double it and give it to the next guy

Klaus, barrelling between universes, had just made himself more or less singlehandedly responsible for the practical destruction of Earth, sentencing billions of people to their undeserved (and in the case of millions, most likely, unaware) doom. At this very moment, save for shreds of Galea's consciousness, he was the only being left alive.

So, Klaus did what any reasonable person would do, and succumbed to the physiological forces exerting themselves on his psychological state, leaving the pain of failure to dwell upon only one half of himself. In some sense, said Zanza, we're just doubling it and giving it to the next guy. And so that made it alright.

And, meanwhile, what had the Architect to do? He could brainstorm about solutions, once done (for the epoch being) stewing in his own misery and guilt, and set about theorizing through the Core Crystals and Cloud Sea and first generation of Blades and Titans. But those were all downstream concerns. The Beanstalk that had once led up to the First Low Orbit Station, now the World Tree, was still standing. Something had to be done about that.

Since Ontos was gone, that left Logos and Pneuma to bear the burden of processing the entirety of Alrest, as it would come to be known. In their current, dormant states, they were more than well enough equipped to do so. They were now, in and of themselves, the manifestation of all human knowledge had ever been and ever would be. To keep track of a few Core Crystals dropped into the murk, a handful of sentient but insapient monsters, the burgeoning of some medieval, renaissancing humans...completely within their capabilities.

But boring, you know? So stagnant. For some thousands of years, no real progress. No one down on Alrest was making advances toward the Conduit, that was for sure. When Amalthus arrived to see what he could see, the Architect was more than happy to see what he could see, as a result, stationed within the tree alongside the physical framework of the Trinity Processor, sans cores. Let the man on with it! It was time to pass the Master Blades on.

Amalthus, changed by his expedition and all its lack of great trumpets' sound, had not much intention of giving the Aegises anything, save a name (which was stolen, but he'd surely steal credit for its divine inspiration, without issue). They were to be extensions of his will, itself an extension of the Architect's. Wasn't that right?

The Architect meant to reduce, now. This was why he'd granted Amalthus these magnificent artifices of power. They would exact a cleansing of Alrest, so that true progress could begin.

But then...well, Malos didn't exactly play so nicely with that idea. Malos interpreted this directive to mean that everything must go, and quickly. Whatever was left would only cannibalize itself, in grand and piteous fashion. He'd start with the weaker nations - lost Judicium, Estham, Coeia, Spessia eventually - and then move to those most effectively toppled, casting a pall upon the remaining Titans.

Indol was to be next. Amalthus was, unfortunately, not a stupid man, and he could tell this much from Malos's enthusiastic proclamation of the imminent death of Torna. But, fortunately for him, and perhaps some uncountable number of others, he had already doubled his share of culpability and handed it off to Addam. So, whatever came to pass in Torna would be the end of it.

Addam, for his part, did not mean to pass the buck. He took the lives of his followers, overzealous as they were, quite seriously. Yes, he took their lives - as his own, quite possibly. Readers of history can only speculate upon what it might have taken for Addam and Mythra to emerge victorious at the Titan's Core. But as they failed directly into an abject misery, one forecasted by all the bumpy goings of the road thus far, all that followed fell to Mythra.

Mythra had no choice. She could not continue as she had. There was nothing more here for her. Malos had been cast out, and she could not remain. So her burden was passed to Pyra. Pyra shared it with her ghost, quietly, for five hundred and some years (actually, five hundred and some less). Then, she met Rex, who seemed to be the first determined to end the cycle, then and there - or at least bear it out with dignity among his fellow people, as the world went on. It really did all come down to your perspective, didn't it?

Those fellow people, in such a bright and foregoing world, included Nia, and so the three-or-four legacies continued in the forms of three-or-four children (whichever number makes most convenience). And Mio, whoever her mothers were, lived as any other child of the time, fearful but moreover optimistic for the time of the Intersection.

It cannot be said who was most strongly to blame for the conception of Z. We cannot know who sowed that strong of a pessimism about the passing of two worlds, by or into each other. Regardless, Z was a magnifying glass which concentrated every being's fear and reflected it back out to them, somewhat indiscriminately. Those Z preyed on, however, became the avatars of this heel-digging reproach.

Mio met Noah. Noah became N, but not without overseeing the birth of Ghondor and starting (rather, continuing) a chain of events that would one day see his undoing; that would sow the seeds of doubt and insecurity ever more firmly in his mind.

From Ghondor came, in two generations, Matthew and Na'el. Their parents, who died, had already done their redoubling. But Matthew, being happy-go-lucky by nature or by virtue of folding up any possible broodiness and passing it tidily to the next, was not so susceptible to the spiritual tugs of Alpha's power.

Na'el, tortured by the deaths of all around her, ever more determined to take all the suffering that had been bid to the City and leave it out for the soldiers of Aionios to feed upon, grasped wonderingly at the Ontos Core. And when it took her to a mirage of Klaus's world, she shouted with delight and pointed to a quiet, constant blink in the bleary sky, Alpha's red glow faint in hand.

"There! Let that be Aionios, and let all of its horrible ways keep it, forever! We're safe now."

Considering that that blink was the unobtrusive status light of a weather satellite orbiting Aiodos...well, so much for leaving the old scores behind, eh?