Inside the art room sat Nihilux on her chair, her head resting in her right hand. Her eyes were wide-opened, her mind turning with her creative direction as her model stood to the right, the Imaginaea blasting out from her previous mangaka works scattering across the area. A piece of paper sat on the desk before her, with illustrations elegantly scribbled upon it you could easily discern as yourself in a not-so-comfortable-pose, and in her left hand, the stylistic pen grasped between her finger and thumb moved to and fro with the rhythm of her enthusiasm.

In a way, Nihilux wished she could win her wish from Aha with how she put THEM in their place as an Elation pathstrider — especially being THEIR hard counter — as it might have prevented her prior nervous hesitation as she explained why she needed you as a reference for her drawing half an hour ago. She had not used a reference for a long time, ever since she began her journey as a History Fictionologist.

She would not be feeling the catch in her breath or the dryness of her throat, mouth and lips, and she definitely wouldn’t be regretting her choice of words when insisting that she would produce a simple manga panel of you as she drew on paper over and over with a stylistic pen between her slender, smooth fingers. Feeling anything in an emotional sense was a sensation she hadn’t become used to over the years, but not like this.

It was almost as though Planarcadia — with its pure chaotic architecture, cyberpunk mechanics, and people from all over the world joining in for Aha’s tournament — was, for once, testing her and her artistic abilities.

As per the concept of disciplining and overseeing anyone who became an Aeon — or as she would have liked to call it “anyone-who-dare-bring-Finality-to-the-universe-shall-be-met-with-my-creations-discipline” — Nihilux retrieved another pen from her desk with her left hand and hovered it over your body, while her other hand temporarily slid above the paper in order to bring what she had drawn out of its confines.

Fall did your motionless model stance, your eyes glazing over with thought and consideration as you looked at her other works away from her and her desk. Nihilux had responded with a remark on how her skilled fingers had meant that the drawings she was trying to complete would typically come to life when she used imaginary energy.

But she seems to have a consistent motif in that she regularly draws a woman with black-coloured hair and another woman. As far as allegories go, it was pretty heavy-handed to the point of cliche — obviously one is the Finality and the other is Origin. Each panel has the two lovers in various situations — one in particular involves the Finality and the Origin around a conformal geometric circle, inside which a black cat resides. Another is a rather beautiful piece where the Origin is with the Finality on the moon, both in the throes of tenderness. How delightfully elating.

Turning over, you find quite an interesting piece entitled Last Laugh: Archaeology of Joke Theory, of the Finality and Origin’s upper bodies, where Finality gazes upon her with a forlorn, longing expression and reaches for Origin while she turns away… and there was a pitch black silhouette of IX between them, absorbing Origin and whispering into her mind. Fascinating representation.

“Interested in Last Laugh? That’s an old, abandoned piece I made when I first became a mangaka. I had a feeling that Finality is constantly searching for Origin,” Nihilux said softly, with an almost undetectable hint of wistfulness to her voice. “When the universe transitions into another universe due to heat death, people believe it’s how the Finality functions. Where Finality goes backwards in time to find its initial timeline.”

Her eyes crinkled with a semblance of understanding hidden under her glasses, Nihilux’s lips curled into a smile. “Well, anyways, you on the other hand need to stop being distracted and go back to how you were initially standing. The Kiss pose would be ideal; I’m making some Aha and Akivili work come to life.”