous height, the priests beheld that he he had a pure and perfect aspect of a destroyer. And at once, all their notions of victory melted away, for victory itself is of course a ridiculous notion.
“What is the meaning of this?” boomed the Hierophant.
Aesma made of herself a woman-shape again, and dusted herself off. “I have done as you said, oh great teacher!” she said, throwing herself to the dirt in joy. “It is so grand and great to be submissive! I have brought my husband meals, and darned his clothing, and he has even mounted me across the stars.” She blushed and looked demure as well as she could, which was to say quite terribly. “Now I am here to be joined in holy matrimony, and to submit to the will of my husband, as you have asked of me!”
“What has overcome you?” said the Hierophant, aghast.
“It’s love, I think!” said Aesma, “Isn’t it wonderful?”
The priests racked their staves against the King, and charged with a mighty battle cry. But the king swept up his shield, which was a thousand times heavier than stone, and their attack was dashed against it like water breaking on a cliff.
“I must thank you for inspiring this poor fool to free me from my long imprisonment,” said the King, in his voice like drifting ash. Aesma was too dazed to notice being called a fool and merely gazed upon the King through tears of admiration.
“Now that I’m free,” said the King, “These eyes of mine see a world even more putrid and insipid than in ages past. I ache for its destruction, and since I only deal in fire, fire shall by thy reward.” The king pulled his Roc-feather mantle tight about him, and drew into him all the dread powers and venoms of the night. He invoked his war forms of which he had ninety and two, enclothed himself in roiling smoke, and crowned himself with cinders. Planting his feet, he grew to such monstrous size that his flame-circled brow seared the clouds, and the earth shook and shuddered with his mighty inhalations. The crowd at the temple scattered before his majesty, and black clouds obscured the light of the Great Sun Disc as the king reached out with taloned hand and crushed it into a thousand splinters. The light and power of the Disc was exceptionally potent – a great beacon of strength and wisdom that had drawn in pilgrims from distant empires to bathe in its majesty. For this reason it seared the king just a little when he crushed it with his hand, but then its light was snuffed and it fell in shards to the earth. As an oily night fell upon the land about, the virtuous and manly priests of the Temple knew immediately that they had made a terrible mistake.
“Wife,” roared the king, in a voice that seared the mountain tops far away, “Bring my mine sword!”
And Aesma brought the king his massive sword of bone, that could cut thirty six ways at once, and he enwreathed himself in a dread black fire that could burn up the land, and immediately set about his rampage. First, he smashed aside the priests and roaming saints that came up to defend the temple, for their staves and starched aprons could do naught but turn to char beneath his onslaught. He toppled the white and stately columns of the Temple and he burned the altars to cinders with the mere heat from his body. Most of the crowd and congregation was slaughtered and torn to bits from the gale of his passing, and the Temple was consumed by hellish flame.
So satisfied with his work, the King turned his red gaze away from the temple, and found all the land about unspoiled and pure, which offended him greatly. He took five great strides across the land, and each stride burned a forest up and smashed its trees to matchsticks. On his fifth stride, he found the great domain of the king Mavamatri Io, which was a shining white city that had long revered the great Sun Disc, with orderly avenues and leafy boulevards of gilded paving stones. As they saw the King approach, the city guard blew the great horn of defense, and to its clarion call rallied five thousand men at arms in armor made from gleaming fish scales, whose chariots were drawn by horses shod in silver. The warriors of that city could draw a bow heavier than any man in five hundred kingdoms, and they were brave and righteous men, bearded and muscled from toil and training. They loosed upon the King their shafts, but once again he drew up his bulwark and dashed the rain of arrows into a pitiful shower.
The King struck out with his sword that cut thirty six ways, and it cut the air with a fierce and awful wind that blew the walls of the city asunder and killed seven hundred men at once. And in very short order, the King’s red gaze beheld only ashes were the great city had stood, and he was pleased. Aesma, for her part, was so lovesick that she could only sit in stunned admiration in the smoking ruins of the temple and watch as her would-be husband lay waste to the land about. But very shortly, it occurred to her that the marriage ceremony would still have to take place, so she staggered to her feet and skipped after the King, following the wake of his destruction.
And indeed, that wake grew very large indeed. On the first day of his rampage, the King razed ten cities to the ground, and slew a score of demigods. On the third, he had razed thirty five cities, and slew a hundred and thirty two demigods, and thrown twenty temples into ruin. And by the seventh day, he had razed ninety five cities, slew five hundred and sixty demigods, boiled seven seas to dust, burned the College of Stars to the ground, set alight the Ulaptis river, and slaughtered the god Un-Utram in single combat. And each day, Aesma would follow along, giddy with love, mend his battle-worn armament, sing his praises. But as the sun grew low and the only light was from the cities burning to the ground around the King, Aesma would tug at his ankle and say, “Oh husband of mine, will you come back to the temple with me? Have you forgotten our ceremony?”
This grew extremely vexing to the King, who truly cared little for Aesma and could harbor nothing so infinitely complex as love in his small and dull heart. And by fits and starts, the King made the exact same mistake as the priests of the Temple. He began to relish in his conquest, and he grew assured in his victory, for the swathe of carnage and devastation that the King had carved was visible even from YISUN’s speaking house, and it’s smoke was so thick that it blotted out the sun for near half of creation. Grand and imperious armies rallied against the King, and were dashed to pieces upon his armor, and everywhere he went he left a sea of dying men and horses. Even the meta-dimensional halls and transcendent planar-estates of the Gods began to pay attention to the King, and rallied their celestial hosts. War gods girded their loins and clad themselves in steaming armor and summoned their sword arts for battle. The Great Gods of Justice summoned the minor Gods of Justice from where they were harassing Ogam, and together they shouldered their spears and clothed themselves in molten law, and marched for the battlefield.
But even the Gods themselves could do little but slow down the King’s ferocious rampage. For battle as they might, they were unable to strike a single wound against the King, who was encased in his invulnerable armament. And the King did not sleep or tire, for his hatred of creation and his burning rage against the insipid beauty of the universe gave him the awful power of Want, which filled his limbs with unstoppable force. He shattered the smoking spears of the Gods of Justice, and threw down the Gods of Law with a strike from his shield, and did battle with Sivran, God of Conquest, for seven and one days before Sivran retired to his palanquin from exhaustion.
So indeed, the King’s victory seemed assured. And it was there at the height of his conquest that he decided to rid himself of Aesma.
“Oh husband of mine, won’t you come back to the temple with me?” said lovestruck Aesma, for the twentieth time. The King looked at her with his terrible red eyes and said, “Get thee gone, gnat! Thou hast served thy purpose, now play in the ashes a while!” And he took his sword that could cut thirty six ways and smote Aesma with a blow so mighty that it sent her hurtling across the world and blew all the love clean out of her. When Aesma landed, she was pouring tears again. She staggered around, sobbing, until she found herself trudging through the ashes of the Temple of the Disc of the Sun. By this point she had been crying for a good day and a half, so her eyes were very sore and blurry with fiery tears. But she could see just well enough that she made out the sorry and filthy figure of the Hierophant of the Temple, who was poking through the smoking mess that had been the mighty congregation hall with what remained of his staff of office.
“Oh teacher!” sobbed Aesma, and shook the poor Hierophant from side to side, “I did what you asked! I followed all the rules of your temple! Is it because I’m too wicked that I must be punished so?”
“You awful, wretched creature!” shrieked the Hierophant in rage, “Look at what your foolishness has wrought! Get up and set this right at once!”
“Oh I was struck by my husband,” said Aesma, “And now my heart is aflame with pain!” And she sobbed and rolled around in self-pity, covering herself in ashes and moaning. The immediately Hierophant saw that he had made a second, and far greater mistake than getting Aesma to marry in the first place. By trying to tame Aesma, he had inadvertently removed one of the only weapons that could be relied on to trounce pompous fools such as the Red Eyed King with any degree of reliability.
“Get up!” sputtered the Hierophant, “You have to fight!”
“Oh but that’s against the rules!” sobbed Aesma.
“You useless moron!” said the Hierophant, “The great Disc of the Sun is shattered! This temple is brought to ruin, and the world will ne’er see its like again, even in the whole history of creation! The stars themselves burn with the evil you have unleashed! Who cares if you were struck?”
It was true that the Temple would never return. But Aesma was not listening, for a sudden thought had hit her like a stone, and she stood up.
“Say!” she said, nurturing a growing anger, “If my husband strikes me, doesn’t that break our marriage vows?”
“You absolute dolt!” said the Hierophant, “You haven’t even been married yet!”
“Oh!” said Aesma, standing up, and becoming herself again. “I’ll beat him to a pulp!” She smacked the Hierophant for good measure, and felt fantastic. Then she set off in a dead sprint through the charred and smoldering landscape to where the Red Eyed King stood, wreathed in ruinous power, and laying waste to the world about him with great bolts of black fire and scorching ash. Five hundred gods were doing furious battle with him, and the light of their burning combat obscured the sky itself. Aesma instantly filled to the brim with an unstoppable berserk rage upon seeing his wicked face, and she began to tantrum, as was her custom.
“You!” she screamed, and laid hand upon the nearest thing to her, which was a large rock. She hurled it with tremendous force, where it struck the King in the thigh and made hardly a dent. Aesma was so angry, she turned to the next largest thing she could find, which was a stray horse. The horse was a well-bred steed that had once pulled the chariot of Mantos Am, God of Tax Law, but Aesma cared very little. She gripped the horse by its mane and flung it bodily at the king. It bounced of his thigh and he barely turned from his heated combat.
This so enraged Aesma that she turned to the next largest thing she could find, which was a boat – a mighty war barge a hundred paces long or more that had washed ashore when the river was vaporized by the king’s passing. She flung it at the king with terrifying force, and it glanced off the back of his hauberk and shattered into a thousand splinters of wood. This got the king to turn a little in Aesma’s direction, but at that point he gave her so little regard, so enthralled by victory as he was, that he spared here only the tiniest sliver of a sneer before turning back to his fight and swatting three Gods of war out of the sky with a swing of his hand.
Aesma couldn’t take it at that point. She dug her fingers in the earth, and with a mighty heave, flung part of the entire battlefield at the King. It struck the king square in the shoulder, and knocked him off balance as clods of earth, men, horses, and errant war machines went flying everywhere.
“What are you doing, miserable creature,” said the King. He threw off his combatants and turned to face her, and aligned all his aspects of war and mastery, armor states, and vorpal blade arts in her direction. He was an awe-inspiring sight.
“I think you’re the handsomest man I’ve ever met,” said Aesma, and she was quite sincere, “And you’ve got such a great work ethic! But you struck me with that sword that cuts thirty six ways, and more importantly you let my love for you pour out of me and die cold and withered on the floor. And that I cannot forgive!” She leapt at the king, and summoned up her destroyer form, and rained such ferocious blows upon him that the other five hundred Gods made a circle of their shields and gave her wide berth. But the King was a mighty warrior, and would not yield, so clothed in the invulnerable armor that Aesma had made for him. Any other warrior would have shriveled in dismay at the impossibility of victory in such a situation. It quickly became apparent that Aesma could not beat the Red Eyed King in battle. He was equally as fast as her, better trained, and his war aspects were more deadly. Most of Aesma’s killing blows bounced harmlessly off his shield, while others were rebuffed by the scales of his hauberk.
But Aesma did not cling to victory. Her lack of success merely filled her with a hot and infinite rage.
With a free hand, she groped around until she found the largest object she could find, which happened to a nearby mountain, and with impossible strength she tore it up by the root and dashed it across the Red Eyed King’s shield. The mountain shattered with a colossal rumble and the King was thrown back, but still he would not yield. So Aesma found the next largest object she could find. She raised herself up and reached into the sky and tore a passing moon from it’s orbit. And as the King staggered back from the mountain blow, Aesma ripped the moon molten hot through the atmosphere, and smashed it down into the King’s sword. Moon and sword both were blown into a million pieces, and the battlefield was rent asunder and turned into a maelstrom of screaming men, and gods, and horses, and chunks of stone and clouds of earth. Up and down ceased to have meaning, and the stars were blotted out by the cloud of destruction. But still the King would not yield.
So Aesma reached even further out, and pulled stars, one by one, and hurled them at the King. And the King hunched low and charged at Aesma through their fiery trails as they hurtled to earth in great explosions. He kept coming, even as his shield was blown into pieces, and gripped Aesma by the shoulders, so Aesma grabbed an Eye of Night, which was a star so large it had broken through space-time and collapsed into a hole infinitely more massive. She bashed the king over the head with it, and he was stunned and bloodied, but managed to knock it away from Aesma, where it flew off and devoured a nearby lunar kingdom.
“Yield!” said Aesma. But the King would not yield. He was exceedingly foolish, and still clung to his dreams of conquest. This allowed fear of losing to make its way in his limbs, which poisoned his grip. Instead of snapping Aesma’s neck, as he should have easily done, she instead squirmed out of his hold.
It was exactly then that Aesma did a truly impossible thing, since by then she was thoroughly fed up. She flexed her fingers, and planted her feet, an inhaled a mighty gale of breath, and reached out to grab the fabric of the world itself. And with a deafening roar, she lifted, and the entirety of creation shook.
“What are you doing?” said the King, aghast. And the other Gods who were hurled too and fro through that chaotic battlefield echoed his cry, for all could feel it.
“I’m going to lift the Wheel and beat you over the head with it until you give up!” puffed Aesma.
And the King saw that this was true. Aesma had indeed lifted the Wheel. He knew then that he had lost utterly and completely, and yielded. He lay down his shattered sword, and shuffled off his battered scale hauberk, and dispersed his dread aspect. If there was anything to be said about him further, it was that he was a graceful loser.
Even still, it took some convincing by the five hundred other Gods and the celestial hosts to get Aesma to put down the universe, but eventually she did. She remained upset all the while the King was escorted back to the Crucible of Punishment and locked inside an even tighter cage, and only cheered up once the key was turned in the lock, removed, and melted. Aesma was brought before Payam, who was foremost in YISUN’s Speaking House in those days, and sentenced to a hundred days as a scullery maid as punishment. Strangely, Aesma seemed rather meek about the whole affair and accepted her punishment gracefully as long as she was brought wine once in a while.
“You seem changed, Aesma ten Yondam,” said Payam to Aesma.
“I’m done with husbands,” said Aesma, who was despondent. “I think it’s time to grow up.”
“Oh?” said Payam, with great concern. The other Gods in YISUN’s speaking house also leaned in closely at this, for they were very worried at what could possibly go wrong next.
“Yes,” said Aesma, “I’m getting a dog.”
Talk to the hand, God, ’cause the face don’t understand.
This is exciting
Indeed! So refreshing to see such violence!
No, this is two mall-rat teenyboppers having a thing. The exciting stuff comes up after the butt peaches wear off, the fear returns, and the cold seeps in.
Methinks that will be soon, as Al-Yis-Un is going to destroy the butt peach tree.
Talk shit get hit
Did leaves fall out of her face with that slap?
I think it might be dead skin, as the fruit wears off.
It seems to be a constant cascade of dead leaves shed by her husband, actually. No wonder he needs to drink so much blood, if he’s losing and re-growing foliage at that rate.
Perhaps Hastet-Om’s fruit grants youth simply because he EXFOLIATES so much! dohohohoho
Ohohohohoho
Smash the fash!
Wielder of Names 5-95: “Mottom gets bitch-slapped”
[Always Sunny theme plays]
Welp. This is about to go badly.
To say nothing of the sudden angel attack racing towards them through the halls right now.
There’s also the parade of 108 idiots and Ciocie chasing Allison. Something tells me things are about to get very violent.
Also Maya Murder the Gods and Topple their Thrones.
“The Divinity of Greed turned, with fire in her eyes, and smote Alice-Un with a palm that should have divided her 37 ways, and flayed her nerves from her viscera with a 9-dimensional fissure in space-time.
Indeed, the Dread Mother oft utilized such an attack, for it was known never to fail, and to create the most beautiful form of violence. It was said to be passed only to the most wicked woman alive – Aesma once knew it, as did Meti. Then it passed to the Queen of the House of Om, and she had lived uncounted aeons and mastered every facet of this most vicious technique.
But her rage broke over Alice-Un and left her unharmed, like waves on stone, for Alice-Un was true Royalty, and above the petty concerns of such lesser beings as a mere demiurge.”
— Canticles of the Beggar Queen, 6:113
Even the blind can observe the void in wisdom required to strike a demiurge so boldly.
Oh please, there is no void in wisdom for wanting to smack some sense into a daft old woman. Now, actually doing so is the void in wisdom- because most old women tend to be sorcerous.
She will not succumb to the cycle of abuse.
To the pain of being a captured thing in a gilt cage, long after the bars have rusted apart. Knowing nothing then their parameters.
She is done letting fear control her.
She is Ascendant.
Oh she’s so dead
YOU GO GIRL! BRIGHT SLAP THE WITCH!!!
And on today’s episode of “The Harm of Irrational Decisions”…
Thats right give her the ol’ sansa-slap
An observation: She was indeed hit. And the other first she did the hitting. Noted.
Further observation: Unhappiness with the slow entropy of the seventh kind. Alignment unbalanced. Interesting.
The Angels said they desired a perfect cycle, one that was pure and sterile. In essence, Mottom wanted the same thing.
Allison will not abide such awfulness, not while she is able to fight.
The Widow Om is not gonna be happy with this, though I might as well be saying YISUN is a paradoxical prick with unparalleled posthumous prestige. I expect her to, I dunno, become the avatar of wrath itself and flail against eternity (after trying to turn Allison into a reddish stain on the carpet)… or just kill a lot of people.
That or it’ll be the catalyst for *~*character development*~* for the most beautiful of the Demiurges, though… I kinda sorta really doubt that, as when did slapping someone ever result in positive personal growth?! Judging by her reaction I’m thinking it’s just gonna break things down here. Here and there and throughout Nadia’s slice of the multiversal pie.
Though, I guess the point is here that Alice-UN is gonna be the one doing the developing. She sees Nadia Om and her rotting pedigree, sees what she could become, then realizing her terrible potential; she’s got a God-key and pluck and whatnot. Worlds of whatnot. Worlds of… protagonist stuff.
That excites me.
Rise up, young Alice-UN! Shatter the status quo! Make more references to 90s anime that I haven’t and probably will never watch! Yeah! (Though most of my heart will always belong to the gluttonous Demiurge Empress Lady…)
Yeah.
How do them butt-fruits of immortality taste now, huh?!
She has indeed been granted the power to bring world revolution.
I doubt the fruits taste good.
You might even say
They taste
LIKE ASS
I shake my head in the third way at you, o angel. Many vile calumnies are heaped upon your kind, but to have the worst so validated is a tragic thing.
What dire insult, to suggest that the children of the White Flame don’t even eat ass.
Indeed. We’re also such cowards that we don’t smoke crack.
Oooooh.
I see some of that fiery eye from Zoss did indeed rub off on you, huh.
Let’s recount Alice’s feats.
Bitchslapped Nadia.
Beat an Ebon at a drinking game.
Ignored every single word coming out of Cio’s mouth.
Escaped not only white chain but a plethora of other people for days at end.
Ate a blue devil.
Birthed a blue devil.
Made Princess Mamoru, bestest devil ever.
Still didn’t lose her virginity, because she never looses.
What am I missing?
She once made a killer mocha. I am sure of it.
I wonder if Nadia is shocked that someone managed to get a hit in, or concerned with what her servants are about to do over the offense.
Those servants have one dreary-ass boring job: pouring blood into a tree’s mouth until it comes out the nose (wielder-of-names-5-82-tree-of-woe). They’re just plain interested. Maybe they’ve started a pool…
BURN IT ALL DOWN, GIRL
I love how Mottom’s just sitting there, dumbfounded that anyone would hit her. “Nobody makes me bleed my own blood!”
*banging on table* KILL THE TREE
KILL THE TREE
KILL THE TREE
Ironic coming from someone named Driftwood.
Or maybe I’m using the “Ironic” wrong?
Odd how the driftwood calls for the destruction of one like its kind.
Then again, it’s not one’s job to ask why.
Driftwood is not a tree– it is the child of a tree. And it is a fundamental law of the universe that children both become and destroy their parents.
Driftwood merely seeks the birth of a sibling.
Not odd at all, for Driftwood is not a tree but what comes after.
Are not Trees disassembled to make drift wood?
The one constant “Change”.
Spin the wheel, kingling.
Alice-UN is the first person to treat Nadia like a person in eons, and that’s not always a pleasant thing.
The question is, will this end with Nadia flipping out? How big of a mistake was a rash act of physical violence?
Noone but Hastet had ever treated her like this, Aeon. The War was one thing, but slapping her while she was raw and open, rather than guarded and resplendant in royalty? That was the privelage her husband exercized over her.
I don’t think Nadia herself knows what she’ll do next.
In related news, I think I’m just… gonna go hide somewhere.
This is a rational, sane response.
Yeah, I’ve been waiting for that. It was very satisfying.
Sages and holy men say the truth is righteous, that it will set you free and lead to harmony, this is false. Liars and the ignorant say the truth is a painful thing and should be feared, this is correct. For it is a star that shines bright with its beautiful malevolent light.
The truth may be a painful thing, but it is pointless to fear it. Fear of death does not keep it at bay, nor does fear of oblivion postpone its inevitable advance, so too does fearing the truth do nothing to preserve that fragile lie that is the reality.
The truth is a thing of terrible power, but fear is not the correct response.
I prefer a different analogy; truth about oneself gained through introspection is much like the crucible used to remove dirt and slag from ore. It burns hot, and not everything that goes into it will survive. However, what comes out is far stronger for having been smelted.
Perhaps some would argue that leaving oneself encrusted in the slag of lies is preferable to violent change, but given the misery lying behind Mottom’s many facades I’d say they’re just too frightened to try.
It is understandable she should be: No matter how broken or damaged one’s home is, there is a deep attachment to it. To leave such a thing is painful indeed, and even having been gone from dark places for years, there is a desire to return.
I would imagine that Mottom’s nobles are also much like herself: Terrified to speak the truth or rise above, and so calming themselves by basking in the awful light that is the self sustaining circle of Glory.
Then Indeed the truth is righteous, bringing pain and fear to liars and the ignorant.
So these guys are tough only when they’re being actively tough? Then it’s a skill, not anything innate. Hmmm…
Maybe, maybe not. Alice-UN’s forehead dick is bigger, which may have been a factor. Also, Alice-UN is a gym rat who, due to personality, probably doesn’t have a lot of experience with appropriate slapping force. And while Om was knocked down, one could imagine defenses which stop a squishy human from getting hurt, but don’t stop squishy humans getting knocked around.
Clearly more testing is necessary. I dub thee Jesse Slap Six Billion Demons, if thou wouldst accept the quest (no pressure).
Yes, Mottom, she hit you. And she’s about, indirectly, to kill you.
I expect that Mottom will not be disposed of so trivially. If having Zoss’s key was ironclad protection against the powers of the Demiurges, then Zoss himself would never have lost his throne.
Zoss didn’t lose his Throne, he left it, in order to pursue True Royalty.
Alas, both Metatron and Juggernaut Star knew of the secret source of his power, and that’s why he was defeated.
Allison looks like she intends to destroy Mottom’s tree. If the fruits of that tree are, as Mottom claims, the only thing keeping her (Mottom) alive, then such an action will be the cause of Mottom’s eventual death.
If memory serves, brother Aeon, Zoss did not lose his throne, but rather abandoned it. How the Speaker for Thorns managed to take his head is beyond me, unless the Conquering King simply desired to move on to other pursuits.
Could it be that Zoss ascended and spoke a new line/universe?
I am not sure it was quite so peaceful and voluntary as all that, brothers.
Making interesting decisions as always….
Our heir is finally getting herself together. What a glorious dawn this will be.
Abbadon, this is page 94, not 95.
Also those shaky words coming from Mottom. She might just be in shock, but that look in her eye makes me worry.
In wich Alice-un shows true royalty!
The last syllable can only be spoken with a tongue of violence.
Go, young Sovereign. Seven the roots of the old ruin and from their timber shall ye kindle a fire of hope o’er decrepit spokes.
Allison asserts her personal sovereignty. Mottom blindsided.
Probably the first person in millenia to smack Nadia like that. Maybe ever? Unless Hastet Om was abusive, in which case 🙁 Anyway sometimes you need a good ol’ fashioned smacking. Good job, Allison, and good job realizing the truth of your own journey too.
Also, note how Allison’s dress appears to be shorter, and her face more angular in the second half of this page. The fruit has worn off, and Allison has grown up.
SYMBOLISM!!!111!!!1!!
Well-placed, Allison, but Mottom probably won’t take that lying down. It is good that 82 White Chain taught you angelic martial arts with which to defend yourself against wrathful demiurges!
What? 82 didn’t?
Oh. Um.
Good luck, dear.
Brothersister, let us blame White Chain for their unacceptable incompetence in teaching and protecting Alice-UN. This freak angel kills me… Ugh.
i thought you
liked being killed
and flattered your
number with glory
Unacceptable incompetence?
This, coming from one who has died five-hundred and eighty-seven times.
Twill be a fine pyre, for a terrible king.
I wonder, knowst the Highmost of sati?
Well, time to kill a tree.
REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE
YS ATUN VRAMA PRESH
I guess 5-94 just disappeared into thin air?
Is that the same closed eye as crone-Mottom? Perhaps a sign that young Alison may not like the results of succumbing to anger and violence…
Hm, is this a two-man con? The Incubus demiurge did some subliminal work on Alice-UN about how much she actually wants to be the hero. And Mottom is putting on a Vaudevillian routine that’s just begging for a proper hero who wants to Put Things Right. I am skeptical.
So AL-YIS-UN has not only the physical strength but also the courage/stupidity needed to slap some sense into God herself.
If I were a certain Thorn Knight I’d be very terrified of this girl of supposedly weak flesh indeed…
Fear is a thing Six Juggernaut Star does not comprehend. For the sword is an ugly piece of metal, and its adherents idiots.
Ah, a bitch slap. Trully dreadful technique. However, for it to be trully effective, one needs to follow it up with more conventional means of violence, like rending the oponent’s flesh from their bones, and I’m afraid Allison might not be proficient in such arts quite yet.
Last panel servants whisper: “Did she just hit the Queen?” “What should we do?” “Omg this is awkward.”
Reach heaven through violence.
She who knows of the first three syllables of BITCH, BE COOL
DIVINITY’S ROT, EXPOSED. THE TERRIBLE FLAME OF THE VOICE IN HER BROW. THE CENTER IS FAILING. THE HEARTWOOD CANNOT HOLD.
IF A GODDESS FALLS, AND EVERYONE IS AROUND TO SEE IT, DOES SHE MAKE A SOUND?
Yes, and that sound is ‘fwump’.
What goddess? Clearly there is no goddess here and never was. Certainly someone was hit and fell, but such a person could never be called divinity.
So the light of divinity fades and people start to wonder if it was ever there at all.
What are you, a news headline?
Oh, what an adorable little Aeon~
The crown calls
Mottom kind of reminds me of an abusive parent that was herself abused heavily. Souichi Presents said that Alison won’t succumb to the “cycle of abuse,” and in relation to the multiverse perhaps it will be true, but on an interpersonal level, slapping someone like Mottom is not a radical act. (more like a foolish knee-jerk reaction)
It makes me wonder what Alison’s arc will eventually become. Is it really her fate to perpetuate more violence toward the violent? If she succeeds in that manner alone, what message does that send — that the former seven violent demiurges just weren’t violent in the right way? I’m not for idealized passivity, but many of the religions on which KSBD draws DO advocate for compassion, even in necessary conflict. I’m really interested to see how it plays out. A goddess of compassion in her warring aspect would be a sight to behold.
tl;dr you can ascend to heaven through violence but you can’t ascend to healthy relationships that way
(p.s. i feel like a life-supporting evil tree of your dead evil husband is a disturbingly apt metaphor for being stuck in the loop of past abuse!! like whoaaa, teach this shit in schools)
Royalty, I’m given to understand, tends to favor overwhelmingly powerful, fundamentally unhappy individuals; ascending to unhealthy relationships through violence is par for the course for aspirants to Royalty, who look for fulfillment in all the wrong places.
So let’s hope that Allison can become the successor without sacrificing everything good in the world.
I’m under the impression that Alice is supposed to be some sort of system-breaker. Certainly her life is meant to be a universe-spanning catastrophe. Kill Six Billion Demons seems like an appropriate epithet for one who teaches her universe an object lesson in Maxim 6: If violence wasn’t your last resort, you failed to resort to enough of it.
In general, those who try to solve their problems by escalating until they run out of new problems don’t actually succeed, but Alice has… some sort of destiny, certainly. Hopefully it all works out for the survivors?
I was wondering why this story felt similar to Wally: A lovable little robot who is thrust into a degenerate system without change and unintentionally messes everything up just right. Now I know.
Violence isn’t used in K6BD very literally. It’s used almost (because not entirely) metaphorically, to represent a certain metaphysical concept and its emotional connotative meaning. The religions which K6BD takes from aren’t taken in for what they are. YISUN, the supreme deity, advocates the “opposite” or at least a “subversion” (in quotations because they can easily produce results that are similar imo) of the religions (primarily Buddhism) the God is based upon – lies, ignorance, violence, want, imperfection, etc. For instance, the Divine Suicide doesn’t necessarily represent the literal Death of God, but could be easily interpretated as the first act of division of self which produced individuality in the face of reality’s being being singular, which in turn is a lie and a paradox – for being is particular but reality is singular.
Also, the moralistic addressing of actions in-themselves without regard to the social context in which the actions function is wrong. Anon is right, even if he’s expressing himself in an overly emotional way. Literal violence is a fact of life, and harsh moralistic rejection of it very often means unconsciously ignoring the violence that occurs in everyday life. But anyways, Mottom isn’t just a product of abuse (and violence against her isn’t constrained to that paradigm), she is the tyrannical god-king of a realm of billions that lets injustice continue because of her imprisonment to false notions of victory.
The numbering appears to be off. The last page was 5-93, this is 5-95. Are we missing a page or have they simply been misnumbered?
Reach heaven through violence indeed.
“Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go bitch slap a tree.”
REVELATION
Alison has that “Some shit’s about to go down!” glare in her eyes … and gleam in her forehead.
There is a fire on her brow again. Now we can only ponder, which of these will involve terrible violence in the next page or two?: Mottom, Allison, the consumed and sprouted king, the tree’s servants, the pair of Angels which have been rapidly approaching this place for a very long time?
There are a great deal of things that may be about to happen.
THE DEAD TYRANT SHALL BE LAID LOW, AND THE BEARER OF GLORY SHALL BE AS DUST!
PRAISE YISUN! AND REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE!
“(The final part of Aesma and the Red Eyed King will be up shortly)”
SQUEEE!
Bitchslap 6 Billion Demiurges.
Alice-un has the face of someone realizing their destiny in the last panel
Indeed. I have seen this face many times.
Great reckonings often follow such a face.
AL-YIS-UN has the countenance of one who is entirely fed up with her situation. Perhaps it is not a mistake that the wondrous scribe Abaddon did tell of Aesma lifting the Wheel with this offering.
And thus, she becomes one of the few to strike one of the Seven, and live. Even if perhaps briefly.
“If she succeeds in that manner alone, what message does that send — that the former seven violent demiurges just weren’t violent in the right way?”
Equating all violence as the same is essentially anti-intellectual and ridiculous. Is it wrong to use violence to free women that a psycho keeps trapped as slaves in his basement? Literally every society and person in the world owes their existence and lifestyle to violence, even if they don’t realize it. Even if they actively campaign against it. If you personally aren’t violent that just means the violence to your benefit is being outsourced to the police and military. The religions you refer to also owed their existence to violence and were laughable for that reason. This comic has shown no indications of being pro-pacifism and I would be very sad if it were to start.
Sigh, I quite clearly noted that I am not one for idealized passivity (or pacificity, rather), and I even acknowledged necessary conflict. If you don’t understand the concept, go watch Avatar The Last Airbender or something.
Considering the amount of religious influence in this webcomic alone, though, I find it brow-raising that you would be so pretentious as to find yourself above that “laughable” influence. Though, clearly, you are truly the only one enlightened enough to understand the military-police state and capitalistic exploitation of humanity that so plagues this world.
You may be anon, but I recognize you well, 69 Edgelord NuAtheist Condemns the Sheeple. Well met.
There are gaps between violences, and corollary gaps between all forms of the damage and experience to send their victims reeling.
If one were to liken these gaps to those between spokes on a wheel, then murder through violence is but a single ugly spoke; a violent maiming is just distant from that one, gapwise, by about a pair; and torture through violence is several gaps further from violent murder, and a few less distant from the aforementioned violent maiming.
By contrast, bitch-slapping lies somewhere near-opposite on the wheel from violent murder, and so too does its impact on victims. And the spoke representative of that particular clusterous fornication appears ugly only when victims of said bitch-slapping are at least some ways undeserving.
The concept of pacifism, then, is like to a spectrum-wheel overlapping with violence’s own: its definition flexibly includes at least the wavelength of a well- and long-deserved bitch-slapping.
This violence-inclusive property of the pacifistic spectrum allows such bitch-slapping to share the fullness of pacifism’s range with variously more-perfect non-violences, such as the sort certain protesters employ to attain distinction from the world-in-largeness, and thereby draw attention to injustices wrought by violentsome offenders.
Baffling it is, that any fan of this comic’s pluralistic reality would struggle to conceive of notions less binary and tiring than “pro-and-con-philosophies”. Only one-track-minds are so bound in their thinking, I think.
It is written that in his impossible prison, the Red King can still be heard to mutter the fivefold name of YISUN sorrowful. Whether this is an act of repentance or an act of vowing vengeance is a subject of much debate, but the most commonly accepted translation is agreed to be “MY FREAKIN’ EX-WIFE.”
Praise the story of Aesma and learn from its teachings.
“Cast down those who insult the Wheel with their heresy, and break them upon it. Let them know its terrible weight.”
Can we just talk about how Aesma beat her almost-husband with mountains, stars, and Black Motherfucking Holes? And how, with her boundless rage born of Heartbreak and Want, she was prepared to beat him over the head with CREATION ITSELF?!
Truly, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Look and see, as this one has, the birth of true royalty! Our lion hearted little Alison has finally cast off the shroud of doubt and fear and has taken her fate into her own hands! The wretched tree shall be split asunder and its wood shall fuel the flames of victory!
This one wonders however, what ‘hand’ fate has now dealt to our dear sweet Widow Om? What course of action shall she take in response to Alison’s disrespect? Perhaps she shall merely stand back and watch as our hero does what she herself should have done long ago.
This one also wonders; is it disrespect if a king slaps a lesser? Perhaps it is merely the king ‘putting one in ones place’?
I would have never occurred to me that Aesma was a sub.
That was truly a battle of epic proportions. I bet she was only able to lift the wheel because she didn’t realise the impossibility of such action; she probably lost the ability upon seeing YISUN’s universal form.
Love how everyone is filled with dread when Aesma does something out-of-character, however vicious and problematic she is, they’re at least accustomed to that much trouble; if she reacts in any other way is rarely a sign of things getting better; quite the opposite, in fact.
Submissive is a forbidden desire by all those who have conquered their yet yearn for more. It allows them to experience the finality of their conquest through conquered eyes. Truly submissiveness is one of the many ways of smiling.
The man who strikes without thought of his action can cut god.
Truly, Aesma is the greatest child of YISUN.
Grandchild, please. Her parents were YIS and UN. It seems no one remembers them…
I marvel at this lie.
I have to say I’ve just binge read this entire series today, and I’m awestruck by how amazing it is. And for it all to culminate in “I’m going to beat you over the head with the universe” is the most satisfyingly hilarious thing I’ve ever read. I hungrily await further updates, Abbadon!
Welcome to the chorus.
And what a beautiful sound the chorus of creation releases into being
That’s right, little on. Burn it all. Burn it all to ashes.
And then burn the ashes.
So very much like the red eyed king…
Dogs are much better anyway Aesma.
it was at that moment
mother om knew
she fucked up
It’s looking Sailor Moon time, isn’t it? *squee*
I love this comic. The humour is delightfully filling and the world so intriguingly dissimilar. It gives me fits of the wandering mind.
As for this finale to “Aesma and the Red Eyed King” it is refreshing to see the gods at the end were not so full of hubris as their predecessors that they might expect Aesma change or underestimate her.
And so Aesma said to him, “better act right before you get smacked right, bitch.”
“Did she just knock our goddess onto her face?” “Do we… are we angry at that? Like, angry enough to try to do something?” “I vote for not attacking whoever’s knocking around a demiurge.” “A usurper?” “Great, what’s THIS one gonna make us do?”
Aesma deadlifts the universe. The end.
I just want to see a human verbally bitchslap an angel with this factoid.
“Your creators all died. MY creator deadlifted the universe once. Your argument is invalid.”
REACH HEAVEN THROUGH SQUATZ N’ OATZ
For she has seen the shape of the universe, and that it is a smakop.
A SMACKOPSIDE YO FUCKIN DOME!!!!!! BOFA BOYZ RULE SEE BIO <<<<<
Slapping a goddess. Not such a good idea?
RUTH SLAP!
Ha! I just noticed that even the corpse turns to look at Allison. I imagine a record scratch interrupting the ominous sacrificial ambience. And only the sound of the rope holding corpse as it turns around to look as well. Even the blinded demiurge seems to have taken notice.