Shattering Humanity-Chapter 390: "...Everything Each Individual Soul Has Done, Said, Felt, Accepted, Or Denied, Has Been And Will Be Recorded By ’Someone’."

Chapter 390: "...Everything Each Individual Soul Has Done, Said, Felt, Accepted, Or Denied, Has Been And Will Be Recorded By ’Someone’."

"Again, in that passage he says, They will never enter my rest. Therefore, since it remains for some to enter it, and those who formerly received the good news did not enter because of disobedience, he again specifies a certain day—today. He specified this speaking through David after such a long time:

Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts.

For if Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken later about another day. Therefore, a Sabbath rest remains for God’s people. For the person who has entered his rest has rested from his own works, just as God did from his. Let us, then, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will fall into the same pattern of disobedience.

For the word of God is living and effective and sharper than any double-edged sword, penetrating as far as the separation of soul and spirit, joints and marrow. It is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. No creature is hidden from him, but all things are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give an account." -Hebrews 4:1-13

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{Shelly’s Yggdrasil Mindcscape}

Inside the breathtaking and exquisite mind of Shelly, her personal "Tree of Life" stands tall and strong on a small island, surrounded by calm blue waters.

The leaves of the unimaginably large tree rapidly bloom, go through their own colored aging process, until they eventually fall off from the light breeze.

There are leaves that stay attached to their branch longer than others. Some going through each color phase completely from blooming bud, to dark green, all the way to their withering stage, in which they fall off and are replaced with a new budding life.

However, some of the other fronds aren’t so fortunate to stay attached as long.

There are a majority that fall off while they are yellow, some break off in their red stage, but most unfortunate of all, there are young, green leaves falling along with the rest.

An older, brown leaf drifts slowly down, twisting and pirouetting in the air, landing on a grey haired head.

In the silence of the Valkyrie descendant’s Mindcscape, there is the moaning of a rope swaying as it rubs against rough bark wood. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

A fluid filled cough comes from the dead leaf’s landing zone, making it fall off the hanging Odin’s head.

His spat up blood, along with the droplets from the spear tip impaling him, lands in the clear blue ocean below.

The red plasma dissipates until it’s completely gone in the over encumbering fresh water ocean.

Odin: "Word...to a...word..."

The world known Old Norse God is still hanging over the water surrounding the small island.

More leaves rain and fall on the surface to the imaginary body of water, eventually succumbing to being drenched, and sinking to the dark depths below.

Sitting underneath the magnificent Yggdrasil, Shelly’s blue eyes examine the self sacrificing God, with an uncomforting appearance of a loin cloth wearing, scarred up, frail old man. The passed down, shining blue oculars of Takamagahara’s top fighter are the same shade and calmness as the vast pool surrounding her and the green grassed land containing her Yggdrasil.

Close by, the soft crackling of fire, paired with the bubbling of lava make a strange but soothing melody to the ears who are familiar.

Madame Fryer: "Teeheehee!

Good Evening Skalmönd, it’s been a while since we’ve last had time to sit and chat here under your Tree of Life."

Shelly, embracing the name of her highly respected grandmother, gives a guilty half smile without looking away from the mystical, impaled, noose hanging deity, reading her personal life story.

Shelly: "I’m truly sorry, Madame Fryer.

You’ve already explained to me, the time we spend in my Mindscape, doesn’t waste any time from my actual reality.

So I should check in with you more. Instead of only seeking you for help and answers."

Catching the blonde 19 year old by surprise, Shelly’s head is engulfed in the goddess’s well endowed chest and her strapless lava dress.

The friendly heat, not hurting Shelly, but the lack of oxygen makes the human comedically struggle while within the locked, smothering embrace from the soul within her flaming sword.

Madame Fryer: "Ohhhhh! You’re such a sweetheart, just like your blessed grandmother.

Don’t worry, as long as I’m never separated from your hip again, and as long get to fight along side you, and your future children’s side, and their children, you never have to worry about me, dear Skalmönd."

Loosening her bear hug on the "booby trapped" Shelly, it allows the nearly suffocated young woman to catch her breath.

After a few refreshing gasps of air, Shelly(still in the loving arms of her sword’s humanoid form) looks up at the sun colored eyes of her magical, and trusted ally.

Shelly: "Di...Did you say, ’children’?"

Madame Fryer nods her head and releases her embrace on the girl.

While the beautiful warrior digests the thought of her being a mother someday, they both sit down with their backs against the trunk of Shelly’s enormous Yggdrasil.

The lightly swinging, mostly dead God, with his 90% closed left eye and an eye patch over his right eye, is actively reading their current conversation right in front of them, in this very moment, from the reflection of runes in the water.

Odin: "Page...to a... page..."

Shelly: "I guess, I never really thought about that before..."

Her dark skinned partner, with bubbling lava hair and a dress of flames gets confused.

Madame Fryer: "What do you mean, dear Skalmönd?

Don’t you have your lover whom you are always with?

That cute boy you train relentlessly for every moment you can, and then throw yourself into danger for him, do you not want his offspring?"

Like a thermometer, Shelly’s face grows pinker from her neck all the way up to her forehead.

Shelly: "K-K-Katsu and I aren’t like that!"

Feeling as though she has upset her original owner’s granddaughter, Madame Fryer flinches back. Her closed hand protecting her chest.

Madame Fryer: "I apologize if I have upset you, gracious Skalmönd."

She bows her head and a few drops of ’lava’ fall from the ends of her hair.

Madame Fryer: "Please forgive me for my inappropriate prying! It won’t happen again!"

Shelly immediately feels ashamed for accidentally guilt tripping her magical colleague, and waves off the apology with a nervous chuckle.

Shelly: "No. No.

It’s fine. You’re not the first...

And you probably won’t be the last..."

Attempting to switch the awkward topic, Madame Fryer’s eyes wander around while she tries figuring out how to fix this situation.

Madame Fryer: "Sooooo...

Is there anything you want to talk to me about?

Is it about that pink haired woman we all fought together earlier?"

Shelly(nods): "I’m sure you saw it too.

Her SanguineSoulSeiõrShield..."

The goddess recalls the 3 vs. 1 battle that happened only a few hours before.

Madame Fryer: "I did notice that.

That woman with the large hat and coat, she appears to have the same pink and gold aura as your own SanguineSoulSeiõrShield."

Shelly: "But how?

I thought you said my soul’s color is the way it is, because my heart contains all the possible forms of love."

Madame Fryer: "Well it isn’t impossible for her to also have a heart as large and as strong as yours, my lovely Skalmönd."

The golden eyes goddess looks up at the nonstop falling of leaves around them.

Madame Fryer: "Each human lives their own story..."

Her eyes then move to her hanging fellow God. Transfixed on the immortal being, who is so committed to learning the knowledge of the universe.

Madame Fryer: "...And every decision or reaction to the world around each individual leaf, gets recorded."

The very intuitive young lady tilts her blonde noggin.

Shelly: "...’Recorded’..."

She too looks back at Odin, learning and reading about every life within the universe.

Shelly: "Like a book?"

Now realizing she has successfully swerved talking about Shelly making babies with Katsu, the flaming hot goddess smiles.

Madame Fryer shrugs her shoulders and laughs.

Madame Fryer: "Teeheehee teehee!

I guess you could call it that.

Teeheehee!

Like I said, every decision, reaction, or choice made is different between every human leaf...I mean life, teeeheeeteeeheeehee!"

The woman who’s personality is just as bubbly and bright as her hair and gown, holds her tummy while kicking the air as she laughs at her own hardly clever word quip.

Once she calms herself down, and wipes a tear from her eye, which evaporates on contact with her skin, Madame Fryer takes a deep sigh and resumes her cryptic messaging.

Madame Fryer: "For instance, some would refer to the records of not only your life, your friend’s lives, but every recorded human’s beginning to end, as a book or novel.

While others would reference it as a poorly written script, mixed with paragraphs of action sequences.

Then there are the majority who won’t acknowledge a life story’s existence. Whether those lives lead them to be introduced to, find interest in, or harshly criticize, it depends on them."

Another bloody cough makes the water beneath the hung Odin ripple.

Madame Fryer: "Either way, everything each individual soul has done, said, felt, accepted, or denied, has been and will be recorded by someone.

Only that someone knows how or why that woman has a matching SoulSeiõr to yours. As well as the emotions she’s had to feel in order to open up her heart to willfully accept the same role you have, my most precious Skalmönd."

Being the genius she has always been, while more and more leaves rain down around her, Shelly thinks about the deeper meaning and structure to the visonary’s profit-like wisdom.

Shelly: "That sort of sounds like...

But does it make sense if...?

If that ’someone’ recording our lives is actually...?"

Shelly’s human eyes intensely stare at the brutally selfless sacrificial Scandinavian Seiõr soothsayer hanging in front of her, reading her story. Written by someone.