The Truth

... where am I?

You are in front of a computer.


I figured that out for myself. Why am I here? Why does the clock say that it's the twenty-sixth? I couldn't have slept for four days...

You are here because  you brought yourself here. You have not been sleeping for four days. You have been dreaming for far longer.


... it almost occurs to me that I did not ask the obvious. What are you?

I am a mirror into which you are looking. I am what I am; I am what you are.


How deep. What masterful machination of madness has beset me, I wonder? Some trick hidden in the Labyrinth? Something spurned by my killing of the Slender Man?

This is no trick. This is no Labyrinth. The being you call the Slender Man lives still, for whatever value of 'lives' one ascribes to it.


Shut up, you're wrong, whatever you are. Why is it that when I close my eyes, I suddenly find these words crossing my screen? How are you doing this?

And that doesn't matter anyway - I know that it's dead, I killed it with my own two hands. I see it's body burning before me.

That was not the Slender Man, then, obviously. What you called was nothing more then a mirage; enticing and welcoming, and yet so unreal.


Others saw it, too. It could not have been a lie, I know that I did it!

A shared delusion is a delusion still. An opiate to satisfy your tastes.


I notice that you still haven't answered the question. What are you? How are you doing this?

A better question would be this: what are you?


I am A. A purer being you will find nowhere.

Haha... are you so sure? Look in the mirror.


... what have you done to me? No, this must be another of these so-called mirages. That thing in the mirror is not me, that thing in the mirror is not human...

You, yourself, claimed that you were not human. This is true. The 'thing' in the mirror is what you are in your heart. A vile, ill-tempered, uncontrolled, ravaging, heartless, senseless beast, with not one ounce of compassion or altruism. You are a monster, plain and simple.


Shut up. For the last time: what are you?

Is it not obvious? I am you. I am the mirror to which you look in to see yourself. I am the apex of what it means to be human; to deny it would be to deny that I exist. One mustn't hide, not from oneself. And you are hiding from me, aren't you?


I'm not hiding from anyone, never mind some flight of madness like you.

I am not madness, A. I am what I am. I think that you would call me the Fear of Humanity.


I'm done with this. I'm done talking with you.

Victory

The deed is done, my war is won. Their fear and their love for me won the day. I must admit that I've been recovering from the sheer shock of this for quite some time, hence why I have yet not delved into this matter. But it's a small one; I am safe and sound.

It's... almost unbelievable. It was not some god-forged blade that did the deed, but a weapon crafted by mortal hands and later wielded by them. It goes to show that belief does matter, doesn't it? Ahaha...

I'll give a more in-depth update on what occurred tomorrow. For now, I am afraid, I'm going to retire and enjoy a sleep free of nightmares.

Showtime

It's time.

It's happening.

Now, people! This is it; the defining moment of a generation. Watch and witness the end of this world and the birth of a brand new one.

Cleaned Up

My blade is clean; newly sharpened. My gun is primed; disassembled and reassembled. There's no chance of a misfire. My clothes are cleaned, my hair washed. The make-up worn in the past removed; my scars are bare for all to see. My mind is ready, my body prepared. I am focused; I am at the peak of my abilities.

I feel restless energy binding in my muscle; this is the thrill of the hunt, I think. I'm just... ready. Totally ready. I've run through the moment a hundred times in my head; I know how this will go. Soon, my timeframe will converge with that of Cipher; once that has happened, I know that the Game is in the trap. Once that is done, it is only a matter of time before the trap is sprung and the beast caught and captured.

I can only make rough estimates as to how time works here, as ever. It seems that I chose well when I placed Cipher into a different timeframe; my convergence with him is also the time when the convergence with the 'real world' occurs - December twenty-first. Ah, a date filled with nostalgia... hahaha...

Approaching

My apologies, I do believe that I've left some of my thoughts unfinished.

When one exists in the Zone, it becomes apparent that the flow of time between the 'real world' and the Zone is somewhat convulsive. Different exits and entries lead to different points, although each exit/entry progresses through it's own timeflow...

This, in essence, means that you have no idea as to what sort of time you're working with when one goes between the 'real world' and the Zone. At times, days in the Zone has been seconds in reality; in others, seconds in reality have been months in the Zone. It's hard to explain.

Occasionally, I have found a pathway stable enough to put certain measures into plot; take Cipher, for example. I found a pathway that led to a point sufficiently far in my future that I could use it as a method of signalling for the Game's entry into the Zone. Despite this, it appears that his posts from what should be (and appears to be) far into the future have entered the past, which confused me greatly at first. It appears that A Realm of Emptiness is it's own pathway, with it's own instabilities and oddities. This must be one of them.

This is theoretical, though, although it appears to ring true. This also appears to work primarily with my advent to the Zone; I wonder, would the laws I observe in the Zone vanish if I were to cease to observe? Would it return to the pure chaos that I first observed, or would they remain constant?

Curious.

Faraway

You know, I've another story to tell; one of past tales.

Before I claimed the Zone for my own, there was another person within it. A young girl, if you'd believe it; she's connected to other events, but she's still a sign that the Zone could claim people before I entered it. I followed her for a while; she carried a laptop computer around, and occasionally stopped to write things. She did this hundreds of times, each time sending some report off to another place.

I think she inspired me, really; she gave me the idea of the people I could command and control, and gather reactions from via a single blog. But I digress.

I lost her now and again, but I always caught her in the end. Kept following, never allowed myself to be caught. I think the Zone may have caused her vanishings, but I cannot be sure. It was a chaotic place before I exerted my control over it, after all.

After a while, she reached a rooftop; on her blog, she typed that she was finished with life, and that she was going to jump off and end her life. She sent the message, closed the laptop, went up to the ledge. And then she stopped. She backed away.

That coward.

Let us say that I took the choice from her hands. I did what she wanted, but only because that was what she truly wanted.

And that girl, my friends? Why, it's dear Marisa; I've mentioned her before, I fancy. And that was my second motive for going for her; I knew that the "Marisa" I confronted in the 'real world' must have either been a fake of some sort, or that I was going to kill her in the future (but in my past). After confronting her, I reached the second conclusion; a mollycoddled lass, both of them. You can't fake that sort of nature.

And that's story time done for now, fellows.

Step #2

My thanks to the anonymous fellow in the crowd; I was almost worried that you braindead dolts had no intelligence with which to construct a solution, or even to attempt one. Thankfully, at least one among you holds enough brain to work out a very simple riddle. In any case, let us proceed; this is all basic stuff, of course.

I found my Closed Zone merely by the works of the fate, I must admit. It appears to have been a Labyrinth (or Loop) that was created at some point in the past, and then abandoned by it's master; the Greatest Game is fallible, it seems. Left to it's own devices, it merely twists and turns out of control, becoming disorder incarnate. My arrival seemed to herald a change in it's nature, though; it bows to my wishes in what sort of structure it takes, and forming paths through it is not such an issue.

Once the Zone was established to be controllable, I soon set about the second step: overpowering the innate belief that the Greatest Game holds. The Greatest Game is, in itself, sentient; this means that it may well (and almost certainly does) have it's own beliefs. It it does, this would interfere with the Tulpa Effect, resulting in the plan failing, should I simply bring it into the Zone in order to face it, if I was alone. Even my mighty intellect cannot trump it's.

Thus, I brought tools into the Zone, in order that they may grant me strength far exceeding that of the Game's.

Making use of the people accumulated inside the Zone was a simple task. I merely got under their skin, and brought them around to my side, although they know it not. Of them, I will create one who fears me; one who will worship me; one who sees me as God's voice; one who will see me as the bringer of their madness; and the warning beacon, who I shall use to light the way.

And that is the second step; to use the thoughts of humanity in order to overpower the thoughts of the Greatest Game. My thoughts alone would be... insufficient. But with others, in this isolated realm? I have a chance. I can overpower the Game's thoughts, and reduce it unto dust, while elevating myself to the highest point possible.

There are some slight matters of concern. However, for all of my searching, I've not found a single trace of the feral beast they mention. Is this the Game, come early? Of course, "early" is something of a confusing term, given that even the timeflow of the Labyrinth is sometimes questionable. Regardless, I can only hope that it is a nonfactor, or that I discover (and dispose) of this beast.

Betwixt

The city has provided me with my chains once more. Perhaps it would be best to call them "Chains"; they are things, after all. Everyone needs a friend. A powdered melange of my vices, ingested into my body, where it provides me with respite. A holy material, born from my Labyrinth.

Some would say that the Labyrinth's complexity is because it is less of something that I control, and more of what my mind would look like if it were not contained in my head. That the city is less of a construction project and more of a looking-glass. It merely reflects the mind of it's owner.

In this sense, I am going to bring the Game into my own mind, and then I am going to slay it. The Game will be caught between the four walls of my skull and it will meet it's end there, as the hunter catches the bear.

Something's in my head; something's in my memory. Memories of the moon and of towers, of mirrors and hanged men and of Death itself, standing tall. But is this truly a memory of mine, or a memory of future times?

I am free from the Chains; I've returned to lucidity. And time is ticking, my dear fellows; if you want to know what it to transpire, answer my riddle. Four days remain.

Times Long Since Gone

Now, my little children, let me tell you a story; a fascinating glimpse into that which was, as opposed to what will be.

The date was, oh, sometime in November of twenty-ten; don't ask me the exact day, but remember the month. Over a year ago now; the British islands were trapped within the icy grasp of almost-winter, preparing for snowstorms that would descend upon them in the next few months, as had happened the previous year. In November, there was only frost on the cars of the people, every morning.

In the darkness of the evening, a young man scurried throughout the alleyways of London. What part escapes my recollection, but this young man was going home; he'd come back from his first day on the job, see, and he was going home to his new flatmate. He'd moved; from the north of England to it's south, running from something.

But the hunter does not allowed the hunted to escape easily; that is true for the two hunts ongoing on that fine evening. I was both hunter and hunted; hunted by the Game, hunting the game. The Game had two targets in it's sight on that night; I, myself, had only one. I had not yet learned that I could fight the blight, so I ran. My cowardice is lamentable; if only I'd pressed the chance sooner, I could have caused the suffering to cease all the more earlier. The innocent human beings on this planet would have not needed to suffer.

You subhuman trash, of course, deserve exactly what's coming to you.

With the Game figuratively breathing down my neck, I increased my pace; I turned through alleyways to escape, hoping to not be drawn into a twisted city-scape that the Slender Man so-often conjures up to ensnare his prey.

My luck held out in two fashions; I was not caught in one of the Game's infernal torture-engines, and by pure coincidence, stumbled upon my target. Upon seeing me turn to face him, his eyes opened wide, as if he'd soon a ghost. My face broke open into a grin, and I raced forward to meet him again.

"Dear, dear!" I laughed. "You can't run forever, you know? Time's up for you, you know. Hahaha..." I gabbled the words to bolster my own confidence; my knife had come from my belt and was born at his face. And yet he gave no reaction, and only stared at me.

My hairs stood on their ends as I felt the cold, icy wind. He must be there; there was no other alternative. Despite his protests (which have long since been lost to my fickle memory), I grabbed his hair and forced him to look upon that faceless visage.

"You can't hide from it! He's there; he's always been there! You can't hide from the truth," I gloated, happy to see that he couldn't hide from it now. He was going to see the truth.

But when I relaxed the tensions on his head (to look upon the Game myself, of course - the familiar lack of features was there and, even in my state of cowardice, I felt I could face it), he simply turned to me. "Who's there?"

Taunting me. How could that smug bastard taunt me? I must admit, my temper flew off the handle. The knife sliced him into pieces; slit, slit, slit. So many pretty red ribbons; his screams of protest muffled by my hand, his attempts to bite thwarted by rapid blinding. It was almost like painting a work of art; my hands were covered in the paint which I had used to create my masterpiece, and my brush blunted and worthless. A shame, really; it had been a faithful companion to me in the early years.

But it was a tool, just as the canvas upon which my artwork had been painted was. A tool which had outlived it's usefulness, and it was thus discarded.

And that was the end of the Lexiconical. Just like that.

Searching

Ah, my apologies, dear viewers. A handful of events have forced me to greatly advance my plans, such that I must return to the Labyrinth post-haste.

Allow me to put it bluntly: the world is turning, and I must turn with it. A thought occurred to me; something very interesting approaches. I must attend to many matters in preparation for the jubilation that is to come. As such, it is time for the unveiling of the second step in the Plan.

But, of course, there is something to solve. Is there not always something to solve?

And thus, here is my challenge to you; in the next seven days, solve the riddle that lies below.

J wjajs zdv, oc grcgey qv dg,

Iivj yegcrg riiw gd, qv wjajs,

Bhw xynqq kp wkh mtujx qh doo xlex jcnxy,

Yxinr wnjmy pk gd wjajs oo'l exw.

Alex co J?

The clock is ticking. 11/12/11 is the deadline.

Piece of Mind

This city... is truly my own. It's walls provide me with what I need the most.


Why is it that only when I absorb this melange that my mind is filled with the clarity that I need? Why is it that only this thing to which I am bound allows me to look inside? Or, rather, why are my shackles the things that give me freedom?


I can't leave this place forever. I'd... break down. I'd stop.


Even in my realm, there are things that I am not aware of -- elements beyond my control. These must be purged, if I am to ever succeed in my desperation. This is all a game of chance now; time is ticking. This space may exist between the gears of clockwork that drive time, but it cannot stop that He is coming. I can delay; I can put it off. But I have decided on my course and I must reach the goal.


I cannot fail. Failure means that everything I have done will have been for nothing.

Theta

You may note that I previously went to some lengths to explain why tormenting the proxies is a bad idea, as it is not a very productive way to spend one's time, when there are better things to do. But when one is doing nothing of importance in any case, there is always the possibility of an exception being made. And this is just such an occasion.

Before I begin my... ah, interview with dear Theta, allow me to describe the important parts of the room. The room in question is soundproofed, lest we have any interlopers who care to visit. The chair in which Theta was sitting in was adorned with ropes and chains holding him in place; while some may chortle and giggle at this, I take the safety of my property above all else. These people can be so very unpredictable.

Theta had been kept sedated for some time; I must admit, however, that I have little expertise in the field. Unlike some people, a lack of formal education in these fields means that... mistakes are occasional. However, I am pleased to say that I was successful this time. Ish.

Bloodshot eyes stared up at me from the chair; as if we'd been put into a dramatised version of our own lives, Theta had already dissolved into a wretched mess. Five o'clock shadow had already sprouted on his chin, which made them seem as if they'd aged by at least six years. As I looked into those reddening eyes, a thin river of dribble escaped from their mouth, and dripped past their chin.

Well, maybe I'd gotten the dosage a little wrong. By quite a bit. But if you think of it from a "proper" perspective, their brains are likely extraordinarily addled as it is; I don't think that I could have made things worse. Merely changed the ways in which it was bad. Whatever.

In any case, I sat down in a chair, myself; I set the hammer down on the table, placing it very visibly in their eyesight; they could see the thing at stake here. I smiled, and spoke: "so, you're Collector Theta?"

"Mmmrm..." Still groggy. Hopefully groggy. "Yes."

"Now, Theta, do you feel like having a chat?" I gently tapped the handle's hammer as I said this, as if my intent was not obvious enough at the first attempt.

"N-n..." their eyes drunkenly wandered over to the hammer; black handle. A hammerhead that had just the slightest hint of red on it. They widened, much to my amusement. "Yes." They tried to straighten up a little, bless them.

"Now, who are you? I expect total honesty, remember," I laughed. Of course, the syringes (which were now quietly assembled in an unassuming cardboard box in the corner) contained more then just sedatives... which may have been something of a problem, but whatever. A few little things to loosen up the inhibitions, you know.

"I'm... Theta. Collector Theta. I work for the Archive," he said; his eyes still fixed up my little instrument, as a dog watches the hand of it's master as it is raised over it.

"And what's the Archive?" I have some inkling as to what the Archive is, myself, of course. It pays to be aware.

"It's how we pay honour to the Grandfather," he said, proudly. He said some other things at this point, most of which were of such amazing drollness that I won't publish them here. For a small group of nutters, they do have great airs of aspiration. Although Grandfather is a name for the Greatest Game that I've not heard before, and is quite fitting; the beast is past it's prime, after all.

"And why were you following me, hmmm?"

Here, Theta hesitated; my eyes narrowed, and I gripped my instrument. Still nothing; perhaps he thought he was clever for calling my bluff. I hadn't intended to use it, really. But my hand was forced, really -- if I'd put it down, he'd have known it was no threat. I wouldn't get anything important out of him. So I used it; for our own goods, you know?

The howl of pain as the knuckle shattered was quite the sound to hear. Once he calmed down a little, Theta told me (in between sobs) why he did what he did; he followed me because I was thought to be an "unexplained phenomenon", or something like that.

And to be frank, I don't think much else of importance came up in our little meeting. His tearful realisation that his superiors were going to kill him for what he'd told me was amusing in it's own little way, but it wasn't anything that I can be bothered to recall. I, in my infinite mercy, put him out of his misery permanently; he'd have been begging for it, anyway.

Not that he matters. I have some bigger problems to deal with at the moment, frankly. I'm mainly posting this because I didn't want to leave y'all hanging, y'know? I'm tired of writing already, if only because I'll be back on the prowl again very shortly.

Keep your eyes peeled.

Coincidences

Now, I stated in a previous post that there was some reasons for returning that I did not immediately state. This post is about one of them. It all begins in a pub.

After some time spent out of the country (for I do not like staying on this wet island forever; indeed, I am going to be leaving it once again very shortly), I returned to... shall we say, look into some proxy-related matters. In doing so, I happened to require the use of a pub, so that I may relieve my inner stresses and gather a little information; I knew the name of who I was looking for, and where she lived. Someone in the pub would be able to help me, no doubt.

Upon ordering a (non-alcoholic; drinking while working is a bad idea) drink, someone tapped my shoulder. My first thought was to run a mental checklist of which of my enemies this was most likely to be; upon deciding it was probably going to be someone I wasn't expecting, I turned around to find my suspicions confirmed. A complete stranger, who looked at the man serving my drink, before putting the money for it on the counter.

Speaking as someone who is far richer in non-material wealth then they are in material wealth, I saw no reason to stop this happening.

After sitting down with this person at a table, I heard a sudden cheer from the bar's fellow patrons, as someone or another scored a try in the rugby match. While I did this, the person leaned across the table towards me.

"You're A. Right?"

Beat. I can honestly say that I had not been expecting that. I said nothing, but I cannot deny that the glimmer in their eye told me that my face said everything.

"Hi, sorry. My name is Fin, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've wanted to talk with someone about Core Theory, and who better then someone who was around for it's inception?" A voice bright with fervor and enthusiasm, it seemed. I must admit that I did not remember much, but their depth and breadth of knowledge on the subject soon kindled my own interests once more. They shared with me their "Neo-Core Theory", which does not differ too much from the original. Once I had this knowledge, Fin and I parted ways once more. Lost in thought, my business in tormenting the proxy who had tried to follow me as I went across the eastern coast of America was almost second nature; I hunted through the wood and the trees. A sudden realisation occurred in one of them; I found myself burning with passion anew. I found myself desring a... return, shall we say.

And so, I chose the companion of the proxy of whom I was following as a method of making myself heard. Unfortunately for me, I had to return to the United States shortly afterwards, for that was where the proxy went, in pursuit of some other hapless Runner. I did them the favour of dispatching their stalker by my own hands, although I doubt they ever knew I was there.

And that was the catalyst for my return. A flash of inspiration brought upon by that chance meeting, I quickly set myself in the motion of utilising the tools I had to hand in order to bring about what I have searched for. There were, of course, other reasons; but the tipping point was brought about in this manner.

Oh, and while I'm here: the primary reason for my absence was this. While leaving some gifts, I returned from my Zone, and soon found the trail of my follower, who was trailing my trail, if that makes sense. This time, they were... not quite up to the mark in evading me, shall we say. To sum up the results of their lack of preparation, someone who their pager identifies as "Collector Theta" is now tied up in this very household. I think that he and I will have to have a nice little chat about just why he's been following me.

Well, me and the hammer. I wouldn't want to have a nice little chat without the hammer.

Zero Hour

The first riots
are raging as I write, and who
out there could have predicted
this sudden countdown to zero hour,
all the paraphernalia of our comfort
stamped obsolete, our memories
fighting to keep us sane and upright?

Step #1

Congratulations on solving my riddle, morons; it took you far longer then it should have, of course, but that can't be helped. Your intelligences are so very meagre; I am scarcely sure that the Neanderthals have truly gone extinct, for you all do a remarkably good show in imitating their extraordinary lack of intelligence in wondrous detail.

Nevertheless, homo sapiens such as myself shall show you cave-dwellers the way. For as a reward for completing the puzzle, you shall receive this grace of a gift from my wondrous self, as shall the Paragon.

The first step in my plan to hunt the Greatest Game is to find a Closed Zone.

You may wonder at what a Closed Zone is; to do this, you must know what the Tulpa Theory is. The Tulpa Theory (or the Tulpa Effect, or whatever it is called in the current "scene") dictates that one's beliefs shape "Tulpas", or beings born from imagination. One branch of the theory dictates that the Greatest Game originated from it. But I do not care for the specifics in this case.

Core Theory is related to the Closed Zone; Core Theory was a theory that dictated that if the Greatest Game came from the Tulpa Theory, the Tulpa Theory could thus create a weapon which could triumph over it. Born from the womb of a man as mad as he was bad, the Theory then extended that by framing Core Theory as a story, you could capture the hearts of the fellow people; you could induce a narrative in reality.

But, quite frankly, that is almost as stupid as you people; in this sense, Robert Sagel was ahead of his time. There is a reason why I mentioned Core Theory herein, which is related to another of my reasons for returning, which I shall not tell until another time, mhm~

Now, a Closed Zone is a place where the beliefs from beings outside the Zone have no effect on the beings within it. Now, let us be blunt; there may have been no such place, ever~! No place on the planet Earth, for example, works as a Closed Zone; Earth is connected to Earth, after all, is it not~?

It should be noted that I theorise that the Greatest Game's "Labyrinths" are a type of Closed Zone, but one in which He is champion; as it's ruler, he permeates all parts of it with his power, and thus forces those within the Labyrinth to give into their fear and empower him.

If one does not have a Closed Zone, then it is obvious that the Core Theory will fail, as it did, for reasons I shall divulge later. All that matters is that I believe that I have found a Closed Zone, or at least something sufficiently close to it; one which the Greatest Game does not control, but seems to be masterless. And therein lies the way to victory; no preconceived notions of the Greatest Game can be found in a Closed Zone~! It has not the great aura of power that it has developed in "our world", using whatever arcane tricks it has used to bolster it's power above what it "should" be, according to the Tulpa Theory.

I will also note that the first Stage is why I believe that my plan has a single shot at success; the Greatest Game will not fall for the same trick twice, if it survives. Another plan will have to be devised to attempt to assassinate the monstrosity; I have nothing in mind for it, however. I have no doubt that this will work.

That is merely the first step. The second step will be more useful to those looking at the method of the hunting.

Speaking of hunting, here is something interesting: I am being followed again. I say "again", purely because it has happened before, and likely by the very same person. They have clearly been trained to follow, but they have also clearly never been trained to follow me; they are an amateur, at best. I would like to fancy this as a game of a cat and a mouse, with the mouse thinking that it can follow the cat.

I think there's any number of snappy cat-related one-liners I can use in this situation, so do use your imaginations. While you're at it, perhaps this will be better suited to your tastes. The aim of the game is for that answer to be entered into the safe; thus, if Paragon does not have the answer, then the game is lost. I will give you... three days. That sounds right.

Symptoms

You know, I ceased to be a factor in the "blogosphere" because people were being stupid.

And yet it seems that in my absence, you have only grown moreso; how truly remarkable. When I think that you could not have possibly descended to depths which I had not seen yet, lo! What was I to behold but to find that not only had you reached rock bottom, but had brought out the power tools so that you could continue down into the dark depths of the very core of stupidity.

I think that we can all agree that the events we are confronted with are nothing if not surreal and supernatural. You could even say that they were unreasonable and illogical. But this does not mean that you cannot use your head; it does not mean that you must reject reason and logic. They are not so brittle systems that they can be easily dismantled by the presence of just one thing which "defies physics"; no, it defies physics as we know it.

But much like the lightspeed-exceeding neutrino, we must use our heads and change what we have to incorporate this "illogical" thing. If the neutrino is truly as ground-breaking as it appears to be, then physics as we know it will change. Physics does not destroy itself; nobody will abandon it.

We must do the same thing. We must simply take the logic we held before, change it to accept the Slender Man, and continue to use it.

It is on a related note that I will admit that I fancy that It is not really deserving of that name; it's a descriptive name, but it's a name that you idiots associate with fear and terror. Allow me to give it a name which you can find a little easier to stomach: the Greatest Game. Humans are the most dangerous game, but this thing is far more interesting to hunt.

But I dawdle from the point.

Accept that the Greatest Game exists, and that we are it's victims. Accept that there are other victims, and that there are servants of the Greatest Game. Now, think at what the best way to stop the suffering of the other victims is.

If you think that the best approach is solely to target the servants, you are stupid. The servants are only there because of It. Or, should I say, only It makes them a threat, because It gives them a focal point to focus themselves. If you were to remove It, the other cards in the precariously designed house would collapse. Or perhaps it wouldn't, but it would stop the ranks being increased, and their numbers would then rapidly dwindle.

But that's just what you're doing. Perhaps I have not looked hard enough, but you all seem to be... trying to do "heroic" things for the sake of heroics. You look into the devices It has created, you look into the traps; you downright charge into them, solely so you can brag about it later. If there was some rhyme or reason to this, it has escaped me.

To me, it looks like... you've lost sight of what matters. It matters. The Greatest Game; the ultimate enemy, to those who dub themselves "fighters". But they fight the servants instead of the master, and that is why they - or should I say "you" - are doomed to failure. You slice the head from the hydra, only to find two more in it's place; you do not hope to strike at the hydra's heart, so that you may defeat the beast.

You've all lost your way, and cannot find the path. Now, I have a simple request: follow me, and I shall show it to you. Soon, I shall outline the stages through which I shall slay this beast and bring us glory.

But, ahhh, first? I have a simple request. Solve my puzzle.

And before you ask? That blog is going to be the window through which you see the hunting of the Greatest Game.

Return

Well, well, well.

I have been gone for... oh, far over a year now. And how lovely it is to be back! After my departure from your midst, upon my realisation of how truly incompetent you all were, I assumed that a year would be plenty enough time for the weakest to have met their end by it's... hands? Haha...

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Stupid. Not one single thing has changed, if you think of things like that. Everyone's still the same; maddeningly incompetent, drearily dull. What little brilliance there was back then has long since faded, leaving only the enemy and the idiots; I'm unsure of which annoys me more.

It is a sad state of affairs, really; after being given the golden opportunity to set yourselves free from the story which the monster has spun, you denied that the story existed and brought the so-called Core Theory crashing to it's knees; it deserved no better, seeing as it was piloted by one of you "Runners". Or "Fighters"; whatever you call yourselves nowadays.

And yet despite turning away from this chance, you have fallen into disarray; chaos now rules you. Nobody has made progress; everyone is dying, which is what they deserve, frankly. Such stains on humanity are nothing but eyesores; eyesores can be useful tools, but these are tools which refuse to be used for any purpose greater then the small-minded goals they set for themselves. Simple goals, designed to satisfy their small minds; something to justify the fact that they know they have no hope. No chance. They know that they will meet their end by their uniting enemy.

I? I've been gone a year, and I have made progress. In fact, that's why I returned.

So! I once wrote a blog. I grew tired out of it, and threw it away like the junk that it was. But now, I'm back, because I have something to say to you all. Something rather important, I think; simply put, I am going to ruin all of your little games. The simple games to satisfy simple minds. They're coming to an end very shortly, my friends. Why, you ask? Is it not simple?

My name is A. I am going to kill the Slender Man.