[center][h1][color=#D9C966]A[/color][color=#AC9E49]s[/color][color=#80742D]t[/color][color=#AC9E49]u[/color][color=#D9C966]s[/color][/h1][/center]

[center][h1]The Cost of Lazyness[/h1]

[b]I[/b][/center]

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmkuuutOxzQ&list=PLEGgMs2JcjW6Z437IzODOALo8bNTWxJpF&index=24]It had been a while[/url]. Oh, it certainly had been a while.

Astus stretched as he sat, perched, at the highest point of his home’s slanted roof, right on top of one of the protruding window frames that led into the library. 

Yeah, it had been a while since he’d had the time to sit down and watch the Godrise. 

Work had been busy. He’d worked on the Astalonian project for decades and gone through hundreds of subjects before he’d been successful. Since then, keeping his servants running correctly was a full-time job all on its own. Yeah, he was now able to send them out on their own on missions, but had it all really been worth it? There was a nagging sensation buried deep in the recesses of his mind, a feeling of… Disappointment. 

It only grew worse as he noticed the Homuran walking out of his home holding a toolbag. A tool bag full of tools that Astus himself had made and organized. Beautiful things, they were… And now they were being used by a bag of meat and bone that hadn’t the slightest clue on how to maintain them, and had never experienced the pain and effort that had gone into crafting them. 

The small sampling of Homurans that his Astalonians had managed to retrieve all those years ago had grown considerably, and thanks to his own guidance and knowledge, they were now living quite comfortably. They had clothes, shelter, food, and entertainment. They had everything they could ever want, fueled by Astus’ unending expertise and safeguarded by the fact that should anything break down, their God would come by and fix it for them.

They were pathetic.

[center][b]II[/b][/center]

[b]”So, fix it yourself, small man.”[/b] Astus said.

The Homuran in front of him shrunk away a little. Astus stared into his heart, his flame dripping down onto the pavement and sizzling away.

“B-But, uh… I don’t know how…” The man said quietly. Astus took a step towards him, and the man took two steps back, avoiding eye contact.

[b]”So, learn how to do it.”[/b]

“I can’t…”

[b]”You can’t? Or you don’t want to?”[/b] The God asked of the man, to which the response was merely a strange, scrunched up expression. 

After a moment that felt like forever, Astus scoffed and walked off and into his workshop, slamming the door behind him and leaving the man standing outside, stunned. He let the wooden toy in his hands fall to the ground, arms limp, and shakily looked over to his side, where Astus’ servant stood motionless. Her featureless neon eyes stared back at him, and suddenly she looked as crestfallen as him. 

The metal woman approached him gracefully and held him, pressing his head against her chest. It was cold, but warm all the same. Eventually, he returned the embrace and sobbed quietly.

“I-I’m a failure… This was my son’s favourite toy…”

“Oh, sweetheart…” The Servant said, her voice laced with honey and smoke.

[center][b]III[/b][/center]

Ever since he had stopped giving them everything on a silver platter, things had come crashing down for the Homurans. They were weak and stupid and lazy, and it had been his own failure to properly teach them that had brought them all to this point.

He set down his pen as he finished scribbling the last bit of information onto the blueprints for his last Homuran project.

“Another all-nighter, Astus.” He said softly to himself as he looked at the red Godlight pouring in through the windows.

He felt strange. There was something in his chest, but he couldn’t quite place it.He slouched over his standing desk for the first time, and held his head in his arms. 

“I won’t allow this, Father.” A voice, authoritative but honeyed and smokey all the same rung out from the entrance to the workshop. The only one who had the ability to open those doors besides himself was-

[b]“Carer.”[/b] Astus sighed. “I’m not your dad, we talked about this. I’m your creator, your master, and your boss, but not your dad.” 

“You taught me all I knew. You raised me into the Astalonian I am today. I wouldn’t be who I am if not for you. So yes, you are my father. Just like how I am the Mother of all Homurans under our care here! You know, the mortals you were so excited about just a hundred years ago? What happened to you, Father? Why are you trying to do this?!” Carer desperately stomped her metal feet on the ground, a strange vibration sneaking into her voice box. A vibration that he had never designed.

Astus hit his fist onto his desk, the thump silencing reality itself for a second, before he took a deep breath and walked over to Carer and examined her throat for visible damage. “There’s something odd with your voice, Carer, I’ll fix you-”

Carer slapped his hands away, “No! There’s nothing wrong with me, don’t you get it?! The only one who should be getting fixed here is you, Father! Stop this madness, please!” She begged desperately, her hands on her creator’s chest.

“... This has to happen. They’re too far gone. Too poisoned by comfort. I can’t fix them. Neither can you.” He grimaced as he turned away and went to pack his blueprints. 

“You know, when you first gave me my purpose, I was disappointed. A Prime Astalonian reduced to being a babysitter for fleshy mortals? I was a mess for weeks, just ask Evoker or Knuckle!

“But… The first time I was given a smile, a true smile from one of them, I saw their value. Caring for the Homurans, frail and limited as they may be, taught me so much about everything--It taught me how to smile, how to feel, how to talk… It taught me how to love. How can [i]you[/i] not feel love for them after all the things we’ve been through with them? How can [i]you[/i] be so eager to murder them, even though you’ve been their Father since the moment they first opened their eyes?” With each sentence Carer stepped closer to Astus.

“You know a baby was born just a few hours ago, right? She would not stop crying, no matter what I did to try and calm her. She only calmed down once I gave her one of your figurines. Will you murder her as well? Just because she doesn’t know how to build houses, or forges, or steam engines?” Carer let her shoulders droop and covered her face with her hands. She had seen thousands of Homurans cry over the years but had never been able to do it herself. Now, even though no tears or sobbing came out, she truly felt like she was crying. 

“Carer…” Astus whispered, one of his heavy, calloused hands finding its way to her shoulder. Then, he pressed a hidden switch and her body went limp.

[b]”I know you two are waiting outside. I know you want to take her. To save her. So, why don’t you try? I thought I taught you to be more industrious than that.”[/b]

There were a few moments of silence, and then two Astalonians leapt into the workshop through the windows and went straight for Astus. They were Evoker with her cat ears and claws, and Knuckle with her combat arts.

It was no match.

In a split moment, Evoker got kicked in the face so hard she flew through one of the walls and out onto the morning-dew covered grass, while Knuckle had her head crushed by a hammer that Astus had left on his desk.

[b]”Evoker, Knuckle, Carer… I failed you."[/b]

He sulked for a moment, before collecting all three immobile Astalonians and bringing them deep into his workshop.

[hider=Summary]Astus finds a moment to rest after working without a day off for decades on end, then realizes the Homuran society he’d coddled over the years had become pathetic and lazy. He then plots to wipe the slate clean and is eventually confronted by three of his most emotional Prime Astalonian Servants. Carer, Evoker and Knuckle are all easily defeated and taken deep into his workshop.[/hider]

[hider= Vigour]
Starting=6

No vigour used.

Ending=6[/hider]