The following is a non-profit, fan-based AU story. [Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion] and all related serials are owned by Sunrise Inc., Taniguchi Gorō, Ōkouchi Ichirō, Animax, and Funimation. Please support the official release. I tried removing impossible from my dictionary, but it was a little trickier than I had originally thought. There should be a word to describe something that cannot be done, but I can't seem to find it.

"_" = Speaking.

'_' = Thoughts

( _ ) = Translation/Other Meaning

[ _ ] = Personal Title.

["_"] = Speaking via Alternate Means.

{"_"} = Geass Command

Bold = Date and Location

Italic = Other Narrative

21st September a.t.b 2018. Shibuya, Tokyo Sector, Britannian Occupied Japan

"Yes; I . . . destroyed the world, . . . and . . . created it . . . anew."

And thus, I closed my eyes upon the world for the last time. I embraced the overcoming darkness with the last of my breath slipping through the passage between my lips. My heart fell silent beside the wound gapping from my chest to my back. And, after glimpsing once last time to the great tapestry they wove my past until my present, my brain ceased function with the images of Nunnally, Suzaku, and I smiling in our childhood in the pre-Britannian Japan of my memories.

'Ahhh. Such . . . halcyon days. Why did they have to end this way?'

And then, I was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . .

.

?. ?

.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"*gasp* . . . "

Imagine my surprise when I realised that I wasn't dead. Or, not yet anyways.

When I say I wasn't dead, I only meant it in a figurative sense; when one is struck through with a sword so far that it pierces not only one's heart and left lung, but penetrates all the way through until it breaks the skin which mantles the back. When such a strike has been afflicted, one is usually deceased mere minutes at the most after happening upon the receiving end.

I knew of the pain that cut through my chest. The blood that painted my right hand, that held to my wound, that marked the mask I once possessed, and then stroked the Imperial Jack along with the rest of my body as I fell first forward and then upon my back, down the front of my second coronary float parading down the main street of my provisional capital of Tokyo.

The darkness that caught me second by second after that fall was real. The sudden tiredness that enveloped me, made my eyes grow heavy and my breath so slow and so cold as the heat was drained through a filter.

There was no possible way I could have survived. Was there?

No.

No, no no.

There was, but I dare not jinx my fate by speaking its name aloud.

It was true that I had achieved all the necessary criteria to reach that stage, but even so, this would not explain this place I was in now. Despite my little knowing of the true power bestowed by God to humanity, I doubted that this place was part of that same process.

If I looked down, all I could see was a thick fog that curls against my ankles and buried my feet. But, if I looked even harder downwards, there was some form of mirror beneath my feet.

Purple eyes.

Yes, I checked to see if my contacts were still in place, but that was not the case. The reflection of amethyst staring back instead of ruby was true as far as my sight and touch could detect.

Speaking of –

*pat*pat*pat* . . . 'Huh?'

I reached for my chest, but I was shocked to find no hole beneath my clothes-, wait? Why wasn't I in my imperial garbs?

Instead of the white robes of the Britannian emperor stained red where a sword wound should have easily been left untampered with, I was in my school uniform; black with gold, trouser and gakuran. I opened the top button, and was wearing the long sleeved white shirt underneath. I was definitely wearing my uniform. But neither this nor that explained what I was doing here.

The bigger question would why I was able to ponder all this when I should be dead.

I gave myself a thorough inspection through the mirror-like floor. I will not go into the details of me undressing myself, only that I was very thorough and made sure I was able to inspect every patch of skin available on my person.

Least to say, I found no sign of a red bird tattooed anywhere.

Neither on my forehead, nor my right hand. And neither could it be found anywhere else I checked. Save for an array of places I could not get a proper view of, which I shall not delve into for the sake of avoiding speaking of profanity in my dialogue where it is best left unsaid, I was clear of Code.

Though it did put my mind at ease, it could not explain how such a state of being could have transpired. Had this been the work of Code, all my obvious questions would not need a definitive answer. A Geass no longer present. A wound that would no longer exist-, well, judging from what I seen of C.C., there should have at least been this scar to mark the end of my mortal life.

No. This is definitely not the work of Code. So I am still looking as maybe seventy-two other possibilities, with only seven being even remotely plausible and meeting at least two criteria based on this situation.

I still have no answers as to this place though. Even while I am thinking about it, the clouds start disappearing.

I put my clothes back on, but I take not to only do up my second button. Why? Because Code obviously isn't the right answer to this question, so I need to remind myself that I am on my second guess now. When I run out of buttons to count with, I may need to roll up my sleeves, but four extra guesses make no contribution to me as of right now.

Nothing natural can explain why I am wearing clothes other than what I should have died in, unless I have woken up days later. But, I will leave that thought for late into this game.

I have no wound where I was obviously killed, yet I cannot reproduce my Geass. Therefore, I think it's best to assume I am definitely deceased.

My mind is still active though. I am able to consciously think, so that means I am at least aware of that much. I know I can move, and I still retain my senses, so being a ghost or a zombie is a bit of a stretch.

'Hmm.'

I am dead, but I am not undead. I am here, but I am nowhere also.

This place. It doesn't appear to be a place of confinement. I see no horizon, nor do I see any walls or a ceiling above my head. All I am able to see is an endless procession of stars. Black and blue and purple, and white glittering the sky, the land and space that lies between the two.

Logic meant nothing here, I could say with about an 83% certainty. I had died, but I didn't become immortal, which means I must have been transported somewhere else.

With no wound, was I even sure that my body had come with me. That was a thought I pondered upon as I switched my button from my first unto my second.

This certainly wasn't the Thought Elevator, of which I bore witness to the gods of our world, the Collective Unconciousness of Mankind. The dead who ruled over the living as a single entity. Both the Code and the Geass originated there, but this place was not it.

Unlike the unbounded skies of the day, this place was of night, and there were no such constructs that gave evidence to anything living here. This almost glass floor beneath my feet stretched for beyond measurements that it became impossible to get lost when nothing existing in this plain supported the notion that anything permanent was, or even could be made in this dwelling of Amekhania.

I took off my second button when I concluded that this was not the residence of the Collective Unconscious. But, as I fixed my third button, I thought to the difference between experience the living and the dead may look towards the same landscapes;

Perhaps, just like night and day are the same sights but from two different times, this realm beyond the reach of the living was the perception of the dead. I had already affirmed that my demise was still the most likely catalyst for my presence here. If I had truly descended from the world of the living, then that would make this place a home for the demised.

Yes. I may have reached an idea that has comprehension.

Judging my how little existed here, and none of the grandiose one might come to picture the other side of the Styx, I had to assign a name for this place of which I had now become an apparent prisoner within.

"Neither Heaven nor Hell. And I see no such method of atonement in sight, thus this cannot be Purgatory either. Perhaps, Limbo?"

Neither a world of reward or punishment, but a world where there is no such response to the actions of one's life. Without the human perception of glorious rays and fiery brimstone, that would make this place closer the realm of the dead who were neither considered righteous to be received nor diabolic to be tortured until the rapture.

Limbo. A world where the dead wander aimlessly without avail. Forever without rest until they eventually lose that which constitutes an identity. An endless void beyond the reaches of God or the Devil.

No. Maybe not. Limbo was also a place of transitioning. I had already concluded that there was nothing awaiting me here. Perhaps the Asphodel Meadows would suit this place in title better.

No. Not that either. I destroyed the world and created it anew. I was more than simply ordinary. I had ascended far past that by receiving the Power of the Kings. Even earlier still, I was a Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire. The endless darkened fields of wheat were not a place to confine me among other like minds who contributed little and whose existences would be forgotten once those close to them had passed as well.

No, wait.

While this was not an obvious form of punishment. Perhaps, this realm was a section of Tartarus itself. A hole of damnation that was especially tailored to each a person by the nature of their crimes.

'Ha-haha'

Perhaps this is more fitting more one such as me. Though I played the Demon Emperor until my own arranged death for the benefit of mankind's strive for a better future, I still committed so many atrocities that only fuels the number of sins prefixed to my record. A small part of me was willing to accept damnation after death, but being forced to live consciously in a world of perpetual silence for eternity suited me better as a form of punishment.

"Placing me in permanent isolation, and allowing my own thoughts to slowly drive me to the depths of madness. Yes. A fitting end to the legacy that is Lelouch vi Britannia, the man who destroyed the world. Truly, this is what defines the meaning 'Divine Punishment'. To have ruled over all, and now-"

- You may call it as you wish. We have no such use for names here, where everything is eternal. –

'Huh?'

That wasn't my words, nor was it my thoughts that spoke out in this vast and empty nothing. I spun my head in every direction I thought was possible, but the originator could not be locked down. It was irritating me more than it puzzled me.

No, there was definitely no one here. But, that couldn't have been my imagination. Though I bear no concept of time here without anything to here that would even allow me to track its progression, I was certain based on my own experience with the passing of seconds that the development of schizophrenia under isolated conditions couldn't have occurred since my conscious awareness has not been awake for more than an hour at best.

Right. Time for the forth button to be put to good use then;

I am now hearing a voice. Though I am aware that the implications of Geass links them to the Code that bore it, this is not the same however for two reasons: The first is obvious since my Geass is apparently gone, and neither do I have the Code anywhere on my body, therefore I must erase that possibility as I have done already. The second is also obvious, considering my Code contractor is, or maybe it should be was, C.C. But, I know for a fact that this voice does not belong to her.

Her response would have been more snarky and would have talked down to me like a child. That's how well I know my witch. This voice, while feminine, was not hers. Nor was this voice from someone familiar to me, which was unlikely to begin with but never was it impossible until now.

I don't recognise the voice at all, so it is not one I am familiar with nor one that I would interacted with while I was still alive. I couldn't see nor could my ears detect where the voice originated from so I was best left placing this unknown entity as a part of this plain of space itself for the time being.

That only leads to more questions. One of the more pressing being why would they place me in this place of isolation to begin with? However, since I likely will not be-

- Isolation was necessary. We needed to speak with you, so we allowed you to awaken here. –

Wait? That voice again. No, don't tell me. Was . . . was she reading my mind. I wasn't even saying anything.

- Speaking vocally is not required in this plain beyond existence. Think openly to your heart's content. We can always hear it. We already hear it. –

Well, this will certainly make asking questions easier, despite how uncomforting the notion that this being standing before me was already inside my head. After Mao, having another know my thoughts wasn't something that gave me much comfort. Especially when I couldn't see that person in front of me.

- If that is what you wish, then we shall allow. –

Wait, allow what?

I turned my head in a fury, but I was caught completely off my guard the coming of a new existence unfamiliar to this environment. No. That was incorrect. This new appearance was perfectly suited and adapted to this endlessly expanding abyss of starlit space.

There, now in front of me, I could see where the voice was coming from, but it was not as I had expected; though the voice I had identified was feminine, the figure appeared closer to androgynous, but did clearly favour the fairer sex. Hair that was black but pink at its tips- is it?

Could this be some form of visual interference, but even though my mind is certain that I am seeing black and pink, I can't help but think that I am wrong at the same time. The black, could also be midnight blue, or perhaps a very darks shade of tyrian purple, the latter making more sense to explain that transition to pink at the tips of the hair.

Is it pink, or just what I am perceiving as pink though?

Her, or its eyes were pink, but not albino pink. I am really starting to get annoyed with this consistent inconsistencies on this logic-less delusion I am caged within. The sooner I eliminate my presence from this realm of contra-law, the sooner I can fix my mind at ease, even if it means the end of my existence.

I no longer need that fourth button for deducing what this being is, now that I can simply ask it.

"What are you?"

Though she was in front of me, her voice reached me from the side. I turned to see her there also, but then her form that stood in front of me had gone. I am unsure whether to remain sceptic of such intentions or whether to be amazed at the possibilities provided by a world where common sense have no say in what can and cannot be possible.

- We are not. We simply am. We exist, and that is all we are. –

Speaking in plural identifiers while using singular grammar. Interesting. Also, her mouth never even opened, and yet her voice wasn't planted into my mind. Again, logic and law don't exist nor dictate this world apparently. Whatever this being is it would probably closer to say she was no not human.

I wouldn't go as far to declare her God or anything of the sort. Not yet.

"Why assume a form if you are?"

- A form is easier when communicating with those who have recently crossed. We believed that a disembodied voice would only delay our conversations further. –

A consideration to my own preferences. Well, considering that I think of myself as a man of logic over trying to understand that which is beyond the reach of mankind, I guess this . . . being understood me quite well.

But what to label this enigmas being? She seemed considerate enough to be essentially taking care of my smallest of needs when speaking towards m- . . . Taking care.

Now that is an idea.

"You are a caretaker?"

She twitched her head to the side, but was now standing behind me rather than in front where I least expected to see her.

- Yes. We are a caretaker. A caretaker of space-time, would best describe us. We manage until everything ceases. That is all. –

A caretaker of space-time. Intriguing to say the least. Though she continues to refer to herself as 'we' and 'us', her speech pattern was also evident to use singular grammar when using these plural terms. While her etiquette appeared to be severely lacking, I was sensing no sense of a trap being planted, and yet my ever cautious self-conscious was screaming for suspicion-

- We suggest moving forward passed the deductions of an existence such as ourself. You will reach neither an ending nor a continuation to your questions. We can guarantee, for we already know. –

That bluntness. I see, not even a caretaker has any patience for the recently deceased, though I would probably be cranky if this was job until the end of all existences.

It is especially of this one that openly invades my thoughts like such connections to neurological links were intercept able without having first removed my cranium from my skull and prodding it in multiple places with needles attached to wire and linking those into several separate computers.

Then again, a psychic link wasn't farfetched enough to be impossible, nor was it improbable from what little I obtained from that witch.

"I will cut to the chase then; what is the purpose for our meeting, or is this simply how the living re-join the deceased?"

- We do not intervene. We simply hold no control passed death. We do not touch. We do not interfere. We merely allow. The dead arrive to another plain and they become one with us. History. Personality. Hopes. Dreams. Wishes. Independence. All is surrendered and lost. We do not know of internal conflict, for we are all one and the same. There is no I or you. There is no he, she or it. There is no them nor is there one. There is simply we and us. –

"And the reason for why I am still I and not us?"

- We do not intervene because we cannot. We do not intervene because we choose not to. –

I twitched my eyes to this being's answers. It was getting irritating with all this cryptic nonsense that immortals seemed to hold unto like a sacred covenant in some manner of form.

"This was one of those times?"

- That is correct. One of few times out of many chances offered before us. Others we have turned our nose up and brushed from our shoulder.-

"But not this time?"

- Not this time. –

She started walking off as she continued talking. Though I hadn't really taken too much notice, there clapping of her shoes on the floor echoed through this empty space. Even if sight below the ankles remained invisible to the naked eye in the thick streams of smoke that layered the ground, it wasn't at all affected by her walking as it had been when I moved to make space for a mirror in its true reflective surface.

Her actions were more ghost-like than that of deist nature; though she made sounds of moving, and her actions proved she moved through this world like any sentient being does. She could not alter the physical environment. Not this environment to be more specific, even if this was in a broad sense as physical as the world I had cut my ties from.

- As long as all continues, we have no qualms with what the living choose to do. If it was to be our fate to die upon Akasha's blade, than all would have been so. We who hold no control over how time progresses simply follow the stream wherever it may take us. Be it to the great oceans at the end of the currents, or caught prematurely by those who wish to deny our natural freedom -

Yes; or that that bastard of an emperor. The late emperor. How dare he to call himself a father after abandoning his children. All his children. Not just Nunnally and I, and not even those few siblings of ours that I actually gave a damn about. He called this world a mundane affair. Mundane. He was the emperor, and he abandoned his empire and all imperial citizens.

He wanted to remove a world that lies to each other, but his tongue was heavier than his jaw having had dipped itself so deep in molten silver that his internal entirety were nothing more than a cold metal shell, empty and hollow of anything except for the inescapable echo ricocheting inside its metal casket.

It becomes the irony when the greatest liar of them all, greater even than I, was the one man who knew the all the truth that had ever been spoken.

Not just he. No, not only was it him who lied to us. My crusade for truth uncovered more than just the emperor's lies, but even the lies that demoness wearing a terracotta smile that puts the self-imposed moniker of [Demon Emperor] to shame.

Then again, I suppose the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. Just far away enough to realise the true needs of humanity. More so than the rotting conifer that stood in his faux mockery of Eden thinking it was Yggdrasil itself holding the nine worlds upon his shoulders like the self-righteous saint he wanted to pretend he was. And, even more so than the venomous snake that clambered through his branches disguised by the mass of aging leaves and only slithering out to hiss honey whispers of devilry.

"A premature death is such a cruel fate, is it not?"

I snapped from my continuous allegory of metaphors and colourful similes when a voice echoes through the nothingness. The voice wasn't mine. It belonged to the enigmatic figure stewarding this empty realm, who up until this point had spoken whilst neglecting to open her mouth.

"You spoke?"

She smiled back, if you could call that mocking smirk a representation of human kindness. Ok; so perhaps it wasn't to interpreted as a sign of demeaning my reaction, but an omniscient being with such longevity often seem to forget that youth is plagued with inexperience that could never be obtained in comparison.

In her eyes, like a witch I used to know, I would always be compared next to an adolescent, even should I have had the luck of life to have lived until I was a centenarian before passing over. My surprise and shock was no unbelievable reaction toward disbelief that I could have attained by experience. Switching between a speaking through the mind with communication via the mouth and the vocal cords was not a task achievable by any born of flesh and physical matter.

What was this treat she was now hanging over me? A small measure of power? No; it was too minor and too inconvenient to show this level of ability after everything that had come to pass since my consciousness awoke here. The telepathic exchange had been more than sufficient of an explanation.

Was this a thank you? A-

"We do not thank. We hold no such need to offer thanks. Though we no longer hold concept to gratitude or appreciation, we do know how to convey respect. We acknowledge that we respect the actions that partook that day when you shattered the sword created to destroy everything that was us, our bane, and allowed for the universe to continue as it was. We were spared by you."

Not a thank you . . . but an acknowledgement of actions? I guess much as how gods are exempt of human emotions such as guilt, gratitude and other related feelings that would attribute themselves lowly compared to humanity was also exempt from their list of abilities.

What surprised me next was something I had never expected of God; despite dressing herself in an outfit more or less unclear to my sights except that it was dyed blacker than the night sky and was tightly wrapped close to the outline of her chosen body shape. Perhaps even deliberately skin tight as it was metaphysical.

If I looked close enough, there were pink lines that formed the hem and boundaries between each articles of clothing, in the form of the bird which personified the image of Code and its progeny Geass.

Despite her outfit being close to skin tight, what amazed me was not her courtesy, though I assumed this was just a formality and not something that held too much sincerity, but how she was able to grip the sides of her dress and pull them from her hips until they formed the hem of a skirt.

It takes all of my willpower to force myself to remember that I am basically speaking with one who works outside the boundaries of physical laws.

Now equipped a dress line that had easability to tug with great lengths, she mimicked accurately what appeared to be a noblewoman's curtsey. My mind cast itself back into my deepest and furthest memories, as I was reminded of years ago when we were still royals, Nunnally and I;

It was the morning before the night we accidently broke our mother's ceremonial plate, in late August a.t.b. 2007. It was when we stayed the night at the Zagan Palace, where Euphemia and Cornelia had lived with their mother, the late empress Victoria. Late only because she was not warned to leave Pendragon before Schneizel let loose the sword over the Damocles' throne. I remember Nunnally pestering Euphie over what she was learning, more specifically all the fancy greetings and all the "lady" things that Nunna was too young at the time to start learning.

Euphie was more the happy to show our little sister all the stuff "the noble girls are learning in the court". She listed off all the various types of forks and spoons and knives that were available for each meal, but had difficulty name or remembering what each utensil was meant to be used when eating a particular meal. There was also some coded messages involving fans, but she only remembered the two that said "hello" and "until we meet again", and one that was an attempt to say "I love you", but she confused it with "I'm shy" after accidently putting the fan into her left hand without being able to angle it to reach her heart.

Do not ask why I would happen to know such things. Our . . . mother, liked to dress me up before Nunnally was born, and I will say nothing further.

There were few numbers she could recall, like floriography (the language of flowers) and the postural correction walk which she demonstrated with a pillow in substitute to a book. But the curtsey was the one that I remember with the most vigour. I wouldn't exactly recall it as pleasant, so myself that is.

For a nine year old girl with a ditsy attention span, it wasn't a bad form or a poorly crafted execution, but it was easily understandable that she would have gotten parts of the form wrong in her demonstration. Even at a young age, I was a perfectionist, and the sight of her performing something I thought so simple that primates could have been taught it step by step. I of course chastise her, but I was put on the spot when she challenged myself to do it better.

I'm embarrassed to say despite her being a year younger than I was, we were the same cloth sizes so putting on her dress was much easier than it should have been. Nevertheless, I performed well enough based on what I could remember from merely observing, but I later had to contend with having both my younger sister wanting to smother me with make-up to complete the picture. I was honestly too easily broken by their softness.

It was also the first time I had been tricked into wearing women's clothing, excluding the times before the incident when I had no choice in the matter and before I could remember. I cannot say that I am proud to know that this was the only time I had done so ignorantly willing without realising the implications that would unfold later in my life.

I should have known that word of mouth would eventually reach Milly at some point, but I never thought much upon consequences in those days.

"As we on behalf of who represent the entirety that is us, this form we formally expresses recognition that we are indebted to your actions."

Recognition of indebtitude, with a mimicry of a lady's formal bow. Well, for a being that cannot understand complicated human emotions, I will take whatever substitute for gratitude when it comes around, as I am sorely lacking of the sort as of recent times. With a wave of her hand, she could probably just as easily cast aside the waves and create a land bridge out of the Red Sea. Or, perhaps push the boulder across Yomi and chain the angel Thanatos to prevent the plight of death's door kno-

"We do not hold such power. Though we granted the gift that is Geass upon the humans to allow evolution to come about, we are not all powerful. Death is not conquerable. Death is neither avoidable nor is it defiable. What has already passed from life cannot be returned to life. You, Lelouch vi Britannia, are deceased. You cannot regain who you once were, for the person you lived as is already dead."

Well, that certainly answered the question to whether an omnipresent being was omnipotent where it was omniscient and lacking in omnibenevolence. Though many cults in Britannia held to the idea of god, it was very well an atheist state within the "Holy" Britannian Empire, save for worship of St. Charles Darwin of course.

I remember the Empire of Japan in its declining years having suffered a state of godlessness when the imperial family had died out. Not even a long descended shogunate clan like the Kururugi or Sumeragi families could hold the same prestige to re-invite the Shinto pantheon back into old Japan despite being almost royalty themselves.

The Chinese Federation held their emperor like a god, but that was a ploy invoked by the greedy eunuchs to hold onto power absolute. For the Euro Universe, I have no real understanding if their God still lives or if it had become a dying fad among the bureaucrats and realists who were waging a two sided war against the Britannians to their West and the puppet state Euro Britannia in the East.

Well, enough about belief. Belief isn't exactly a factor here and now when my own hold on what is real very well non-existent in front of God herself if-. You know what I already know the answer to my own question.

But, not to this question however. It's been bugging me since the late emperor's demise, and I have been left clueless to anything that may have had a piece of red string tied to it.

"And, what of the Code?"

I had been the one to have killed the former Emperor. I had perfected my form of Geass to its maximal potential; having beseeched the collective conscience of all of former humanity to abide by my will. By the natural law of passing the torch, I was . . . unrestful not knowing the ultimate fate of the mark of immortality he had once bore upon his right hand.

The same right hand that attempted to choke the life from my neck, before I banished him to the furthest essence. Perhaps banished him even further than that; through the door of night, beyond the walls of the world, and into the timeless void beyond creation.

Her answer, came as a shock. No. It filled me with almost insatiable rage a fear knowing that I failed to remove that stain from humanity's grasp.

"The Code bore by Charles zi Britannia has already passed to its next natural wielder. A Code cannot be plundered by a Geass of a separate creation. A branch may not bear the fruit of another tree that is not the same one it grows from. It is not our rule, for it is simply nature."

I gritted my teeth. While I was certainly not in the right to demand that God herself change the outcome of that exchange in my own favour, it irked my conscience to know that I had failed in one goal; the destruction of the Geass Directorate.

The former emperor's little pet project on the side of the eradication of individuals. My raid. It cost me dearly; the trust of my comrades in the Black Knights among others. I destroyed evil, a very thick and ancient root of evil growing the decaying corpse that was the old Chinese Federation under their very eyes. I destroyed them all, or so I thought.

To demand that- . I had thought my purge had been thorough. But it would seem that even the smallest of rats escape and hide until the danger is all clear. Now, I am no longer able to stop them. I purged the Geass Directorate to ensure that the code bore by the Emperor and V.V. would go extinct and would never be passed on again.

To think, that all that blood, was wasted.

"We appear to continue diverging away from the obvious questions."

"Indeed."

Well, it seems that our understandings have at last aligned. While I must say that it has a grievous chore wandering back through triumphs and failures, I suppose that my time was finally up. Despite knowing that I am not meeting a pitch black darkness of nothingness, nor wandering through the empty meadows of Asphodel.

"Though death is absolute, there is always a requirement for souls to re-join the living to walk again across the earth. A vessel without a soul cannot partake the path which is life unless one recycles those who have already passed generations before."

"You mean reincarnation?"

In a non-religious world like mine, reincarnation was just a theorem past down from ancient philosophers, but the vital understanding was that the spirit was trapped in a cycle of dying and rebirth, each life pertaining greatly or poorly depending on the actions of a previous life.

It's merely a brief summary of a more complicated and collected research of many individuals even to the age of machines who continued to probe the notion that there is a soul and that its metaphysical form is eternal. I on the other hand paid as little attention to it. Its benefits to aid my overthrow of the old Britannian governing entity couldn't be fought with or rebuilt upon the foundations of a false hope for those who cower before the trumpeting of the pale rider.

Now that's a thought; Deathmongers fearing death.

'Heh'

My own thoughts chuckled at the notion.

I despised those who believe themselves righteous to murder and slaughter those in their path without the gall to do it themselves at the risk of being killed consequently. I even constructed an entire personal philosophy around defying that notion to be purposely critical against them;

'The only ones who should kill, are those who are willing to be killed themselves.'

I changed the wording of it so often, but my general resolve to that. That, and the leaders who use a wall of bodies as a shield while expecting their undying fealty. I rejected that also and built up a second philosophy I often used as a distraction against those upturned nobles who quizzed the idea of moving a king piece into the line of fire;

'If the king does not lead, how will he expect his troops to follow?'

Did they, those self-righteous nobles and paper soldiers, forget the etymology origin of the word 'leader' by unconsciously following an invisible farce in their mottled fleeces?

"We do. We, who are the steward of the other realm, are offering you another life to walk."

"Why?"

Her head twisted and looked away, as if there was a distance or a horizon that could have caught her line of sight more clearly than what was formerly in front of her. Her posture, looked deliberately girlish which only set to confuse me; her head was leaning back, arms cross and hands cuffed also behind her back, and her right foot anchored by the toes.

It was only when her head , did I catch on to the memory that was over laying my physical and mental perception; as her black hair with pink tips fell over her shoulder, it looked as if it turned to green and fell in greater lengths. As her eyes turned from the nothingness far beyond reach, they blinked and gold stared back instead of pink.

"A premature death is a cruel fate, is it not?"

I blinked a couple of times, at I awoke from my brief lapse, and everything I was seeing returned to how it should have been.

That sideways smirk. It appears as though omniscience is also based knowing the course of the future to an extent if this simple use of repetition was to be believed to indicate a sign of pre-destiny.

"You who died before his time by his own choices left a greater impact upon the world than was ever intended for him. To say that we were intrigued by this does not comprehend the weight behind we who are more numerous that the living. We who no longer hold to the selves we were once, twice, or perhaps thrice before, and who no longer hold the capabilities to seek or desire, we were intrigued by you, Lelouch vi Britannia."

Despite being dead, it would appear that not even one's humour ceases even in the afterlife. As many times as I was being informed, I was finding my own amusement in these insightful discussions. Living has only ever provided me with few people who could display such high levels of intellect; one is a slave to obedience, one is slowly wasting to the ailments failing his body, another died as a repercussion of fratricide apparently, and one is supposedly riding her wagon into the obscurity.

It appears I have a fifth in front of me, but that's just my own arrogance getting in the way of admitting that she is leagues beyond simple sapience.

"I would thank you for the flattery, for I am truly honoured. However, I do not believe that you are capable of flattering, am I correct?"

"There is truth in your observation. Flattery is not within our capacity."

Her right hand pulled upwards to her shoulder, and then it unfurled like a red carpet until it was underhandedly offered in my direction as it straightened out.

"As recognition for preserving us, instead of losing what made you the person who now stands between the living and the dead, we will allow you to retain what is in its essence you, just as you preserved that which is ultimately us."

A back scratch for a back scratch. That was what she was implying. It wasn't exactly a favour because they were not thankful, nor able to emotionally process what we would call 'owing someone'. That stems from a sort of positive moral guilt that compels people to help one another while still retaining a selfish mind-set. And, as mentioned earlier, gods do not feel guilt and can only closely associate a similar emotion known as pity.

Perhaps a collection of beings that were once or twice or many times over human was still actively collectively able to understand these very concepts, even if they were no longer able to embrace them.

But, what is in its essence me? What did that entail, more specifically?

"Will I still be me, I mean myself? When I am reborn, does that mean I will still be Lelouch?"

"No" she answered, but it felt like the response would have been handled better had she simply shook her head rather than ominously release a short reply. "We cannot send a soul back to an original body as we have already said, neither do we hold the power to reverse the natural progression."

Her hand, her right hand was held out in front of her and her left clasped over the top. It was difficult to predict what an omnipotent being could accomplish in the middle of granting my question and explanation. Only when her hands separated and a piece of starlight caught in between was apparently born. It was too bright to look at directly, and I instinct covered my right eye to shield it from the pain.

My left looked on as it adjusted to the new illumination, and that shard of celestial dust now appeared like a tiny terracotta doll slowly rotating counter clockwise within her palms. It wasn't male or female, but not distinctly androgynous like she was. It especially wasn't hermaphroditic either, but only in shape was it human and no other distinct features were at all present.

Despite being made of solid light, it seemed fluid and gaseous as light rippled and perfumed like clouds as if the form itself was only filling a hollow mould invisible to the eye.

I released my right eye from the shade of my hand and I saw, maybe, a glass-like transparent shell that held all the features that made this idol remotely lifelike. It wasn't the same all the time, as I learnt by continuously casting my gaze over and away from it to find that it changed in features while the body of light remained unchanged.

"Your soul has already died once in that same world. Placing it back before its demise upsets the natural course of time itself. You will be placed into a new body instead. Though you will be given a new name, a new face, and a new life, everything that still defines what makes you an individual will remain intact instead of being erased. An experience of one's life time, never to be lost in transition unlike all the others."

She crushed her hands together, and the form vanished. Though, I was keeping my attention elsewhere while I thought over the proposal;

It is tempting; the idea that I could return back to life. I was initially doubtful having already sacrificed my own future do that the rest of the living may have theirs in a world forged to desire a peace of unity against a common evil. The [Demon Emperor]. I doubt I would have been allowed out in public without a stake beneath my neck as the mob carried what was left of me through the streets. Terrifying how efficiently I executed my rise in infamy, and my own execution as a curtain call.

I could see them all again, if I wanted; Nunnally, Suzaku, Rivalz, Milly, Kallen, Jeremiah, Sayako. I could meet them all again at least once, even if they don't know it's me they're talking to. Perhaps, just maybe, I might be able to give Gino and Anya a chance after having deliberately pushed away from them since they were the emperor's knights. If either one of them if not both are still serving under my little sister, it's the least I could do. I never got the chance to apologise to Cornelia, for what I did to Euphie. She did love our sister more that I obviously did. Perhaps, I could finally give that long overdue amendment even by a third person anonymous means.

I could do tha-

. . . Wait. No. No, what am I thinking?

I could see my right hand had slowly started reaching out to take the offer, but now I reflexed my fingers halfway into a closed fist.

The truth was, I didn't want to die. I never wished to end my life prematurely.

There was so many things I wanted to do; as Holy Britannian Emperor, I wanted to do so many more reforms. I already removed the oligarchy and the spoiled royals who crawled and schemed and stepped over anyone possible just to climb a little higher. Certainly, there were innocents or ignorants among them, but there is no such absolute good just as there is no absolute evil expect in fantasy and fiction.

Britannia joining the United Federation was only one step from the bigger picture. With its resources and its technological advantage, the Black Knights would have no problem policing the world. I'll admit that its resolution still had many flaws in it, but after rectifying a few mistakes and making corrections based on situations as they come about is how a constitution is written. Within two, maybe five years, the U.F.N. would have achieved the peace that it always desired.

And while my death had been a catalyst for creating peace after the whole world was under one tyrannical leadership, there would only be a certain lapse in time where the world would wish to be holding hands together to when they regain the confidence to fulfil their own independent ambitions again.

There were also no leaders after I overthrew the world. Only the monarchies have any clear definitive succession after me. But the democracies would be in a state of turmoil, and there was only so long before one man or woman takes the military to the- No. There were no militaries, only terrorist and rebels. No standing army wold storm the government buildings after Britannian dominance is destroyed. The rabble and mobs would fight each other and claw for the chair until only those still holding the country at gunpoint remain seated.

. . . Oh God. Why was I only thinking about this now?

Did . . . did I just remake the world worse off than how it w-

No. That's enough of that. If I had done nothing, the world would be stuck with an endless wilderness of crumbling masks under the former emperor's rule, or a world caught in perpetual circles in an endless present loop with Schneizel holding the key to Damocles.

I fought for a future. And, I entrusted it to the whole world.

Even if what I say is how it will truly come about, I have to believe that they will look for their happiness and not each other's miseries. They are not machines. They have hearts and minds, and I need to believe that humanity is better than this.

As I am just looking at my own hand opening and closing, I am caught between releasing these thought and throwing my fate back into the hands of this God. Or, I crush it, and willingly step back from the world I once knew before I slowly fade away in this empty post-existence.

I have said already that I never truly wished to die. It was necessary, but in truth death was a terrifying thought since we began the Zero Requiem. I didn't know what I would expect to find, or even if I was ever going to see an ending to the black tunnel I fell into by the stroke of a sword.

If I didn't believe that I could do no more for this new world.

If I didn't believe that I was necessary evil that needed to stay dead rather than return.

If I didn't believe that the world would not turn for the brighter future on their own, without my intervention. Then, I would have reached out my hand and snatched that offer.

But, I retracted my hand, knowing that it was the morally right choice.

"No, thank you."

Though I shook my head in resignation, it appeared that the so called omnipotent one wasn't too understanding of human behaviour.

"We request that you repeat your answer, for we wish to know why you have turned us down."

There was no change in expression, not even a twitch in the eye. It was almost like I was talking back to a doll again, except without the rotary of recorded sentences at the end of a cord. I considered that perhaps the Caretaker generally curious and possibly in confusion toward my answer despite being unable to show it efficiently.

But, then I reconsidered again the more logical conclusion that she was closer on par to Laplace's Demon, and that her question was merely a guise to hear whether or not the choice I was deciding upon was within her reasonable comprehension of logic.

As I rubbed down my aching right hand having borne the brunt of my weighty decision, I allowed my thoughts to be said aloud rather than continue to hoard them within my head.

"If I were to return and still be me, then would I really be living, or simply holding on again to an existence that I was once a part of? Life is not something you can simply stretch or extend. Life comes and goes when it should, even when you perish one's self earlier than what was intended had you stayed your hand. I chose to die on my time, by my own terms. If I now throw away that same resolve, then everything that I had sought to create through my death would lose all meaning. It is just as you said; Lelouch vi Britannia is deceased. Even if I were to take up another name and live in another's body, still being myself would inevitably lead me down the road leading to Ragnarök again rather than to the days of halcyon."

My eyes started itching, so I turned around. But, it was futile to try and hide the irritation from a being that could at any point decide to just simple apparate in front of me. I rubbed and scratched them while I tried to hold my tone before the unfortunate gawking of congestion overwhelmed my nasal cavities.

As I attempted the massage the sinuses before I lost my sense of smell, I began speaking of

"A world of Geass which infiltrates and overrides freewill. Code which turns the meaning of life to mere existence. Technology powered by sakuradite capable of bringing life to moving constructs of metal. F.L.E.I.J.A.s that can level the very existence of a single space, and its Eliminator which defies even the power to destroy mankind tenfold. Having a dangerous man like myself who has stained his hand upon all of these sensitive powers co-exist in a world I wished to create. This which I signed with my last breath and last beat of my heart, and these hands of red."

I had removed my hands from my face and I stared into them; though they were not red physically as I had called them, the poetic metaphor had always been there. Fluid dripped from them, and sometimes into them. Between the canals separating my fingers and thumbs, the clear liquid continued seeping through

My knees were weak, but I straightened them out as I furiously swiped away the last of the lacrimation from my eyes before I cleared my nose with a strong inhale through both the nostrils.

"It is too risky. It is not a risk I am willing to allow. Peace has come at last, and all the monster ion the world, the great monsters, have been dealt with. No longer do they have a place they can hide and thrive again. Nowhere for monsters like us to exist. Lelouch vi Britannia no longer has a place to exist in the new peace wrought by my demise. Lelouch vi Britannia brought chaos, a final chaos, upon the world. Peace only blossomed the day the Demon died."

. . .

- Ha-hahaha-hYahahahahahahaa. Hahahahaaa haaahahahahaha-haha. Hahahaha. -

The Caretaker . . . was laughing?

This omniscient being was trying to cover her mouth with one hand, and her eyes were shut to close off the tears. Such display of emotions, it was just too human to comprehend in its entirety. Though she wasn't making a sound through her lungs, her mind was all too clear and resonating that it could not have been missed or mistaken.

I was unsure whether to be amazed, or down right insulted for bleeding my heart only for it to be a source of comedy.

"We hold no concept for joy or pleasure, and yet we are smiling. We question whether it is amusement or satisfaction which creates this possibility, but we understand very little of ourself to be able to certify such a hypothesis."

"I really do not understand you."

I placed my hand over my forehead as a curtain for my eyes as I looked downward and shook my head.

Then she spoke, but

"No Geass. No Code. No sakuradite. No F.L.E.I.J.A. That can be arranged."

My pupils shrank into a sea of white and red veins.

"What?"

Her head turned swiftly, and her long bangs flowing in front of her ears flew across her shoulder, until they slowly slipped and fell down again.

"Our offer stands. There is no alternative nor rejection of our proposal. However, your assumptions are correct. Returning you back to the world you came from is problematic for you. So, a compromise will be made; another world separated in space, on a parallel time."

"Don't tell me I'll be contesting with mythical beings, collecting a harem, and defeating the demon king in one hundred and fifty chronicles. Physical exertion has never been my strongest forte, and neither do I like the idea of using a power like Geass again if I could help it."

Perhaps I spilled my heart out a little too much, but I did seriously worry. I never read any myself, but Rivalz made a habit out of collecting memorabilia from the old Japan with a portion of the money he had earned by himself, or his cut from my own chess games. Most of which included the more, let's say, "questionable content" only found in Japanese manga and the occasional anime.

His preference was the isekai (another world) genre, and especially the ones with plot as he called it. The acronym, not the noun. I never saw value in them as informative let alone entertaining, and yet I would have to listen on end even with half attention on our many rides through the Tokyo Sector highways.

In addition, I would also like to remind you of the track record of one hundred and eight royal consorts the late emperor had. Even if he had been a decent father at the very least of his capabilities, there was just never enough parental nurturing that was available for us all. Whichever way you interpreted, I would never wish to build a harem, even if polygamy wasn't a crime in every country except one if you were head of state.

And as if I would ever allow myself to become my father in many ways than one. I would rather slit both my wrists and wallow toward death neck deep in the bath before I would let myself fall even to a fraction of his level.

I appeared to amuse her again, though not to the same extent as I had done whilst impartially ranting on about the factors of my reality that I believed made my world as detestable as it had been.

"We could never bring fantasy into being. The world is not decided by us. However, the concept that while time remains unchanged, and space itself must also follow this law. Space-time is different. While it cannot be changed by our intervention, it in itself already changes without our meddling."

"I never did like attending class, but I will listen to this."

Her left hand reached out, and her index finger moved like a dagger through my chest. There was no pain, but her hand did indeed move through my internal organs like some eerie feeling from a spectre's blades.

"With no Geass, no Code, no sakuradite, and the means of which neither Knightmares nor F.L.E.I.J.A.s can hope to exist. Without our indirect intervention, human advancement would be more primitive by comparison for many generations. A world without Geass. Without Code. Without sakuradite. Without the intervention of the tools that shaped the world you knew, you shall live again."

Her hand was retracted slowly, and the discomfort subsided with it. I almost exhaled from the new relief, but I used my breath for other means.

"There exists such a time and place?"

"It does exist. A world where the effects of Geass and Code have long since been buried in this time. A world where the earth is not rich in the mineral known as sakuradite, which even years from now will never be synthesised by the hands of men. Within the parameters you yourself have chosen, we will send you there now."

She swept her hand over the area in front of her, and directly between the two of us before I could speak out after processing the fullest extent of her plans. The thin layer of fog beneath our feet moved for a short time after the strong winds cats them away, and the reflective floor was visible again.

But that was not what felt the strangest.

"Huh? W-w-w- . . . "

Before I understood in its entirely the notion of what the Caretaker was offering, I felt the weight of my feet suddenly being stripped away from me, and then I was looking at myself floating at least a few centimetres from the floor as I was slowing beginning to slowly ascend.

Gravity appeared to change as my feet suddenly felt the weight of the world pulling me toward it and where my feet stood previously was now my ceiling as I continued to fall upwards as the starry night world began to grow smaller and smaller before my eyes.

I couldn't claw out toward it as it escaped my fingers, but the Caretaker's voice continued to speak to me as I fell toward the overheading new darkness that was erupting below me.

- Live the life you could have had. From we who have lived countless times over numerous existences, that is all we can offer as a send-off. One last word; to utilise your full potential. Strive to fulfil that purpose this time around. Farewell to you, Lelouch vi Britannia. Farewell to the Demon Emperor, the Man of Miracles, the Saviour of God and Man. Farewell to you, first Zero. Find fortune in your new existence, and live. –

Soon she disappeared and then everything that was light fell further away as I swung my arms out toward it.

My words didn't reach out, but I was crying out for it to stop. This weightless tumbling I was now experiencing as an effect of my gravitational anchor being cut free without prior preparations. This new gravity that was pulling on me, but its noose was loose and constantly wandered and I found my flight through night a continuous somersault across a dispersing cosmos.

I spoke only silence, as my voice was carried from my throat into the endless void. I felt my entire limbs being stretched and distorted, and then I felt nothing. Like I was becoming nothing. After being forced watching the horrors of the F.L.E.I.J.A. swallow most of the Tokyo Sector before my eyes, it was the most terrifying experience of my life. Except, this time, I saw no possible step forward.

I had lost all chance of moving by my own two feet to fate, and I was powerless to stop it.

I reached the grip of death once again, and all my world disappeared for a second time.

My last memory, was a voiceless scream failing to echo through the thick blackness as it engulfed everything until there was nothing.

And thus, I came to this place. This new world, three hundred years behind in technology. Perhaps more. Despite time having no subject of reversing, this place was delayed for so long that two centuries were lost on the calendars upon my arrival.

Thrust into a new life, in a new universe. But the human element remained the same. And that was all I needed to survive in this new playing field.

No Geass to twist me. No Code to hinder me. No sakuradite to contend with me, which meant no knightmares to contest against. And especially no F.L.E.I.J.A.s to flip the world into the grip of chaos.

Or so I originally thought. But a hindrance to my previous life ended up showing up within my new lifetime through no one's fault save the meddling of another who should have remained beneath the rocks and rubble they were buried under.

I came to this new world screaming, or so the memories of another have recollected unto me. All I remember of the day I was reborn were a pair of forceps pulling me into this second life.

A couple of scars lining the outer line of my eyes to either side remind me of that day always. The crowds that celebrated my birth in the streets of the capital echoing the crowds cheering for my death in the last life.

My mother, my new mother, the Empress Eugénie de Montijo. The complication of my birth were a toll on her, and yet she and I both lived through it. And even years to come, she would remain one of the strongest people I would ever know.

My new father, the former Prince-President now Emperor, Charles-Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte. Regnal name, Napoleon III. He took me unto the balcony to the masses of the capital and presented me unto them. Their "Fils de France" (Son of France) he proclaimed, and they ate in the celebration with roars and applause.

I am the child that marked the continuation of an imperial dynasty.

The man I once was, Lelouch vi Britannia, 99th Holy Britannian Emperor, is dead. But I am alive.

I am Napoléon Eugène Louis Jean Joseph Bonaparte, Prince Imperial of France.

My old life was taken, and I was taken from my old world.

Given a new life, I shall forge a path in this new world. I shall gift this new world my audience.

By the grace and mercy of the Collective Unconscious, I shall not drown this new beginning in vain.

One day, I will show the world what I was meant to do.

One day, I will show these men, these people, what I am truly capable of.

One day, I will be Empereur again.

One day, I will be Napoleon IV, Emperor of the French.

Vive la France. Vive l'Empire.

16th Mars, 1856 AD. Paris, Second Empire Français

Thank you for reading, and review at your nearest convenience.

I thought I would get this chapter written out before the new series aired. I am going to say that I think the idea he died worked better with the story, but I am willing to see if the third season works well with the decision they've made. I am also looking forward to watching that when it comes. I'm sorry this first chapter is so long, but

What drew me to this was the endless streams of fanfictions where Lelouch (or another character) travelling back in time to redo the Black Rebellions. While I still read those, they do tend to get repetitive and are very similar in theme with time-travelling to redo over the entire series.

I was randomly whizzing through Wikipedia one day several months before, where I came across Napoleon, Prince Imperial (1856-1879). What caught my attention was that his nickname among his family was "Loulou" (like Lelouch was called "Lulu" in the series). When I ended up reading more, there were a few similarities between the two; both being imperial princes, both ended up in exile, and both died relatively young. I also thought there might be a good story here if Lelouch were the one intervening in the coming wars in our reality, but I won't spoil anything.

This will not be on my top priority for updating since I am already writing another series, and I will get to this whenever, but it may take a long time before the next update. I will try to incorporate as much as I can, but French isn't a language I am well versed in passed Primary School level.

Well, until next time everyone. Bye!