Kapitel 68: 63rd Move | I have a mouth but I cannot scream
Warning: this will probably be the most depressing chapter of the entire fic. Themes of suicide, depression, free will, nihilism, and existential crisis inbound.
You will see what happens if a dictator actually got ahold of things like magic and Otherworlders.
I will provide a tl;dr by the end of the chapter for those who do not wish to read it.
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An indescribable number of loops later. Earth, America.
"Would... do..." a black-haired boy opened his mouth and closed it several times, wanting to speak yet no words came out. "Do... do you... you wanna go out sometimes?"
He was currently facing another one of similar age, a red-haired girl whom he had a crush on for two years now.
"..." the girl opened to speak, except no sound came out, her eyes had a faraway look in them as she was put on the spot, "...sure, when do you want to go?"
13-year-old Jake was having a good day today. His middle school crush of 2 years had just accepted his offer of a romantic date, his marks were looking up, and the day is just looking absolutely beautiful!
His short black hair flowed like the grass on a soccer field in the breezy wind. He looked around, the blue sky filled with fluffy clouds, and the sounds of laughter coming from the park next to where he was standing. Inside his mind was only one thing; nothing can ruin this day, so why not enjoy it?
The moment he took another step, the young teen found that the sun no longer existed.
Or more accurately, he found himself in the middle of an abyss.
'What is happening?!' he wanted to scream. Jaked moved his head, only to discover that it no longer existed. Jaked moved his limbs, only to discover that he couldn't even feel it, nor could he feel his body, heartbeat, and everything. It was as if someone had ripped his soul out of his material body and placed it into a black void.
In such a surprising state, Jake started to panic, his fight or flight instinct kicking in would've resulted in his body sweating buckets, yet due to him being something akin to a disembodied soul, the only that heated up was his soul itself.
'So...hot...'
<<Confirmed, Extra Skill [Heat Nullification] acquired>>
'What? Who's there?'
<<Confirmed, Unique Skill [Detective] acquired>>
'huh?'
And before Jake knew it, the feeling inside his body returned. Looking down, he saw his hands, his body, his legs, and his feet are all there. Letting out a choked sob, he kneeled on the ground and hugged his own body, glad that the foreign feeling of being bodiless is gone.
The sound of foreign language entering Jake's ears had caused the young teen to look up, seeing a rather large grown man in a dirty-yellow military uniform, looking a lot like a Drill Sergeant. Taking a glance around him, Jake found himself inside a metal chamber, in the middle of what looked like one of those occult circles in horror movies.
Did I get kidnapped by some cultists? He wondered inside his mind as he spoke meekly in a foreign environment, "Um...Mister, where am—"
"Shut up!"
"eep!"
The teen was cut off when the Drill Sergeant yelled and took out a baton. Cowering in fear, the man then grabbed Jake by the left arm and started dragging him as if the teen were a cow to be slaughtered.
Needless to say, Jake was even more scared. Being in an alien environment seemingly far away from home and being kidnapped by some cultists had caused his fight or flight to go into overdrive.
Remembering his mother telling him to always run, don't be a hero, Jake tried to run away, only to discover that he can't break out of the iron grip of the man.
"Stop struggling!" The man brought up his baton at the same time Jake assumed a guard position with his right arm—
*Crack!*
The man struck the teen's defending arm, breaking it in a single, sickening crack.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Tears started to pool around Jake's eyes as his right forearm flailed about aimlessly like two nunchucks, a rather horrifying sight to the young teen as the most he's ever gotten injured was a few scrapes on his knees back in elementary school.
All resistance left the Otherworlder's body as he folded his body around the broken arm like a cast, resulting in his movements limping at best, thus making his kidnapper even angrier.
"Oi! Quicker you subhuman!" The man exclaimed as he dragged Jake, forcing the teen to start skipping unless he wants another strike of the baton.
They walked a bit before stopping beside an iron door with a tiny fenced window. Finally letting go of Jake's arm, the man opened the door to reveal an extremely dark and stinky room, as if it were a medieval prison cell.
The man pointed his baton towards the doorway, signaling Jake to get in.
"But... I... I need medical—" Jake wanted to say that his wound would get infected, but the man wasn't having any of that. He brought up his baton and was just about to strike at the teen once more before the Otherworlder practically leaped into the cell, dodging the strike at the last possible second.
"Umph!"
The floor was dirty, the texture felt extremely uncomfortable to Jake's bum as he sat up in an upright position. Looking around, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, Jake found himself in a small rectangle cell, its width is small enough that it was only a bit longer than he is tall. Near the back of the cell is a small wooden bed hung to the wall by metal chains.
Overall, it looked like one of those solitary confinement cells that Jake has seen in those jailbreak movies.
Using the little light coming through the tiny window on the door, Jake observed his broken arm, assessing the damage using the medical knowledge he's learned from reading many survival books.
It looks bad, discoloring covered the area where the man had struck like the burns on flesh after being exposed to an open flame, and the entire thing was bent as if it were a joint. Jake can practically feel the two sections of the broken bone scraping against each other like some kind of mortar and pestle when he moved them.
It is truly fortunate that bones do not have nerve endings. Using his free arm as a crutch, Jake lay down in such a way that he could use the ground itself as a makeshift cast, silently thankful that the skin isn't bleeding so no dirt could infect the wound.
Jake sighed, feeling extremely tired as the adrenaline rush wore off. His vision watered, his back against the cold stone walls, Jake stayed like that and cried bitterly, wondering just how he just got kidnapped and if he was going to survive this.
"Ow!" The small holes in the concrete walls caught part of his hair and ripped it out when he moved, which only further compounded his misery.
Jake was scared. He's in an unknown area and has been kidnapped. He remembers how the first 72-hour period right after the kidnapping was known as the 'golden time' or something, where after that time frame, the likelihood of the victim being alive falls off drastically.
The lying down position continued until the door to his cell opened once more about an hour later. Looking at the silhouette, Jake saw small curves around the hip area, suggesting that the silhouette belonged to a female. Squinting his eyes, he faced the light, too afraid to speak.
"Oh dear, look what they have done to you..." She spoke with horror, she gestured towards Jake and a glowing runic circle appeared around her hands.
Almost instantly, his arms were healed. It was healed so cleanly that the damage didn't seem to be real as if everything had been a bad dream.
"What...?" Jake choked out as he stared at his now healed arm, moving it around cautiously like a handicapped one that has just been given a prosthetics.
"Ha...!" He exclaimed in happiness as his eyes widen in wonder, "who...who are you? And how did you do that?" He looked at the woman, only for his face to drop once he realized the woman was now outside the door, motioning him to come out.
"Sorry, you'll get the debriefing after we've cleaned you up, and I healed you with healing magic."
"Magic...?"
"You'll know more after the debriefing."
Jake felt an odd sense of calm and trust towards the woman, so deciding to play along— for now— Jake got up and almost fell down again due to his legs falling asleep. Catching himself by pushing against the relatively smooth concrete walls, Jake felt embarrassed about failing something as basic as walking.
Looking up, he half-expected the woman to be disappointed or even take a bit of humor towards his misfortune, only for him to see her displaying a face of indifference as if she had seen this multiple times before.
Getting out of the extremely dark room, he finally managed to get a good look at the woman.
Taller than he is, well-gifted in physical areas, and wearing another military uniform that caused the young teen to flinch automatically, the woman filled the archetype of the 'sexy military commander' to a T. Above her left breast was what looked like to be a name tag, on it was the name: 'Liala Kirsen'.
"Let's go, you stink."
He sniffed his clothes, realizing that it really does smell bad.
The two walked for 20 minutes and Jake reached the apparent bathroom area. Conjuring a set of pure white clothes that looked like they belonged in a hospital out of thin air, Liala gave them to Jake and opened the door, "please don't take more than 20 minutes. Wear those clean clothes when you're done."
Nodding, Jake went inside the bathroom.
It was a communal bathroom, with white marble walls, rolls of lockers lining the walls, and stacks of dark blue towels on this one metal rack next to the entrance to the shower area.
Taking off his clothes, he entered one of the stalls of the walk-in shower, Jake noted how everything looked so similar to those changing rooms of a public swimming center.
Taking a quick shower, Jake switched into these pseudo-hospital gowns and walked out of the shower area, finding Liala still waiting patiently outside. Looking at her now that he was refreshed, Jake felt a sense of attraction toward the young woman.
"19 minutes and 34 seconds, not bad, almost went over the mark." She remarked with a neutral look on her face while taking his old clothes and placing them inside an apparent portal. It was only now after being refreshed that Jake realized just how young Liala looked, her face looked like it belonged to that of a mid-teen while her body suggested the late 20s or early 30s.
"Um... what now?"
"Now we get you to the main area, you'll meet up with the rest of the Otherworlders."
Jake had to control every bit of his facial muscle to not appear surprised. Otherworlders? More people like him have been kidnapped? Jake's suspicion and wariness grew, the sheer scale of this facility suggests these people are very well funded, and 'magic'...
Jake recalled his time playing Breath of the Wild and thought perhaps he was in a situation similar to Links'?
Walking down more corridors, Jake reached a wall lined with two elevators. Above the steel doors where the floor should be displayed showed the number '61480'.
Instead of a simple up or down, the keypad displayed numbers ranging from 0 to 9, making Jake wonder just why is it like that.
Liala then tapped the keypad several times, making out the number '10000'. A few moments later, the door opened to reveal a massive room filled with rolls and rolls of chairs, some were filled with either young teens like him or those even younger, like maybe 6 or 7. On the walls of the room were utterly massive banners displaying a height of a black rectangle with a thick blue 'V'. Inside the blue V is a white human hand in the motion of a handshake with another white hand. Underneath the handshaking and still inside the 'V' was a line of English letters displaying 'MAGISOC'.
"Woah."
Jake's jaw dropped in awe at what had just happened. Examining the metal door with a look of disbelief, the young teen saw how there were faint runic symbols carved inside the doorframe.
Just as he was about to touch them, Liala grabbed his soldier. Grabbing his attention, his body feeling how gentle the touch was, Jake turned around to the sight of Liala gesturing him to walk in, "come on, go through the portal, you don't want to be late do you?"
Walking inside the room, Jake was still awed by the sheer size of the room. It was as if he was looking at a hollowed-out interior of an Aircraft carrier than any proper building. In fact, Jake thinks that this may be the largest building he's ever been in.
"um, Liala?" Turning around back towards where he came from, he saw how the woman was standing by the doorway of the portal he came out of. Behind the portal was another set of massive walls stretching up at least a few stories high.
"My duty is done, pick any spot to sit in, the debriefing should start soon."
With that, the portal closed. Instead of feeling alarmed or worried, Jake felt an odd sense of calmness, as if everything would be alright.
In fact, ever since meeting Liala, all of Jake's worries seem to fade away, as though meeting her had drained him of those negative emotions similar to someone pulling out the stopper of a sink, and any additional feelings of panic are drained away instantly before it could build up.
Taking a random seat, he looked around and saw that there were many portals opening up all around the walls, and before long, the entire place was filled to the brim with people.
It was a literal sea of heads, there have to be at least a thousand people in here, with colors ranging from common black, brunette, and ginger to even wacker ones like blue and green, it was a very unique experience.
After a while was when it finally started.
One part of the wall opened up, revealing a cave-in large enough to be mistaken for a stage.
No wait, it IS a stage! Jake thought as a man walked from the left side. He was wearing a dark trench coat, and around his right arm is a red armband with a repeat of the 'V' insignia.
"Greetings, Otherworlders." The man spoke with a forcefully nice tone, as if he couldn't bear the thought of talking with the crowd any longer than necessary, "I'll keep this short: we are in a war."
Numerous screens appeared behind him, all of them floating in mid-air when the man snapped his fingers.
The room grew loud with expressions of shock when they saw what was being displayed on it; it was a bird's eye view of people in trenches, wielding magical guns and fighting against this swarm of slivers that looked like a tornado, each of those guns fired different colors of light towards the tornado.
It was like a group of people fighting against a natural disaster, and it would be the most American thing ever if it wasn't something that was real.
"We are an interstellar empire spanning close to 1,000,000 star systems after close to 10,000 years of space travel. However, 5 years ago, we met The Enemy." More screens appeared behind him, they were displaying the blackness of space with numerous strips of grey transport ships—
Gold. The screens became encompassed by the color gold before dissipating like metal cooling off, revealing the previous transport ships were nothing more than slags of metal, drifting directionlessly in the void of space.
"This Enemy is relentless and without mercy, when they reach a planet, they will systematically purge the population with what we call: the Disintegration Ray." Another screen came into focus, it showed multiple sycamore seed-shaped fighters ravaging a city by each shooting out this blue ray of light that turns whoever it hits into dust.
Jake was horrified by what he was seeing. Unlike an adult, as a young teen, he doesn't automatically question if these were falsified or actually true.
"We are losing," the man said in a grim tone, "every day, millions die inside this existential war that has been declared onto us by these eldritch aliens. We needed help, so The Party has authorized the use of conscripting Otherworlders like yourselves into the army."
This time, another blue-haired teen rose up from the crowd. With a loud and self-righteous tone, he yelled out "so you motherfuckers kidnapped hundreds of innocent lives," the boy gestured towards the people around him, "all to fight your losing war? Fuck this, I'm out!"
The teen moved, squeezing past the children sitting next to him. Before he could move more than a few steps, gasps of shock rang out once more when shadowy figures came down from the ceilings, grabbing the struggling teen and dragging him mid-air to the stage.
Jake watched on in horror as the man, who was smiling widely as if he had wanted this, started to beat the rebelling teen, who is unable to fight back as he is being restricted by those living shadows. The beating continued, and the sounds of sickening cracks were like machine guns, each signified one bone being broken. It wasn't long until the teen fell unconscious, his face was different shades of red and purple, completely deformed as he slumped forward, and the only thing keeping the teen up were the whisps of shadows.
The man then pulled out a gun from his jacket and—
*Bang*
Everyone was silent, no one moved a muscle— no one CAN move a muscle as Jake felt like he has been encased in an invisible shell. The teen fell to the floor lifeless, a hole big enough for an index finger to fit through on his forehead.
"Any signs of insubordination will be met with execution. You will join the army or you will be executed. This isn't like your old world, especially not whenever an Otherworlder crossover, they are guaranteed to have a Unique Skill." The man grinned, bloodlust filled the air as it finally sunk in for Jake.
They aren't playing. He could actually die. His previous experience with Liala had softened the impact of his abduction, with it feeling more like a distant memory. But now seeing death right in front of him, his fight or flight instinct kicked in.
It felt like torture, wanting to move but being unable to, trapped inside his own body and being only able to breathe. Jake was forced to just watch, to continue to just stare at the far-away body on the stage.
Placing the pistol back inside his trench coat, the man continued, "moving on, there exist 12 different classifications for your Unique Skills, forming the 12 different corps that make up our military. You will be sorted into 1 of 12 and it will determine whether you are thrown onto the front lines or you'll get a cushy job at the back."
The body of the teen disappeared, and the bloodstains are gone as if the beating of the last few seconds hadn't happened.
Jake felt an odd sense of calmness as he can finally move, an abnormal sense of peace about the situation.
Something's wrong, he noted as he cracked his neck, I shouldn't be this calm, no one should be this calm after seeing someone being killed right in front of you.
"Now, under the effect of this calming field, you may go to your right, where you will see several stands with people behind them. They will assess your Unique Skill and tell you which corp you belonged to. Afterward, you will go through multiple training regimens designed to your Unique Skill before being tossed into a Theater of War. Forget your past lives, they will only hinder you in your future, be harsh, be brutal, be suicidal, be like rats, be like vermins, be not a hero, be as one, embrace unity, fear individuality, for a brief life burns brightly. Dismissed."
The man turned around to walk away, through a portal of all things. Once he left, Jake felt the forced calmness disappear, replaced by a sinking feeling inside his gut, akin to what one would feel when they are going on an ill-fated voyage.
Jake gulped as he stood up, sounds of crying filled the room as most of the younger Otherworlders remain seated. The older ones like Jake started to move towards their right side like a school of fish. Due to the number of people gathered, the teen couldn't actually see the stands.
As he moved, he noticed how some teens started to help the younger ones, some projected fire from their hands while others flew.
Those must be the 'Unique Skills' he was talking about... Jake concluded. Near the end of the right side, several metal dividers came up from the ground and went into the ceiling, dividing up the school of people into 12 neat lines.
Jake pondered the sight of the dividers, his [Detective] got to work, if they have all of these set up beforehand, how many times have they done this?
The conclusion is frightening.
As Jake got in one of the many long lines, he was lost inside his mind, completely tuning out the loud sounds of crying, sobbing, argument, and more in the background. His [Detective] skill is in full power, allowing him to silence his emotion like a switch and make completely logical connections like a true master detective.
What they said... the way they said it suggests that the government is a totalitarian regime that is fighting against an existential threat. The casualties must be so high that they're resorting to kidnapping people from other worlds and using them as something akin to a meat sword against these aliens.
After 20 minutes, Jake was finally by the stands, only, that it wasn't what the teen had expected.
In front of him was a large smooth stone block a bit shorter than he is tall, and a bit below the eye level was this indent in the shape of a right hand. It looked like something one would find in a museum or a modern art gallery.
Seeing it's very self-explanatory, Jake placed his hand onto that indent. Around 5 seconds later, his intuition told him that something was wrong. So the teen instinctually tried to remove his hand from the stone, only to find it locked in place as if it was glued to it. A new feeling blossomed inside him.
<Unique Skill Classification: Thinker>
This title shone inside like a light tower in the middle of a stormy sea. It was a near-indescribable feeling, the closest reference point to Jake was him eating Chinese food for the first time in his life.
That first taste of uniqueness, something completely new, like being thrown headfirst into the unknown, that's what it feels like.
Once that feeling subsided, Jake found that only a few seconds have passed. Looking down at his arm like a person looking at a normal wall, the teen found that on the back of his hand were two different symbols that seemingly have been tattooed: a brain, and underneath it was two sets of dots with many lines connecting to each other. The latter one looked like a 'connect the dots' assignment Jake remembers from early elementary school.
Removing his hand from the stone block, the young teen looked around him for what was next, before disappearing in a flash of light.
Appearing in the middle of what appears to be a dorm room half-filled with other young teens and pre-teens like himself, Jake was a bit confused before [Detective] filled in the blanks.
Rolls upon rolls of bunk beds filled every inch of the place, and in between these rolls was a tiny amount of space allowing for a single person to pass through barely... it was as if whoever designed this place had maximized people count since these beds are at most 1.7 meters long.
Jake's mouth turned into a grimace as he realized there would be virtually no privacy.
This will be where he lives from now on until graduating and being sent off to die in war.
The teen felt his legs become extremely weak at that thought, so he quickly picked an empty bed and sat in it, silently contemplating how he was going to survive the upcoming meat grinder.
Before he could think any more, an adult wearing the same trench coat as that man from before stepped into the room from a door that the young teen hadn't even noticed. Looking around, the man's head was raised high, as though everyone else was beneath him.
In a somber tone that a man would use when talking to a group of soon-to-be-dead men, "I am Commissary Andret, and I shall be the dorm instructor. As of now, the time is 2132 Hours, lights out at 2200, and lights on at 0600. I would say welcome to your new life, but that would be lying." He looked around, his eyes hard as stone, "due to all of you being part of the Thinker Corp, you all have the highest rate of survival, but know that from the things I'm seeing it? At least a quarter of you will not survive past the one-year mark."
With that, the man left the room. The atmosphere after Commissary Andret's departure was, in as few words as possible, utter despair. Jake's [Detective] noted how an excellent parallel to this would be the despair of those people on the trains moving to these 'killing camps' that the teen had once learned in history class.
The exact details are lost on him since he barely pays attention, being a slacker and all, the fact that his mark is as high as it is was a mere stroke of luck.
He looked down at his skirt, his shirt given to him by Liala, and [Detective] wondered if she was supposed to be a honey trap, to get his guard down.
Well, it doesn't matter anymore, Jake reflected, as they said, 'your past doesn't matter, so forget about it', I'll need to adapt, I will survive this. Since this is a military dictatorship, they must have some kind of ranking system, I'll climb that rank and win the war, and when I do, I'll change this world for the better!
A burning hope reignited inside his heart, uncaring of the hostile environment, the flame continued to burn everlasting.
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Years later, a personal washroom without a bath.
"Hurrk!" Jake... no, Raydn leaned forward into the metal sink as he tried to puke, only for nothing to come out.
When was the last time he puked?
Hell, when was the last time he felt disgusted?
Looking up, Raydn stared at his reflection in the mirror, his face, his uniform— it was so different from before.
Tired eyes stared back at him. Raydn wore a black trench coat with different medals attached to his left breast area, looking almost like a reflection of that man during the welcoming ceremony right before Boot Camp. The most striking thing about this was the armband around his right upper arm, displaying the insignia of the Party.
Jake... that was his old name wasn't it? It had been so long since he had the chance to recall his past self that the teen...? How old again was he? His left hand gripped the sides of his face, the fingers moving in a circular pattern felt calming, how long has it been? He was so busy all the time that Raydn never even had the opportunity to count how many days it has been since Boot Camp.
Busy sending Otherworlders to their deaths—
A flash of gold turned hundreds to dust in an instant.
Raydn closed his eyes and shut out those haunting thoughts. He's much older now, much more experienced, so it's become easier to shut down that tiny voice inside his head.
Wake up— no, even sleep was a luxury with all the magic field bullshit going on— every waking moment was spent on trying to assist the war effort, whether it's serving as a field commander/advisor or deciphering the enemy's movement, he could only take a 5-minute break for every 11 hours and 55 minutes of work. In fact, the most amount of time he's got to rest was whenever he was being reassigned, which is thankfully quite often as otherwise, Raydn doesn't think he could've made it mentally.
Raydn could hardly remember the last time he ate or drank anything since hunger and thirst were a thing of the past so long as this magic field that exists across every one of the Party's facilities persists.
Raydn remembers being young and innocent...
His innocence, how long ago has it been ever since he lost it? When did he lose it? Was it sudden? Was it gradual, like the color palette of a painter? Was it when he discovered that every Earth year, across all of the Regime's space, hundreds of billions of Otherworlders are summoned (kidnapped) and most of them don't live past the first mission?
Was it when he discovered that the average survival rate for an Otherworlder is 1.08 missions, meaning that most die nameless and within 6 months of being summoned, being forgotten as the Administration gets ready to summon another batch?
Was it when he stop bothering trying to remember people's names? Since Thinkers like him are redeployed as often as a growing boy changes their shoes?
Was it when he realized that within less than a year, more Otherworlders die in this pointless interstellar war than more human that has ever lived in the entirety of human history up to the 21st century?
Was it when he discovered just how strong the brainwashing of this evil empire is when he witnessed a Brute Class Otherworlder committing suicide the moment the word 'rebellion' was uttered from their mouth?
Was it when he discovered that the Boot Camp that every Otherworlder goes through is a system, the most sophisticated factory in the Universe, for processing Otherworlders and turning them into mindless soldiers? The only reason Raydn could stay somewhat immune to their brainwashing efforts was due to [Detective] pointing it all out.
Was it when he had finally gained access to the Inner Records of the Department of Truth, where using careful application of [Detective], Raydn had pierced through ancient propaganda to figure out that Heaven and Hell once existed, but the Supreme Leader emptied them during the earlier days of the Party's history? Now being the headquarters of where the Supreme Leader resides?
Was it when he discovered how this empire of mud, blood, and brutality is driven by siphoning power from three ancient beasts?
Or was it during the Boot Camp, when he was being taught how humans, in the face of the Enemy, were more akin to an annoyance, more akin to cockroaches, pests— therefore, in order to stand a chance against this overwhelming threat, humankind must be pests, must become One, meaning that concepts and ideas like individualism, heroes, or just standing out in general, is beaten and brainwashed out of you in Boot Camp?
And if the indoctrination was found to be not possible, you're then brought to a 'Killing Planet' and are executed within orbit before being thrown out. There, the body would fall into the planet and would be shattered upon impact, being one of countless in a mass open graveyard where the splattered dead cover the entire surface in an orgy of destroyed, frozen flesh.
(AN: Play: [Fate/Stay Night] Kyrie Eleison (The Church on the Hill) └WAVE┘)
Raydn sat down on the ground beside the sink in a fetal position, despair practically oozing out of every pore on his body as he finally let out a small sob.
When was the last time he cried? The last time that he showed any emotion beyond faked loyalty? Really, he should've gotten a Unique Skill in Acting with how many people he managed to fool.
Their doctrine... this regime... the Party's belief... it's a perversion of everything humanity stood for. It is a corruption of fantasy, a defilement of the very concept of man, a view of what happens when things like magic fall under the control of a modern dictator.
There's just no hope. After being in the system for so long, Raydn's paranoia grew to immense heights, which is not helped when sometimes, just before he is transported to another planet, he would get a notification via MAGINET about a sudden change of destination, forcing him to choose another transport since it's an order from higher up. Later on, he would discover that the mission he was supposed to be on, was a mission that failed.
[Detective] extrapolated that this regime has some kind of either precognition or time travel. The fact that every mission he's been on has been successful only further compounded this hypothesis since the probability is most certainly not on his side.
As a result, [Detective] further extrapolated that, if they do have precognition or time travel, they already know how he will act and plan accordingly.
This led him down a very depressing hypothesis.
Were his thoughts even his own? Or are they thoughts planned into him by the Party? It was maddening. Humans are social creatures, they use other people as anchor points for a person's sanity. Yet in this environment, that is taken away from you as the moment you even accidentally say a single word that does not exist within the Party's Dictionary, you are given a visit to the Department of Love.
At the same time, if [Detective] is right, then is it really his fault for saying something outside of the Dictionary if the Party already knows it would happen? Did the Party plan out every moment of his life? Does that mean he has an expiration date? Like milk?
In the next moment, if he said 'I want to rebel', is that by his own will, or was it planned out for him?
In the next moment, if he killed himself, is that his choice or was that moment supposed to be his expiration date?
The ambiguity was truly maddening.
Plus, he's tired, so so tired, despite being so desensitized to death to the point of not even losing sleep over his active use of suicide bombers against the Enemy, it still wears one's soul down.
The young teen looked down at his right hand, before conjuring up a pistol and pointing it at his skull. The thing looked like something from his old world, except so much has happened ever since he came here that the teen could hardly recall his past beyond that he had a girlfriend and two... loving parents? Were they loving? Or were they terrible? All he remembers was that he had two parents.
The barrel of the gun pressed against the side of his skull, hard enough that he felt the coldness through his blond hair, Raydn bit his lower lips hard enough that he tasted iron. Squinting his eyes shut, the force with that he's pushing the gun up to his skull is actually starting to hurt.
Raydn... Jake feels like he's aged by five decades in the past few years.
When was the last time he was in the driver's seat? Was any of his achievements actually his? Or were they planned for him by the Party?
And suicide... his mind started working, no longer feeling the apprehension towards the concept, not even his instincts is rejecting the idea.
If he killed himself, it would mean that he still could make a meaningful choice.
This is proof then, it's proof that he still has some semblance of control in his life, the only thing he feels like that the Party has not taken away from him. Plus, a bullet imbued with death magic to the head would end it quickly and painlessly...
Taking in a deep breath, he jabbed the barrel right up to his temple hard enough that his body shifted sideways to make way.
Pulling the trigger—
*Click*
—was the sound of the gun's safety going off.
"..."
Raydn stared at it with a blank expression, the dark silver barrel, his hand shaking so heavily that the gun's edges became a blur. The lights inside the washroom flickered as Raydn's magicule started going out of control.
Turning off the safety, he aimed the gun back toward his temple, he pulled the trigger once more—
*Click*
—the gun jammed.
Jake has a mouth but Raydn cannot scream.
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tl;dr Chloe, using [Yog-Sothoth]'s [Time Travel] to turn what could've been a utopia into a dystopia. Free will is nonexistent as every action you do, Chloe (the Supreme Leader) already knows about it, meaning that you die when she lets you, and you will live so long as you still have your uses on this grand cosmic chessboard she has against the Enemy (an unnamed Scientia).
In fact, you WILL die if you no longer have any use for Chloe.
If you want a comparison, think of Chloe as the ideal version of what Demiurge views Momonga as: everything is part of the plan.
Or a more powerful Rintaro Okabe who's gone insane from the number of time loops he's gone through, or really just any character associated with time travel like Subaru but turned up to 1 million.
INGSOC but with magic and time travel.
Also, do note that Kyrie Eleison may not be for who you think it is.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein