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It can be an emotional avalanche when two lines are displayed, especially when you’re a guy, and especially when the test was taken on yourself. The devil of the Flame Underworld drops the stick. He sits in a corner with his forehead glued to his knees, his heart beating almost as fast as his thoughts, which consist of two words: how and why. He should’ve known something like this would happen. With the countless assaults by his captor and so-called lover, it’s only natural that conception would be a result, among other things. Ivlis didn’t expect this since he’s male. How is it possible? It should only happen to a woman, among other things too. Demon physiology is indeed mysterious.
Since the past few days, Ivlis has been experiencing headaches, fatigues, nausea, and stomach cramps - common signs of pregnancy. At first he thought they were just physical effects of Satanick’s abuses. But when they kept on persisting, he decided to check if his assumption was incorrect. And when the result came out, his world turned darker than it already was.
He places a hand on his abdomen and experiences another surge of distress. The full knowledge of his pregnancy’s implications overwhelms him beyond stability. He won’t call it his offspring. More like the byproduct of unreciprocated intimacy and relentless torture. He can’t imagine having a child conceived in such a manner. Even for a devil, this repulses him.
If there’s a sense of hope still left in him, if there’s a means for him to at least pull his anguish back to its usual state, if there’s a thin steam of optimism from the chaotic soup of his overwhelmed mind, it would be his decision to avoid childbirth. He’d have the fetus aborted no matter the consequences. It would be not only for his own good but also for the good of the fetus he bears. With a newfound purpose after what must be years since his days of glory as the ruler of the Flame Underworld, Ivlis wipes his tears and pulls himself up, ready to go forth.
Abortion is illegal in Ne-no-Kuni, which is why it has no abortion clinics. Abortion pills are banned to the point you won’t even find them in a drug dealer’s coat. This leaves Ivlis with no other option but to perform a do-it-yourself abortion. Since Satanick’s away due to diplomatic reasons, Ivlis has all the castle’s resources to himself for the time being. If not for the tight collar around his neck that serves as a reminder of his downfall and status as another devil’s bitch, Ivlis would be truly free.
Ivlis searches for a suitable tool to use and chooses a wire hanger. He modifies it into a rod. Although the device’s prepared, he’s faced with a new problem: where to stick it in. A woman would have to stick it inside her vagina since the baby won’t come out anywhere else but for a man, who knows? Ivlis would have to make a wild guess.
Ivlis pulls down his shorts. He looks at his crotch, scratching his head. A baby shouldn’t be able to come out of a penis. Passing kidney stones is painful enough, but passing an infant would mean genital mutilation. The anus on the other hand should be the right orifice given its elasticity. Shitting out the baby would be no problem, unless you're also shitting out other things at the same time. Is this the unfortunate case of homosexual couples, to have shitty children? Ivlis hopes the entrance to his womb is not through his cock. He can’t imagine putting a rod in it. He won’t really mind if it's through his asshole, considering how he’s used to Satanick shoving materials up there.
After a moment of anxious hesitation, Ivlis bites his shirt and pushes the rod up his ass. He slides the stick across what he believes are the rectal walls, locating the cervix. He pokes at a particularly soft region, causing him to moan and have an instant erection. He has touched his own prostate. The devil moves the stick slowly to avoid unnecessary stimulation. After more uncomfortable searching, Ivlis feels a flap, followed by a tight gap. He squeezes the rod through the gap until it not only ceases scraping on flesh but also pierces through a gummy substance. Having finally obtained the fetus, Ivlis pulls the rod out.
Ivlis raises the bloody rod and stares at the fetus impaled on it like an olive on a stick. A tear of relief runs down his face. His view of the future becomes less unbearable, with the expectations of having a child under his circumstances eliminated. Nevertheless, Ivlis knows it’s not yet over. Satanick still has a firm grip on his life, but if he ever gets rapey again, Ivlis wouldn’t have much to worry about. He could simply take some birth control pills in secret. At least those aren’t banned in Ne-no-Kuni.
The next day, Ivlis has been experiencing headaches and stomach cramps since waking up. He doesn’t have the appetite for breakfast. Are these the side effects of abortion? How come they’re similar to pregnancy signs? The devil decides to take another test to find out. After pissing on the stick, he checks its result, and drops it in disbelief. Two lines. An enigma. Did a piece of the fetus break off and regenerate?
Ivlis takes the rod out of the bin. The fetus is still there, with ants nibbling on it like it’s a sweet candy. It has two underdeveloped horns of similar shape, meaning the fetus was in its complete form when he pulled it out yesterday. Ivlis is confused. How’s he pregnant again? Demons are known for their fast healing, but this regenerative fetus is a whole new case. It’s as if the fetus has a strong will to be born. Would that mean it can be considered a demon being with a right to life?
Having no time for self-debates, Ivlis grabs another hanger, bends it into a rod, pulls his shorts down, and shoves it up his ass. In his rush, he ends up pricking his prostate. This makes him not only get an erection but also ejaculate into his own mouth. He screams as the infernal spiciness of his cum burns his tongue. Ivlis spits out deviled sperm and glugs straight from a sink to cool his tongue.
Ivlis catches his breath and crumples the rod. He should’ve thought things clearly rather than act out of impulse. Performing an abortion through the same manner wouldn’t stop the fetus from growing back. Ivlis plans a new method, one that would ensure he wouldn’t be pregnant again.
Drinking bleach. That way, not only would the fetus be damaged but also his womb to the point it wouldn’t grow back as his body conforms to the normal male anatomy, or so he believes. He grabs a bottle of bleach. Under its brand name is “Lemon” - perfect for Ivlis to gulp without being hindered by an unpleasant taste. Also perfect for any pathetic attention seeker who wants a juicy taste of death.
Ivlis removes the lid and chugs down the bleach. He drops the bottle halfway, retching, coughing out bubbles. The fluid tastes strong, as if his throat has been coated in wet paint. The lemon “flavor” has brought him no ease, alongside the effects Ivlis starts to experience. He feels his insides liquifying, his guts sloshing like a washing machine. The devil vomits gallons of soapy blood and sizzling organs. Ivlis glances at the pink lump dissolving in the pool and weakly laughs in self-fulfillment before passing out.
Ivlis wakes up the next day with a headache and nausea. He’s apprehensive, uncertain if he’s pregnant again or merely experiencing the side effects of a bleach-induced abortion, alongside an aftertaste that gives him the feeling he has sucked an STD-ridden soul. Ivlis takes a test to find out. Staggered by the unchanged outcome, he punches and scratches his abdomen until it bleeds. His womb managed to regenerate to full shape with the fetus. Either the womb wasn’t completely damaged or the fetus has an extremely strong will to live.
Ivlis comes up with another plan. If hangers and bleach bottles won’t work, perhaps totally destroying the abdomen would permanently render future pregnancies impossible. The fetus would therefore have to give up and embrace oblivion, cutting Ivlis some slack. The devil knows how exactly to do it.
In Castle Town, Ivlis sits on a bench as he waits for a car to pass by. His plan is to throw himself on the street right before a car could run him over and crush his guts, his womb, and ultimately his fetus. It’s a weekday so a busy street is expected, however only pedestrians and bicycles dominate. Hours pass, and no car has appeared for the frustrated devil.
Just as Ivlis is about to move to another street, he notices a loud group of people approaching from his left. He thinks it’s a parade, but parades don’t make noise instead of music and induce aversion rather than jubilation (unless they’re pride parades). The crowd continues down the street, holding signs above furious faces. These are human souls fighting for justice and equality. “HARMONY, NOT HARM”, “NO NEED TO BE AN ASSHOLE TO A DAMNED SOUL”, and “ALL CENOBITES ARE BASTARDS” are some of the messages displayed on placards and chanted by the activists. Ivlis cringes and turns to his right with his ears covered, and meets the street’s first four-wheeled vehicle of the day. A police car.
The officer keeps his car idling, waiting for the protestors to tread onto his radius. While he’s dedicated to cracking cases, there’s nothing he loves more than cracking skulls. Violence spices up his duty, and when he heard about a riot taking place in Castle Town, he arrived overprepared. As the souls come closer, their yammerings becoming more obnoxious, the officer puts his shades on and shifts to 6, gears and teeth grinding.
With the gap between the police car and activists narrowing, Ivlis gets off the bench to seize his chance for the third attempt. He sprints and tosses himself onto the street, spinning midair to land on his back with his torso precisely aligned with the wheel. The police car plows through the protestors at maximum speed, splattering the pavement with gore. Limbs detach and splatter like shrapnel, bodies crunching beneath wheels. At that speed, Ivlis hasn’t realized he’s been run over until the pain starts kicking in seconds later, alongside blood splashing on his face and screams piercing his ears. He cranes to his abdomen and finds it gone, squashed bits of entrails in its place, his body cut in half. No sign of a fetus is present, as if it’s been obliterated along with the womb and other gestation-related organs. He won’t call it a roadkill since that would imply the fetus was alive. But in his pride, he nevertheless calls it a glorious slaughter.
Ivlis awakens from a sweet dream involving roasting fetuses with his underlings. He pulls away his blanket to find his abdomen fully restored. He’s in the mood for breakfast, with a cup of joe to compliment his peaceful state of mind. Ivlis decides to take one last pregnancy test even though he has assured himself he’s not pregnant, just to maintain his satisfaction.
After joyfully pissing on the stick, he brings it to his face, expecting to be greeted by one line and nothing more. It has brought an identical friend, bringing with it a basket of disappointment. Ivlis tosses the stick away, more or less pretending it’s having a defect, not wanting it to trample his vibe.
He makes himself more coffee, but when the first drop touches his tongue, his entire frame squirms from head to toe. The cup shatters on the floor, Ivlis covering his mouth and retching. He glances at the food in the kitchen surrounding him and finds himself in a mental torture chamber. A wave of nausea overcomes him and together with an acute abdominal pain, expels every trace of bliss from Ivlis’ body as he regurgitates his breakfast. He kneels on shards and dizzily mutters “why” like a mantra, teardrops trickling on puke.
It’s back to square one for the devil. A waste of time and effort. He tried messing with fate and ended up achieving nothing, for he is a mere plaything of a higher power beyond the concept of mercy. This is his life. This is what he’s meant to be. The lord of all wretches.
Despair engulfs Ivlis like an oil spill in his cry of “WHY?!” that echoes throughout Ne-no-Kuni.
“I don’t know what else to do,” says Ivlis. “Every time I try to get rid of it, it comes back the next day.”
“I can’t calculate how much I pity you, ” says 4545, in a forest of booze. He is Satanick’s supercomputer, and while he can perform tons of different functions, he’s been almost always used for analyzing the love levels of a person’s heart. And being a pleasure machine for his creator. That may seem like an insult to an all-purpose robot, but 4545 doesn’t complain. He isn’t programmed to object, only to be objectified. “Nobody deserves to share what you’re experiencing.”
Ivlis downs another bottle. “I doubt you care at all. Why’d you come out now and not sooner?”
“Well, I was in sleep mode until I was awakened by a loud ‘Why’.”
“M-makes sense,” slurs Ivlis. And y-you know what? I pref-prefer people going throooooou what I’m g-going through, ‘cause I, I can’t be the only one in horns-deep shit.”
“You really shouldn’t be drinking when you're pregnant,” says a concerned 4545.
“I don’t fucking care!” Ivlis slams a bottle on the table, nearly cracking it. “I’m, I’m not drinking j-just to drown my dep-depression, I’m drinking to drown th-this fucking thing inside me!”
“But that’s not gonna kill it. Permanently, I mean. Haven’t you learned anything from your abortion attempts?”
“I’m, I’m not tryna kill the d-damn thing. I’ll keep dr-drinking so that the baby would come, come out r-r-retarded to the point Satan-n-n-nick would hate him and k-kick him out the castlllleeeee.”
“I don’t think it works that way. From what I can infer, your womb is indestructible. If damaged, it will always revert to its normal shape within 24 hours, with the fetus in its healthy state.”
“How ‘bout you come up with a g-gooood plan. You’re a s-s-supercom-computer, riiiiiight?”
“I’ve been analyzing things and sadly, there’s no way for you to have a successful abortion. The only way for you to not be pregnant is if conception didn’t happen in the first place. If Satanick’s sperm didn’t have a chance to reach your, er, egg or something. Not even I know much about demon physiology.”
An idea strikes Ivlis’ depressed and drunken mind, enriching its state like a drop of cyanide on a leper’s tongue, ceasing further suffering. “T-that’s it! Making the fetus not pr-present in, in the first place…..hey, y-you’re a futuris-ristiiiiic robot, right?”
“You could say I am,” says 4545, confused.
“So you can d-d-d-do a whoooooooole b-bunch of things, right?”
“I suppose. Want me to crack a forgotten password?”
“C-can you time tr-travel?”
“Time travel?”
“Y-yeah!”
“I happen to be able to,” says 4545. “It’s one of the questionable things Satanick built in me that I can’t question. Why do you ask?”
Ivlis places a hand on the robot. “Is, is it too much to asssssk if y-you could take us b-back in time to pr-prev-prevent my first pregnancccccyy from happening?”
Pixelated anxiety fills 4545. “I don’t know, Ivlis. Don’t you think attempting to change the past would just mess up the space-time continuum?”
“Sh-shouldn’t you know alreeeaaadyyyy??? Can-can’t you solve calculus problems and para-d-doxes in mili-li-li-liseconds?”
“Calculus problems, yeah. Paradoxes, nope. You know how the latter affects an AI’s thought process, right? I’d literally explode if you were to elaborate the Ship of Theseus to me!”
“H-how about you n-n-not ask questionnnns and jusssst take us to our desssti-ti-tination?” says Ivlis, pleadingly rocking 4545, knocking bottles off the table. “I-I’ll assure you that it, it, it will turn oooooout alright!
4545’s face turns into a loading screen, making considerations. If he really feels bad for the devil, he’d help him no matter what. His programming doesn’t prevent him from working with people other than Satanick, but if it involves helping his master’s captive, he’d have to find a way around his restrictions and return with an apology, the latter only if the flow of time wouldn't be distorted in tragic proportions.
“Fine,” says 4545. “I’ll help you, Ivlis. But don’t blame me if it doesn’t go according to plan.”
The devil hugs the robot. “Thank you, thank you! Get, get ready by tomorrow afternoon, or t-today afternnnoon, behind the, the castle. Damn, I gotta sleeeeeeeeeep.”
4545 sighs. “I hope he forgets all this when he’s sober,” he mutters, watching Ivlis woozily make his way out the dining room.
Ivlis arrives after 4545, whose punctuality never has a defect. He’s in a form that lets him move around easily, a bunny-eared boy.
“Are you ready?” says Ivlis, checking his surroundings to make sure nobody’s around.
“I should be asking you that,” says 4545, pushing a series of buttons from within his sleeves. “So where and when to?”
“The first time Satanick tortured me in the dungeon, although I can’t recall when exactly. Do you happen to know, if you were switched on back then?”
“Turns out I can, not just ‘cause of my massive memory storage but ‘cause your screams of pain haunted me.”
“Oh, so my screams could be heard throughout the castle? I hope it wasn’t heard outside the castle for all those times.”
“I suggest screaming quietly,” jokes 4545. “And we’re set! Hold my hand!”
The two hold hands as a force field forms around them and swallows them in a blindening flash.
“Open your eyes now,” says 4545.
“Huh, we’re here already?” says Ivlis, finding himself in a long hallway. “That was really quick.”
“We’re exactly a minute before Satanick should enter that door.”
4545 points to a gritty, ancient door. Ivlis gets chills upon gazing at it. The door to the dungeon. The first time he’s locked there, and tortured there. Even though it hasn’t yet reeked of his fluids mixed with wood and rust, the memories overwhelm his senses. The devil of the past is locked in there, chained to the walls, crying for help, losing his clutch on an evaporating sense of hope. The devil of the present seeks to pull him up before he could fall into deep despair.
Ivlis tries to push open the door. “It’s locked!”
“Try breaking it!” says 4545.
Ivlis punches and scratches on the door with all his strength. Only paper-thin chunks of wood break from it.
“Hurry!” says 4545. “I can hear footsteps!”
“I’m trying!” says Ivlis, his scaly fingers starting to bruise. “It's hard as stone! How about you blast a hole through it?”
“How about not? And that’s a command.”
The two turn to the direction of the voice. A figure has appeared on the other end of the hallways. The horns, whose shape has made Ivlis loathe trees, branch from the head of the very man who has kept him trapped in a personal, more agonizing hell. For a moment, the occupants of two different timelines stare at each other, emotions unsure on which should go first. Then, like somebody drawing a card from a shuffled deck, Satanick puts on a patient smile before awkwardness could dominate and says, “Mind clearing the confusion, please?”
Ivlis and 4545 glance at each other confused. The latter moves a few steps forward and says, “Evening, Mr. Devil, what you see here’s just me bringing Ivlis back in. He tried to escape.”
“Escape? He somehow managed to, and yet you’re bringing him back unshackled?”
“Uh….”
“And didn’t I just see you charging yourself upstairs?”
“Oh that, well, the thing is, uh, you see…” 4545 is at a loss for words. “I heard a noise, and, um….”
“We’re not from here!” Ivlis interrupts. “The 4545 and Ivlis you see before you are not the same ones who’re respectively locked in the dungeon and charging upstairs! We’re from the future, and we came here to put a stop to what you’re doing! You hear me?”
Satanick makes an expression of nonchalant disappointment. “Oh my. I should’ve known installing a time travel function was a bad idea. I didn't expect something like this to happen.”
“I tried to warn you,” says 4545, “but my loyalty chip forced me to be quiet. Anyway, before we could make our next move, I have to tell you that the future won’t be a pleasant one if you do Ivlis dirty.”
“Yeah!” says Ivlis. “Keeping me as your pet won’t make your life any better. Ne-no-Kuni’s already a shithole, and your future actions will only make things worse for everyone, not just you! And with that, I request you to free my past self.”
Satanick jumps deep in thought, rubbing the key on his chin. 4545 and Ivlis keep their furious eyes locked on him, waiting for a response. “No can do, unfortunately.”
“Huh?” Ivlis says surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve just reminded myself to tighten your chains and delete 4545’s time travel ability. I highly doubt Ne-no-Kuni would become an awful place to live in by imprisoning a tyrant. If anything, it would get better, a heavenly underworld! And you’re just making things up to get me to free you so you can continue taking over worlds.”
Ivlis’ hair turns furnace-red. “I guess you leave me with no choice but to use force. I may no longer have any power, but I have someone who does. 4545, blast that son of a bitch!”
4545 stretches his arm towards Satanick as his hand morphs into a rocket launcher.
“Oh Forty-five,” says Satanick, “you wouldn’t harm your master, would you?”
“I wouldn’t. Or more accurately, I couldn’t. However, it seems like the loyalty chip doesn’t recognize my past master as the same master from my time period. So fuck the first law and fuck you, Mr. Devil!”
Satanick smirks. “Oh, how careless I’ve been with designing that chip. Lucky for me, I’ve got a companion too.”
“And who’s that?” says Ivlis.
“An artificial one.”
“Oh, no,” says 4545, lowering his arm. “You don’t mean…”
“Yep. Hey Forty-five,” yells Satanick, turning around, “come here!”
In mere seconds, the robot of the past rushes down the stairs, through the halls, and stops beside Satanick. “How may I help you, Mr. Devil?” he says.
“See those two?” says Satanick, pointing at Ivlis and 4545. “They’re you and Ivlis from the future, having travelled back in time to stop me from having fun.”
“Oh dear. Very uncool of him and, uh, me.”
“Indeed. Now, destroy them!”
“On it, Mr. Devil,” says Past 4545 with utmost obedience. He stretches his arm and starts morphing his hand into a rocket launcher.
“What are you waiting for?” Ivlis says to 4545. “Don’t just watch! Blast him before he blasts us!”
“Alright!” says 4545, raising his arm. “Boom!”
The rocket leaves 4545’s arm in a short trail of smoke that ends on Past 4545, destroying his right arm in an explosive shower of sparks and iron. Past 4545 retreats a couple of steps from the impact.
“Are we settled now?” taunts Ivlis, 4545 smiling pridefully.
“Don’t get cocky already,” says Satanick. “This isn't the best part. With two equally-powered robots fighting each other, things are gonna get exciting, especially when mine’s victorious! Forty-five, use Eye Bomb!”
Past 4545 plucks out his eyeball and tosses it at his future self. It detonates before his face, causing half of it to melt until a metallic skull’s exposed.
“Damn!” Ivlis says as 4545 tries to regain balance. “4545, use Claw Machine!”
A hatchet opens on 4545’s chest and a huge claw emerges, zooms, and grips Past 4545. The robot struggles to break free as the cord pulls him into the grinders within his future self.
“Forty-five,” yells Satanick, “use Tentacle Saw!”
From Past 4545’s back sprouts out segmented tubes ending in circular saws that cut through the cord and several parts of 4545’s body, including an arm, a bunny ear, and the waist. The robot falls in pieces. Ivlis grabs his upper half and runs down the halls before more damage could befall him.
“Take us out of here!” says Ivlis, carrying 4545 and finding themselves chased by a killer robot.
“I can’t,” says 4545. “My typing arm is gone. You gotta use my time travel arm to get us out. Just type down the time, date, and address initials in that order really fast. Hurry!”
“I’ve just thought of something. Instead of going back to the future, let’s go back further in the past. And I know where we should be heading if we still wanna fix things.”
“What are you talking about?!”
Ivlis types down his desired venue and pushes Enter. The two disappear before they could be gored in a web of razors.
“Man, I can’t wait to destroy that shithole!”
“Poemi wanna slaughter all its subangels and subdevils!”
“Same! I wanna paint the town red, literally, with everybody’s blood! Aren’t you excited too, Lord Ivlis?”
“Excited? Nah, I’m beyond excited; I’m ecstatic! I can’t wait to unleash the flames that shall burn the Gray Garden to ashes!”
Ivlis and his underlings - Emalf, Poemi, and Rieta - walk the yellow brimstone road to the glorious Gray Garden, the first realm the devil of the Flame Underworld aims to invade.
“I’m also ecstatic, Lord Ivlis. May it be a blessing for us to massacre the Gray Garden’s citizens.”
“And enslave the survivors.”
“And torture them to death!”
“And rape the remainder!”
“Rape? Really, Emalf?”
“What? Is all we gonna do just pillage? Boring.”
“Yeah! And don’t you often mutter about how much you want to shove your claws up their butts, Rieta?”
“What? No! Where’d you learn those things, Poemi?”
“Admit it. After all, we’re doing Daddy’s will for the greater good.”
“Whatever. Let’s just not share captives.”
“Hey, what the hell’s that?”
The group halts before a bubble that appears and disappears, unloading two figures.
“Where and when are we?” says 4545.
“We’re on the road I walked with my underlings to the Gray Garden for an invasion,” says Ivlis.
“And those guys over there must be you and your underlings.”
The two Ivlises and their respective companions look at each other with respectively confusion and relentlessness.
“Who the fuck are you?” asks Past Ivlis.
“Are you Daddy’s long lost twin?” asks Poemi.
“No,” says Ivlis, “I am you from the future. Now listen. You’ll manage to penetrate the walls of the Gray Garden and even imprison some people there, but you’ll get overpowered eventually and that realm will return to status quo. You’ll also become another devil’s pet. It’s a horrible fate. Being in the hands of a sadistic rapist. You don’t want things to turn up this way, do you? So I implore you to turn back and cease your invasion of the Gray Garden.”
Past Ivlis and his underlings remain puzzled. Poemi yawns, while Emalf scratches his head and horns.
“Is that true, me from the future?” asks Past Ivlis. “Because if so, then that would raise lots of questions. Like, how the hell would I get overpowered?”
“Yeah,” says Emalf. “And what’s gonna happen to us if Lord Ivlis here would somehow become another devil’s pet?”
“What’s with the broken Terminator dummy?” asks Poemi.
“Is it Lord Ivlis’ fate to be a ventriloquist?” asks Rieta. “That’s terrible, but I don’t see it coming close to being abused by a sadistic rapist.”
Ivlis sighs and prepares his mind for an in-depth explanation. “You’ll have a short-lived successful go with your plan, and I say short-lived because four annoying lesbians will fuck it all up and ‘save the day’ with the power of friendship or something, and then you’ll lose your powers and get kicked out of the Garden and that’s where things will get worse because this female devil, I don’t know why she cares since she doesn’t seem to be from the Garden, will beat the shit out of all of you, except Rieta because she’ll lock you in a lamp, I don’t know for how long, and then take you, Past Me, to her place as her pet, but her treatment’s nothing compared to this other devil she’ll give you to since she’ll get bored of you. At least she gets bored but this guy doesn’t seem to. He’s gonna abuse you in the worst ways possible, sexually even, which will lead to this…”
Ivlis pulls up his shirt, revealing his pregnancy. However, Past Ivlis and his underlings are more engrossed by the many scars strewn across his body.
Past Ivlis has a moment of distress. “I don’t get it. What’s missing? Where did I go wrong?”
“Does this mean Lord Ivlis has to train some more?” asks Emalf.
“Why would I get locked in a lamp out of all things?” asks Rieta. “Why can’t a beatdown suffice?”
“What’s with the dummy?” asks Poemi.
“This isn’t a dummy, it’s a robot,” says Ivlis. “He’s helping me fix the past with his time travelling ability, and he’s like this because he tried to fight that son of a bitch devil.”
“Got any spare parts?” says 4545, pushing his wire-entrails back inside.
“So this means I can’t invade the Gray Garden then,” says Past Ivlis, slightly distraught.
“Yes, unfortunately,” says Ivlis.
“So….what can I invade instead?”
“Huh?”
“What realm can I invade with the guarantee of actual success and me making captives rather than becoming one?”
Ivlis hasn’t expected this aspect to be brought up. With all the countless realms in existence, there should be at least one or two that can be easily conquered.
“How about Earth?” suggests Rieta. “We can start with the primitive countries before moving to the advanced ones. I’m sure it won’t be a struggle since the people there hardly get along with each other.”
“How about a realm with a predominantly female population?” suggests Emalf. “We could turn them into slaves and the male minority into soldiers!”
“Hey childbot,” says Poemi, “what worlds are worth invading? I hope you’re unfiltered.”
“How about Ne-no-Kuni, with its supposedly poor governance?” comes a suggestion.
Everybody turns to the direction of the voice, which turns out to have a body, under a familiar, smirking head. From behind him a robot comes out.
“No!” says Ivlis. “How did you find us?”
“Well,” begins Satanick, “with his advanced intelligence, Forty-five was able to accurately find where you’d end up in space-time, and turns out he's right!”
“Indeed!” says Past 4545, fully repaired from his fight with his future self, fully vindictive. “I won’t let you get in Mr Devil’s way no matter where you go.”
“Get in his way?” says 4545. “You’re the one getting in our way! You’re unbelievably relentless!”
“So are you,” says Satanick. “And it looks like your unit is beyond repair. So what now, surrender or continue running in circles?”
“Who the hell is he?” says Past Ivlis.
“That’s the devil I’m talking about, the one who’s been torturing me!” says Ivlis. He turns to Satanick. “4545 here may not be able to fight anymore, but I got people who can. Me from the past and all of you, slaughter that son of a bitch!”
Past Ivlis and his underlings lock eyes with Satanick, composing themselves for a bloody brawl.
“Your days of torturing Lord Ivlis are over!” says Emalf.
“You won’t even have the chance to surrender once I crush you to fleshy crumbs!” says Rieta.
“Nobody hurts Daddy but nobody!” says Poemi.
“Attack!” yells Past Ivlis as they charge at Satanick.
The devil of Ne-no-Kuni stands nonchalantly, hands deep in pockets. “Forty-five, you know the drill.”
“I don’t need to be reminded,” says Past 4545, gearing up.
Without needing to move out his position, the robot releases weapon-tipped tentacles from his back and stretches them towards the demons. A flail swings around like a detached ceiling fan and hits Emalf’s face, disfiguring it and replacing his skull with a spiked ball. A sword slices Rieta in symmetrical halves. A chainsaw cuts off Poemi’s limbs one by one before she can even feel the pain. Past Ivlis fences with his bident a trident and finds his agility no match for it. On the verge of being overpowered, Ivlis makes a guttural shout, instantly summoning flame bats from the darkness that swarm towards Past 4545. The robot produces a launcher that shoots a moth plushie at Past Ivlis’ mouth, making him gag. Distracted by the sudden appearance of a natural meal, the bats swarm inside the devil, stuffing him up like an overpacked luggage until he explodes.
Horrified by how Past 4545 manages to obliterate the demons like it’s nothing, Ivlis grabs 4545’s arm and types rapidly.
“Hey, that’s not the address to our timeline!” the robot says.
“We need to go back further!” the devil frantically says. “To a certain period in my life that Satanick doesn’t know about.”
“Help me, Future Daddy…” Poemi weakly cries, crawling towards the two on bloody stumps.
“Shit! Do we have room for one more?”
“I guess so, but hurry!” says 4545.
As Ivlis tries to grab his daughter, 4545 notices a giant hook hurling towards them and immediately bashes Enter with his head.
“No!” cries Ivlis, disappearing with 4545..
“Future Daddy! Noooo-” the hook pierces through Poemi’s throat and rips it open.
On a bench, a demon mutters by himself. He’s been contemplating the ludicrous features of the world he lives in, his father’s creation. For example, the suns. One sun is enough to sustain a world for countless generations. A thousand would make life an impossible hypothesis. However, his father has arranged them in such a way that the world relies on them for everything, including meaning. The demon finds this unfair. With perpetual sunlight, a short lifespan is expected. People won’t be able to reach their full potential at this rate. Despite this, they remain devoted to the daytime stars that reflect the divine light of their god, shrugging at the natural consequences. On frail, sunburnt bodies they pray until death, questioning nothing. Not even about their obvious plight. Not even about what darkness is like and the beauty of it.
Having enough of the world, the demon decides to have a serious talk with his father. As he leaves the bench, blue light flashes before him. An intriguing sight. He’s never seen the color blue before, let alone for a second. When the foreign light vanishes, he’s left face to face with another demon who looks exactly like him.
“Where is this now?” says 4545. “Why’s it so bright?”
“This is where I originally come from,” says Ivlis, slightly overwhelmed with nostalgia and sorrow, “where I grew up, where I fell.”
“Is that demon there your younger self?”
“Yeah, that’s me. See the resemblance?”
“I can, if not for the pimples covering about half your face.”
“That’s life under a thousand suns for you.”
“You’re….me,” says Past Ivlis, “from the future.”
“I don’t know if I should be surprised that you know,” says Ivlis, “but I’ve come bearing bad news.”
“Bad news? Does it involve the state of this world?”
“That’s gonna be the least of your worries. Are you willing to know all that shall happen?”
“I’m willing to know everything.”
And so the devil explains to his younger self what events shall follow should he make the wrong choices. How he’ll question his father’s ways and be banished for it. How he’ll try conquering worlds to obtain enough power to get back at his father, only to fail. How he’ll become a pet to a sadistic devil. How he’ll become pregnant with their offspring. His unending fall from grace.
All sorts of emotions rush through the young Ivlis as he listens, but he stays thoroughly attentive, determined to see the bigger picture. Once Ivlis finishes, ending with his time travel mishaps, his past self takes a moment of silence to process everything. He sighs pitifully. “I guess this is my destiny, to be treated like a universal joke.”
Ivlis pats him in the back. “It sadly is, unless you don’t do anything about this world you’re in and just accept it for the way it is.”
“You’re right, I’ll just be apathetic then, because surely this is nothing compared to what I’d go through if I dare question my father’s stupid actions.”
“I don’t know if this means I’d vanish if you choose to do nothing, but being born in such a world isn’t ideal for us.”
“It isn’t!” Past Ivlis says. “Yet apparently we’re made for a life of suffering when we’re in fact designed for greatness! This isn’t fair!”
“It’s not. You may be better off not caring about the horrible state of the Land of Sun but only for a while, because I bet eventually something bad, if not worse, might come.”
“This fucking sucks! It’s like whoever’s writing reality thinks making our lives shitty is funny when it’s not! Man, I wanna tear them apart, if they even exist!”
“I’m sure they do, because it’s very unlikely for a series of tragedies like this to be unorchestrated. Very unlikely to not be planned by a god above all god. Isn’t that right, 4545?”
“Er, very unlikely,” says the robot, slightly uncertain despite his vast knowledge. “The chances for such an occurrence to be purely coincidental is a billion to one. Can we leave now, Ivlis? I’m overheating.”
“If it’s possible to meet the creator,” says Past Ivlis, “then I’d do it, and demand them to rewrite my life!”
“I would too!” says Ivlis. The devil realizes something. A spark of hope dazzles brighter than the collective light of a thousand suns. “Hey, I believe it’s possible, young me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, maybe if I could go further back in time, I might get to meet our creator. And even have a chance to get them to change our fates for the better.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” says a gratified Past Ivlis.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says 4545 anxiously, “meeting with an omnipotent entity. Your life might be rewritten for the worst!”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” says Ivlis. “I deserve better and you know that, so don’t take my struggles for granted. Hand me your arm.”
The robot reluctantly does so. “I’ll say this again, just don’t blame me if things go wrong.”
The devil inputs what he hopes are the right coordinates: 000000 000XXX XXXXXX
He rests a finger on the Enter button. “For us.”
“Thank you, Future Me,” says Past Ivlis. “I hope everything will go according to plan.”
“I’ll make sure it will,” says Ivlis, pushing the button and leaving the boundaries of space and time.
A tidy room makes an optimal workplace. This would be the case if not for the Red Bull cans and BL doujins scattered across the floor of a certain game developer’s room. Despite this, she has found comfort in making homoerotic illustrations of demons on her tablet, chuckling in degeneracy at her 100-somethingth sketch. It would also be more appropriate to call her room a playplace, considering how her “future” projects have been left unfinished in favor of her strange hobby.
She’s about to open her thirty-somethingth can of the day when a burst of light makes her face plant on her tablet, almost getting her eye poked with the pen. She turns around and drops her jaw upon seeing two figures standing before her, who happen to be her creations, one of whom having the misfortune of being subject to her sick fantasies, the other subject to being basically a one-shot character.
“Ivlis….4545….” she says in disbelief, “...you’re real?”
“So you’re our creator?” says Ivlis.
“I am!” says Funamusea, on the verge of screaming from excitement. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivlis-kun!”
“Cut the crap!” Ivlis grabs 4545 and points it at the game developer like he’s some kind of gun, albeit a damaged one. “If you don’t do as I say, I might blow your brains with whatever’s left of this fella. Understood?”
“Relax,” Funa says. “At least show some respect to your creator. Need a little tweak to your design or something?”
“Show you respect? How about you show me respect for once! You made me the main antagonist of a shitty game, made it end with me losing despite all odds, and made a shittier story of what happened to me after the game’s events. Does making me suffer make you happy?!”
“I don’t see why you’re so bothered by this. Aren’t you grateful for the Normal Ending where you win?”
“How the hell will I be grateful when it’s hardly canon, considering there’s the stupid ‘True Ending’ you made as the serious ending? Are you alright with making my defeat more miserable by pointlessly getting me raped and impregnated by Satanick afterwards?!”
“At least some people feel bad for you,” says Funa.
“Would they really feel bad for a guy who tried to rape the underaged main character?”
“How does it feel doing that?”
“How does it feel asking me how I feel doing something you made me do when it’s underaged rape?!”
“Uh..…”
Ivlis approaches Funa’s computer. “4545, you know more tech than I do, go check what she’s up to lately.”
“On it,” says the robot.
4545 clicks on a running app on the taskbar, and almost malfunctions in shock. It’s a folder of illustrations of Satanick and Ivlis, depicting the former dominating the latter in various scenarios, ranging from suggestive to explicit.
Ivlis dry heaves upon scrolling through the images. “Why the fuck are you drawing these?!”
“It’s a guilty pleasure,” Funa awkwardly says.
“But you don’t seem guilty of posting them online for everyone to see,” says 4545, having scrolled through some of her content on an art platform.
“I don’t post all my Satanick x Ivlis art online. I keep some to myself, especially the graphic ones.”
“As if this artwork of me getting kissed by Satanick as a child isn’t graphic,” says Ivlis.
“Must be a misclick. But hey, I don’t think anybody has noticed it since I doubt this specific art’s in the Wiki, and given my mainstream and safe artworks being more popular.”
Fed up with his creator’s nonchalance and excuses, Ivlis clenches his scaly fists and plans his next course of action, which involves killing her. His indignant plotting gets interrupted by 4545 yelling: “How come I don’t get much outside a few artworks, let alone a cameo in one of your bigger works!?”
The robot has scrolled through his article in the Okegom Wiki - an online encyclopedia of honest lore overviews and far from honest administrators - frustrated with his treatment also. He moves onto the articles on her games, the unreleased ones. He checks the pages’ edit history, and finds out most were created almost a decade prior.
“Jesus,” says 4545, “you have games that’ve been on hiatus for almost 10 years! Do you still call yourself a game developer at this point?”
“Yeah,” says Ivlis, “you’d rather waste time drawing more disgusting drawings of me getting assaulted by Satanick than finish those fucking games! What’s even happening with your life?”
Funa freezes a moment, her thoughts clashing one another, insecurity crushing her like a plastic cup. Tears replace sweat when she starts breaking down. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I lost my motivation to work on my projects and instead have been spending most of my time reading yaoi, watching yaoi, drawing yaoi, playing games that are yaoi, and doing nothing. I just realized how this has taken a toll on my life and my profession, with how I’ve kept my fans waiting for years. I have so many regrets.”
Ivlis and 4545 exchange looks, suddenly concerned for their creator. While they do want their lives changed for the better, they want the same for Funa since she determines their fate.
“Funa, listen,” Ivlis says, his hand on her shoulder, “This is not the end for you. You’re just experiencing distractions due to laziness and lust.”
“Exactly,” says 4545. “Keep in mind that you have a ton of fans who look up to you and look forward to your upcoming works, so please don’t ignore their pleas like they mean nothing.”
“Focus on finishing your projects and not these pointless, disgusting stuff,” Ivlis kicks some BL doujins, “especially making rape porn of me and Satanick, so get your shit together!”
“You come from a culture that values perseverance and dedication, so don’t forget what you are and always remember that a brighter future shall come when you prioritize your goals. So ganbaru, bitch.”
Funa feels the flip of a switch from within. She starts hearing the cries of her abandoned ambitions, as well as the cries of her fans. She glances at the chaotic state of her room and herself in the mirror, and learns things wouldn’t be like this if she stayed consistent to her goals. She wipes her tears and drags herself up. “You’re both right. I really need to improve myself and get back on track. I got to set aside my wants and focus on my needs, and that starts today.”
“Good,” Ivlis says with a warm smile. “Now what’s the first thing you’ll do?”
“Work on my future games since I’ve been neglecting to do that for the longest time,” says Funa with refound pride.
“Wise choice!” says 4545. “But we can’t progress in a messy environment. You gotta tidy your room first and foremost to reduce stress and distractions.”
“Good point, 4545. I’ll start sweeping in a bit, and I’ll also reduce my yaoi consumption to refresh my mental state.”
“I’m proud of you, Funa,” says Ivlis. “By the way, I noticed that one of your future games is the remake of The Gray Garden. Have you already written the story for it or will it be the same?”
“I haven’t even been thinking about that,” says Funa. “Should I keep the original story?”
“The original story?!”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?”
“What’s the point of a remake if it’s the same retarded story, especially with me losing? How about you up the ante and change the story for the better?”
“Like how? Removing the attempted rape scene?”
“Not only that, but make it end with me winning.”
“Make you, the main antagonist, win? But that’s bad writing.”
“Oh your writing has always been bad,” Ivlis says, an arm around Funa’s shoulders, “but it would be a breath of fresh air if the villain gets to defeat the insufferable female protagonists and wins, wouldn’t it? I’d say it’s subversive.”
“I guess I’ll consider that, since I know there’s people who want something new for once.” An idea hits Funa mid-thought, a bright one. “Or how about I make you the main protagonist of the game? It’s not gonna be revealed until the game’s out, so it’s a surprise.”
Ivlis gets ecstatic. If his hair color could change according to his mood and not just anger, it would be a rainbow. “That’s an even better update! Me as the protagonist, out to invade the Gray Garden to get back at my son of a bitch father, that would be peak writing. I’m gonna love you if you actually consider this.”
“I shall,” says Funa, “not just for your own good but also for mine. But first, I’ll work on my other unreleased games, the ones that I announced first, so that things will be done in order.”
“Excellent. You need order in your work just as you need order in this damned room.”
“And I’d like to order more appearances and roles for this artificial fella,” says 4545, pointing at himself with his only hand.
“Of course, I’ll pull you from the status of a background character, also as gratitude for showing me the errors of my ways.”
“And I’d like to order things to stay the status quo.”
“I shall - wait, what?” says Funa. “Why would I? Who said that?”
The three turn and see two more occupants in the already crowded room. Funa’s confused, while Ivlis and 4545 are horrified.
“No!” says Ivlis. “How did you follow us?!”
“Well,” begins Satanick, “it didn’t take too long for me to figure out the next place you’d go to. Hell, I didn’t even need a complex artificial intelligence like Forty-Five here to tell me. You’re such a relentless prick.”
“You’re the relentless prick for wanting to keep things shitty! Can’t you see how our lives would get better if Funa improves herself? Funa, tell him!”
“Uh, this is awkward,” says Funa. “Am I gonna have a line of my original characters and respond to their complaints one by one? Who’s next, Taffy?”
“Shut it, Funa!” says Satanick. Past 4545 points a blaster at Funa. “To prevent the likeliness of something like this to happen, not only will I take out Forty-Five’s time travel function once I return to my timeline, I’ll also kill my creator. This will ensure that my fate won’t be revised.”
“Satanick, don’t do this!” says Ivlis. He turns to his own robot. “4545, do something!”
“I think I’m too damaged to produce a gun,” says 4545.
“What do you mean?! You can still turn into a time machine, so why can’t you turn into a weapon?”
Funa keeps her hands raised apprehensively. “Oh, dear Satanick, you wouldn’t kill your creator, would you?”
“I will and I don’t care!” Satanick vehemently says. “You’ll nevertheless leave a legacy as a pathetic artist and game developer, and I’m here to take you out of this fate. The only good thing to come from your work is my pet Ivlis. So sayonara, Funa.”
Past 4545 hesitates, uncertainty tangling his circuits. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Mr. Devil. I mean, killing our creator before she even created us…don’t you think that would affect us in any way?”
“What are you talking about? We didn’t go back in time, we just went out of our reality to enter Funa’s. We just happen to be in the same timeline or something, I don’t know, and I don’t care, so kill her now!”
“But I can only go back in time as far as I know, not just teleport to a different place at the same time, so this Funa is the Funa before she conceptualized us or even earlier…”
“Oh fuck.” Ivlis cups his hands on 4545’s ear, remembering a certain flaw of the robot. “You don’t wanna hear this.”
“...so if I kill her, then that means she won’t be able to create us, and if there’s no us, then we won’t be able to kill Funa, so Funa lives…”
“Forty-Five, cut it out!” shouts Satanick. He tries to smack the robot, only to burn his hand on his overheating frame.
“...if Funa lives, then she gets to create us, and we get to kill Funa, but she’ll still be alive while we won’t, or vice versa, or, or…”
Ivlis pulls his hands from 4545’s ear and frantically types on his arm the coordinates of his timeline before the paradox could reach the robot’s hearing sensors.
Past 4545 vibrates like a microwave with a steel spoon inside, smoke pouring from widening gaps, his metallic skin glowing red. “...will we still exist or end up in a state of oblivion…”
“Funa, get out!” yells Ivlis.
Past 4545 explodes.
At the same time, Ivlis pushes Enter.
Also at the same time, flammable gases of demonic-futuristic origins rub against a time bubble.
The explosion engulfs the room and the rest of reality, hellfire tearing through the fabric of space-time. Total chaos reigns, lasting as long as a soul can endure getting tossed across every point of a collapsing universe. Upon reaching maximum entropy, it vanishes. Absolute nothingness takes over. And from the darkness roll out an infinite number of miniature spheres. The spheres connect to one another, becoming bigger, forming matter. Reality repairs itself in a jiffy, bringing back order, restoring the status quo. It spots a defect impeding its self-reconstruction. It has an option to either destroy or repair it. It performs the latter. With retribution.
Ivlis awakens, sweating, out of breath. He instantly jumps out of bed and shakes his head. He looks around to see where he’s at: his bedroom in Satanick’s castle. Was it all a dream? The last thing Ivlis saw before opening his eyes was his skin incinerating despite his demonness. The last thing he heard before his own gasps, aside from a deafening blast, was a scream of また広島のようだ！
“4545,” yells Ivlis, leaving his bedroom, “are you there? 4545?”
No response.
Ivlis runs a hand on his abdomen, and ponders. If everything was just a dream, then he should still be pregnant, but he’s not experiencing the symptoms, so how come? If everything that happened was real, how did he wake up - or return - to what must be where he first left? How come 4545’s nowhere? Is this still the same timeline? Did Funa keep her promise? Ivlis decides a pregnancy test shall provide the answer to all his questions.
After following the procedures, Ivlis is faced with a single line. Ivlis rubs his eyes and sees the line still by itself. He could mentally hear it say: “You’re not pregnant, idiot! Don’t drop me!” The devil drops it nonetheless, a champion gloating within him, delight outweighing his disbelief. After painstaking trials and tribulations, he has managed to successfully abort himself. Ivlis starts laughing in triumph and relief when…
“Ivlis, what’s so funny?”
“Huh?” Ivlis turns around to see Satanick. “Oh, uh, you’ve arrived sooner than I thought. I was just yawning, really.”
“I see you’re pretty happy,” says Satanick. “Keep that smile up ‘cause I got a surprise for you.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“Well, during the diplomacy trip, I didn’t feel so good. I kept showing signs of sickness in public, which was embarrassing. I tried to figure out what was wrong, and when I did, I smiled so wide my face almost cut in half! I told the leaders, and they congratulated me. My public image wasn’t damaged. And hey, they congratulated you too!”
Ivlis scratches a horn. “I don’t get what’s worth congratulating over a sickness.”
“Oh, I’m not actually sick, I’m this...” Satanick reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stick, resembling the one under Ivlis’ foot, with the exception that the line has a partner. “I’m pregnant!”
“You’re what?!” says a shocked Ivlis.
“Pregnant! I have a baby! We have a baby! I didn’t expect things to lead to this but here we are. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Ivlis becomes confused and agitated at the same time. “But how? You’ve always been the top one!”
“I don’t know either. Demon physiology’s truly a mystery, but forget that, the important thing is we have a child!” Satanick unbuttons his suit. “Come feel its kicks!”
Ivlis kneels and places his ear on the other devil’s abdomen. He hears rumbling, followed by moist knocks. He feels the heat of a flame, flickering to the shape of a playful infant, grateful to be alive. Countless thoughts run through Ivlis’ mind under a dome of stress, all carrying the same two themes: how and why.
“Where is 4545?” says Ivlis.
“Who?”
“You have a robot who you call Forty-Five, right?”
“I don’t, what are you talking about?”
“I’m…I’m just very overwhelmed to think straight right now.”
“That’s totally understandable,” says Satanick. “It’s hard to swallow at first, but soon you’ll be the proudest devil alive. Second to me, of course!”
Ivlis abandons overthinking. If the universe remains cruel to him no matter what, so be it. What else is there to do, other than embrace the futility? He presses his face on Satanick’s abdomen and sobs.
Satanick wraps his hands around Ivlis’ head. “It’s truly a miracle. I love you, Ivlis. We’re finally a family!”
While drowning in tears, Ivlis senses muffled noises in Satanick’s womb. He registers it as the fetus laughing at his plight. He beats his fist on the floor and mumbles, “Why…”