Chapter Text
[Marx]
I really, really don’t like this place. Actually, I don’t enjoy this entire dimension very much, and most of it isn’t even because of the way I got here. (Though the magically induced guilt trip isn’t exactly helping, that’s for sure.)
Most of it, bizarrely enough, is because of Kirby. If that’s Kirby at all. His color is off, though not by much and I didn’t even notice until he found me again, but his personality definitely is. I’m good at telling when people are putting on an act – comes with the territory of being good at putting on an act myself, and it’s one of the reasons it took a while before me and Mags actually started getting along.
Point it, Kirby’s putting on a (not even all that convincing) act of his own personality. Combine that with some of the more… concerning things he’s mentioned off-hand, and I get the feeling we’ve got an imposter in our midst. The fact that Not-Kirby flat out admitted he’s a shapeshifter means he’s not even got the grace to be subtle about it. Gutsy, honestly! I can respect that. (Really, though, I do like the kid against my better judgement. He’s a lot less naïve than Kirby, for one, which means I’ll probably get along with him just as well as Mags, one day. I just want to know what he’s like underneath the act first. That being said, he did save me from being semi-stranded in deep space, so I’m cutting him some slack for now.)
And yes, I am distracting myself from this weird artificial planet base thing creeping me out like nothing else, thanks for noticing, brain. Now it’s not working anymore. Yay.
At least Mags looks – actually, I’m not sure how to interpret that look. Somewhere between fascinated and… scared? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mags scared before. Like this place isn’t giving me enough creeps already! “Hey, hey, you good?”
Mags startles, which I also haven’t seen before. “Ah – debatable? This place is… I think it’s Ancient, but not any kind I’ve seen before…”
Oh yeah, he is all kinds of obsessed with that stuff, isn’t he? It’s how I found out about – annnd there’s the magic guilt complex again. Nevermind.
Some of that train of thought must have shown on my face, because Mags clears his throat, pulling me out of my head. “… thanks. And – you sure? This place has a pretty different set of, uh, aesthetics? Than most Ancient stuff we find.”
My friend hums thoughtfully for a second, looking around at the corridors we’re wandering through. I’ve got no idea where we’re going, but Not-Kirby seems to. “… truthfully, I’m not. But with this kind of advancement, it has to be Ancient, doesn’t it? This seems… a lot more magical than technological, I will admit, but… it reminds me of Halcandra."
Well, that’ll do it.
“C’mon, you two, you’re falling behind!” Not-Kirby calls out, and both of us pick up the pace again, eager to leave that particular topic of conversation behind.
[Dark Meta Knight]
Much of this situation still flies over my head, but at least this part is familiar enough: we’re fighting. Specifically the lightning user of those Mage Sisters, right now, but I can tell that person conducting a ritual on the altar just ahead is no slouch either.
It’s amazing, how quickly one can grow used to strangeness. (It’s not the first time I’ve had to quickly adapt, though this is the first time I’m on the ‘Light’ side of the equation, so to speak.)
The waves of panic ebbing and receding with every one of those dark purple shards that impacts the crystalline structure on that altar meant none of my impromptu comrades had fared very well at the beginning of this – myself included, much as I’d like to deny it.
Kirby (presumably) is still not quite acting like – well, either himself or Kirby.
Dodge, counter.
… I can’t say I like it, the way his step falters out of nowhere every now and again. Nevertheless, our first foe has finally gone down, now.
She calls out to Hyness – the one at the altar, presumably.
I am getting the feeling that something is about to go very, very wrong. I can’t say I enjoy the prospect.
[Ritchie]
Well, that explains how easily I found this place, I think a little numbly as I stare at the gargantuan form of Void Termina from the deck of the Lor Starcutter.
My Creator. The Destroyer Of Worlds. Something that used to bother me very little – after all, I’m a construct They created to gather power to free them. (Which I accomplished by also consuming world after world after –)
…Hyness just did it first.
And I, for the first time in my life, am attached to a world. This world.
I need to stop Them. But – how? If I was actually Kirby – Kirby uses the power of friendship to do this exact brand of impossible all the time. I’m not Kirby, much as I want to be.
So what do I… well, I can think of one thing.
It’s going to have to be enough.
“K-Kirby?” Taranza asked wearily. “D-do you have – a-any ideas?”
I turn around with an apologetic grin on my face. “Just the one. You’re not gonna like it, sorry…”
There’s alarm growing on my new friends’ faces. It’s a bit of a strange sight, honestly.
“I have to ask you guys a weird favor. Can you put me back together, once I’m done? I won’t mind if it takes a while.”
“What?” Several of them ask at the same time, confusion fighting with worry and alarm in their voices.
I turn around, putting on my serious face as I jump out of the low-level gravity field affecting the Lor’s deck, floating slowly towards Void Termina.
Take a deep breath.
“HEY MOMDAD, I’M HUNGRY!”
There’s another chorus of ‘WHAT’s behind me, and I can’t quite help an amused giggle, even as my form
u
n
r
a
v
e
l
s
(Keep these people safe. Keep this world safe. They can handle the rest.)
Ritchieyoustupidmoronwe’rehelpingtooright?Yep.
[Magolor]
The first thing that greets us once we finally muster up the courage to enter the dimensional rift left behind where Kirby, for lack of better word, consumed the Deity of the Near End (I don’t think I’ll get over that sight any time soon. In fact, I doubt any of us will ever forget it) is a pink, floating heart with stunning resemblance to the Friend Hearts Kirby wields, with the key difference that it seems to keep reflecting Kirby’s face in its glowing surface. Despite the puffball in question not being with us at the moment.
(Well, the first thing that strikes me is the stunning resemblance to a place I’d really rather not think about.)
The second thing that greets us is a chorus of voices emanating from the strange heart. A hundred thousand children speaking in unison. “ohgoodyou’reheretookyoulongenoughRitchiereallyneedsyourhelp."
“… Ritchie?” Marx is the first to recover from the headache-inducing chorus, and thus the first to voice our collective confusion.
“i’msuresomeofyoualreadyguessedyou’resmartlikethatbuthe’snotkirbyhejusthasalotofusinhishead”
We digest this information, and I can see every single one of us recontextualize the details in our heads. For example: suddenly the Lor’s insistence that there were countless lifeforms in one place makes a great deal more sense.
Also, what.
“W-well, he was acting very strange when I f-first got to this dimension. I just s-sort of put it out of my mind,” Taranza is the first to speak up, this time.
“He was, you’re right,” Dark Meta Knight acknowledges begrudgingly. “I thought it was simply the strange memory loss.”
“Me too,” Marx performs his equivalent of a shrug.
“I did think it was strange, but chalked it up to universe differences,” I contribute. “Honestly, the weirdest part was the shapeshifting.”
“Right?” Marx immediately agrees.
“we’renotsurewhyhecandothateitherkindajealousthough”
Marx giggles at the petulant addition.
I decide to take the opportunity to ask a more pressing question on my mind. “So, you’re… Kirby? Kirbies? How did you end up inside ‘Ritchie’?”
“samewayeveryonebutyouguysdidheateusalongwitheveryoneelseinouruniverses”
We process that information for about five seconds before a collective “WHAT” rings out across the slowly unfolding landscape. (Really, this place is far too similar to where I – ahem. Found my apples.)
“we’llexplainlaternowc’monheneedsourhelp!”
This is when the rest of the group notices the sudden presence of an actual landscape as the heart begins floating towards a doorway that doesn’t actually seem to go anywhere, visibly. So far so similar to the way places like this tend to function. I have no illusions about it staying that way, however.
[Taranza]
I’m not entirely sure wh-what we’re doing, exactly – out of the four of us, the only one who p-probably knows about magiphysics for it is Magolor, if I had to – to guess. It’s not like the rest of us don’t use m-magic, but myself and Dark Meta Knight specifically studied it for combat purposes, while Marx’ magic is a result of him wishing for it (n-not that I’ve gotten many details about that situation, but it’s obviously a can of worms h-he doesn’t like talking about.)
All I know is it has something to do with a Clockwork Comet. Those things are ludicrously fickle, n-nevermind the completely unknown consequences of a S-Soulform. (That one Marx hadn’t told any of us about. However, it is the kind of thing even those entirely unlearned in magic can detect. …the fact that there are two of us h-here with one is. Well, it’s certainly s-something.)
Though now that I think of them – hm. “C-can I ask a strange question?”
“sure!wemightnotknowtheanswerthough.” The Horde (as they refer to themselves as) doesn’t speak much when they’re not explaining things – probably because they noticed their voices give all of us a headache.
“By – by any chance, is this Ritchie’s Soulform?”
The entire group, Horde included, freezes on the spot and I rapidly regret opening my mouth.
“sortofmaybe?” They answer eventually. “closestequivalentprobablyRitchie’snotlikeyouguyshewasmagicbeforeheevergotaSoulafterall.MagicandHungerandthelongwayaroundhedidn’treallygetsentientbeforehedevouredthefirstofus.Didn’thaveemotionseitheruntilhegottothisdimension.”
“So he’s… a construct of Void Termina?” Magolor asks after several moments where all of us digest that little tid – tidbit.
The Horde moves up and down in what I g-guess is a nod. “likeDarkMatterexcepthewentthewayofGooeyafterawhilesortof.”
“Huh,” Marx mutters under his breath. “Gooey’s fun.”
“S-So when Ritchie asked us to ‘put him back together’… wh-what exactly are we doing?” I probably should have asked this a bit earlier.
“Ritchie’seatenalotmorethanjustusandalotofthemwantout,” the Horde explains this much less hesitantly. “thoseguysmeanhe’sbeingpulledapartandswallowingVoidTerminareallydidn’thelp.we’llhelpyoudefeatthemandRitchiecanhandletherest,really.”
Magolor squints at the heart with a clear suspicion. “… Boss Rush?”
“BossRush.”
Lovely. Wh-what did we get ourselves into…
[Ritchie]
It takes simultaneously far more and far less time than I expected to stop being pulled in every direction at the same time.
When I open my eyes again, I’m lying on the floor of the Lor’s deck, looking up at the stars and four rather worried faces.
My body feels like it’s in human form, and a quick raising of my arm confirms it.
“Uh… hey Ritchie, how ya doing?” Marx asks after it becomes quickly apparent that I’m not going to speak first.
I take a second to actually think about it. “… Lighter, I think? What did you guys do?”
Alotmorethantheyneededto.
Cryptic.
I sit up, tilting my head sharply to get a satisfying little crack that makes the others wince and stretch my arms above my head. “… Well, thanks. You guys wanna head back to Pop Star? I… uh, owe a few people an explanation, still.”
“I can certainly chart a course there,” Magolor nods. “That being said, I think all of us would enjoy a good night’s sleep, right about now.”
“Yes please,” Marx blurts out and the slightly tense atmosphere dissipates.
“Well,” I hum. “I won’t say no to a nap, either.”
I’d love to find out the whole story, but – everyone’s tired. It can wait.
And honestly… maybe it doesn’t really matter, either. All’s well that ends well, or something like that?