Chronicle

Chronicle is an interactive story where the player can make choices and influence the plot. Updated: 08/11/2017 <a href="https://chronicle.neocities.org/">Site</a> Index [[Chapter One|chapterone]] [[Chapter Two|043]] [[Chapter Three|Chapter3]]

It began in secrecy. Funded by companies seeking a slice of the profit, they titled their project Chronicle . . . . . . However, success does not come to one so easily. There needed to be testing trials. Marketing a new type of gaming, they gave creation to the idea where a player could fully immerse themselves in new video games. One could finally experience what it was like to be the main character of a video game. The outside world was no longer a problem. Players could 'plug' themselves into the games' world. Their choices mattered . . . . . . . Finally, you were written into a game. Finally, you could be the hero or the villain. It was all there for your taking, to be destroyed or exhalted on what you chose. [[>>>|001]]

It gave light to a new view. . . . A new start . . . . . . . The beginning of the end, if you will. This end, though . . . . . . This end is NOT the end. You will see in time, my friend. For now, let's [[begin|002]]

You felt terrible. You were just waking up, but you could already feel the pounding in your skull building up and the soreness settling deep in your muscles. It felt like you was experiencing a nasty combination of a hangover and the flu at the same [[time|003]].

Groaning, you turned over, your hand running over something that felt like crumbled paper. You really had to clean off your bed. Listening to the crunching noises going on underneath you, you adjusted yourself in the messy bed. Must have fallen asleep while you were writing again, because the bed seemed covered in the loose leaf papers you used. Even the bed felt lumpier than usual. Sighing, you reached for your [[cover|004]].

Instead of your fingers grasping the soft velvet-like surface of the blanket, your hand closed over something with a hard, bumpy texture. In fact, there was nothing soft around you. Your eyes popped open. A calm, blue sky filled with puffy, white clouds [[greeted|005]] you.

Huh? [[>>>|006]]

You frowned, your eyebrows knitting together as you stared up at the serene sky above. A little too late, your brain clicked together what was going on and you realized that the birdsong you heard in the morning was indeed not being muffled by walls or windows. Hell, there wasn’t even a roof. No, the birds had been surrounding you, chirping and tweeting merrily from the trees. Which meant . . . But how? How did you get outside? The last thing you could remember was falling asleep after texting your sister goodnight, taking your sleeping medication and slipping your phone in my pocket so you could feel if anyone was calling or texting. You had an alarm set for 10:30 A.M. this morning, so you could be up early for a doctor’s appointment. Maybe you were still [[asleep|007]]?

That seemed logical. A lucid dream. You've been having those frequently lately. This could just be another one. Very slowly, as if you were working through a thick haze in your mind, you pieced together that something seemed a little off here. However, for the time being while your brain caught up, all you could manage to do was gawk at the forest around you. The trees looming to either side of you on the dusty, dirt road felt very, very real. Pushing yourself up on your elbows and then sitting, your hands fell on grooves that were imprinted deep in the ground underneath you. You studied them, blinking as you tried to get through your disbelief. These were obviously made from a wagon, one of those types that the Amish used. Like you always see on country roads. Running your finger over the gritty surface of one of the slashes, you finally mustered up enough courage to look around. Not a damn thing could be seen through the thick brush. Grabbing a handful of dried leaves, you crushed them between your palms, grinding them roughly against your skin. Yup, definitely real. This was what was crunching, not papers. You let them drop, studying the dust they left on your sweaty skin. You weren’t [[dreaming|008]].

“Oh, my God,” you whispered, grasping some twigs next and holding them in front of your face. You inspected them as if they were going to lose color or distort, all signs you were in a dream, right? They didn’t. You were very much awake. Where the hell am I? How did I get here? Did someone abduct me? Why though? [[>>>|009]]

You pressed your palms to your cheeks, spreading grit and dirt over your face. You could have cared less right this moment what you would look like afterwards, or paid any mind to the slight itching later. Right now, you just couldn’t comprehend how or why you were out here, in the middle of what you assumed was nowhere. Your mind was drawing [[blanks|010]].

Panic started to settled in the longer you stared down the dirt road that stretched straight ahead of where you sat before it began to curve steadily and all visibility was taken over by trees and other plant life. Dropping your hands, you fumbled to find your pocket that your phone was tucked into. You hadn’t even changed. You were still in your pajamas. At least you had thought to wear shorts last night, it was unbearably hot out here. You were too used to air conditioning in a comfortable home. Your whole body was sweating, causing your hair and clothes to stick uncomfortably to you. [[>>>|011]]

You couldn’t take your eyes off the road as you patted your pocket, feeling the comforting solid, slight heavy shape of your cellphone tucked away. A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding left you in a deep sigh of relief. The fact that you still had your phone on you relieved some of the suffocating anxiety that had building in your chest. Tugging the cellphone out of your pocket, you glimpsed a piece of folded up paper falling out. Momentarily, you forgot all about your plans to call for help. You just stared at the glossy, black paper. For some reason, it struck a feeling of déjà vu inside of your brain. You didn’t know why. You couldn’t recall stuffing your pockets with a piece of [[paper|012]].

A clue, maybe? [[>>>|013]]

A rush of hope made you spring into action, snatching up the paper and praying this would tell you something at least. The gloss stuck to your fingers, fingerprints forming. You carefully unfolded it, afraid your sweat may have leaked through and might cause it to tear. You weren’t careful enough. The middle crease ripped maybe half an inch, making you suck in a sharp breath. Thankfully, it stopped there. Smoothing it out on the ground in front of you, you gazed down at it as if it were your [[salvation|014]].

Golden text was printed in calligraphy-style text, huge and running along the top with a line underneath. The whole paper was the same font, smaller and written in letter format. Biting down on your bottom lip, you read the page slowly, feeling cautious what the [[content|015]] may be.

Hello, Welcome to Chronicle! You’re just about ready to embark on a great journey, all of your own creation! First things first, though, you need to head over to Blackridge and find a mentor. Once you’ve found a mentor, they will guide you through the first 5 levels of Chronicle. From there on, you will have to learn about the vast world on your own. Tap your right wrist for your map, menu, and inventory. Cheers and best of luck, [[Hazard Studios|016]]

Hazard Studios They were the top dogs in the gaming world. You vaguely remember getting an acceptance letter in your mailbox back in your questionable apartment back when you were fresh out of college. They wanted to hire you for script writing. Strangely, you could not remember if you accepted or denied their invitation. You peered down at the letter, a sinking feeling rapidly developing in your gut. [[>>>|017]]

You stared at the paper. You just stared at it, with your jaw dropped. [[>>>|018]]

What in the hell? [[>>>|019]]

You had been abducted, and by lunatics nonetheless! To top it off, they made it sound like they believed they put you in some type of video game. You knew it was possible with the technology now-a-days, but this was different. One could just eject themselves from the game. This was too real to be like that. Psychos, you was dealing with freaking psychos. Infuriated, terrified, and bewildered, you picked up the piece of paper and crumbled it up, drawing back your arm as far as you could and tossing it away into the bushes on the other side of the road. You curled your hands in your hair, gritting your teeth and tried to think rationally through the pounding [[headache|020]] you now had.

It was all too much, too ridiculous. You let loose a shrill scream, the sound echoing into the forest around you. You were heaving gasps of air, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. This couldn’t be real. This just doesn’t happen to people. Abductors always had a motive. Why you? You hadn’t pissed off anyone that you knew of. [[>>>|021]]

All you wanted to do was curl up on the ground. Just stay there until the world [[fixed|022]] itself.

Too bad that wasn’t going to happen. [[>>>|023]]

You need to move, to get out of here as fast as you can. It was the only way you were going to survive and get out of this [[hellish nightmare|024]].

For some reason, your mind went back to a part of the letter that referred to your wrist. They said something about how your wrist held ‘information.’ What had they planted underneath your skin? Worried that you may have something damaging inside of your body, or worse, possibly a tracking chip, you pressed your forefinger harshly against the soft flesh of your wrist. Feeling around for anything, you prayed that you would be [[okay|025]].

A small bump the size and same flat feeling of a quarter was there, just under your skin deep enough to be dangerously close to your veins. You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat, this time running your finger over it gently. [[>>>|026]]

Immediately, like you had tapped the screen of your phone, the skin above the lump began to glow. It was a faint light at first, shining through like you had pressed a flashlight to your arm like you would do as a child whenever you were bored. You watched in horror as it grew brighter, spreading down your entire forearm in a sudden bright blue that just didn’t seem possible. You blinked, and then . . . It was no longer solely on your arm. It projected above your arm, the blue fading away to reveal a menu screen. Much like a video game had. A sudden queasy feeling clutched at your stomach and you took a moment to lean to the side and dry heave. Nothing came up, your stomach was empty. It didn’t help the parched sensation in your mouth, as you panted and gasped over the wagon tracks. You needed to get something to drink soon. [[>>>|027]]

You hesitantly glance back at the screen, a part of you wishing that it’d just vanish. It felt so wrong. You felt like one of the mad scientist experiments that you only saw in movies. For some reason, all those crazy conspiracies about Area 51 seemed pretty sane all of the sudden. What was [[next|028]]? Would you get shipped off to outer space?

Dear Lord, this felt like one of the horror stories you wrote late at night. [[>>>|029]]

This couldn’t be [[real|030]].

The screen was mostly black in the background, with golden borders and text. The style was the same as the page. You regretted throwing away the paper. You should’ve kept it. Maybe when you escaped, you could use it as evidence. You lifted your hand, letting it hover over the projection. It looked real, more realistic than 3D could ever dream of being. With trembling fingers, you dared to consider the menu in front of you. No, it wasn’t in front of you, it was coming from [[inside|031]] of you.

There were five options: Player, Map, Inventory, Skills, and Objectives. You ‘tapped’ [[Player|032]] first.

The funny thing was, your finger pressed against a solid, smooth surface. It didn’t go through like you thought it would. [[>>>|033]]

You felt like you were going to be sick again. [[>>>|034]]

Player ALPHA Status: Healthy Level: 0 Deaths: 0 Kills: 0 Quests Completed: 0 Mentor: Not Assigned [[>>>|035]]

ALPHA? Deaths? [[Kills|036]]?!

Your stomach was doing summersaults. The health section lit up in a white light, fading the text out and changing it. Status: [[Ill|037]]

You bet ya, I feel ill, you thought bitterly. [[>>>|038]]

You hit Objectives next. - Travel to Blackridge Okay, that was simple enough. What did [[Skills|039]] have to say?

Nothing. The screen was blank. [[Inventory|040]]?

- Canister of Water 1 - Food Rations 6/6 - Banadges 10/10 [[>>>|041]]

That’s . . . okay, you guess? You brought up the map. It stretched the screen out wider, spreading it so that covered your view of your hand. A full on map like you’d see drawn in fantasy books on the pages just before the story begins appeared, complete with what you would describe as an old tome above it. A crimson and gold banner with a symbol of a sword in the middle of it stood along a long, slightly twisting path. You took a few experimenting steps forward, watching the little icon move with every few steps you advanced. So that was you. [[Good to know|042]].

Throughout this whole time of exploring just what the hell had been done to you, you were still clutching your cellphone in the hand that was hidden behind the map. You dipped your hand under the menu and tapped your wrist, cringing a little as the screen disappeared. You turned the phone on, waiting impatiently as it loaded up. Thought you had kept it on? The battery icon told you it was still fully charged, and the one next to it said there wasn’t any signal. You held the power button down until the phone shut off, accepting that you were truly on your own out here. Pocketing the device, you began to follow the dirt road. End of Chapter One [[Start Chapter Two||043]] [[Index|Start]]

Many of those who worked for Hazard Studios were given the chance to be the beta testers to their creation. The chance to explore the world they built manually was appealing . . . And then, when it came to the End, no one wanted to leave . . . A new idea sparked in their heads. If you could rewrite your life, begin again, would you? [[Remember, everything comes with a cost|044]].

By the time you finally spotted actual buildings in the distance, the sun was beginning to set, cooling the temperature down by a few degrees. If you were sore before, you were feeling true agony by now. Traveling by your bare feet alone, you felt every little pebble and twig stab into your flesh for what seemed like hours. In reality, it had only been two hours since you decided to begin walking, but you sure felt like you didn’t even have legs anymore. Hell, you may have left them behind at that last hill you climbed. [[>>>|045]]

A rush of relief flooded through you at the sight of what you assumed was Blackridge. More than finding out what happened to you, you wanted to rest and refuel your energy levels. For the hell of it, you raised your arm and tapped your wrist, pulling up the menu again and pressing [[Player|046]].

Status: [[Exhausted|047]]

Yup, that felt about right. [[>>>|048]]

Shading your eyes with your hand against the harsh light of the sun slipping into the horizon, you squinted so that you could make out what lay ahead. Were those thatched rooftops and wooden walls? What more did you expect? There was something further inside of the town, peeking just above the roofs. It looked to be a [[statue|049]].

You stared at the towering figure ahead. From here, it looked to be craved in the form of a human. At least it wasn’t something off the wall like a giant goat-demon-thing, right? [[>>>|050]]

You hugged your arms, frowning at the gigantic [[figure|051]].

Please tell me these people aren’t some pagan fanatics with some terrible god, you silently prayed. [[>>>|052]]

Lifting to brush off some pebbles that stuck to the bottom of your foot, you mustered up some courage to keep going. You were determined not to stop until you reached the first building at the very least. You got maybe five more feet before you heard something coming from behind. Heavy footfalls, jingling, creaking of wood. You know how in the old movies wooden horse-drawn carts made those noises? That was exactly what you heard, along with heavy grunts from the horses pulling it. Despite your early conviction of not wanting to stop again, you paused and turned. [[>>>|053]]

The cart wasn’t far off at all. It was coming in from a trail that was branched off from the road. Your eyes went wide at the sight of the horses, great hulking beasts that were bigger than Clydesdales. The cart attached them matched the horses, a huge, slightly warped carrier for logs. The driver was sitting high on the seat, reigns grasped firmly in his hands. Quickly, you tried to form a decision. Should you [[hide|hide1]]? The cart was turning onto the road, there wouldn’t much time left. Maybe you should just [[keep walking|walk1]] or [[wait|wait1]]? The man may give you a lift into town. That would be wonderful for your aching feet.

You spring for the nearest cover, which happened to be a thorny bush. Ouch. While you’d love to shove away the branches and their wicked thorns, you didn’t want to draw attention to your location. Placing a hand over your mouth, running on horror movie rules, you watch the horses tug the cart behind them as the driver continues on his way. You breathe out a sigh of relief as you triumphantly entertain the idea that you won’t be hunted so early. That was good. Now, to wait for the cart to get further ahead and continue on your long, tiring walk. [[Let's just get this over with|wh1-2]].

You keep walking, despite the feeling fatigued. You weren’t going to trust some random stranger out here, when he may be the one who threw you out here in the first place. The cart rumbles on, gaining ground. The man calls out to you, but you opt to ignore him. Just as the cart passes, you notice the man throwing you a concerned glance, shrugging and he snaps the reigns to spur on the team. The horses whinny, kicking up dust as they march on. [[Better keep going|wh1-2]].

Once the wagon turned fully onto the road, he caught sight of you and raised his hand in greeting. You returned the half-wave and stepped backwards on the ride of the road as the driver snapped the reigns, spurring the draft horses into a brisk trot. Rubbing your upper arms, you waited for the man to bring his team to a halt. The horses’ heads bobbed, the beasts nickering, huffing, making chuffing noises. You stared into the eye of one of them and it held an eerie amount of intelligence and a glint of amusement at your shock of standing so close to something so giant. The horse shook its whither, stamping its hoof into the ground and stirring up a great cloud of dust. You gulped, shuddering as you decided you would not like to be on these beasts’ bad sides. [[>>>|w1-2]]

You didn’t dare linger around the statue, even if you were curious about it. Examining the crowd, you spotted a fair amount of townspeople heading into a building ahead. Some who wandered out were tumbling about, very drunk. Well, it wasn’t the best place to go, but you may find some information there. With a nervous glance behind you at those who’ve paused to just stare, you hurried to the bar. Taking a weary, deep breath, you stepped on to the wooden porch. A large wolf-ish dog snored away by a stool where remains of rolled cigarettes were snuffed out in a shallow clay bowl. Careful not to disturb the rest of the dog, you nearly tip-toed past it and [[opened|054]] the tavern door.

“You’re a fresh one, eh?” The driver chuckled, pulling your attention away from his team. You looked up at him, shading your eyes and squinting so you could see clearly. He looked like every image you could ever muster of an old, hard-working man. A yellowed, graying beard that was thick and curling at the bottom framed his tanned, wrinkled face. His eyes held mirth within their brown depths, as if he were the type to find anything amusing. In one of his ancient hands held the reigns, the other gesturing at your attire. You glanced down at your clothes, seeing they had collected a good amount of dirt and grit on your walk. You were absolutely a mess, and you brushed some of the dust from your thighs in irritation. “Uh, yeah. Can- can I get a ride into town?” You stammered, not sure if the man would be willing to help out a stranger. He grinned, nodded his head. “Go right ahead, miss,” he said, scooting over already to accommodate you on the seat. “I expect they dropped ya off far enough.” “You could say that,” You laughed, not hesitating to climb up the rickety steps and settle down next to him. He moved a bit further to the side, so that the two of you didn’t brush against each other. You were thankful for that. Even if he seemed friendly, you didn’t like taking such a huge chance like this with your safety. [[>>>|w1-3]]

Now that you weren’t moving, your legs thrummed with the exertion you put them through. You can also now note it was getting drastically cooler now that the sun wasn’t bearing down. Rubbing your tired calves, you shivered as goosebumps formed across your exposed skin from the cold. You tilted your head, looking up at the man. He definitely looked like one of those old people that spent a lot of their lives in the sun. “Where am I?” you asked, relaxing a bit now that you weren’t hiking it anymore. “The world of Chronicle.” He shrugged at my scowl. “Henrey’s my name” He took the reins back in both hands, giving them a good shake to start the team. The wagon groaned as it rolled forward, shifting as it went over a bump.”You a Beta or Alpha?” “Uh.” That was such a weird question, but you supposed it was the norm with the title you had in my Player information. “Alpha. What does it mean?” Henrey’s lips pulled into a tight smile. “Your mentor will the one to explain that all to ya.” “Wait, hold up,” you blurt out immediately, feeling more frustrated than ever. “Why can’t you just explain it?” [[>>>|w1-4]]

“It’s not my place,” he said, respectfully. “I’m just a plain ol’ log cutter. You’ll understand in time.” Sighing, you pursed your lips and turned your gaze forward to look ahead at the road over the rear end of one of the horses.”Is there anything you can explain to me?” “Yup,” replied Henrey, popping the ‘p.’ “It’s all worth it in the end.” “What do you mean?” “You’ll see.” You glanced at him from out the corner of your eye. [[>>>|w1-5]]

Great, another crazy [[>>>|w1-6]]

There wasn’t any ‘gate’ to enter the town; one just strolled into the cozy rows of houses. It certainly wasn’t a ghost town by any means. The moment you arrived, there were people weaving through the road to light lanterns and hanging them up on posts or along porches were crowds were gathered, chatting amongst themselves. Everyone here didn’t wear modern clothes, it seemed. Well, at least in the fabrics. Some younger looking residents had leather-and-fur articles of clothing that looked a lot like modern day jackets or something close to shirts. You chuckled to yourself at the sight. So maybe there was still some fleeting hope was sanity in this place after all. The statue you saw before was a solemn giant in the center of Blackridge, craved from what looked like marble. It was sculpted in the form of a woman in armor, sword clasped between her hands with the point stabbing into the base. Her head was bowed in a respectful manner, wavy locks of hair hanging down loosely around her face. Painted on her cherub-like face was a marking, something that looked war-pain worthy. Her expression was stoic, and yet serene at the same time. Immortalized as a peaceful individual, despite the weapon in her hands. [[>>>|w1-7]]

“What’s that?” you asked Henrey, pointing at the statue. “That were is the greatest woman there ever was,” he responds proudly, drawing his sights away from briefly from steering the horses to gaze up at it. “She’s called Lora.” “What’s with the paint on her face?” “That’s her symbol. Her followers paint their own faces with it.” “Why?” “She’s one of the ascended.” “You’re very vague, you know that?” you quipped. “A lot of Chronicle you must learn for yourself,” Henrey chortled, not at all bothered by your sour mood. “I just want to know how I get out here,” you mumbled, giving a mother and her daughter a small smile. The little girl beamed, waving. You couldn’t help but laugh and wave back. “Why are there children here?” Henrey was silent. It unnerved you that he refused to answer you. It made you assume there was a darker tone to this peaceful looking town. With dread filling your gut, you fiddled with the bottom of your shirt for a few moments. “Are you a Beta or Alpha?” “Alpha.” He tugged the reins back gently, ceasing all movement of the cart. “This is where I drop ya off. Head into that tavern right o’ver there and you’ll find everything you need.” “Thank you, Henrey. I owe you.” “No, no. You don’t.” He grinned at you, those eyes lighting up. “I wouldn’t get into the habit of going ‘round saying that to anyone who helps ya. Sometimes, the people can get a little too serious.” “I’ll remember that.” You stood, climbing down the creaky wooden steps warily; fearful they may give way under your weight. “Oh, Henrey-" “Yeah?” [[>>>|w1-8]]

You turned around once you was securely on firm ground and stared up at him. Once again, you were struck with how ancient he looked, like he’d been here for eons instead of years. “How long have you . . . been in Chronicle?” Scratching at the scuff beard sprouting from his jaw and cheeks, he tilted his head and seemed to think hard about your question, as simple as it was. “Ages, I think. Dunno how to explain time here. It just . . . passes by, I suppose.” Smiling, he leaned back in the seat. “Anything else you’d like to know?” “Will I get to see you again?” Somewhere, between the time he picked you up from the dusty road and now, you had grown fond of the old man. “That’s always a possibility. You never know where Chronicle will take you.” “I don’t suppose if I asked what you meant, you’d explain?” With a wink and flick of the reins, Henrey spurred the team into action. The cart’s wheels and hooves of the horses kicked up dust into the air, leaving you behind. Hugging your arms, you bit down on your bottom lip and turned to the tavern, eyeing it cautiously as you wondered just what you were getting yourself into. It all seemed so complicated, and getting answers was as elusive as signs of modern technology. Taking a weary, deep breath, you stepped on to the wooden porch. A large wolf-ish dog snored away by a stool where remains of rolled cigarettes were snuffed out in a shallow clay bowl. Careful not to disturb the rest of the dog, you nearly tip-toed past it and [[opened|054]] the tavern door.

One could already hear the lively laughter, music, and chatter outside. It had been muffled, but once you opened the door, it poured out in a deafening clutter of noise that sped up your heart as you were fully immersed in it. It was as welcoming as it was intimidating, making you want to flee away from this chaos and yet you wanted to meander inside and hear what had just made the closest table erupt in laughter. Conflicted, you entered the tavern. Patrons glanced over at you from time to time, but made no effort to talk. Even though you were the shiny new toy here, it seemed everyone would rather mind their own business. Now, what should be your first course of action? There were plenty of people to approach and ask questions. A table with patrons drinking out of large mugs of ale looked [[friendly|drunks]] enough, or you could walk over to the [[bar|bar1]] and pray for someone to notice you. You stood there, fumbling with the door’s handle. Maybe you should [[step outside|outside1]] and take a breather?

You wandered over to the drunken patrons. They were talking loudly, insistent about arguing over the rules over some game. On the table was a game that looked very familiar. You realized it was an altered version of The Game of Life. If you weren’t so tired of this place, you would have found irony in the carved board game. One man pointed his finger at another, jabbing the appendage in the guy’s face as he shouted, “Cheater!” Before you could truly process what’s happening, the men were lunging over the table to throw punches. The other sprang away from the table, laughing, cheering and throwing insults every which way. You stood there, realizing that you definitely wouldn’t be getting answers from this rowdy bunch. You cast a wary glance at the bar. Maybe you could grab a drink and [[wait|bar1]] for someone to come around?

You made your way over to the bar, sitting down on a tall stool that you had to climb the first rung to actually be able to sit. Seriously, who did they make these for? Giants? Pressing your hands to the counter, you tried to calm the jittery anxiety that ran rampant in your head. With ever harsh thump of your heart, you took a steady, calming breath. Finally, it seemed, after all this time you were coming to terms with what had happened to you. Coming to a conclusion that this seemed very, very real, you rubbed one of your temples and studied the nicks in the polished wood of the bar. [[>>>|bar1-2]]

Just as you turned to flee out of the door, you were shoved forwards as someone pushed their way inside. The door handle connected with your elbow, making you curse aloud. Rubbing your elbow, you glowered at the rude woman who waltzed inside of the bar without a care in the world. Sighing in defeat, you decided the bar route was better than nothing. [[>>>|bar1]]

You wanted out of this 'game'. If it was even such a thing. End of Chapter Two Begin [[Chapter Three|Chapter3]] [[Index|Start]]

Are you enjoying yourself yet? It's good you're blind to true face of Chronicle. . . . Once you open your eyes. . . . things get a little rough. Enjoy the G̷̜̠̲͔̮̓͘Ǎ̶͈̝̹̐̉M̷̤̗̬̜̉͊͋͒̈́͝Ë̸̛̗̙͖̳͕́̀͆̃.