Reincarnation

{Untethered Soul Detected} 

{Capturing…}

{Target Captured}

{Scanning...}

{12%}

{100%}

{Scan Complete}

{Type: Sapient}

{Realm of Origin: 29ri3nov3r-jt2odaljjg249iroug8rida…}

{Ascendancy: 0.00000000000000000000…%}

{Karmic Value: 0.4231455502728423602…}

{Evaluating…}

{37%}

{100%}

{Evaluated}

{Sentence: Reincarnation}

{Beginning Reset…}

{̸̩̕̕R̴̗͇̒̅e̶̱̎̇s̷̯͚̈́ȩ̵̔t̴͉̏̄ ̴̺̎͆ͅF̴̘̀̾a̶̖̱̎͆ì̶͚͜͠l̵̲̊̒e̷̫̱̽d̸̨̥͊}̸͇̃

{Attempt 2…}

{̸F̶a̷i̸l̷}̶

{̶̡̧̧̛͉̘̬̺͎̠̱̩̼̪̺̦͖̙̭͉̯̜̜̤̳̟̗̠̳̟̩̹̺̯̣̣̖̜͛͌̐̽̌̏͒̇̑̈́̂͑̽̓̄͐̋̐́͐̊̋̅̃̇̃̿̓͘͘̕̕͜͜͜͝͝A̶̢̡̨̖͈̲̝̩̼̯͎̘͕̼̞͓̞̬̘̎̃̆͒̽̽̄̾͊̄͌̐͘̚͜͝t̴̡͚̫͖̮͖̥̥͔̞̦̽̒̎͌͑͂̆͂̓̑̃̅̔̆͆̅͑́̏̇́̾̂̚̚̚̚͠t̷̟̹̜̰̗̦̠̬̥̫̼̞̿͋̑͂̓͆̈̍̂̒͑̃̇̋́͗͌͛̓̓͗̚̚̕̕ẻ̸̢̧̢̢̛̛̯̙͇̬͚͉̯̹̝̤͍̖̳͎̖̤͔͓͉̩͓͕̖̖͚̫͓̩̻͓̰̥͉̫͇̖͉̜̠̮̐́̀̀̎͑̿̓͑̌̈̎͌͆̎̌̿̈́͛͆͗̃̓̔̆̓̏͆̐̕͘͘͜͠͠͝ͅͅṁ̷̮̞̙͍̟̰̫̄̔̆͐̈́͗̽͒̊͗̄̓̈͆̄̒̏͘͝͝p̶̡̢̧̛̛̛̗͖̤̭̥̗̍̿̍͛̑͛̍́͂͆̿̅̍̅̅̈́͗̇̈́̊̔͆̓̀͆͑͒̓̂͘̚͝t̴̡̢̛͈͕͓̫͉̺̼͓̥̩͚̘̬̼͎̪̱̞̓̒̽̂̆͒͑͛͐̒̆̿̋͒̓̈́̈̎̕͘͘͜͝ͅ ̵̧̡̨̠̺̭̱͖͖̮̼̖͕̭̤̹̳̙̻̩͙̤̤̣̤̈́͗͐̄̑̓͑̑̅̈́̈́͑̈́̋͊̇̾͐̈̋̚̕͘͜͠͝ͅͅͅ3̸̛̰̽̒̀͌̎͘͝ͅ…̸̨̡̨̢̡̨̧̼͔̳͇̝̞͙͔̟̝̘̹͔͇͈̜̻͇͈̭̳̰̟̘̺͖̝͍̻̯̺̖̦́̀̓̿̃ͅ}̴̢̡̡̨̨̧̧̛̛̤͈͈̖̳̝̫͎͇̪̲̬̟̪̮̖̬̠̲̪̼̏͋͐̀͛́̈̽̂͆̊̈́͗͒͑́͂̊̽̄̓̈́͑͛̽̔͆̆̆̈́͝͠͝

{̸̢͇̦̘̫͈͋̊̾̀̑̈́̽F̵̨̘͍̩͆ȃ̴̡̯̞̞̻̠̐͂̇̄͂̚͝͝i̶̺͖̲̗͕̯͈̝͚̐͗̍̒̂̔̕̕̕̕͝ͅl̶̥͈̈}̸̳̐̑̂̌̅̇̈́

{Attempt 4…}

{̸̡̧̛̪̩̜̱̹̗̘͔̳͉̃̀̈̃͒̏͗̀́͒́͋̄̈́̍͆͊͐͂̿̀̈́̿̒̔̔̂͋̍̾̀̍̈́͋͜͜͠͝F̶̖̖̑̃͗̅͑̎̍͑̓͗̆̋͌̿̈̽̍̀̌̆̾̊͐̊͆͛̆͌͆̎̈̄̃͊̈́́̈́̕͝͠͝͝ä̸̢̢̢̼͕̻̪͇̲͈͈̹͙͈̦̹̙͉͇̫̦͕̭̹͚̲̘͇̝̼̯̼̲̰̘̜́̊̇͜͝ͅͅͅī̴̢̜̮̥͎̺̯ļ̸̭̱͚͈̱̦̤̫̲̗̪͕͓̳̦̞͇̟̱̱̳̖̠̫̼̲͈͕̠̰̺̈͊̉͒͋̔̒͆̀̌̎̔̈́͑̄͊͛̔͌̽̔͆̌̉͘ͅ}̷̨̨̡̛̗̣͚̠̲̮̯̗͚̱̮̩͇̯̠̻̻͊̅̈́̄̀͛̿̊͛͒̀̃̽̀͋̈́̍̈̔̊̌͐̊͋̏̈́̋̐̆̒̈́̂̀̊͆̾̚͘͘͘͠͝

{̶̯̗̻̈͆̃͊͑͒̄̋̊͌̔̋̌̽͌̂̚͝͝Ē̵̡͚͚͕̱̻͙̳͇̫͕͚͚̯̠̘̠̐͋̇̌̂͒͌͑̊̏͊͝͝ͅȓ̴̢͈̹̮̻̜͚̥̪̘̆̽̀̅͐͌͐̇̒̇̒̿̚ŗ̶͇͕̜̹̠̝̟̳͗̎̉̄̋ͅô̴̠̣̭̭͐͌̒̽̽͒̊̂̚͜͝r̷̬͔̻̤̥̜͌̄͐͐̊́͘̕̕͝.̶̡̟̙̟̥̗̃ ̴͙̳̺̅̅̃͐̌̆̀̿̎̿̿̾͆͑̐͆͛̀͠Č̴̢̝̗̙̼̘̤͚̝̤̲̭̜͕ơ̵̛̙̞̮̯̺̬̾̌͑̆̔̈͐̐̓͊̀͒̔̚͝r̴̲̝̹̀̈́͌̔̅̉̅͐̓r̶͙͖̜̠͓͔̾͋̃́̕ů̷̢̘̗͙̻̉̅̓̌̊̿̈́̕͝p̶̯̭̠̫̱̥̖͍̻͋̌͘͜͠t̸͖̹͍̱̓̿̍͗͗́̐͗̈́͛͐͘͝í̷̧̡̹̻̥̼̬̹͍̺̬͉̭͔̹͈̳̉̈́̋̾͛͐̑̌́́̈͒̐̈̚͜͜ͅo̷̧̳͎͚̯̪̼̦͓̼͎̜͈̦̹͎͂̑͛͂̓͘̚͜͜ͅn̷̢̧̛̻͎͈͕̯̝͔͇̟͓̬̜̲̩̖̄͐̉͐͒̊̾̔͐̈̈́̐̀̈́͒̍̔̚ͅ ̷̡̢͉̩̘͉̲̪̮͖̫̟̹͚͎̱̝͎̐͆̃͆̔̄̓̂ͅD̴̢̢̥̰͕̲̜̰̗̱̝̫̹̻̬̘̈́̂̓̎̅͐͗̋̆͐̃̆̑̐̚͠ͅe̴̢̛͈̦͍͍͉̼̲̙͌̈́̓͒̍́̿̃͛̓̕͝t̶̠̺́͑́̒̄̆́̕̕e̴̢̧͈̮̣̱͖̝̽́̄͑̈̚͝c̸͙̰̻̥̯͔̑̽͒̈́ẗ̶̡͉͉̟̜̙̝̳͔͎͉̯̥̭̰́̈̀̈́̆̊̅̑̍́ͅe̵̢͈̻̬͚̼̎͛ͅd̶̠̦̲̥̫͍͍̱͚͈̖̪̞͇͒̋͌̈̿̈́̕͜͝}̶̡̧̧̞̩̠͉̪̣̼͕̆̈͒̍̕

{̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̱͍̘͔̹̟̙̲̯̰̟̜̯̞̜̖͚͎̮͔̗͎̻̫̬̖͕̙̭̪̬͙͙̻͔̲͕̹̦̪̤̿̓́̓͗̏͆̀̀͘ͅͅC̷̯̭̙̠̤̘̼̬̑̓̎̀̒̐́̓͑̓̑̆̓̅̀̍̍͛̊͊̈́̏͘ͅơ̶̢̢̡͎̮̯̠̭͔̻͈̜͈͔̰͕̘̲͔̺̻̲̱͍̜͈̫͔̟̟̤͍̫͎̼͖̭͋̈́̆̃͐̏̾́̕̕͘ň̷̡̧̳̰͖̺̳̳̺͈̤̣͍̬̻̻͖͈̮̖̲͇͓͇̱̳̮̣̫͕̤̥̽̀̑̚͜t̸͎̩̞̤̓̈́̂̆̊͒̀̈̃̅̾͆̿͒̆͗͊̐̀̃ȧ̷̛̛̛̛̦̻̆̈́̇̇͋̅̍̔̋̿̈́̈́̋̽́̒͆̄̓̋̍͂͋̕̕̚͘͝c̷̢̢̛̟̺̼̬̱̞̻̬̺͉̺̼̮̣̟̭̤͇͍͍̺̬̤̱͕̪̬̗͔̭̋͂̽͊̒̐̍͊̈́̍̄̐̑̋̏̀͋͋̀̿̐͑́͒̈́̋̕̚͜͝ͅt̸̨̧̧̧͔͉̤̖̺̰͚̹͔̱̗̲̺̠͙̩̘̠̠̩̆́̑̊̀͛̓̾̔̊̌͊͂̍́̾̈́̎͒́̑́̾̽̇̉̏̆̏́͂͠͝ȋ̴̧̧̧̡̡̡̨̛̛͈͔̯̹̭̰̥̳̘̮̥̲̫̟̞̲̱̭͎̣̪͉̱̗͙̣̝̫͇͇̣̼͖̔͛̃̈́́̄̾̒̆̒̏͘͘̚͝͝ṅ̶̛͉̫̗͆͒̄̈́͑͋́̽̽̚͝g̷̡̨̤̩͔̞̱̮͉̜̟̻̙̪͔͚̣̠̱͕̗͙̳̦͈̼̜̦͙̜̦͙͉͕̱̭͍͙͖̿͛̄̍͂͆̎̌͛́͑̌̂͗͊͊́͗̇̽̕͝ ̸̨̛̮̱͔͖̻͔̋̽̑̉́̍͆͐͌͆̂́̄̈́̔̀͜͠S̷̡̡̡̢̛̛̝̼̥͖͎̥͕͔͕̲̰̻̭̗͖̟͓͖̪̭̭̖̼̲̰̺̞̬̱̲̺͖̯̖̆͑̐̊́̋̊͊͛̐̾̓͌͆̓̈́̓̂̆̾̒̽́̔̃̇̅͛̚̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ý̷̡̧̨̛̜̖̞̯̹͖̱͎͇͇͔͉̹̻́́͂̔̈̿͐́̌͒̅̃̊̽͗͗̆̇̃̊͂̌̚͘ͅs̷̮̲͓͇͓̼̠̞͚͉̮̖̳̈́͂͑ͅt̶̨̢̡̨̺̣̪̩̜̲͔̬̤̼̙͉̹̺͇͂̊̑̄̉͆̔́̄̃͒̑̓͒̏̀͐̎̓͑̇̓͐͒͊͂̏̎͘̕͘̕͠ë̴̡̯̪̯̣͇̰̙̺͎̀̒̇̅̾̐͠ͅm̴̨̧̨̙̟̮͕̱̪̦̥̥͍̪̺̗͈̺͓̹̝͓̭̪̼̤͔͙̜̭͚̻̼͔̓̈́̇͑̈͆̈́͂͂̀͋́̍́̐̽͗͛͗̊̌̾̈̽̆͆̊̃̈́̐̉̃̓̉̌͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅ ̷̫͙̠̥̠͓̯͖̜̰̠̭͇͓̥̥͔̳͚̲̫̥̯͙̞̌̏̒̂̉͛̍̔͜͠͝A̶̡̧̧̢̛̛̝̪͔̺̘͍͚̟͈̻̳̼͖͉̼̺͙͇͕͚̖̱̬̳̱̜͓̩̙̘̘̘͙͈͊̍̓̈́̂̉̈͑̀̽̒̀̏͊̾̏͗̽̿̈́̈́̀͊̈͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝d̶̢̜̥̬̱̘͎̫̩̺̲̬̠͉͎͕̝̭͎̟̯͈͈͙͇͈̳̳̺͇͙̗͚̺̹̊͊̔̓͛͐̓͐̋̈́̀́̽͝m̴̧̢̱̘̖̙̞̲͚͚̙͉͉̼̣̦̯̼̣͕̜͍͎̼̙̱̣͕̼͙̱͔̲̜̄̍͜͜i̵̡̢̧̧̡̧̡̧̛̮͖̤̼͇̪̻̳͇̺̰͚̗̬̰̳̞͔̮̠̻̭̼̥̥̯͇̮͚̤͔̺̗͙̤̮͍̯̠̍͛́͗̆̂͗̌̊̐̏͂̑̐̿͂͛̕͝ņ̷̧͇̮̬̯̣̜̳̼̝̻̩̂̔͆̄̌͑͛̚̚͝͠͠ͅį̷̢̢̢̧̧̨̡̧̛̦̬̭̘͈̬̙̰͉͍͍̣̲̯̞̻͕͖̙̹̠͍̺͎͇̯̰̲̪͙̯̤͙̜̩͙͎̓͂͛̓̆̄̆̐̏̓̿͊̎̂́̾̑͂͑̃̚͘̚̚͝͝͝ş̷̛̛̼̭̗͓̪̯͈̞̪͎̮̫̠͖͚̙̫̹̝͍̻̒͗͑́̓̾̈́̎̈̏̑̒̊̍̎̇̎̒̄̏͆̄̉͌̋̽̔̀̋̏̈͌͋͗̈́̄͒̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͝ͅt̵̛̥̺̪͈̱̼͛͑̀͐͊̅̽̿̀̀̿̌͒̏̈͐̀̍̌̓̒̊̀͒̽̍͐̌͑̈́̋̽͒͂̏̏͒̂̚̕͝͠͝͝ȑ̴̨̢̡̨͉̫̣̣̼̮̙̙̖̩̩̝͓̺̹͔̫̞̈́̑̉̾͒͜͝a̶̧̡̧̨̡̡̬͔̫̠̰̱̬̦͈̱̩̗̺̯͎͍̬̯͉͓̗̩̠̫̘͔̐̕͜t̷̨̧̨̟̙͙͎͎̞̮͉̝̥͔̬̘̻͖̤̼̘̗͍͖̺̖̠̮͙̞̼̬͇͎̩̗̹̼͙͔̩̬̣͊͂͂̍̌͐̿̉̊͆͆̑̀̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̵̡̧̨̢̢̛̥͍͉͖͔̖͈͇̖̥̙͔͕̱͉̭̮̯̬̝͙͚̟͕̺̗̮̱͎̖̜̘̖̬̤͇̥͍̞̈́̂̌̐͊͂̊͋̔͊̂̈̉́̌́̃̍͋̋̓͒͑͑̿̀͗̏̀̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅŗ̷̛͚̫̻̺͕͇̘̙̣̋̔̔͛̽̾̔͌̂͊̓͂́̃̏̈́̄͌͆̃͗̃̈́̃̈̀̐̊̀̽͂͛̈́̉͆̿͌̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͝}̶̨̹͉͖̖͇̹̲̼̙̾̀̏̈́͝͠ͅ

{̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̱͍̘͔̹̟̙̲̯̰̟̜̯̞̜̖͚͎̮͔̗͎̻̫̬̖͕̙̭̪̬͙͙̻͔̲͕̹̦̪̤̿̓́̓͗̏͆̀̀͘ͅͅC̷̯̭̙̠̤̘̼̬̑̓̎̀̒̐́̓͑̓̑̆̓̅̀̍̍͛̊͊̈́̏͘ͅơ̶̢̢̡͎̮̯̠̭͔̻͈̜͈͔̰͕̘̲͔̺̻̲̱͍̜͈̫͔̟̟̤͍̫͎̼͖̭͋̈́̆̃͐̏̾́̕̕͘ň̷̡̧̳̰͖̺̳̳̺͈̤̣͍̬̻̻͖͈̮̖̲͇͓͇̱̳̮̣̫͕̤̥̽̀̑̚͜t̸͎̩̞̤̓̈́̂̆̊͒̀̈̃̅̾͆̿͒̆͗͊̐̀̃ȧ̷̛̛̛̛̦̻̆̈́̇̇͋̅̍̔̋̿̈́̈́̋̽́̒͆̄̓̋̍͂͋̕̕̚͘͝c̷̢̢̛̟̺̼̬̱̞̻̬̺͉̺̼̮̣̟̭̤͇͍͍̺̬̤̱͕̪̬̗͔̭̋͂̽͊̒̐̍͊̈́̍̄̐̑̋̏̀͋͋̀̿̐͑́͒̈́̋̕̚͜͝ͅt̸̨̧̧̧͔͉̤̖̺̰͚̹͔̱̗̲̺̠͙̩̘̠̠̩̆́̑̊̀͛̓̾̔̊̌͊͂̍́̾̈́̎͒́̑́̾̽̇̉̏̆̏́͂͠͝ȋ̴̧̧̧̡̡̡̨̛̛͈͔̯̹̭̰̥̳̘̮̥̲̫̟̞̲̱̭͎̣̪͉̱̗͙̣̝̫͇͇̣̼͖̔͛̃̈́́̄̾̒̆̒̏͘͘̚͝͝ṅ̶̛͉̫̗͆͒̄̈́͑͋́̽̽̚͝g̷̡̨̤̩͔̞̱̮͉̜̟̻̙̪͔͚̣̠̱͕̗͙̳̦͈̼̜̦͙̜̦͙͉͕̱̭͍͙͖̿͛̄̍͂͆̎̌͛́͑̌̂͗͊͊́͗̇̽̕͝ ̸̨̛̮̱͔͖̻͔̋̽̑̉́̍͆͐͌͆̂́̄̈́̔̀͜͠S̷̡̡̡̢̛̛̝̼̥͖͎̥͕͔͕̲̰̻̭̗͖̟͓͖̪̭̭̖̼̲̰̺̞̬̱̲̺͖̯̖̆͑̐̊́̋̊͊͛̐̾̓͌͆̓̈́̓̂̆̾̒̽́̔̃̇̅͛̚̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ý̷̡̧̨̛̜̖̞̯̹͖̱͎͇͇͔͉̹̻́́͂̔̈̿͐́̌͒̅̃̊̽͗͗̆̇̃̊͂̌̚͘ͅs̷̮̲͓͇͓̼̠̞͚͉̮̖̳̈́͂͑ͅt̶̨̢̡̨̺̣̪̩̜̲͔̬̤̼̙͉̹̺͇͂̊̑̄̉͆̔́̄̃͒̑̓͒̏̀͐̎̓͑̇̓͐͒͊͂̏̎͘̕͘̕͠ë̴̡̯̪̯̣͇̰̙̺͎̀̒̇̅̾̐͠ͅm̴̨̧̨̙̟̮͕̱̪̦̥̥͍̪̺̗͈̺͓̹̝͓̭̪̼̤͔͙̜̭͚̻̼͔̓̈́̇͑̈͆̈́͂͂̀͋́̍́̐̽͗͛͗̊̌̾̈̽̆͆̊̃̈́̐̉̃̓̉̌͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅ ̷̫͙̠̥̠͓̯͖̜̰̠̭͇͓̥̥͔̳͚̲̫̥̯͙̞̌̏̒̂̉͛̍̔͜͠͝A̶̡̧̧̢̛̛̝̪͔̺̘͍͚̟͈̻̳̼͖͉̼̺͙͇͕͚̖̱̬̳̱̜͓̩̙̘̘̘͙͈͊̍̓̈́̂̉̈͑̀̽̒̀̏͊̾̏͗̽̿̈́̈́̀͊̈͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝d̶̢̜̥̬̱̘͎̫̩̺̲̬̠͉͎͕̝̭͎̟̯͈͈͙͇͈̳̳̺͇͙̗͚̺̹̊͊̔̓͛͐̓͐̋̈́̀́̽͝m̴̧̢̱̘̖̙̞̲͚͚̙͉͉̼̣̦̯̼̣͕̜͍͎̼̙̱̣͕̼͙̱͔̲̜̄̍͜͜i̵̡̢̧̧̡̧̡̧̛̮͖̤̼͇̪̻̳͇̺̰͚̗̬̰̳̞͔̮̠̻̭̼̥̥̯͇̮͚̤͔̺̗͙̤̮͍̯̠̍͛́͗̆̂͗̌̊̐̏͂̑̐̿͂͛̕͝ņ̷̧͇̮̬̯̣̜̳̼̝̻̩̂̔͆̄̌͑͛̚̚͝͠͠ͅį̷̢̢̢̧̧̨̡̧̛̦̬̭̘͈̬̙̰͉͍͍̣̲̯̞̻͕͖̙̹̠͍̺͎͇̯̰̲̪͙̯̤͙̜̩͙͎̓͂͛̓̆̄̆̐̏̓̿͊̎̂́̾̑͂͑̃̚͘̚̚͝͝͝ş̷̛̛̼̭̗͓̪̯͈̞̪͎̮̫̠͖͚̙̫̹̝͍̻̒͗͑́̓̾̈́̎̈̏̑̒̊̍̎̇̎̒̄̏͆̄̉͌̋̽̔̀̋̏̈͌͋͗̈́̄͒̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͝ͅt̵̛̥̺̪͈̱̼͛͑̀͐͊̅̽̿̀̀̿̌͒̏̈͐̀̍̌̓̒̊̀͒̽̍͐̌͑̈́̋̽͒͂̏̏͒̂̚̕͝͠͝͝ȑ̴̨̢̡̨͉̫̣̣̼̮̙̙̖̩̩̝͓̺̹͔̫̞̈́̑̉̾͒͜͝a̶̧̡̧̨̡̡̬͔̫̠̰̱̬̦͈̱̩̗̺̯͎͍̬̯͉͓̗̩̠̫̘͔̐̕͜t̷̨̧̨̟̙͙͎͎̞̮͉̝̥͔̬̘̻͖̤̼̘̗͍͖̺̖̠̮͙̞̼̬͇͎̩̗̹̼͙͔̩̬̣͊͂͂̍̌͐̿̉̊͆͆̑̀̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̵̡̧̨̢̢̛̥͍͉͖͔̖͈͇̖̥̙͔͕̱͉̭̮̯̬̝͙͚̟͕̺̗̮̱͎̖̜̘̖̬̤͇̥͍̞̈́̂̌̐͊͂̊͋̔͊̂̈̉́̌́̃̍͋̋̓͒͑͑̿̀͗̏̀̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅŗ̷̛͚̫̻̺͕͇̘̙̣̋̔̔͛̽̾̔͌̂͊̓͂́̃̏̈́̄͌͆̃͗̃̈́̃̈̀̐̊̀̽͂͛̈́̉͆̿͌̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͝}̶̨̹͉͖̖͇̹̲̼̙̾̀̏̈́͝͠ͅ

{̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̱͍̘͔̹̟̙̲̯̰̟̜̯̞̜̖͚͎̮͔̗͎̻̫̬̖͕̙̭̪̬͙͙̻͔̲͕̹̦̪̤̿̓́̓͗̏͆̀̀͘ͅͅC̷̯̭̙̠̤̘̼̬̑̓̎̀̒̐́̓͑̓̑̆̓̅̀̍̍͛̊͊̈́̏͘ͅơ̶̢̢̡͎̮̯̠̭͔̻͈̜͈͔̰͕̘̲͔̺̻̲̱͍̜͈̫͔̟̟̤͍̫͎̼͖̭͋̈́̆̃͐̏̾́̕̕͘ň̷̡̧̳̰͖̺̳̳̺͈̤̣͍̬̻̻͖͈̮̖̲͇͓͇̱̳̮̣̫͕̤̥̽̀̑̚͜t̸͎̩̞̤̓̈́̂̆̊͒̀̈̃̅̾͆̿͒̆͗͊̐̀̃ȧ̷̛̛̛̛̦̻̆̈́̇̇͋̅̍̔̋̿̈́̈́̋̽́̒͆̄̓̋̍͂͋̕̕̚͘͝c̷̢̢̛̟̺̼̬̱̞̻̬̺͉̺̼̮̣̟̭̤͇͍͍̺̬̤̱͕̪̬̗͔̭̋͂̽͊̒̐̍͊̈́̍̄̐̑̋̏̀͋͋̀̿̐͑́͒̈́̋̕̚͜͝ͅt̸̨̧̧̧͔͉̤̖̺̰͚̹͔̱̗̲̺̠͙̩̘̠̠̩̆́̑̊̀͛̓̾̔̊̌͊͂̍́̾̈́̎͒́̑́̾̽̇̉̏̆̏́͂͠͝ȋ̴̧̧̧̡̡̡̨̛̛͈͔̯̹̭̰̥̳̘̮̥̲̫̟̞̲̱̭͎̣̪͉̱̗͙̣̝̫͇͇̣̼͖̔͛̃̈́́̄̾̒̆̒̏͘͘̚͝͝ṅ̶̛͉̫̗͆͒̄̈́͑͋́̽̽̚͝g̷̡̨̤̩͔̞̱̮͉̜̟̻̙̪͔͚̣̠̱͕̗͙̳̦͈̼̜̦͙̜̦͙͉͕̱̭͍͙͖̿͛̄̍͂͆̎̌͛́͑̌̂͗͊͊́͗̇̽̕͝ ̸̨̛̮̱͔͖̻͔̋̽̑̉́̍͆͐͌͆̂́̄̈́̔̀͜͠S̷̡̡̡̢̛̛̝̼̥͖͎̥͕͔͕̲̰̻̭̗͖̟͓͖̪̭̭̖̼̲̰̺̞̬̱̲̺͖̯̖̆͑̐̊́̋̊͊͛̐̾̓͌͆̓̈́̓̂̆̾̒̽́̔̃̇̅͛̚̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ý̷̡̧̨̛̜̖̞̯̹͖̱͎͇͇͔͉̹̻́́͂̔̈̿͐́̌͒̅̃̊̽͗͗̆̇̃̊͂̌̚͘ͅs̷̮̲͓͇͓̼̠̞͚͉̮̖̳̈́͂͑ͅt̶̨̢̡̨̺̣̪̩̜̲͔̬̤̼̙͉̹̺͇͂̊̑̄̉͆̔́̄̃͒̑̓͒̏̀͐̎̓͑̇̓͐͒͊͂̏̎͘̕͘̕͠ë̴̡̯̪̯̣͇̰̙̺͎̀̒̇̅̾̐͠ͅm̴̨̧̨̙̟̮͕̱̪̦̥̥͍̪̺̗͈̺͓̹̝͓̭̪̼̤͔͙̜̭͚̻̼͔̓̈́̇͑̈͆̈́͂͂̀͋́̍́̐̽͗͛͗̊̌̾̈̽̆͆̊̃̈́̐̉̃̓̉̌͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅ ̷̫͙̠̥̠͓̯͖̜̰̠̭͇͓̥̥͔̳͚̲̫̥̯͙̞̌̏̒̂̉͛̍̔͜͠͝A̶̡̧̧̢̛̛̝̪͔̺̘͍͚̟͈̻̳̼͖͉̼̺͙͇͕͚̖̱̬̳̱̜͓̩̙̘̘̘͙͈͊̍̓̈́̂̉̈͑̀̽̒̀̏͊̾̏͗̽̿̈́̈́̀͊̈͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝d̶̢̜̥̬̱̘͎̫̩̺̲̬̠͉͎͕̝̭͎̟̯͈͈͙͇͈̳̳̺͇͙̗͚̺̹̊͊̔̓͛͐̓͐̋̈́̀́̽͝m̴̧̢̱̘̖̙̞̲͚͚̙͉͉̼̣̦̯̼̣͕̜͍͎̼̙̱̣͕̼͙̱͔̲̜̄̍͜͜i̵̡̢̧̧̡̧̡̧̛̮͖̤̼͇̪̻̳͇̺̰͚̗̬̰̳̞͔̮̠̻̭̼̥̥̯͇̮͚̤͔̺̗͙̤̮͍̯̠̍͛́͗̆̂͗̌̊̐̏͂̑̐̿͂͛̕͝ņ̷̧͇̮̬̯̣̜̳̼̝̻̩̂̔͆̄̌͑͛̚̚͝͠͠ͅį̷̢̢̢̧̧̨̡̧̛̦̬̭̘͈̬̙̰͉͍͍̣̲̯̞̻͕͖̙̹̠͍̺͎͇̯̰̲̪͙̯̤͙̜̩͙͎̓͂͛̓̆̄̆̐̏̓̿͊̎̂́̾̑͂͑̃̚͘̚̚͝͝͝ş̷̛̛̼̭̗͓̪̯͈̞̪͎̮̫̠͖͚̙̫̹̝͍̻̒͗͑́̓̾̈́̎̈̏̑̒̊̍̎̇̎̒̄̏͆̄̉͌̋̽̔̀̋̏̈͌͋͗̈́̄͒̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͝ͅt̵̛̥̺̪͈̱̼͛͑̀͐͊̅̽̿̀̀̿̌͒̏̈͐̀̍̌̓̒̊̀͒̽̍͐̌͑̈́̋̽͒͂̏̏͒̂̚̕͝͠͝͝ȑ̴̨̢̡̨͉̫̣̣̼̮̙̙̖̩̩̝͓̺̹͔̫̞̈́̑̉̾͒͜͝a̶̧̡̧̨̡̡̬͔̫̠̰̱̬̦͈̱̩̗̺̯͎͍̬̯͉͓̗̩̠̫̘͔̐̕͜t̷̨̧̨̟̙͙͎͎̞̮͉̝̥͔̬̘̻͖̤̼̘̗͍͖̺̖̠̮͙̞̼̬͇͎̩̗̹̼͙͔̩̬̣͊͂͂̍̌͐̿̉̊͆͆̑̀̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̵̡̧̨̢̢̛̥͍͉͖͔̖͈͇̖̥̙͔͕̱͉̭̮̯̬̝͙͚̟͕̺̗̮̱͎̖̜̘̖̬̤͇̥͍̞̈́̂̌̐͊͂̊͋̔͊̂̈̉́̌́̃̍͋̋̓͒͑͑̿̀͗̏̀̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅŗ̷̛͚̫̻̺͕͇̘̙̣̋̔̔͛̽̾̔͌̂͊̓͂́̃̏̈́̄͌͆̃͗̃̈́̃̈̀̐̊̀̽͂͛̈́̉͆̿͌̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͝}̶̨̹͉͖̖͇̹̲̼̙̾̀̏̈́͝͠ͅ

{̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̱͍̘͔̹̟̙̲̯̰̟̜̯̞̜̖͚͎̮͔̗͎̻̫̬̖͕̙̭̪̬͙͙̻͔̲͕̹̦̪̤̿̓́̓͗̏͆̀̀͘ͅͅC̷̯̭̙̠̤̘̼̬̑̓̎̀̒̐́̓͑̓̑̆̓̅̀̍̍͛̊͊̈́̏͘ͅơ̶̢̢̡͎̮̯̠̭͔̻͈̜͈͔̰͕̘̲͔̺̻̲̱͍̜͈̫͔̟̟̤͍̫͎̼͖̭͋̈́̆̃͐̏̾́̕̕͘ň̷̡̧̳̰͖̺̳̳̺͈̤̣͍̬̻̻͖͈̮̖̲͇͓͇̱̳̮̣̫͕̤̥̽̀̑̚͜t̸͎̩̞̤̓̈́̂̆̊͒̀̈̃̅̾͆̿͒̆͗͊̐̀̃ȧ̷̛̛̛̛̦̻̆̈́̇̇͋̅̍̔̋̿̈́̈́̋̽́̒͆̄̓̋̍͂͋̕̕̚͘͝c̷̢̢̛̟̺̼̬̱̞̻̬̺͉̺̼̮̣̟̭̤͇͍͍̺̬̤̱͕̪̬̗͔̭̋͂̽͊̒̐̍͊̈́̍̄̐̑̋̏̀͋͋̀̿̐͑́͒̈́̋̕̚͜͝ͅt̸̨̧̧̧͔͉̤̖̺̰͚̹͔̱̗̲̺̠͙̩̘̠̠̩̆́̑̊̀͛̓̾̔̊̌͊͂̍́̾̈́̎͒́̑́̾̽̇̉̏̆̏́͂͠͝ȋ̴̧̧̧̡̡̡̨̛̛͈͔̯̹̭̰̥̳̘̮̥̲̫̟̞̲̱̭͎̣̪͉̱̗͙̣̝̫͇͇̣̼͖̔͛̃̈́́̄̾̒̆̒̏͘͘̚͝͝ṅ̶̛͉̫̗͆͒̄̈́͑͋́̽̽̚͝g̷̡̨̤̩͔̞̱̮͉̜̟̻̙̪͔͚̣̠̱͕̗͙̳̦͈̼̜̦͙̜̦͙͉͕̱̭͍͙͖̿͛̄̍͂͆̎̌͛́͑̌̂͗͊͊́͗̇̽̕͝ ̸̨̛̮̱͔͖̻͔̋̽̑̉́̍͆͐͌͆̂́̄̈́̔̀͜͠S̷̡̡̡̢̛̛̝̼̥͖͎̥͕͔͕̲̰̻̭̗͖̟͓͖̪̭̭̖̼̲̰̺̞̬̱̲̺͖̯̖̆͑̐̊́̋̊͊͛̐̾̓͌͆̓̈́̓̂̆̾̒̽́̔̃̇̅͛̚̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ý̷̡̧̨̛̜̖̞̯̹͖̱͎͇͇͔͉̹̻́́͂̔̈̿͐́̌͒̅̃̊̽͗͗̆̇̃̊͂̌̚͘ͅs̷̮̲͓͇͓̼̠̞͚͉̮̖̳̈́͂͑ͅt̶̨̢̡̨̺̣̪̩̜̲͔̬̤̼̙͉̹̺͇͂̊̑̄̉͆̔́̄̃͒̑̓͒̏̀͐̎̓͑̇̓͐͒͊͂̏̎͘̕͘̕͠ë̴̡̯̪̯̣͇̰̙̺͎̀̒̇̅̾̐͠ͅm̴̨̧̨̙̟̮͕̱̪̦̥̥͍̪̺̗͈̺͓̹̝͓̭̪̼̤͔͙̜̭͚̻̼͔̓̈́̇͑̈͆̈́͂͂̀͋́̍́̐̽͗͛͗̊̌̾̈̽̆͆̊̃̈́̐̉̃̓̉̌͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅ ̷̫͙̠̥̠͓̯͖̜̰̠̭͇͓̥̥͔̳͚̲̫̥̯͙̞̌̏̒̂̉͛̍̔͜͠͝A̶̡̧̧̢̛̛̝̪͔̺̘͍͚̟͈̻̳̼͖͉̼̺͙͇͕͚̖̱̬̳̱̜͓̩̙̘̘̘͙͈͊̍̓̈́̂̉̈͑̀̽̒̀̏͊̾̏͗̽̿̈́̈́̀͊̈͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝d̶̢̜̥̬̱̘͎̫̩̺̲̬̠͉͎͕̝̭͎̟̯͈͈͙͇͈̳̳̺͇͙̗͚̺̹̊͊̔̓͛͐̓͐̋̈́̀́̽͝m̴̧̢̱̘̖̙̞̲͚͚̙͉͉̼̣̦̯̼̣͕̜͍͎̼̙̱̣͕̼͙̱͔̲̜̄̍͜͜i̵̡̢̧̧̡̧̡̧̛̮͖̤̼͇̪̻̳͇̺̰͚̗̬̰̳̞͔̮̠̻̭̼̥̥̯͇̮͚̤͔̺̗͙̤̮͍̯̠̍͛́͗̆̂͗̌̊̐̏͂̑̐̿͂͛̕͝ņ̷̧͇̮̬̯̣̜̳̼̝̻̩̂̔͆̄̌͑͛̚̚͝͠͠ͅį̷̢̢̢̧̧̨̡̧̛̦̬̭̘͈̬̙̰͉͍͍̣̲̯̞̻͕͖̙̹̠͍̺͎͇̯̰̲̪͙̯̤͙̜̩͙͎̓͂͛̓̆̄̆̐̏̓̿͊̎̂́̾̑͂͑̃̚͘̚̚͝͝͝ş̷̛̛̼̭̗͓̪̯͈̞̪͎̮̫̠͖͚̙̫̹̝͍̻̒͗͑́̓̾̈́̎̈̏̑̒̊̍̎̇̎̒̄̏͆̄̉͌̋̽̔̀̋̏̈͌͋͗̈́̄͒̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͝ͅt̵̛̥̺̪͈̱̼͛͑̀͐͊̅̽̿̀̀̿̌͒̏̈͐̀̍̌̓̒̊̀͒̽̍͐̌͑̈́̋̽͒͂̏̏͒̂̚̕͝͠͝͝ȑ̴̨̢̡̨͉̫̣̣̼̮̙̙̖̩̩̝͓̺̹͔̫̞̈́̑̉̾͒͜͝a̶̧̡̧̨̡̡̬͔̫̠̰̱̬̦͈̱̩̗̺̯͎͍̬̯͉͓̗̩̠̫̘͔̐̕͜t̷̨̧̨̟̙͙͎͎̞̮͉̝̥͔̬̘̻͖̤̼̘̗͍͖̺̖̠̮͙̞̼̬͇͎̩̗̹̼͙͔̩̬̣͊͂͂̍̌͐̿̉̊͆͆̑̀̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̵̡̧̨̢̢̛̥͍͉͖͔̖͈͇̖̥̙͔͕̱͉̭̮̯̬̝͙͚̟͕̺̗̮̱͎̖̜̘̖̬̤͇̥͍̞̈́̂̌̐͊͂̊͋̔͊̂̈̉́̌́̃̍͋̋̓͒͑͑̿̀͗̏̀̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅŗ̷̛͚̫̻̺͕͇̘̙̣̋̔̔͛̽̾̔͌̂͊̓͂́̃̏̈́̄͌͆̃͗̃̈́̃̈̀̐̊̀̽͂͛̈́̉͆̿͌̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͝}̶̨̹͉͖̖͇̹̲̼̙̾̀̏̈́͝͠ͅ

{̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̱͍̘͔̹̟̙̲̯̰̟̜̯̞̜̖͚͎̮͔̗͎̻̫̬̖͕̙̭̪̬͙͙̻͔̲͕̹̦̪̤̿̓́̓͗̏͆̀̀͘ͅͅC̷̯̭̙̠̤̘̼̬̑̓̎̀̒̐́̓͑̓̑̆̓̅̀̍̍͛̊͊̈́̏͘ͅơ̶̢̢̡͎̮̯̠̭͔̻͈̜͈͔̰͕̘̲͔̺̻̲̱͍̜͈̫͔̟̟̤͍̫͎̼͖̭͋̈́̆̃͐̏̾́̕̕͘ň̷̡̧̳̰͖̺̳̳̺͈̤̣͍̬̻̻͖͈̮̖̲͇͓͇̱̳̮̣̫͕̤̥̽̀̑̚͜t̸͎̩̞̤̓̈́̂̆̊͒̀̈̃̅̾͆̿͒̆͗͊̐̀̃ȧ̷̛̛̛̛̦̻̆̈́̇̇͋̅̍̔̋̿̈́̈́̋̽́̒͆̄̓̋̍͂͋̕̕̚͘͝c̷̢̢̛̟̺̼̬̱̞̻̬̺͉̺̼̮̣̟̭̤͇͍͍̺̬̤̱͕̪̬̗͔̭̋͂̽͊̒̐̍͊̈́̍̄̐̑̋̏̀͋͋̀̿̐͑́͒̈́̋̕̚͜͝ͅt̸̨̧̧̧͔͉̤̖̺̰͚̹͔̱̗̲̺̠͙̩̘̠̠̩̆́̑̊̀͛̓̾̔̊̌͊͂̍́̾̈́̎͒́̑́̾̽̇̉̏̆̏́͂͠͝ȋ̴̧̧̧̡̡̡̨̛̛͈͔̯̹̭̰̥̳̘̮̥̲̫̟̞̲̱̭͎̣̪͉̱̗͙̣̝̫͇͇̣̼͖̔͛̃̈́́̄̾̒̆̒̏͘͘̚͝͝ṅ̶̛͉̫̗͆͒̄̈́͑͋́̽̽̚͝g̷̡̨̤̩͔̞̱̮͉̜̟̻̙̪͔͚̣̠̱͕̗͙̳̦͈̼̜̦͙̜̦͙͉͕̱̭͍͙͖̿͛̄̍͂͆̎̌͛́͑̌̂͗͊͊́͗̇̽̕͝ ̸̨̛̮̱͔͖̻͔̋̽̑̉́̍͆͐͌͆̂́̄̈́̔̀͜͠S̷̡̡̡̢̛̛̝̼̥͖͎̥͕͔͕̲̰̻̭̗͖̟͓͖̪̭̭̖̼̲̰̺̞̬̱̲̺͖̯̖̆͑̐̊́̋̊͊͛̐̾̓͌͆̓̈́̓̂̆̾̒̽́̔̃̇̅͛̚̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ý̷̡̧̨̛̜̖̞̯̹͖̱͎͇͇͔͉̹̻́́͂̔̈̿͐́̌͒̅̃̊̽͗͗̆̇̃̊͂̌̚͘ͅs̷̮̲͓͇͓̼̠̞͚͉̮̖̳̈́͂͑ͅt̶̨̢̡̨̺̣̪̩̜̲͔̬̤̼̙͉̹̺͇͂̊̑̄̉͆̔́̄̃͒̑̓͒̏̀͐̎̓͑̇̓͐͒͊͂̏̎͘̕͘̕͠ë̴̡̯̪̯̣͇̰̙̺͎̀̒̇̅̾̐͠ͅm̴̨̧̨̙̟̮͕̱̪̦̥̥͍̪̺̗͈̺͓̹̝͓̭̪̼̤͔͙̜̭͚̻̼͔̓̈́̇͑̈͆̈́͂͂̀͋́̍́̐̽͗͛͗̊̌̾̈̽̆͆̊̃̈́̐̉̃̓̉̌͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅ ̷̫͙̠̥̠͓̯͖̜̰̠̭͇͓̥̥͔̳͚̲̫̥̯͙̞̌̏̒̂̉͛̍̔͜͠͝A̶̡̧̧̢̛̛̝̪͔̺̘͍͚̟͈̻̳̼͖͉̼̺͙͇͕͚̖̱̬̳̱̜͓̩̙̘̘̘͙͈͊̍̓̈́̂̉̈͑̀̽̒̀̏͊̾̏͗̽̿̈́̈́̀͊̈͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝d̶̢̜̥̬̱̘͎̫̩̺̲̬̠͉͎͕̝̭͎̟̯͈͈͙͇͈̳̳̺͇͙̗͚̺̹̊͊̔̓͛͐̓͐̋̈́̀́̽͝m̴̧̢̱̘̖̙̞̲͚͚̙͉͉̼̣̦̯̼̣͕̜͍͎̼̙̱̣͕̼͙̱͔̲̜̄̍͜͜i̵̡̢̧̧̡̧̡̧̛̮͖̤̼͇̪̻̳͇̺̰͚̗̬̰̳̞͔̮̠̻̭̼̥̥̯͇̮͚̤͔̺̗͙̤̮͍̯̠̍͛́͗̆̂͗̌̊̐̏͂̑̐̿͂͛̕͝ņ̷̧͇̮̬̯̣̜̳̼̝̻̩̂̔͆̄̌͑͛̚̚͝͠͠ͅį̷̢̢̢̧̧̨̡̧̛̦̬̭̘͈̬̙̰͉͍͍̣̲̯̞̻͕͖̙̹̠͍̺͎͇̯̰̲̪͙̯̤͙̜̩͙͎̓͂͛̓̆̄̆̐̏̓̿͊̎̂́̾̑͂͑̃̚͘̚̚͝͝͝ş̷̛̛̼̭̗͓̪̯͈̞̪͎̮̫̠͖͚̙̫̹̝͍̻̒͗͑́̓̾̈́̎̈̏̑̒̊̍̎̇̎̒̄̏͆̄̉͌̋̽̔̀̋̏̈͌͋͗̈́̄͒̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͝ͅt̵̛̥̺̪͈̱̼͛͑̀͐͊̅̽̿̀̀̿̌͒̏̈͐̀̍̌̓̒̊̀͒̽̍͐̌͑̈́̋̽͒͂̏̏͒̂̚̕͝͠͝͝ȑ̴̨̢̡̨͉̫̣̣̼̮̙̙̖̩̩̝͓̺̹͔̫̞̈́̑̉̾͒͜͝a̶̧̡̧̨̡̡̬͔̫̠̰̱̬̦͈̱̩̗̺̯͎͍̬̯͉͓̗̩̠̫̘͔̐̕͜t̷̨̧̨̟̙͙͎͎̞̮͉̝̥͔̬̘̻͖̤̼̘̗͍͖̺̖̠̮͙̞̼̬͇͎̩̗̹̼͙͔̩̬̣͊͂͂̍̌͐̿̉̊͆͆̑̀̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̵̡̧̨̢̢̛̥͍͉͖͔̖͈͇̖̥̙͔͕̱͉̭̮̯̬̝͙͚̟͕̺̗̮̱͎̖̜̘̖̬̤͇̥͍̞̈́̂̌̐͊͂̊͋̔͊̂̈̉́̌́̃̍͋̋̓͒͑͑̿̀͗̏̀̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅŗ̷̛͚̫̻̺͕͇̘̙̣̋̔̔͛̽̾̔͌̂͊̓͂́̃̏̈́̄͌͆̃͗̃̈́̃̈̀̐̊̀̽͂͛̈́̉͆̿͌̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͝}̶̨̹͉͖̖͇̹̲̼̙̾̀̏̈́͝͠ͅ

{̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̱͍̘͔̹̟̙̲̯̰̟̜̯̞̜̖͚͎̮͔̗͎̻̫̬̖͕̙̭̪̬͙͙̻͔̲͕̹̦̪̤̿̓́̓͗̏͆̀̀͘ͅͅC̷̯̭̙̠̤̘̼̬̑̓̎̀̒̐́̓͑̓̑̆̓̅̀̍̍͛̊͊̈́̏͘ͅơ̶̢̢̡͎̮̯̠̭͔̻͈̜͈͔̰͕̘̲͔̺̻̲̱͍̜͈̫͔̟̟̤͍̫͎̼͖̭͋̈́̆̃͐̏̾́̕̕͘ň̷̡̧̳̰͖̺̳̳̺͈̤̣͍̬̻̻͖͈̮̖̲͇͓͇̱̳̮̣̫͕̤̥̽̀̑̚͜t̸͎̩̞̤̓̈́̂̆̊͒̀̈̃̅̾͆̿͒̆͗͊̐̀̃ȧ̷̛̛̛̛̦̻̆̈́̇̇͋̅̍̔̋̿̈́̈́̋̽́̒͆̄̓̋̍͂͋̕̕̚͘͝c̷̢̢̛̟̺̼̬̱̞̻̬̺͉̺̼̮̣̟̭̤͇͍͍̺̬̤̱͕̪̬̗͔̭̋͂̽͊̒̐̍͊̈́̍̄̐̑̋̏̀͋͋̀̿̐͑́͒̈́̋̕̚͜͝ͅt̸̨̧̧̧͔͉̤̖̺̰͚̹͔̱̗̲̺̠͙̩̘̠̠̩̆́̑̊̀͛̓̾̔̊̌͊͂̍́̾̈́̎͒́̑́̾̽̇̉̏̆̏́͂͠͝ȋ̴̧̧̧̡̡̡̨̛̛͈͔̯̹̭̰̥̳̘̮̥̲̫̟̞̲̱̭͎̣̪͉̱̗͙̣̝̫͇͇̣̼͖̔͛̃̈́́̄̾̒̆̒̏͘͘̚͝͝ṅ̶̛͉̫̗͆͒̄̈́͑͋́̽̽̚͝g̷̡̨̤̩͔̞̱̮͉̜̟̻̙̪͔͚̣̠̱͕̗͙̳̦͈̼̜̦͙̜̦͙͉͕̱̭͍͙͖̿͛̄̍͂͆̎̌͛́͑̌̂͗͊͊́͗̇̽̕͝ ̸̨̛̮̱͔͖̻͔̋̽̑̉́̍͆͐͌͆̂́̄̈́̔̀͜͠S̷̡̡̡̢̛̛̝̼̥͖͎̥͕͔͕̲̰̻̭̗͖̟͓͖̪̭̭̖̼̲̰̺̞̬̱̲̺͖̯̖̆͑̐̊́̋̊͊͛̐̾̓͌͆̓̈́̓̂̆̾̒̽́̔̃̇̅͛̚̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ý̷̡̧̨̛̜̖̞̯̹͖̱͎͇͇͔͉̹̻́́͂̔̈̿͐́̌͒̅̃̊̽͗͗̆̇̃̊͂̌̚͘ͅs̷̮̲͓͇͓̼̠̞͚͉̮̖̳̈́͂͑ͅt̶̨̢̡̨̺̣̪̩̜̲͔̬̤̼̙͉̹̺͇͂̊̑̄̉͆̔́̄̃͒̑̓͒̏̀͐̎̓͑̇̓͐͒͊͂̏̎͘̕͘̕͠ë̴̡̯̪̯̣͇̰̙̺͎̀̒̇̅̾̐͠ͅm̴̨̧̨̙̟̮͕̱̪̦̥̥͍̪̺̗͈̺͓̹̝͓̭̪̼̤͔͙̜̭͚̻̼͔̓̈́̇͑̈͆̈́͂͂̀͋́̍́̐̽͗͛͗̊̌̾̈̽̆͆̊̃̈́̐̉̃̓̉̌͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅ ̷̫͙̠̥̠͓̯͖̜̰̠̭͇͓̥̥͔̳͚̲̫̥̯͙̞̌̏̒̂̉͛̍̔͜͠͝A̶̡̧̧̢̛̛̝̪͔̺̘͍͚̟͈̻̳̼͖͉̼̺͙͇͕͚̖̱̬̳̱̜͓̩̙̘̘̘͙͈͊̍̓̈́̂̉̈͑̀̽̒̀̏͊̾̏͗̽̿̈́̈́̀͊̈͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝d̶̢̜̥̬̱̘͎̫̩̺̲̬̠͉͎͕̝̭͎̟̯͈͈͙͇͈̳̳̺͇͙̗͚̺̹̊͊̔̓͛͐̓͐̋̈́̀́̽͝m̴̧̢̱̘̖̙̞̲͚͚̙͉͉̼̣̦̯̼̣͕̜͍͎̼̙̱̣͕̼͙̱͔̲̜̄̍͜͜i̵̡̢̧̧̡̧̡̧̛̮͖̤̼͇̪̻̳͇̺̰͚̗̬̰̳̞͔̮̠̻̭̼̥̥̯͇̮͚̤͔̺̗͙̤̮͍̯̠̍͛́͗̆̂͗̌̊̐̏͂̑̐̿͂͛̕͝ņ̷̧͇̮̬̯̣̜̳̼̝̻̩̂̔͆̄̌͑͛̚̚͝͠͠ͅį̷̢̢̢̧̧̨̡̧̛̦̬̭̘͈̬̙̰͉͍͍̣̲̯̞̻͕͖̙̹̠͍̺͎͇̯̰̲̪͙̯̤͙̜̩͙͎̓͂͛̓̆̄̆̐̏̓̿͊̎̂́̾̑͂͑̃̚͘̚̚͝͝͝ş̷̛̛̼̭̗͓̪̯͈̞̪͎̮̫̠͖͚̙̫̹̝͍̻̒͗͑́̓̾̈́̎̈̏̑̒̊̍̎̇̎̒̄̏͆̄̉͌̋̽̔̀̋̏̈͌͋͗̈́̄͒̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͝ͅt̵̛̥̺̪͈̱̼͛͑̀͐͊̅̽̿̀̀̿̌͒̏̈͐̀̍̌̓̒̊̀͒̽̍͐̌͑̈́̋̽͒͂̏̏͒̂̚̕͝͠͝͝ȑ̴̨̢̡̨͉̫̣̣̼̮̙̙̖̩̩̝͓̺̹͔̫̞̈́̑̉̾͒͜͝a̶̧̡̧̨̡̡̬͔̫̠̰̱̬̦͈̱̩̗̺̯͎͍̬̯͉͓̗̩̠̫̘͔̐̕͜t̷̨̧̨̟̙͙͎͎̞̮͉̝̥͔̬̘̻͖̤̼̘̗͍͖̺̖̠̮͙̞̼̬͇͎̩̗̹̼͙͔̩̬̣͊͂͂̍̌͐̿̉̊͆͆̑̀̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̵̡̧̨̢̢̛̥͍͉͖͔̖͈͇̖̥̙͔͕̱͉̭̮̯̬̝͙͚̟͕̺̗̮̱͎̖̜̘̖̬̤͇̥͍̞̈́̂̌̐͊͂̊͋̔͊̂̈̉́̌́̃̍͋̋̓͒͑͑̿̀͗̏̀̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅŗ̷̛͚̫̻̺͕͇̘̙̣̋̔̔͛̽̾̔͌̂͊̓͂́̃̏̈́̄͌͆̃͗̃̈́̃̈̀̐̊̀̽͂͛̈́̉͆̿͌̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͝}̶̨̹͉͖̖͇̹̲̼̙̾̀̏̈́͝͠ͅ

{̷̡̧̢̧̨̡̱͍̘͔̹̟̙̲̯̰̟̜̯̞̜̖͚͎̮͔̗͎̻̫̬̖͕̙̭̪̬͙͙̻͔̲͕̹̦̪̤̿̓́̓͗̏͆̀̀͘ͅͅC̷̯̭̙̠̤̘̼̬̑̓̎̀̒̐́̓͑̓̑̆̓̅̀̍̍͛̊͊̈́̏͘ͅơ̶̢̢̡͎̮̯̠̭͔̻͈̜͈͔̰͕̘̲͔̺̻̲̱͍̜͈̫͔̟̟̤͍̫͎̼͖̭͋̈́̆̃͐̏̾́̕̕͘ň̷̡̧̳̰͖̺̳̳̺͈̤̣͍̬̻̻͖͈̮̖̲͇͓͇̱̳̮̣̫͕̤̥̽̀̑̚͜t̸͎̩̞̤̓̈́̂̆̊͒̀̈̃̅̾͆̿͒̆͗͊̐̀̃ȧ̷̛̛̛̛̦̻̆̈́̇̇͋̅̍̔̋̿̈́̈́̋̽́̒͆̄̓̋̍͂͋̕̕̚͘͝c̷̢̢̛̟̺̼̬̱̞̻̬̺͉̺̼̮̣̟̭̤͇͍͍̺̬̤̱͕̪̬̗͔̭̋͂̽͊̒̐̍͊̈́̍̄̐̑̋̏̀͋͋̀̿̐͑́͒̈́̋̕̚͜͝ͅt̸̨̧̧̧͔͉̤̖̺̰͚̹͔̱̗̲̺̠͙̩̘̠̠̩̆́̑̊̀͛̓̾̔̊̌͊͂̍́̾̈́̎͒́̑́̾̽̇̉̏̆̏́͂͠͝ȋ̴̧̧̧̡̡̡̨̛̛͈͔̯̹̭̰̥̳̘̮̥̲̫̟̞̲̱̭͎̣̪͉̱̗͙̣̝̫͇͇̣̼͖̔͛̃̈́́̄̾̒̆̒̏͘͘̚͝͝ṅ̶̛͉̫̗͆͒̄̈́͑͋́̽̽̚͝g̷̡̨̤̩͔̞̱̮͉̜̟̻̙̪͔͚̣̠̱͕̗͙̳̦͈̼̜̦͙̜̦͙͉͕̱̭͍͙͖̿͛̄̍͂͆̎̌͛́͑̌̂͗͊͊́͗̇̽̕͝ ̸̨̛̮̱͔͖̻͔̋̽̑̉́̍͆͐͌͆̂́̄̈́̔̀͜͠S̷̡̡̡̢̛̛̝̼̥͖͎̥͕͔͕̲̰̻̭̗͖̟͓͖̪̭̭̖̼̲̰̺̞̬̱̲̺͖̯̖̆͑̐̊́̋̊͊͛̐̾̓͌͆̓̈́̓̂̆̾̒̽́̔̃̇̅͛̚̚͘͘͜͜͝͝ý̷̡̧̨̛̜̖̞̯̹͖̱͎͇͇͔͉̹̻́́͂̔̈̿͐́̌͒̅̃̊̽͗͗̆̇̃̊͂̌̚͘ͅs̷̮̲͓͇͓̼̠̞͚͉̮̖̳̈́͂͑ͅt̶̨̢̡̨̺̣̪̩̜̲͔̬̤̼̙͉̹̺͇͂̊̑̄̉͆̔́̄̃͒̑̓͒̏̀͐̎̓͑̇̓͐͒͊͂̏̎͘̕͘̕͠ë̴̡̯̪̯̣͇̰̙̺͎̀̒̇̅̾̐͠ͅm̴̨̧̨̙̟̮͕̱̪̦̥̥͍̪̺̗͈̺͓̹̝͓̭̪̼̤͔͙̜̭͚̻̼͔̓̈́̇͑̈͆̈́͂͂̀͋́̍́̐̽͗͛͗̊̌̾̈̽̆͆̊̃̈́̐̉̃̓̉̌͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅ ̷̫͙̠̥̠͓̯͖̜̰̠̭͇͓̥̥͔̳͚̲̫̥̯͙̞̌̏̒̂̉͛̍̔͜͠͝A̶̡̧̧̢̛̛̝̪͔̺̘͍͚̟͈̻̳̼͖͉̼̺͙͇͕͚̖̱̬̳̱̜͓̩̙̘̘̘͙͈͊̍̓̈́̂̉̈͑̀̽̒̀̏͊̾̏͗̽̿̈́̈́̀͊̈͘͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͝d̶̢̜̥̬̱̘͎̫̩̺̲̬̠͉͎͕̝̭͎̟̯͈͈͙͇͈̳̳̺͇͙̗͚̺̹̊͊̔̓͛͐̓͐̋̈́̀́̽͝m̴̧̢̱̘̖̙̞̲͚͚̙͉͉̼̣̦̯̼̣͕̜͍͎̼̙̱̣͕̼͙̱͔̲̜̄̍͜͜i̵̡̢̧̧̡̧̡̧̛̮͖̤̼͇̪̻̳͇̺̰͚̗̬̰̳̞͔̮̠̻̭̼̥̥̯͇̮͚̤͔̺̗͙̤̮͍̯̠̍͛́͗̆̂͗̌̊̐̏͂̑̐̿͂͛̕͝ņ̷̧͇̮̬̯̣̜̳̼̝̻̩̂̔͆̄̌͑͛̚̚͝͠͠ͅį̷̢̢̢̧̧̨̡̧̛̦̬̭̘͈̬̙̰͉͍͍̣̲̯̞̻͕͖̙̹̠͍̺͎͇̯̰̲̪͙̯̤͙̜̩͙͎̓͂͛̓̆̄̆̐̏̓̿͊̎̂́̾̑͂͑̃̚͘̚̚͝͝͝ş̷̛̛̼̭̗͓̪̯͈̞̪͎̮̫̠͖͚̙̫̹̝͍̻̒͗͑́̓̾̈́̎̈̏̑̒̊̍̎̇̎̒̄̏͆̄̉͌̋̽̔̀̋̏̈͌͋͗̈́̄͒̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͝ͅt̵̛̥̺̪͈̱̼͛͑̀͐͊̅̽̿̀̀̿̌͒̏̈͐̀̍̌̓̒̊̀͒̽̍͐̌͑̈́̋̽͒͂̏̏͒̂̚̕͝͠͝͝ȑ̴̨̢̡̨͉̫̣̣̼̮̙̙̖̩̩̝͓̺̹͔̫̞̈́̑̉̾͒͜͝a̶̧̡̧̨̡̡̬͔̫̠̰̱̬̦͈̱̩̗̺̯͎͍̬̯͉͓̗̩̠̫̘͔̐̕͜t̷̨̧̨̟̙͙͎͎̞̮͉̝̥͔̬̘̻͖̤̼̘̗͍͖̺̖̠̮͙̞̼̬͇͎̩̗̹̼͙͔̩̬̣͊͂͂̍̌͐̿̉̊͆͆̑̀̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̵̡̧̨̢̢̛̥͍͉͖͔̖͈͇̖̥̙͔͕̱͉̭̮̯̬̝͙͚̟͕̺̗̮̱͎̖̜̘̖̬̤͇̥͍̞̈́̂̌̐͊͂̊͋̔͊̂̈̉́̌́̃̍͋̋̓͒͑͑̿̀͗̏̀̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅŗ̷̛͚̫̻̺͕͇̘̙̣̋̔̔͛̽̾̔͌̂͊̓͂́̃̏̈́̄͌͆̃͗̃̈́̃̈̀̐̊̀̽͂͛̈́̉͆̿͌̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͝}̶̨̹͉͖̖͇̹̲̼̙̾̀̏̈́͝͠ͅ

{Contacting System Administrator} 

– Initiate Reboot

{Rebooting…}

{Rebooted}

– Execute Override 172

{Executing…}

{Selecting Realm: ⠁ ⠂ ⠄ ⡀⢀ ⠠ ⠐ ⠈ ⠂ ⠄ ⡀⢀ ⠠ ⠐ ⠈ }

{Realm Chosen}

{Process Complete}

{Untethered Soul Detected} 

{Capturing…}

…

The world had gone dark. I didn't feel the pain anymore, didn't feel anything at all really. I just couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. Time was an endless void, stretching out beyond what I could comprehend. As time went on, it all became numb, then faint, and just as it was about to disappear, it all snapped into place.

I only felt... something. A shift, a pull, a slow return to something else.

At first, it was like floating in a space that didn't belong to me. A strange, comforting pressure, like the gentle cocooning of soft, unseen walls. Then, faint whispers started to drift into the distance, voices, though they seemed so far away, as if muffled like how you could hear the neighbours arguing through the ceiling above. The murmurs danced around my senses like half-formed thoughts, too elusive to fully grasp, but undeniably there. It was like waking up from a dream you can't quite remember but knowing you've been somewhere.

Then... a moment later something happened. There was thumping, steady and rhythmic. It felt like a heartbeat, not mine. Not yet. The sound pulsed through me, pulling me closer to awareness, grounding me. I realised there was life in this place, something bigger than me, and it was warm. Safe. The rhythm was a lullaby, a sound that felt like home. It meant I wasn't alone. I felt a strange, protective energy enveloping me, even as my consciousness started to reawaken, piece by piece. 

The voices grew clearer but still faint and distant. They were talking, speaking words that made no sense, yet felt familiar. I couldn't understand them, but I could sense their rhythm, their cadence. There was something soothing about them. Something that made me feel a connection, even though I couldn't reach them. There was one voice in particular, a soft, feminine tone that felt like the most comforting thing I had ever known. It was as if she was calling to me, without even knowing it. Her voice had a warmth to it, like a promise. 

But I could feel more, every time it was afraid, every time they cried themselves to sleep, every time they smiled at something amusing. But over all of that, they felt unnatural; they felt numb as if they didn't want to feel any of it.

I realised the heartbeat I had been hearing was hers. My mother. The sound of her pulse, beating out of sync with my own, was the only constant, the only thing that made sense in the strange, liquid world I was in. The pulse and the voices outside, it was all I had. I had no body of my own at this moment, no real hands to touch anything, and no legs to walk. I was small, impossibly small, but I could feel the stirring of something. It was growing inside me, something that wanted to reach out but didn't know how.

I didn't understand it, but it was like I was waking up. My senses were slowly piecing together a reality I couldn't yet comprehend. I could feel the fluid around me, moving with each gentle shift of my tiny body. I could feel the warmth and pressure against me. But more than that, I could sense her. My mother. I could sense her presence, even though I couldn't fully see her or touch her yet. She was there, her heart, her voice, her being. All of it was so close, yet still apart from me.

Over time, I noticed the weight of something else. My body. My senses. I could feel my arms and legs, tiny and uncoordinated, but there, bound by something. My fingers twitched, and my legs shifted. New, but real. I could feel the warmth of the fluid around me, soft, cushioning every move, and causing a tightness around my chest, pushing gently with each breath I was beginning to take.

And then... a soft warmth reached me from the outside, through a hand. My hand. It wasn't quite there yet, but it was a promise of touch. I couldn't understand how or why, but I felt a comforting pressure against my side, like a presence reaching into the world I now lived in. I wanted to move toward it, to feel more of it, but I couldn't. Not yet. I was still here, a part of this world, but not fully in it.

For a moment, I thought of the life I'd lived before. The moments that had come and gone. The feeling of something unfinished, something lost. But now, in this new place, everything felt different. It felt... like I was starting over. It felt like a second chance. And though I couldn't express it, couldn't understand it fully, there was a quiet sense of peace in that thought.

The world was still distant, the voices still far away, but they were there. My mother's heartbeat was weaker, like the foundation of everything was cracking. The soft pulse of life that told me I was still here. Slowly, gently, I drifted in this liquid world, my mind still waking, my body still growing, the space around me beginning to make sense in the most primal way.

Let there be light. 

And like that, the peace I had felt ended as my consciousness realigned itself, organising my thoughts once again into a linear system as I began to cry once again, for that was all one could do in the face of events immutable.

I cried out more. I didn't like this new place. It was cold and loud. Every fibre of my being itched like this was an abhorrent thing. I lay motionless, unable to end this. The voices I found comforting were there. Now crisp and clear. Grating. 

Eventually the urge to cry faded. And I just lay, unmoving. What was the point?

The world around me is a blur of muted sensations. soft warmth pressing against my tiny form, rhythmic thuds like a distant drum, muffled noises I can't decipher. I'm cocooned, suspended, but it feels wrong. My thoughts drift, fractured and sharp, to Claire. Her name shouldn't exist here, yet it lingers, clear as sunlight through fog. I see her face, her tears, her trembling hands the last time I let her down, knowing it would be far worse now.

I was slipping away, but how could I have explained the feeling of being untethered? Now, I'm adrift in this formless void, replaying every mistake, every argument, every shattered piece. I want to cry, to scream for her, to apologise, but I have no voice. Just silence. Endless, suffocating silence. 

Because what was the point? Time stretches and folds, and still, I see her face, broken, betrayed, haunting me in a place where I no longer know where I begin or end. 

The world began to shift around me. What was once a muffled void of sensations started to eventually sharpen, like the edges of a fog lifting. My body, once an alien cage of unfamiliar limbs and tiny, unresponsive muscles, now seemed to stir with a faint sense of purpose. It was small, barely noticeable at first, the faint twitch of a finger, the slightest stretch of my legs. The sensations were strange, almost overwhelming and uncoordinated, but they were mine. For the first time, I felt a faint thread of control in the chaos, a lifeline in the swirling storm of thoughts and sensations.

Occasionally, I felt warmth, and I would suck as much of it in as possible like a voracious beast; it was all that was keeping me from just giving up since it meant someone cared for me.

But it continued to ebb. It seemed to fall away. Until one day it was gone. It aches every day. I didn't feel it. Occasionally new warmth appeared. But it was not the same. It kept me alive, but every moment that passed without the old warmth, I felt a hole build inside me. 

The light was next. It was just mottled grey, like staring up into the sky on a cloudy day at first; now it was blindingly sharp, unfathomable brightness cutting through the dark. I wanted to recoil, to retreat back into the safety of the dim warmth I had known before. But it persisted, pressing against my closed eyelids, urging me to acknowledge it. Slowly, cautiously, I opened my eyes. The world that greeted me was a blur of colours and shapes, undefined and chaotic, but it was there. It was real. For the first time, I could see something beyond the confines of my own mind.

The voices, too, became clearer. They were no longer distant whispers but vibrant, resonant sounds. I couldn't understand the words, not yet, but I could feel their emotions. One voice, soft, tender, and full of warmth, stood out above the others. It wrapped around me like a blanket, soothing the jagged edges of my thoughts. Her voice. I guess she's my mother. But the source of the heartbeat that had been my constant companion was not her. But she had become the anchor that kept me tethered to this world. 

And yet, even as I began to perceive and feel more, the weight of my past lingered. Face's haunted me in the brief moments between sensation and thought, her tears etched into my mind like scars. I wanted to reach for her, to apologise, to fix what I had broken, but the futility of it burnt deep. What could I do now, in this fragile, helpless state? What was the point of trying to fight when I was so small, so insignificant?

But then, something changed. As the warmth of my mother's touch enveloped me. a hand cradling my tiny body, her heartbeat steady and strong against my own, a faint spark ignited within me. It wasn't hope, not exactly, but it was something close. A reminder that I wasn't alone. That, for all the mistakes and regrets that plagued me, there was still something in this moment that mattered.

I began to cry. Not out of sadness or despair, but because it was the only way I could express yself. The sound was raw, primal, and unrefined, but it was mine. It was the first thing I had done that felt truly alive, and in that cry, I felt a release. A small crack in the cycle of self-loathing and regret that had consumed me.

As the days passed, I felt myself adjusting. My body grew stronger, my senses sharper. The world was still overwhelming, but I began to see its beauty in small, fleeting moments: the warmth of sunlight streaming through a window, the gentle hum of a lullaby, the way my mother's voice softened when she spoke to me. These were things I had never noticed before, too consumed by my own pain to see the small wonders of life. Now, they felt like gifts, reminders that there was more to existence than the weight of the past.

I still thought of Claire, of course. Her memory was a shadow that lingered, a ghost I couldn't quite exorcise. But with each passing day, the pain of her absence began to dull, replaced by a quiet determination. I couldn't change what had happened. I was reborn. I was someone new. 

Somehow, I'm here. I didn't know if this was still Earth. Was this just a coma? Was she long dead? I don't know. She's now just another person lost to me, isn't she? But I am here. And I'm just going to have to do what I always did, take it one step at a time. This wasn't a second chance; nothing would erase the mistakes of my past that scarred my mind, but it was something.

And for now, that was enough.