If I'm Viktor during the last fight, I'm tweaking. Long post below. Beware Spoilers.
Like. Imagine. Your entire goal, your whole life's work has been to find a way to end suffering and pain and war and disease for everyone, and you've finally done it. You have returned magic to a world that had forgotten it, you have assimilated your whole nation, presumably the whole of your world into a perfect astral plane of endless dreaming stars. The last piece was your gay lover and you've assimilated him too. He sees your cool godbeing OC and realizes he couldn't stop you, so you go to continue your monologue and-
You are magic itself, a universal singularity unending across time and space, all beings in this world and every world where you exist are part of an interconnected web of dreaming souls shining like stars, you are either God or you're so close to being God that the difference means nothing.
But what the fuck was that? Something you have never seen and cannot comprehend, so anomalously fast that it appears as a stray meteor in your perfect astral plane.
You're so focused on figuring out what that was that your hivemind starts acting independently, also confused about whatever that shit was.
If I'm Viktor, I'm fucking tweaking at this point.
Your hivemind figure out its a guy. A guy that your tendrils missed. That you missed. You figure out the reason why, or at least you think you do. Its because this motherfucker has strapped a jet engine to his goddamn skateboard and is so motherfucking sick with it that he outran God.
And not only that, he's coming straight for you with something that can absolutely knock your head off. Your hivemind acts independently to stop him. Firstly, How. Secondly. They All Got Bonked.
Okay, that's fine. His trajectory is easy to calculate, and you hit him with the meanest stiffarm the universe will ever fucking know. His blood is spilled, you're pretty sure you knocked the taste out of his mouth, he's gonna hit the ground any second. But before you get back to your gay lover's quarrel, you get the download on this man.
You've never seen this person in your life. This Kid. He grew up like you did. Same place, same inventive mind. Even met the same talking rabbit. He knew the terrorist savior of your nation before you were the terrorist savior of your nation. Neat. You just assimilated her- Why Does She Look Different In His Memories?
Wait. Why does Who look dofferent? Who's memories? The guy you're *positive* you just brain downloaded this kid. But you never touched him. Huh? You're Tweaking.
He's zooming past you, he's gonna come back around. What do you do? People Ladder. You Get Him- Huh? Get Who? Why did you make a People Ladder? You're God.
Okay this time you'll get him. You tackle him, you feel him- Huh? Why did you just throw somebody into the air at nothing? You Are God And You Are Tweaking.
Doesn't matter. He's on the ground. When did he get there? Who cares. Time to raise him to the skies like the Lion King. You don't know if that's racist to say but it doesn't matter there's no race in the hivemind.
You raise him. He grabs something
You raise him. Again? No. What is that thing he 's grabbing?
You raise him. You feel like you did this already but no. That's not possible. Okay what the hell is he fucking with on his hip he shouldn't be able to move-
Who? Whats Who Fucking With? What? Why Is There Not A People Ladder? Why Are You Raising Nothing?
You're pissed at this point. You know you're being fucked with. You Are God and you are Being Fucked With. You turn your head at that weird ass meteor. There's a guy in front of you. The guy you just missed with your stiff arm. But his blood is still on the ground like you hit him. Okay, whatever, time for the People Lad- Is That A Hexcore?
Boom. This random motherfucker who, for what feels like the seventh time, you realize you've never seen before, has thrown a perfected hexcore in your face. But. That's Not Possible. You Are God. You Are a Magic Singularity Incarnate. And This Random Motherfucker threw a better version of your magnum opus at your face and broke your godhood with it.
You don't know what to do anymore. You throw your hands up. You're putting the pieces together. This kid is fucking with time. He is fucking with reality itself. He went to another universe with your talking rabbit teacher and met a version of the terrorist savior of your nation before you who wasn't the savior at all. The three of them invented a better version of your life's work in the span of maybe a week plus or minus ad breaks. He became God, too. And he came back to Kick Your Ass about it.
You understand it now. You see it all. Your gay lover brain blasts you with your future self saying "yeah that was a bad idea in every single timeline." You fuck off into oblivion with him. And You Still Don't Know Who That One Motherfucker Was.
Even in oblivion you're tweaking.
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