I am a Peerless Hero without equal! (WC/Currently in FGO Part 1)

The meeting ended in disaster.

Just as Ion said, the Church of the Broken God suffered the heresy of disassembly as the three parts splintered. Robert Bumaro tried his best to keep the Maxwellists and Cogswork Orthodoxy together but it seems the hatred between the three groups was too great.

Long buried divisions that were buried even deeper by the corrupted sun suddenly erupted up to the surface by Trunnion's death. Hedwig was at the throat of the Cogwork Orthodoxy even as Robert tried his hardest to calm everyone down.

However, this only seemed to spill oil onto the flames when the remnants of the Cogwork Orthodoxy accused Robert of doing nothing as Trunnion died attacking Ion.

As Bright left, he remarked how this would likely lead to a civil war inside the Church of the Broken God.

While the plane was taking off, I couldn't help but think of how terribly ironic it all was. When we're supposed to band together in the face of adversity, we're right now more divided than ever.

My face was full of bitterness. With the Church in chaos, it was very unlikely they could be of any help in defeating Ion.

No, they're busy slaughtering each other while the real threat up in the sky watches.

The return trip back to Site-19 wasn't met with any interruptions. We took a different path back and instead flew over the Mediterranean and entered into the Atlantic via the Strait of Gibraltar.

There weren't any more of those kinetohazard conjuring sun abominations anymore at the very least.

It was only when I searched my pocket space for the same book as before to read that I realized it was gone. I had lost it during my first crash into the Sahara to pulverize that herd of sun-corrupted things casting kinetohazards with their many hands.

God damn it.

So I was forced to content myself by staring at the stars above me as we flew over the Atlantic. The night wasn't as dark as before as everything was dipped in a coat of red from the glowing Moon hanging high in the sky.

I looked at the Moon. There was now a patch of exposed mantle on one end of the Moon as lava was still filling up the other end where my plasma wave clipped the celestial body, gouging out a noticeable chunk of it.

I think in like a week or so the lava should fill up that hole I gouged out. Well, the lava could settle and cool before then but eventually, be it thousands or millions of years later, that hole will be filled up as a sphere is the most stable shape for a celestial body.

I thought about Ion, and what he said. I replayed the fight inside my mind again and again, trying to decipher everything about how he fought. I tried to look for weaknesses. I tried to look for any inefficiencies I could find.

None.

I came to the conclusion he was playing with me. Like a bull charging at a red cloth, the fight was entirely under Ion's control the whole time.

I really was fighting against a projection of the real Ion who sat on a throne he fashioned out of the sun.

How narcissistic. The sun held a special place across every culture across the planet. It is often venerated, I mean Quetzalcoatl was one of the five Aztec Suns. So to use the sun as a throne, Ion's practically declaring himself the ruler of humanity.

Well, he might as well be. Over seven billion people have been turned into these things.

I tried to think of something else, but all my lines of thought inevitably fall towards that one topic of Ion. Every other line of thought appeared almost boring.

Ion. How does one defeat him? He's right, the Founder of Sarkicism has won. He has won.

I tried all I could to distract myself. I decided to play around and do all kinds of crazy stunts all in an attempt to think of something else. Sometimes, I would deliberately slow down before speeding up and catching up with the plane. Other times I would use We Are The Winged Serpent and gain lordship over Tohil and Quetzalcoalt's Authority over the fire and wind respectively. I would play around with them, conjuring up statues of burning fire molded by wind.

I would try to use them as Lego pieces and build something as large as possible before the time limits of We Are The Winged Serpent is up and I'm forced to drop those Authorities.

I created burning models of Bright's modified 777. I molded loose flames into impractical swords and spears. I forged replicas of military machines like jet fighters and tanks.

Then I would have them fight against each other.

I was desperate to think of anything else.

I was really really desperate.

Mercifully, the North American continent came into view and I knew we were only less than an hour away from Michigan.

Never once have I ever been happier seeing a landmass.

The airplane descended into the runway. Once it had fully stopped, Bright and his entourage of two Red Right Hand agents walked down the stairs. The O5 didn't say much as he stood on top of the elevator that lowered him, the two agents, and me to the underground areas.

"I need to report what's happened. You're dismissed for the rest of the day. Take some rest, Goddess Kukulkan." Bright said.

"Alright," I replied in a subdued voice.

The moment we entered the large hangar underneath the airstrip I took off. Flying across this place, I reached an elevator and tapped my key card on the reader next to the doors.

"Goddess Kukulkan. Access granted."

I had to wait a few seconds before the door parted ways and allowed me in. Stepping inside, I picked the cafeteria floor and the elevator closed.

There was a bit of a jerking motion as the elevator descended even further.

"Cafeteria level reached."

The door parted ways and I found myself basking in attention as hundreds of Foundation agents who must be early risers stared at me. Some had plates full of breakfast while others stopped eating to stare at me.

The sounds of silverware touching plates stopped. The entirety of the cafeteria was now silent.

Even when I became a member of them, it seemed I would never truly be accepted. No, that makes sense. I am someone above them. To them, I am an anomaly walking free, an intentionally uncontained anomaly.

I opted to move back to my room before those nihilistic thoughts could further consume me. On second thought, probably no one I rescued is awake at this ungodly hour of 4 in the morning.

As I walked into the hallway containing the door to my room, I found a group of people kneeling in front of it.

What the hell?

"Prophet Kukulkan!"

A familiar voice called out to me. Bethany. It was Bethany.

The middle-aged woman hurried to me, her hands clasping together in front of her holding a cross.

"Goddess Kukulkan, praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! Our Prophet has returned to us! Praise the Lord!"

"Praise the Lord!"

"Praise the Lord!"

Bethany's entourage all mimicked her words like they were robots following a preset instruction.

"Prophet! Prophet! I have tried to spread your words and the glory of God, but it seems we reside in a den of heathens as no one has joined."

Bethany's tried to convert people?

I really don't want to deal with this right now.

I rubbed my forehead, which Bethany must've taken as a sign of my displeasure as she suddenly got on her knees and begged for my forgiveness, "Please, Prophet Kukulkan! Please forgive me! I promise I will get at least one convert by the end of the week!"

They hang onto my every word. They think my every gesture must have a meaning, hidden or otherwise.

I'm too damn tired for this shit.

In a stern tone, I clarified, "Alright. No. Listen, Bethany, you can try to convert people if you want, but only if the people join of their own volition. Do not force people to join, am I understood?"

"Yes Prophet Kukulkan. I see this as a new challenge God must've given me to test my belief. I will ensure anyone who joins us will be by their own will!"

Bethany and her entourage bowed before running off to presumably do exactly that.

I sighed. I'm not sure whether to crush that cult or to continue ignoring it. Human faith is a fickle thing, and unless handled properly can lead to horrifying consequences.

Just look at the atrocities the Crusades have done. Jerusalem was sacked. The city the Crusades were meant to reclaim was sacked. Human histories are full of such irony.

As I neared the door to my room, I found empty bottles and wrappings placed inside a plastic bag.

Jeez, just how long have they waited outside my door?

I used my foot to nudge the trash aside before tapping my key card on the reader.

*Beep*

The door to my room slid open, entering into the doorframe.

This is the first time I've ever been inside the room assigned to me.

It was certainly spacious. I mean hell it's practically a top-tier hotel room with a Queen-size bed, a closet, a section for a bathroom, and a TV of all things.

I became curious. So as I collapsed on the— goodness, that's soft— bed, I clicked on the remote.

"Huh."

That was my only thought when I saw that the SCP Foundation has its own News channel. Or rather, Site-19 has its own private news channel.

Right there, on the TV was the replay of a news anchor telling everyone of what's occurred in the past 24 hours. Given how there's a 'Level-3' on the bottom right corner of the screen, I figure there must be a specific channel tailored to each security rank.

"—Carter, and Dark Ltd alongside most other Groups of Interests have been deemed as a 'non-threat' following the start of SCP-9401 'Daybreak'. The Global Occult Coalition—"

I switched the TV off. All the news's talking about now is the full extent of Ion's victory. The GOC's probably been mostly destroyed or something.

Staring up at the ceiling, I made myself fully comfortable on the soft bed. My lips thinned into a straight line, I couldn't find it in myself to move or do much of anything.

My arms slowly reached outward and grabbed the edge of this blanket before I rolled myself into something that resembled sushi. I felt really comfortable like this, as though I was protected from the scary outside world.

Just how am I supposed to win? If what those people at the Church are saying is correct, then that means SCP-2399, the machine that's in Jupiter's Great Red Spot, isn't ready yet since it's still being repaired.

A piece of Mekhane, that spaceship is. Uriel called it a 'jewel of progress' while the Church of the Broken God called it Mekhane's head.

"..."

Simply, it's not ready. Maybe when it's been fully repaired then that head of Mekhane can serve as the tip of the spear that would strike into Ion, but the fact of the matter is that it's not ready. It's still broken. It's still a malfunctioning destroyer.

I knew for a fact that if I looked at a mirror right now, my eyes would look almost foreign to me like they belonged to someone else. The sheer despair and nihilism inside them would've choked out all the light of hope.

… I can't see the light. There is no hope of victory.

As I wallowed there in my defeat, hours must've passed by as my door suddenly opened.

"My Polkovodets! I knew you would be in your room since you're nowhere else!"

An annoyingly loud voice declared.

I didn't want to deal with SCP-239's antics right now. I'm feeling so down that I want to continue like this, being placed inside my own world where I don't have to really care about others.

I want to be selfish.

"Hey…" I said as I escaped from being wrapped around by the blanket.

I don't have the luxury of being selfish.

"My Polkovodet, are you alright? Should you not be glad to see the Zvezdnyy Rebenok?"

I must've looked really tired. So I did a simple stretch to try and get my engines revving.

"Sorry. It's just I had a really shi— bad day."

My fingers started scratching my scalp, brushing through the smooth hair.

SCP-239 approached me, "Well, being an adult, I couldn't possibly understand what you're going through, but on days that are sad for me, I would often go for a hot chocolate before having the nicer adults read me stories."

There, in her hands, suddenly appeared a steaming hot cup of hot chocolate.

"Here."

I grabbed it. I couldn't feel the warmth of the hot chocolate. Of course, I couldn't, Kukulkan you dumbass. I cursed myself, the minimum temperature required to make me feel even a tad bit warm would be the ones required to boil steel.

So I had no problem gulping down the hot chocolate since I didn't need to wait for it to cool.

Damn, that's a real superpower if I've ever seen one.

I could feel the liquid settle inside my stomach. I turned to face 239 and I found the girl gapping.

"Oh my god! Were you not burnt by the hot chocolate, my Polkovodets?!"

She was just like a kid, very surprised by how their older siblings were able to open a sealed jar when they themselves couldn't.

I cracked a smile. "No."

That's adorable. SCP-239's care for me is cute.

I placed a hand on SCP-239's luxurious hair and began to rub. The girl also seemed to like my touch as she leaned into it until she was right up against my body.

"Alright come on."

With my back lying against the head of the bed, SCP-239 used me as a cushion as she laid on top of me first. Her head used my breast as a pillow as I continuously brushed her head with my hair.

My chest gently rose and fell in accordance with my breathing. So too did SCP-239 rise and fall with the rhythm of my chest.

We stayed like that for who knows how long before I finally spoke, "Hey… so…"

I hesitated. It isn't right for me to burden a child with the troubles of an adult.

"Yes, my Polkovodets? What question might you have for the Zvezdnyy Rebenok, the witch who will defend all of humanity?" SCP-239 lifted her chin up to look at me without turning her whole body.

Fuck it, we might as well all die then.

"Say, if you were playing a board game like Monopoly, and you knew the opponent was going to win because the momentum was on their side, what would you do?"

This is a foolish endeavor, but at this point, I couldn't care less. I can't see the hope.

Before today, I knew that though the chance was slim, the light of hope and victory was always there. I couldn't see the light of victory at all right now.

The star… why must you give me false hope?

The false in the shape of me being able to attain victory? The false hope given to me upon my victory over the corrupted SCP-343? How cruel. False hope really is cruelty incarnate.

"Well, out of politeness I would keep on playing. But I would use my powers in undetectable ways to ensure my victory."

"Hmm."

Kinda scummy.

Still, use everything you have to win, even if you're more likely to lose, huh?

To fight until your last breath. To fight until you can no longer fight. To go out with a bang instead of a whimper… isn't that what humanity is all about?

My rubbing slowed down.

The desire for survival, the wish to live, to fight against extinction. This unyielding courage to face the abyss with a sword in hand and shield in the other. Even if it's ultimately hopeless, even if the universe doesn't care how loud we scream out our final battle cry.

Even if… it's foolish at the end— then so what?

We make our own worlds. We make meaning of the darkness just as we make meaning of the random patterns of stars in the night sky.

By now my rubbing has entirely stopped.

There's a profound honor in all this. The SCP Foundation has always guarded humanity from its founding to now. It served as its shield and sword against things that might drag humanity back into the darkness, huddling in caves around fires, fearful of what we cannot see.

It is a sophisticated machine for securing and containing anomalies and protecting normality. Every human being inside it is another cog in this machine, and I have the honor of being the most important cog.

"I can't back out now…" I whispered to myself.

I have to honor those who died in service to humanity. Those who gave their body to shield humanity from the darkness, be they researchers, MTF agents, or even D-class personnel.

I have to honor those who still serve humanity. I have to honor every scientist mundane or paranormal who advanced the field of science and magic. I have to honor SCP-343's sacrifice. He would've continued to fight on even if it was ultimately hopeless, for it was he who gave up everything. It was he who was the first hero of mankind.

As the one who has taken his torch, I have the responsibility to honor the 100 billion humans who lived and died before the turn of the Millennium into 2000. If they were still alive, they would be screaming out into the void refusing to be silenced.

Raising my hand up until it's right in front of my face, I clenched it as though to solidify my resolve.

I will… give myself up upon the altar of mankind. If my story ends here, then so be it.

I will give my past to humanity. I will give my body for humanity. I will give my future, for the sake of mankind.

So swears Kukulkan. So swears me.

Cain's older brother, are you seeing me? I called out mentally, wondering if he was able to hear me from wherever he went. I, who has taken the torch from you, shall now set the darkness ablaze in one final flash. I will give myself up upon the altar of humanity.

Even if it's worthless as Ion said, I care not. I will not go quietly into that good night. So will not humanity! I will fight to my last breath. And should I fall in battle, then let my last stand reverberate across the darkness, let it echo through the void, let it serve as a beacon of hope for others who come after me, who might be inspired to never give up.