Kor’Thank: Chapter 63

As Kora and her warriors charged into battle, Peter was assaulted by an imaginal storm.  Thanks to the Fuckrising, his psyche was protected from the aetheric rip currents.

[Peter!]  Eun projected from the Bite Mobile. [Are you okay???]

He looked back and squinted at the craft.  He no longer enjoyed the reality-cohering properties of its dyadic forcefield, so it didn’t look solid, it appeared vague and hazy.  It flickered and blinked as it blasted away, arrowing through a mess of chimerical planes.

[Eun!] he screamed.  [Can you hear me?  EUN!]  The Bite Mobile was becoming less visible by the second; now its contours were morphing and blurring.

[G s ve t e w  ld!] she shouted.

[WHAT?]  He cast a quick glance forward, pushing his thought-form to keep up with Dissona.  His gut dropped as he saw her carapace start to unfold, unleashing black tendrils of cancerous fog.  He looked back at Eun.  [I can’t hear you!  What did you—]

Her voice came through loud and clear this time:  [SAVE THE WORLD, PETER!] 

The Bite Mobile sank into a sparking whirlpool, then disappeared altogether.

 

 

Oh shit oh fuck oh holy fucking mamajama. 

Due to the Fuckrising, Peter’s aura now looked like a holographic version of the anime robo-suits he loved so much.  He felt his breath catch in his throat (it wasn’t real, only a simulation—his body and psyche had been stripped down to their vibrational essence and mingled together), and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the countless dimensions blitzed his mind.  Thankfully, his psychedelically enhanced aura did its job:  it protected him from the unchecked blast of the interplanar ecosystem.

Okay, Peter.  He opened his eyes and took a “breath.”  Concentrate.

Dissona halted and began bursting apart, cracking into a mess of black, pustulent jags.  Peter knew that what he was seeing was being filtered through his auric armor; if he were to perceive what was truly happening, it would drive him batshit crazy.

Fuck.  His nose and ears started bleeding.  Don’t know how much more I can take.  Don’t know how much—

And then she started spreading, infecting the energetic expanse with not just darkness, but her God-cursed namesake:  utter dissonance.

Peter’s armor began dissolving.

No, he thought desperately.

It was too late; Dissona was about to complete her ascension.  Everything he’d done had been for nothing.  He thought through his options, and realized they were all but gone.

All save one.

Like all the heroes that had come before (and would come after), he muttered the most powerful phrase in all of existence.  A two-word poem that held the secrets to the universe and the key to bliss, an eternal mnemonic that accepted everything, denied nothing:

Fuck it.

Peter fired up the thrusters on his psychogenic armor.

And plunged into the heart of Dissona’s being.

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