章 1: It All Begins Here
It all converged to this moment—his ideals, his regrets, his suffering, and his dreams.
The weight of countless decisions, each one rippling through time, had brought him here. The battlefield before him was silent now, the echoes of clashing steel and desperate cries fading into the distant dawn. All that remained was the stillness, broken only by the whispering wind carrying the scent of ash and iron.
He stood alone, the ground beneath his feet littered with the remnants of shattered swords and fractured dreams. Each blade told a story, a fragment of the man he had been, and the countless versions of himself that had walked this path. The sky above, a swirling mass of dark clouds, mirrored the turmoil within him.
He had pursued his ideals with unyielding determination, believing that he could save everyone, that he could be the hero who would stand against the tide of suffering. But now, as he gazed upon the desolation wrought by his own hand, he wondered if those ideals had been worth the price he had paid.
"What have I become?" he whispered to the empty expanse; his voice lost in the void. The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as the specters of his past and future loomed large in his mind. Faces of those he had failed, those he had lost, and those who had believed in him despite everything.
But that was a possibility of a distant future that is yet to come.
He can still change the desolation bought by his single-minded pursuit of justice.
Just like Gilgamesh had said to him. Humans are selfish they would crawl upon each other's dead bodies to fulfil their desires. To get the easy way out like dog's chasing a free treat.
But even so there are some who shine bright amongst that darkness that plagues the world. A desire to undo all the suffering humanity has inflicted upon itself.
A Hero of Justice is not needed.
But a Hero who can Guide and Help humanity to a path of meaningless destruction.
To be better and be responsible for one's actions that will forge the future
Hence, he will chase for that single possibility of a "What if?"
To make a change with his actions no matter how small it is.
Saving and inspiring people to do good.
But will it be enough?
But even in this moment of doubt, something within him refused to break. There was still a glimmer of that dream, the one he had held onto for so long. A world where no one had to suffer as he had, where the pain of loss was but a distant memory.
Even though it was a Hopeless dream.
Yet, he knew that to achieve that world, he would have to confront the very darkness he had tried to deny—the darkness within himself.
The ground trembled beneath him, pulling him back to the present. He turned, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. The air crackled with a familiar energy, but soon it fizzled out due to lack of mana.
In the distance, a figure was observing from the shadows, moving with a purpose that matched his own. Their eyes met, and in that instant, he knew that this encounter would decide everything. The culmination of his journey, his trials, and his dreams had led him here.
"So, this is it," he muttered, more to himself than to the approaching figure. "The final clash."
The figure drew closer, the tension between them palpable. He could see now that they were more than just another adversary; they were a reflection of everything he had fought for and against. The embodiment of his past, his choices, and the consequences that had shaped him.
A tyrant, a hero, A King.
Now Bloody and battered due to the consequences of his actions for underestimating a young man that is desperate enough to throw his life away all for the sake of his dream to save the world.
He tightened his hand into a fist, feeling the familiar burning sensation of overloading his circuits. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, standing on the precipice of fate.
With a deep breath, he steeled himself for what was to come. This was the moment where all paths converged, where his ideals would be put to the ultimate test. There was no turning back now, no more doubts or second-guessing.
"You have done well Mongrel," he said, his voice firm and resolute. Arrogance that never yields even though no matter how pitiful his state is with a missing arm. "Let me end your misery".
Before the King could continue his monologue and deliver his judgment, a void appeared—sudden, dark, and utterly consuming. The shock that rippled through both of them was palpable. The void's edges shimmered with an unnatural light, its pull strong enough to distort the very air around it.
Shirou, battered and barely holding onto his consciousness, could only watch the bizarre occurrence unfold. He sighed in relief; it seemed that this was the end of the battle, at least for tonight. But before he could even think of celebrating, a golden chain shot out from the void, wrapping tightly around his injured arm.
"What the—?" Shirou gasped, pain shooting through him as the chain's pressure intensified.
From within the void, a furious roar echoed. "Damn that Grail! It dares to use me as a core? How foolish!" Gilgamesh's voice was filled with contempt and rage. His crimson eyes blazed as he struggled against the void's pull. "Pull me out, mongrel!"
Shirou stared, speechless at the sheer audacity. Does this man know no shame? He gritted his teeth, his mind racing. "I'd rather cut off my own arm than save you," Shirou spat, mustering what little strength he had left.
But before he could act on his threat, a voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. "You can do that... but first, move your head to the side."
The voice was unmistakably Archer's—his future self, the one who bore the weight of all Shirou's potential choices. Instinctively, Shirou turned his head, and in the next instant, a red streak shot through the air. Archer's arrow, true to its mark, buried itself in the forehead of the King of Heroes.
"Archer...?" Gilgamesh's voice faltered, disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes. But there was no time for anything more. The void's pull intensified, and with a final, furious scream, Gilgamesh was swallowed whole, his form disappearing into the abyss.
The battle should have ended there. But as the void closed in on itself, another figure was caught in its grasp. Archer—Shirou's future self—felt the tug of the void, pulling him along with the King of Heroes.
"No, wait!" Shirou yelled, his voice desperate, his body lurching forward despite the pain.
Archer glanced back, his expression unreadable, as if contemplating the irony of his fate. "It's better this way," he murmured, his tone resigned, as if this was the conclusion he had always anticipated. His form began to disintegrate into motes of blue light, each one flickering before vanishing into the void.
Shirou's heart clenched as he watched his future self-disappear. He knew what this meant—without Archer, there was no one left to bear the burden of those future memories, no one left to endure the endless suffering that had shaped him.
The void closed with a final, eerie silence. The night was still once more, the battlefield empty save for Shirou, who stood alone amidst the fading echoes of battle. He stared at the spot where Archer had vanished, his mind racing with the implications, the finality of it all settling in.
"It's over," he whispered to himself, though the words brought little comfort. This war had taken much from him—perhaps more than he even realized.
But in the stillness, with the weight of the war lifting from his shoulders, there was one certainty: no matter what, he would continue to forge his own path, even if it meant facing the unknown alone.
Soon he closed his eyes accepting his fate.
!!!!Akashic records!!!!
There are many possibilities that can born into shape no matter how miniscule it is it can be brought to reality and be bent to shape.
How many seconds, days, years has it passed.
Was it millions of years already or was there any time at all?
Or was time an Imagination.
Shirou did not Know where he was but all he could do was stare at the void that is floating far away with light converging around it.
Was he dead? Or was he dreaming?
He did not know where this place was but he wanted to get out instead of uselessly float around.
His mind already numb looking at the inexplicable phenomenon Infront of him.
He wanted out from this place his head was growing hot and cold as he continued to stare.
It was beautiful at the same time ominous.
He might have an Inkling at what he was looking at.
The Root.
All Magi chased after it to gain the truth.
To Gain power beyond any Imagination.
A wish no matter how vile or beautiful it is.
They would have Jumped at this opportunity and tried to horde and gaze at the secrets that it held.
But for him it was simply a Meaningless Void staring at him. H wanted nothing of such sort.
He was tired.
He wanted this to end and maybe hopefully get out of this place. But that was just wistful thinking.
Death was better then this Agony of silence.
His Luck was truly rotten.
All he wanted was to become a Hero of Justice and that was his only desire.
The moment he though about his desire the scenario suddenly changed.
Now he was standing at a vast expanse dotted with stars.
A red shadow was staring at him from far away.
[PARAMETERS ACKNOWLDGED ACCESING THE AKASHIC RECORDS]
[RETREVING INFROMATION OF SUBJECT MURASA FUJIMURA/SHIROU EMIYA]
[MATERIALIZING CONCEPT OF JUSTICE/BALANCE/ORDER]
[MATERIALIZING CONCEPT OF HERO/SAVIOR/GUARDIAN]
[ACESSING PERMISSION TO USE THE CONCEPT OF SAVIOR FROM Ỵ̵͚̝̾̂̂͛̈́̀̀ȃ̴͙͓̄̉̑̀̉̈́̃̓͊̀̚h̶̦̩̼̮͕͖̃̅̓̏̅͑͛͐̎̑͝͠͝ͅw̵̨̯̭͙̘͖̅̽͌̀͋̋ȩ̸͚̲̰̝̝͉̑̈́̄h̶̲͖͕̣̄ ̴̡̱̺̼̼̦̜̯̹͎͖͌̀͛̈́̉͋̍͛̽̎́̒̄͝t̴̢̧̘͙̲̰̱̫̰͕̺̺̻̺̫́̽̿̈́͗͒̊͐͂̂̈́̌͋͗̚h̶͇̤͔̘̻̑̉̋͜ȩ̶̪͖̘͔̩̫̼̗̰́̌̾͊̊̈͝ ̷̡̛͍̞̼̥̯͙̬̻̟̹̀̈́̌͋͛̾o̸̭̤͛́͆͊́͌͆̽̆̅̔͘͠n̴̡̺͍͙̙̩̉ͅę̸͚̞̦͔̘̼̯̙̦͒͝͠ ̶͎̼̼̫͋ͅw̵̝̘̥̗̘̰̮͉͆̆̒̎̈́̅̃̒̅̕͝ͅh̷͎͚̻̊̂̕͜͝o̸͈̙͖͎̤̭̻̽͝ ̴̙̞̫͍̖̱͊͛i̴̛̳̺̲̦̮̘̯̞̘͓̰̱͛̈́͛̏̀́̍̓́̅̈́̈́̚͠ͅͅs̴͎̾ ̶̛̩̝̖̘̲͓̰̜̥͑̒̑̃̿́̓̌̊̈̆̋̇͝L̸̬͇͎̬̗̮̳̑͑͊̈̓́̅̊̐̂̀̏̕͝͠i̷̮̗̜̗͕̮̯̲͙̼͓̹͌͛͒̃̒͘ͅͅg̶̡̡̪̥̙̥͚̳͉̘͍͐̓̓̂́̍͐̋͊͐̄̕h̴̟̲̩͗̑͐͊̿̾͊͋̓͗̊̉̚̕ẗ̸̯̍̋͛́̾͆̿͛̀́̈́͘͝͠]
[ACCESSING PERMISSION TO USE CONCETPT OF ORDER FROM Ṿ̷̢̡̗̳͓̥͚͇͚̠̏̉͌̀̒̌̿͐̈̿̎͘͝ͅͅͅͅį̶̨̢̛̳̫̜̯͇̦̼̰͓̠̤̀̈̃̐̆̐́̂͝s̵̛̰̠͔̟̞̽̍̌̍̃͠h̵̛̛̗͖̮͈̯̩̘̲̥̽͂̾̈́̂́̈́͗͊͐͝ͅn̷̨͚̜̫͓̗̦͇̝̗͔̫̖͈̍̓̀̊͜ų̶̯̱̠́̐̄́͗̈́́̊̕ ̷̲͐̉͆̓̀͐͂̈͝͝͝ţ̶̢̙̼̯͖͑̀͌́̎͝ḩ̶̘̯͔̟̖̻̑̇e̵̢̡̡̖̖̤̳͈̻͓̎̄̏̏͜ͅ ̸̧̡̝̠͉͖̲̰̮̼͚̲̟̞̘͋͗͠p̴̢̣̙͎͎̹̼̖̭͙̌̀̌̾͆̚r̴̢͕̘̭̯̰̠̦̥̙͉͍͕͋̾͗͐̔̋̓̚͜s̴̙͖͌͗̄͌͂͋̔̂̽͑̅͠ȩ̴̛͓̦̻͔̩̝̇̓͆̅͊͑͒̋̓̑̊̕ŗ̴̢̡̨̩̰̙͙̠̙̝͈̤͑̀͋͐͐͐̀͂̈́̌̈́̆̔̀͗v̷͎̜̲̣͍̠̠͛̊͐̅͆͝e̴̛͙̱͚̟̼̗͂͛̿̌̉͌̈̆̓͌͘͝͠r̷͕̬̺̀̃̀ͅ]
[INFORMATION RETREIVED HEROIC SPIRIT EMIYA]
[ACCESING KLADIESCOPE SPIRITON DATA OBTAINED]
[SPIRITON REFRACTION PHENOMENON CONVERGING]
[PENDING APPROVAL FROM CONCEPT INPLEMENTETION]
[ERROR SYSTEM OVERRIDE INTIATED]
[CONCEPT OF FIRE IMPLENMENTED AND ACKNOWLDGED BY Ỵ̵͚̝̾̂̂͛̈́̀̀ȃ̴͙͓̄̉̑̀̉̈́̃̓͊̀̚h̶̦̩̼̮͕͖̃̅̓̏̅͑͛͐̎̑͝͠͝ͅw̵̨̯̭͙̘͖̅̽͌̀͋̋ȩ̸͚̲̰̝̝͉̑̈́̄h̶̲͖͕̣̄ ̴̡̱̺̼̼̦̜̯̹͎͖͌̀͛̈́̉͋̍͛̽̎́̒̄͝t̴̢̧̘͙̲̰̱̫̰͕̺̺̻̺̫́̽̿̈́͗͒̊͐͂̂̈́̌͋͗̚h̶͇̤͔̘̻̑̉̋͜ȩ̶̪͖̘͔̩̫̼̗̰́̌̾͊̊̈͝ ̷̡̛͍̞̼̥̯͙̬̻̟̹̀̈́̌͋͛̾o̸̭̤͛́͆͊́͌͆̽̆̅̔͘͠n̴̡̺͍͙̙̩̉ͅę̸͚̞̦͔̘̼̯̙̦͒͝͠ ̶͎̼̼̫͋ͅw̵̝̘̥̗̘̰̮͉͆̆̒̎̈́̅̃̒̅̕͝ͅh̷͎͚̻̊̂̕͜͝o̸͈̙͖͎̤̭̻̽͝ ̴̙̞̫͍̖̱͊͛i̴̛̳̺̲̦̮̘̯̞̘͓̰̱͛̈́͛̏̀́̍̓́̅̈́̈́̚͠ͅͅs̴͎̾ ̶̛̩̝̖̘̲͓̰̜̥͑̒̑̃̿́̓̌̊̈̆̋̇͝L̸̬͇͎̬̗̮̳̑͑͊̈̓́̅̊̐̂̀̏̕͝͠i̷̮̗̜̗͕̮̯̲͙̼͓̹͌͛͒̃̒͘ͅͅg̶̡̡̪̥̙̥͚̳͉̘͍͐̓̓̂́̍͐̋͊͐̄̕h̴̟̲̩͗̑͐͊̿̾͊͋̓͗̊̉̚̕ẗ̸̯̍̋͛́̾͆̿͛̀́̈́͘͝͠]
[CONCEPT OF RESILENCE ACKNOWLEDGED BY Ṿ̷̢̡̗̳͓̥͚͇͚̠̏̉͌̀̒̌̿͐̈̿̎͘͝ͅͅͅͅį̶̨̢̛̳̫̜̯͇̦̼̰͓̠̤̀̈̃̐̆̐́̂͝s̵̛̰̠͔̟̞̽̍̌̍̃͠h̵̛̛̗͖̮͈̯̩̘̲̥̽͂̾̈́̂́̈́͗͊͐͝ͅn̷̨͚̜̫͓̗̦͇̝̗͔̫̖͈̍̓̀̊͜ų̶̯̱̠́̐̄́͗̈́́̊̕ ̷̲͐̉͆̓̀͐͂̈͝͝͝ţ̶̢̙̼̯͖͑̀͌́̎͝ḩ̶̘̯͔̟̖̻̑̇e̵̢̡̡̖̖̤̳͈̻͓̎̄̏̏͜ͅ ̸̧̡̝̠͉͖̲̰̮̼͚̲̟̞̘͋͗͠p̴̢̣̙͎͎̹̼̖̭͙̌̀̌̾͆̚r̴̢͕̘̭̯̰̠̦̥̙͉͍͕͋̾͗͐̔̋̓̚͜s̴̙͖͌͗̄͌͂͋̔̂̽͑̅͠ȩ̴̛͓̦̻͔̩̝̇̓͆̅͊͑͒̋̓̑̊̕ŗ̴̢̡̨̩̰̙͙̠̙̝͈̤͑̀͋͐͐͐̀͂̈́̌̈́̆̔̀͗v̷͎̜̲̣͍̠̠͛̊͐̅͆͝e̴̛͙̱͚̟̼̗͂͛̿̌̉͌̈̆̓͌͘͝͠r̷͕̬̺̀̃̀ͅ]
[BLESSINGS CONFORMED BY Ỵ̵͚̝̾̂̂͛̈́̀̀ȃ̴͙͓̄̉̑̀̉̈́̃̓͊̀̚h̶̦̩̼̮͕͖̃̅̓̏̅͑͛͐̎̑͝͠͝ͅw̵̨̯̭͙̘͖̅̽͌̀͋̋ȩ̸͚̲̰̝̝͉̑̈́̄h̶̲͖͕̣̄ ̴̡̱̺̼̼̦̜̯̹͎͖͌̀͛̈́̉͋̍͛̽̎́̒̄͝t̴̢̧̘͙̲̰̱̫̰͕̺̺̻̺̫́̽̿̈́͗͒̊͐͂̂̈́̌͋͗̚h̶͇̤͔̘̻̑̉̋͜ȩ̶̪͖̘͔̩̫̼̗̰́̌̾͊̊̈͝ ̷̡̛͍̞̼̥̯͙̬̻̟̹̀̈́̌͋͛̾o̸̭̤͛́͆͊́͌͆̽̆̅̔͘͠n̴̡̺͍͙̙̩̉ͅę̸͚̞̦͔̘̼̯̙̦͒͝͠ ̶͎̼̼̫͋ͅw̵̝̘̥̗̘̰̮͉͆̆̒̎̈́̅̃̒̅̕͝ͅh̷͎͚̻̊̂̕͜͝o̸͈̙͖͎̤̭̻̽͝ ̴̙̞̫͍̖̱͊͛i̴̛̳̺̲̦̮̘̯̞̘͓̰̱͛̈́͛̏̀́̍̓́̅̈́̈́̚͠ͅͅs̴͎̾ ̶̛̩̝̖̘̲͓̰̜̥͑̒̑̃̿́̓̌̊̈̆̋̇͝L̸̬͇͎̬̗̮̳̑͑͊̈̓́̅̊̐̂̀̏̕͝͠i̷̮̗̜̗͕̮̯̲͙̼͓̹͌͛͒̃̒͘ͅͅg̶̡̡̪̥̙̥͚̳͉̘͍͐̓̓̂́̍͐̋͊͐̄̕h̴̟̲̩͗̑͐͊̿̾͊͋̓͗̊̉̚̕ẗ̸̍̋͛́̾͆̿͛̀́̈́͘͝ AND Ṿ̷̢̡̗̳͓̥͚͇͚̠̏̉͌̀̒̌̿͐̈̿̎͘͝ͅͅͅͅį̶̨̢̛̳̫̜̯͇̦̼̰͓̠̤̀̈̃̐̆̐́̂͝s̵̛̰̠͔̟̞̽̍̌̍̃͠h̵̛̛̗͖̮͈̯̩̘̲̥̽͂̾̈́̂́̈́͗͊͐͝ͅn̷̨͚̜̫͓̗̦͇̝̗͔̫̖͈̍̓̀̊͜ų̶̯̱̠́̐̄́͗̈́́̊̕ ̷̲͐̉͆̓̀͐͂̈͝͝͝ţ̶̢̙̼̯͖͑̀͌́̎͝ḩ̶̘̯͔̟̖̻̑̇e̵̢̡̡̖̖̤̳͈̻͓̎̄̏̏͜ͅ ̸̧̡̝̠͉͖̲̰̮̼͚̲̟̞̘͋͗͠p̴̢̣̙͎͎̹̼̖̭͙̌̀̌̾͆̚r̴̢͕̘̭̯̰̠̦̥̙͉͍͕͋̾͗͐̔̋̓̚͜s̴̙͖͌͗̄͌͂͋̔̂̽͑̅͠ȩ̴̛͓̦̻͔̩̝̇̓͆̅͊͑͒̋̓̑̊̕ŗ̴̢̡̨̩̰̙͙̠̙̝͈̤͑̀͋͐͐͐̀͂̈́̌̈́̆̔̀͗v̷͎̜̲̣͍̠̠͛̊͐̅͆͝e̴̛͙̱͚̟̼̗͂͛̿̌̉͌̈̆̓͌͘͝͠r̷͕̬̺̀̃̀ͅ]
[NOBLE PHANTASM AVALON DETECTED COMMENCING SYNCRONIZATION]
[COMMENCING DEPORTATION UNDER AUTHORIZTION BY Ỵ̵͚̝̾̂̂͛̈́̀̀ȃ̴͙͓̄̉̑̀̉̈́̃̓͊̀̚h̶̦̩̼̮͕͖̃̅̓̏̅͑͛͐̎̑͝͠͝ͅw̵̨̯̭͙̘͖̅̽͌̀͋̋ȩ̸͚̲̰̝̝͉̑̈́̄h̶̲͖͕̣̄ ̴̡̱̺̼̼̦̜̯̹͎͖͌̀͛̈́̉͋̍͛̽̎́̒̄͝t̴̢̧̘͙̲̰̱̫̰͕̺̺̻̺̫́̽̿̈́͗͒̊͐͂̂̈́̌͋͗̚h̶͇̤͔̘̻̑̉̋͜ȩ̶̪͖̘͔̩̫̼̗̰́̌̾͊̊̈͝ ̷̡̛͍̞̼̥̯͙̬̻̟̹̀̈́̌͋͛̾o̸̭̤͛́͆͊́͌͆̽̆̅̔͘͠n̴̡̺͍͙̙̩̉ͅę̸͚̞̦͔̘̼̯̙̦͒͝͠ ̶͎̼̼̫͋ͅw̵̝̘̥̗̘̰̮͉͆̆̒̎̈́̅̃̒̅̕͝ͅh̷͎͚̻̊̂̕͜͝o̸͈̙͖͎̤̭̻̽͝ ̴̙̞̫͍̖̱͊͛i̴̛̳̺̲̦̮̘̯̞̘͓̰̱͛̈́͛̏̀́̍̓́̅̈́̈́̚͠ͅͅs̴͎̾ ̶̛̩̝̖̘̲͓̰̜̥͑̒̑̃̿́̓̌̊̈̆̋̇͝L̸̬͇͎̬̗̮̳̑͑͊̈̓́̅̊̐̂̀̏̕͝͠i̷̮̗̜̗͕̮̯̲͙̼͓̹͌͛͒̃̒͘ͅͅg̶̡̡̪̥̙̥͚̳͉̘͍͐̓̓̂́̍͐̋͊͐̄̕h̴̟̲̩͗̑͐͊̿̾͊͋̓͗̊̉̚̕ẗ̸̯̍̋͛́̾͆̿͛̀́̈́͘͝͠]
[RETRIEVING KLADEISCOPE PARAMETERS SUGGESTED BY Ṿ̷̢̡̗̳͓̥͚͇͚̏̉͌̀̒̌̿͐̈̿̎͘͝ͅͅͅį̶̨̢̛̳̫̜̯͇̦̼̰͓̠̤̀̈̃̐̆̐́̂͝s̵̛̰̠͔̟̞̽̍̌̍̃͠h̵̛̛̗͖̮͈̯̩̘̲̥̽͂̾̈́̂́̈́͗͊͐͝ͅn̷̨͚̜̫͓̗̦͇̝̗͔̫̖͈̍̓̀̊͜ų̶̯̱̠́̐̄́͗̈́́̊̕ ̷̲͐̉͆̓̀͐͂̈͝͝͝ţ̶̢̙̼̯͖͑̀͌́̎͝ḩ̶̘̯͔̟̖̻̑̇e̵̢̡̡̖̖̤̳͈̻͓̎̄̏̏͜ͅ ̸̧̡̝̠͉͖̲̰̮̼͚̲̟̞̘͋͗͠p̴̢̣̙͎͎̹̼̖̭͙̌̀̌̾͆̚r̴̢͕̘̭̯̰̠̦̥̙͉͍͕͋̾͗͐̔̋̓̚͜s̴̙͖͌͗̄͌͂͋̔̂̽͑̅͠ȩ̴̛͓̦̻͔̩̝̇̓͆̅͊͑͒̋̓̑̊̕ŗ̴̢̡̨̩̰̙͙̠̙̝͈̤͑̀͋͐͐͐̀͂̈́̌̈́̆̔̀͗v̷͎̜̲̣͍̠̠͛̊͐̅͆͝e̴̛͙̱͚̟̼̗͂͛̿̌̉͌̈̆̓͌͘͝͠r̷͕̬̺̀̃̀ͅ]
[COMMENCING RAYSHIFT TO DIMENSION- XFHSSKE674DNIOTPUGID]
With a shifting of space Shirou Emiya who for someone who mistakenly reached the root was by beings who was rudely awakened from their sleep.
Whisking away to Unknown Lands.
Not before an ancient voice interjected.
L̶̻͓̗͇̮͉̞̣̠̫͓͊̊̽̓͑̾̇ȩ̸̡̬̯̮̮̜͉͉̱̙̇̏͒̄̾t̴̨̨̡̬̰͎̲͈͇̤͕͙̮́̉͐́͝ ̴̗̫̬̫͇̭͕̾̄̆̅́̐̿͆̏̈́̑́ţ̶̘̪͈͉̗̲̠̰͎͗̈̅͊͐͘h̵̤͖̯̟͇̺̱̩̭͑̅̆̓e̶͇̭̖̫̝̓͐̈́̏ͅ ̵̡̠͉͔̺͔͔̟̠̘͌̄̌͆̓̀̓͝L̶̢̛͓̓̃̈́̔̋̾̎̌͛̄͂̚͘ȉ̵̛̭̝̩̹̙̦͇̥̖̼̥͎̪̞̃́ͅg̷̢̺̦̘͍̝̠̐h̴̢̽̀͐͗͆̽̚͝ṯ̷̡̡̡̛͖̰̝̱̩͗̑̎̀̈́̿́͘͠͠ͅ ̸̢̖̗̻͖̳͒́̃̋͊̔́͒͊̔͜ĩ̶̛̪̻͓̀͂̏͂̉́̐̅͆̈͝͝n̶̨̛̛͕̫̰̜̗̲̗͙̄̍̍̈́̇̏̏̕͝ͅ ̶̨̧̟̩̳̲͈̭̫̘̠͆̃̔͐̔̓̀̕y̴͕͈̺̘̪̺̟̩͊̏̅̃͑̅͐̈́̈̐̇̽̕͠o̷̩͗́u̶͓̥̯͊͊̔̉͆̉́ͅr̶̢̧̢̥̦̜̜̠̠̳̠͔͖̠̊̍̈́̈́̂͠ͅ ̷̡̨̟̠̩̩̲̆̃̃̀̒̊̋̾̒͑̽̚̚H̷̼̠̳̩̬̹̗̘͍̑͊͂̀̐̇̚ͅę̷̙͓̦̤̜͔͈͎͚̭̹̠͖̄̍͆͘a̸̧̤̘̘̘͖̳̩̤̣͎̍̈́́̋̿̌̓̋̚͠r̵̮͖͈̗͇͚̦̗͍̥͇̭̹̓͒́̚t̷̤͌̇̌͒̏͛̈́́͛ ̶̩̰͕͈͉͉̦͓̜͔̲͕͍̔̊̈́̿̃͑̾͝͠G̴͉̯̟̈́͒͒̈̿͆͗͌̓̈̑̇̕̕ͅṷ̵̢̹̞̰͍͇̤̼͌̿́͑̌͂͛̔͆͘i̶̛͕͒̈́̽̾̇̎͗͆̀͐d̶̨̮͎͂͊̔̿̀̒̇̈́̍͑̈ę̵̛̰̖͍̠̗̟̫̠͂̾͂̑͆̓ ̸̢̠̠̙̠̫̻̳̾ͅý̷̛̪́̏̌̈́̈̐̔̈́̆̑̆͝ö̴̭͕̹̻̳͈͖̼́͌ͅu̷̯͖̙͈̝̳̫̫̻̘̽̆̓̒̀̑̀̌̿̂̚ ̶̨̡̭͇͖̘̻͓̘̣̣̕t̶̡̩̙̳̠͖͔̗̯͌̂͛̇̓̎̃͛͌̀͘ǫ̴̨͇͎̣͓̤̃̈́̉̃͆́̾́̚̕͠͝ ̸̛̜̳͕̪͕̼͛̂͒̎̈́̍̔͂̀͆̏y̵̛͌͋̌̑̉̾̈́̃͜ͅo̶͎̟̒ứ̸̡͇͓̙̱̱̲̠̻̼̓̔̈́́̈́̎̎͂̀̕͝͝ŕ̸̺͓̟͂ ̴̧͓̼̯͖͉̗̮͂̉ͅS̸̘̝̠͖̹͔̦͎̜̼̲͊̀a̴̛̤͎͕̰̤̤̞̓̃̈́͋͌͌͝͠l̶̢̡̢̹̮̮̫̙̖͙͇͓̤͔̿͐͌̅̑͐͘v̷̛̹̖̲̣̘͐͌̀́͗̋̀́͋̎a̴̢̖͎̳̮̰̗̮̺̤̗͗͆̔̉̍̕͜t̶̨̧̬̼̪̜̟̯̹̲̥͍̺͈͎̆̇̿̑͛́̋͂͝i̸̟̹͔̠̫̅̍͆̌̋ȯ̴̧̡̧̫̼̮̥͔͈͙͔̱̣̊̽n̷̡̮̳̪̥̟͙͇̣̫͛͐́̀̾́̉̌̓̉̍͌͆̂͘͜ͅ
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