Iterum: A Finis Work

Well, I'm glad that you're enjoying them.

Have you heard of a literary idea called "Chekov's gun"?

very nice i like reading

Yay! So I'm guessing the goose escapes or does somehing?

This story is so good but unjointed.

I just had an idea

"Unjointed"? I'm not sure I know what that means. Could you elaborate?

Do tell. 

It is just a funny idea, what if we took what you have written so far and put it into an AI Story maker and see how it writes the next few chapters.

Sure, that sounds like fun. 

Chapter 5: The Emperor’s Entrance

A bruised, battered, and broken Music Man dragged his way into the throne room of the Emperor. 

Well, to call it a “room”, wouldn’t exactly be accurate, per se. It was essentially a void. The void. A universe had once been here, swept away by neglect and whatever else that took it away. All that was left was endless nothingness. 

Sometimes, though, it didn’t feel like nothingness. Sometimes, it felt as though there was a wind. Other times, it was a magnetic pull. Perhaps it was some form of gravity. For an infinite void of nothing, there sure did seem to be a lot of things going on in it. 

The only reason why every single person present hadn’t already gotten sucked in and died was thanks to the unobtanium platforms scattered about. Suspended in the nothingness, they floated eerily, moving up and down slightly. 

A large number of portals to different universes were scattered across the platforms this way and that, one person or another always walking through them quickly. If one squinted very hard, far off in the void were more platforms - the working space of the bureaucracy that kept the Empire running. 

Music Man stumbled his way through, and this time, people did stop to look at him. It wasn’t every day that a person as powerful as he showed up so injured. 

And of course, the throne itself. One could not call it a throne room without it having a throne. At the end of the unobtanium hallway was an actual room. Cloaked in dark banners flying the symbol of the Empire, lit with torches filled with souls. 

The throne was made of unobtanium. How on earth the stuff had been cut to form the shape of a chair, no one had known. And it was perfect, too. Almost as though a machine had done it. 

Upon the chair sat the man in question. The unquestioned supreme commander and potentate of worlds. 

The Emperor. 

“Music Man.” 

The Emperor’s words did not exert a physical force. They didn’t need to. They were a physical force all of their own. 

Music Man knelt. “My Emperor.” 

The Emperor rose from his chair. Surprisingly, he wasn’t all that much taller than Music Man. 

With careful, measured steps, he walked over to Music Man, very nearly picked him up with a single hand, and offered a bagel. 

Music Man accepted it, wolfing it down and enjoying the terrific feeling of his wounds and injuries being fixed. It had been a painful few hours since he and the King had fought. 

“There’s no need to give me any sort of explanation.” The Emperor spoke with a careful, measured expression, seeming intent on getting his message into Music Man’s brain. “The prophecy has come true. You attempted to subdue the alien, only to be defeated. I commend you for your service.” 

“Thank you, my Emperor.” 

“Now. Could you be so kind as to describe who they were and what they did?” 

OOO

The Emperor kept his inner circle very, very tight. It was a requirement in order to consolidate one’s hold on power, and Joseph Stalin was a man who could respect that. 

Him, King Ryan, the Jester, and the Prince of the Ladder all engaged in a very delicate balance, vying for second-in-command. For the past 6000 years or so, Stalin had managed to barely shift things in his favor. It took an incredible amount of political shenanigans and careful killings, but the balance of power swung towards him for the past six millenia. He could proudly call himself the Emperor’s right-hand man. He was #2 in all of reality. 

But, of course, his foes were no fools. They were as educated as he was in classical diplomatic strategy. When there’s one enemy more powerful than the rest, everyone has to put aside their differences to bring them down. 

There was no way this could go on. He’d be lucky to keep his spot for another few centuries, let alone a full millennium. 

And that was what Stalin mused about, as he made his way to the King’s throne room. 

Technically, there was a time once when the four of them united. When there was one more powerful than all the rest, everyone has to put aside their differences to bring them down. And who was more powerful than the Emperor? 

That did not work out well. 

OOO

“Mr. Stalin. My right-hand man.” Technically, Stalin was taller than the Emperor, but he still felt tiny when standing next to him. Like a bug, about to be squashed. 

“I have a job for you.” 

“Of course, my Emperor. What would you have me do?” 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the prophecy. It’s come true.” 

Stalin very nearly choked. “Y… you don’t mean…” 

“I do mean.” The Principal turned away, marching back to his throne. 

“You will find the alien and dispatch him swiftly. Use whatever means necessary. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, my Emperor. Of course, my Emperor. Right away, right away.” 

emperor sans has arrived

It's not Sans

FINIS

it's 100% sans

there are no other possibilities

No, it's not Finis either. It's just the Emperor. 

it's sans

you can't trick me

“Mr. Stalin. My right-hand man.” Technically, Stalin was taller than the Emperor, but he still felt tiny when standing next to him. Like a bug, about to be squashed. 

“I have a job for you.” 

“Of course, my Emperor. What would you have me do?” 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the prophecy. It’s come true.” 

Stalin very nearly choked. “Y… you don’t mean…” 

“I do mean.” The Principal turned away, marching back to his throne. 

“You will find the alien and dispatch him swiftly. Use whatever means necessary. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, my Emperor. Of course, my Emperor. Right away, right away.” 

This is intentional, right?

I'm not tricking you. It's really not Sans.