Kingdom Come
rating: +18+x

Once again, The Keymaster found himself cleaning the mess of his living space. Due to being interrupted in the middle of his previous cleaning session, he had never initially finished it. Thus, his intention was to accomplish it today.
Through the process of cleaning, The Keymaster was left to his own thoughts as he rummaged through the junk. He reflected on all that he had discovered about himself: a vessel for an eldritch being meant to serve some vague purpose; a fallen god betrayed by his own followers as the result of his greed; a mortal burdened with godhood against his will. These were all the things he was, yet he did not feel like any of them. To The Keymaster, he was just…well, himself. All that truly mattered to him for now was doing his job.

He would suddenly be pulled from his thoughts, stopping dead in his tracks as he heard a faint metallic clink caused by an object falling to the ground from a shelf. Looking down, he saw a small brass-colored object. The Keymaster kneeled down, picking it up and examining it. It was a strange clockwork device, roughly the same shape and size as a rubik's cube, composed of an assortment of miniature gears and cogs. The Keymaster had never quite seen anything like it, nor did he recall any memories of it. As he examined it and turned it around, he found one peculiar detail on a particular side of the device. One of the gears, it seemed, had slipped out of place, being slightly elevated from the device compared to the rest. Slowly, The Keymaster slid the gear back into place, and as he did so, something peculiar occurred. The clockwork contraption sprung to life, tremoring with a soft blue glow that emitted from its interior. The Keymaster tilted his head in confusion, before a streak of black lightning burst forth from the device and struck him in the chest at point blank. Upon the instant of contact, many images and scenes simultaneously flew past The Keymaster. It was as if his life flashed before his eyes, yet it was not exactly his life. The memories which he saw were not his own – not even suppressed ones. He saw himself in many strange and often conflicting predicaments, with beings he did not recognize. Just as quickly as it had happened, however, it suddenly stopped. The force of the blast stiffened his body and sent him flying backwards.

After smashing into the wall and sliding down to the floor, where he remained for a few moments, The Keymaster slowly rose back onto his feet and dusted off his cloak. A scorch mark was left in the area that he had been struck by the bolt, with faint wisps of smoke still flowing from it. Regaining his bearings, he looked around and saw little gears and cogs strewn about, the device having exploded.

Before he could fully process what had happened, The Keymaster was surprised by the sound of a sudden, heavy thud from behind him. He quickly turned around and saw a figure with long black hair, lying face-down on the floor as if having “fallen” into the room. However, there was no opening in the ceiling. The Keymaster approached the fallen figure, slowly and cautiously. “Excuse me, sir, are you alright?” he asked.
Suddenly, the figure arose with a start, revealing a pale, sharply defined face that was speckled in black stubble. He gasped as he shot up onto his feet. “Hubris! Where are you?! Show yourself and fight me with some honor, you coward!” He shouted deliriously, blindly flailing about with his fists in the air.
The Keymaster raised his hands, attempting to calm what he believed to be a distressed vagrant. “Be at ease. You are safe,” he repeatedly stated. After a few seconds, the bearded man came to his senses, silently staring at The Keymaster in confusion. Something about him, in his eyes, was familiar to The Keymaster, although he could not quite place it. Likewise, the bearded man’s expression seemed to convey a similar recognition towards The Keymaster.
Before either of them could speak, they would be interrupted by yet another thud. Turning their heads, they both found another figure lying on the ground. If The Keymaster thought the bearded man was a vagrant, then this man was most-so. He was elderly, garbed in rags, and wore two strips of bandages crossed over his eyes as a makeshift blindfold. The Keymaster helped him up to his feet. “Are you alright, sir?” he asked yet again. The figure looked around. He too seemed dazed and confused, though not to the erratic extent of the bearded man. “…What is this…where is this?” he murmured, slowly feeling his way through the room. His aged, leathery hands grasped at the rough texture of the stone walls. “This…this is not my home. Similar, yet different..” he said as he approached the bearded man. Groping his face, the blind man said, “Darlene? Is that you, my love?”
The bearded man pushed the blind man away. “I’m no Darlene!” he grunted, tugging on his cloak and turning around.
The blind man cackled raspily. “Apologies…” he said, albeit with a sly grin plastered across his face.

The Keymaster’s eyes wandered towards an odd sight: both figures had a ring of keys attached to their right hip, just as himself. His head tilted in confusion, as he looked back at the two beings. “…Who are you?” he slowly asked, apprehensively.
The bearded man stepped forward. “I am The Keymaster,” he said with a bow, in a voice that seemed to feign humility.
The blind man cocked his head. “That’s quite strange, considering I’m The Keymaster,” he muttered.

The Keymaster became even more bewildered and confused, shaking his head in denial. “No, no no. That’s not right, it can’t be. I am The Keymaster.” he assertively stated, jabbing a finger towards his own chest.
“Liar. Only I am the true Keymaster. You two are but mere imposters! This must be another of Hubris’ deceptions!” The bearded man spat.
The blind man cackled. “Why such petty squabbling over a mere name? There's no question over who the true Keymaster is.”

Amidst their bickering, The Keymaster looked down at the strewn about pieces of clockwork. A sneaking suspicion of what had happened began to creep up on him. “Oh, no…” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He turned to the other two. “What do you last remember before being here?”
The bearded Keymaster scratched his chin, grinning as he replayed in his mind what he thought to have been his moment of triumph. “The Crown… I had placed it upon my head, and became the ruler of the entire kingdom! Absolute power lay at my fingertips, it was glorious…” he mused, the blind Keymaster quietly shaking his head in disapproval towards this. The bearded Keymaster’s expression then turned sour, as he recalled what happened next. “But…I was tricked, manipulated by a great deceiver. He used me as a pawn, and took the crown for himself. I was engulfed in darkness, and then…” The bearded Keymaster squinted as he looked around. “-now I’m here.”

The Keymaster then turned to the blind Keymaster. “And you, how did you get here?”
The blind Keymaster grinned. “Ah, great question! See, I was…um…I…” he trailed off, his face conveying great confusion. “…blast it, I don’t remember.”
“Really? You remember absolutely nothing?” Asked The Keymaster.
“I’m afraid not. Apologies, this old mind seems to be failing me,” The blind Keymaster said coyly. “All I know is that wherever I am now, it is not my home.”

Slowly, the truth was becoming clearer to The Keymaster, as much as he did not want to admit it. He looked towards the other Keymasters. “I don’t think that any of us are pretenders. Rather, I have reason to believe…we are all from entirely different realities.”
The blind and bearded Keymasters looked to each-other, then back to The Keymaster. Their expressions were that of disbelief, yet there was an underlying acceptance of the truth of this situation. They indeed had come from alternate realities.

Before any of them could quite fully grasp the implications of this situation, they were suddenly interrupted as a great disturbance sent tremors all throughout the realm. “What was that…?” The bearded Keymaster murmured, his eyes narrowing as he looked about.
“I can hear it. A coming shift,” The blind Keymaster whispered.
Suddenly, like a wound, a rift in reality tore itself open before the three keymasters, and the entire scenery around them changed before their very eyes.

No longer were they in The Temple. Now, they were in a grand hall, in a space and time beyond space and time itself. The three Keymasters found that their hands were now bound by cog-shaped handcuffs, restricting their mobility as well as dampening their powers. “What is the meaning of this?!” The Keymaster stammered, as he and the other two Keymasters looked forth.

Before them were three thrones, upon which sat three beings, hovering in the air behind a podium. On the throne at the left was an old bearded man in robes - The Clocksmith. On the throne at the right sat a cosmic weaver of threads - The Nebula Seamstress. Then in the middle, between them, sat the clockwork keeper of time - The Gearmaker. These three beings were members of the multiversal time-governing group known as the Time Keepers.

The bearded Keymaster’s eyes widened in surprise towards the Clocksmith. “You…!” He growled, stomping forward. Before he could get any closer, however, he smacked into an invisible force field that sent a shockwave through his body and launched him back. His body stiffened and recoiled, and he grunted again, shooting a death stare at The Clocksmith.

The Keymaster studied The Gearmaker intently. Something about this clockwork man was oddly familiar to him. Yet again, he could feel gaps in his memory. However, he would be pulled out from his thoughts as Gearmaker began to speak.

“Keymasters, you have been brought before the Time Keepers, to answer for your crimes against Time.”
The keymasters were shocked. “Crimes, against time itself?! What rubbish,” The blind Keymaster stated, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’m afraid that there is no such rubbish,” The Clocksmith grimly rebutted.
The Nebula Seamstress leaned forth. “I’m afraid you two have crossed over into a timeline in which you do not belong,” she softly said, pointing towards the blind and bearded Keymasters.

The Clocksmith looked to the bearded Keymaster. “For you, it was by placing the crown upon your head, a head which was deemed unworthy, and you were cast out from your timeline as an exile. As we speak, the fabric of the reality we share is slowly unraveling, subjected to the tyrannical rule of the Usurper.”
“This would not have happened if you had altered the timeline for me like I wanted!” The bearded Keymaster spat.
The Clocksmith shook his head. “You fail to understand that it would have only brought us to doom much more quickly.”

The Nebula Seamstress looked to the blind Keymaster. “And you, sir; I believe you have no recollection of how you got here?” She asked.
“I haven’t a clue, madam,” replied the blind Keymaster with a toothy grin.
The Nebula Seamstress sighed. “You had been toying with your ‘Skeleton Keys’ as you call them, and with them, you opened a doorway which you never should have,” she said, her voice briefly adopting a foreboding undertone.

The Gearmaker then looked to The Keymaster. “And you, Keymaster - while the other two have tampered with their own timelines in their own ways, it is you who are responsible for tampering with your own. Do you have any idea what you have done?” He boomed, staring The Keymaster dead in the eyes.
The Keymaster looked up. “I still don’t understand. What exactly did I do?”
“Time, Keymaster…you have broken time.” The Gearmaker grimly declared. “I once created a device called the time-tuner, capable of transporting one to alternate timelines. However, I lost it some thousands of years ago…and somehow, it ended up in your possession.” He sighed. “When the time tuner…malfunctioned, a beacon was emitted into The Multiverse, and as we speak, every other timeline is beginning to converge onto your own. The only way to mend it, is by erasing you all from your timelines to restore stability.”

The bearded Keymaster’s eyes widened. “-Erase us?!”
The Nebula Seamstress nodded. “He is serious, I am afraid,” she said, feigning remorse.
“But why?”
“When a timeline strands so far from its counterpart, it becomes its own reality… and it cannot be erased," The Gearmaker said. “So while entirely erasing the problematic timelines is the preferable option, it’s simply impossible, and therefore erasing you is the second best solution.”

“Wait, wait…” The Keymaster said, getting the attention of the Time Keepers. “Why can’t the time tuner simply be repaired, and you can use that to simply send everyone back to their timelines?”

The Gearmaker huffed, deeply thinking as the gears of his mechanical mind literally turned. “…I suppose I could, but given the nature of this crisis, it would be incredibly risky. I would only accept to do such a thing, under the condition that you gather all the parts that have scattered.”
The Keymaster knew that such a task would be tedious. However, when faced with the threat of being erased from time itself, this was the more preferable option. “I shall do so, however I also wish to be accompanied by my variants. Their assistance would be of value to me,” he replied, looking at the bearded and blind Keymasters. The bearded Keymaster gave a disgusted expression, seemingly bothered by the idea of having to help.
“Ah, so you want our help to fix your mistakes? How amusing!” The blind Keymaster cackled.
“It is only fair, considering the mess you have made to your own realities,” replied The Nebula Seamstress. “We shall allow it.” With a wave of her hand, the cuffs around the wrists of the keymasters were unlocked, and they clattered to the ground with a brassy thud.

At the flick of a switch on the arm of The Gearmaker’s throne, a portal was suddenly opened in the middle of the Time Hall. It was a large, circular hole in reality, but a controlled one - not like the chaotic and uncontrolled holes that were now appearing all over The Multiverse en masse. The Gearmaker looked back at the three Keymasters one final time. “This shall return you to The Hub. Go now, but heed my warning: if you do not return within an hour, you will be erased.”
With that, The Clocksmith pulled out an antique stopwatch, setting a timer for one hour as he gazed upon the three Keymasters, silently wishing them luck with the solemn expression on his face. The three Keymasters stepped forth, crossing the threshold.

When they were gone, the Time Keepers all looked at each-other. “Do you think they shall be successful?” Asked the Nebula Seamstress.
“Honestly…I do not know. But I hope for their own sake that they will,” replied The Gearmaker, looking down contemplatively.

The three Keymasters re-emerged into The Hub. However, something immediately felt off. Nothing was visibly different, but The Keymaster sensed no presence of any life in the entire level, besides himself and the other two. “We must split up, search for all the pieces, and gather them,” The Keymaster stated.
The bearded Keymaster approached the blind Keymaster. “That may be difficult for some of us, considering, well…” he tugged on the bandages around his face, before letting them snap back into place.
The blind Keymaster laughed. “Is this about the ‘Darlene’ remark?” he asked, before debris suddenly fell from above, directly towards him. He casually sidestepped it, and the debris harmlessly struck the ground. “It was just a joke,” he said with a shrug.
The Keymaster looked around in search of the source of the debris. “Where did that come from?”
The blind Keymaster kneeled down on one knee, examining a piece of drywall amongst the fallen rubble. He turned it around in his hands, touching all sides and angles of it. “It feels…” he raised it to his mouth, chomping into it and chewing. “Tastes…” he said through a mouthful of drywall, before swallowing it with a hard dry gulp. “…like home,” he concluded.
After a brief, awkward silence, The Keymaster spoke. “Erm…I think we should start looking for those pieces now.”

As the three beings searched, they exchanged many stories. They told each-other of their experiences in their native realities – which all happened to be a collection of liminal spaces called “The Backrooms” by wanderers. As they came to find out, their own realities were just as diverse from each-other as themselves. The bearded Keymaster’s reality was mythical and whimsical, yet oftentimes surreal and bizarre. The blind Keymaster’s reality was desolate, melancholy and empty. The more they came to know each-other, the closer they seemed to become, almost forming a brotherly bond amongst themselves.

As for the actual gathering of the device’s, it was like finding a needle in a haystack – or, more fittingly, several needles in several haystacks. The process was incredibly painstaking. The Hub, with all its little nooks and crevices, could quite literally hide a piece anywhere. However, The Keymaster knew this place like the back of his hand, and with the help of the other two, he was able to get most of the pieces within a short amount of time.

Soon, only 10 minutes were left on The Clocksmith’s stopwatch. Just a few more pieces remained unaccounted for. “Let’s make this quick now, shall we? I have a bowl of hound stew waiting for me at home, and it’s going to be cold,” the blind Keymaster remarked. “You see, the trick to hunting them is first by intimidation. Staring then dead in the ey-” he began, before a loud rumbling shook The Hub.

It was then that things began to take a turn for the worst, as yet more debris began falling to the ground. As this occurred, The Keymaster looked up to see that the debris wasn’t breaking off from any structures, but instead was “spawning” in. The Hub wasn’t collapsing, but rather //colliding/. The Hub of each Keymaster’s reality seemed to be clipping into each-other, creating an interdimensional collision and overlap between them. The convergence was already beginning, and this was the beginning point. They knew that it would not be long before the event horizon of irreversible multiversal damage would be crossed.

Suddenly, a makeshift shack of odds and ends suddenly appeared near the blind Keymaster. The blind Keymaster grinned widely upon feeling it, recognizing this as his own. “Ah, my home!” He exclaimed, reaching inside to pull out a bowl of mysterious slop. “Stew, anyone?”

The bearded Keymaster craned his neck to see a large, ornate golden door that appeared on the balcony overhead. Could it really be…? he thought to himself – and indeed it was. It was the level door to ALPHAOMEGA, The Throne Room, in his own reality. Just like that, all the promises and commitments that the bearded Keymaster made to the other two left his mind. An opportunity for freedom presented itself to him, and he would have been a fool to not take it.
“Well, brothers, it sure was nice to have gotten to know you all, but it seems that my time here has come to a close,” he stated, pointing to the door.
The Keymaster narrowed his eyes. “What do you think you are doing…?” he growled.
“I’m returning home, to my reality” replied the bearded Keymaster
“Don’t you realize that you will have no reality to return to if you do not help us?” asked the blind Keymaster, as the three Hubs continued their cataclysmic merging with each-other. “Just because you exit this one, it will not prevent your own from falling.”
The bearded Keymaster laughed. “I’m not falling for your tricks, old man.” He then addressed both of the other two Keymasters. “Believe me, I know betrayal feels like, considering I recently experienced it myself. But the ends justify the means.”

“Get back here, traitor!” The Keymaster shouted as he began to pursue the bearded Keymaster. The bearded Keymaster fled up the staircase, but found himself surprised by just how fast The Keymaster was, as he quickly caught up to him. The two Keymasters exchanged grabs and blows, spinning around each-other, clipping all throughout The Hub as one tackled the other. The Keymaster charged towards the bearded Keymaster, who grabbed onto his body and used the momentum to throw him over the balcony they stood on. The Keymaster was sent to the ground with a painful thud, unable to muster the strength to immediately get back up.

“Don’t try to stop me!” the bearded Keymaster exclaimed, looking down upon The Keymaster. It was then, however, that he realized he had lost sight of the blind Keymaster. Feeling a small whoosh of air from behind, he turned around and saw him standing there. The blind Keymaster’s hand shot forth, and the bearded Keymaster jumped out of the way, causing the blind Keymaster to instead strike a stone pillar and crack it. The bearded Keymaster then came up from behind the blind Keymaster and rammed his elbow into his spine, creating an audible crunching sound. The blind Keymaster fell to his knees with the wind knocked out of him, temporarily incapacitated.

Making a mad dash, the bearded Keymaster finally reached the ornate door. “Farewell, brothers!” he exclaimed, as he stabbed the Key of Salvation into the door. He gleefully ripped it open to find…nothing. Pitch black emptiness. The Bearded Keymaster’s breath was taken from him, as he gasped in shock. He nearly stumbled through, but instead fell back from the doorway. “I…I don’t understand…” he said in disbelief as he fell onto his rear. Suddenly, from the darkness a tendril shot forth, ensnaring the bearded Keymaster by his legs and pulling him through. “Help!!!” he cried as he was swallowed by the blackness behind the doorway. The other two Keymasters, still incapacitated, would follow suit, ensnared in the tendrils with minimal effort as they were pulled through the door.

The three Keymasters found themselves suspended in a primordial void between universes, realities and timelines. It was emptiness that predated The Backrooms, and would outlast it. Well, almost empty, except for one thing which promptly made its presence known to the three. Tremors emanated everywhere as a being of monolithic stature arose before them, as an island would arise from the sea. Its enormous cosmic proportions absolutely dwarfed the three Keymasters, who were but mere specks of dust compared to it. The journey of light from one end of the being to another would be several hours long, and thus viewing its entirety would be practically impossible for a human. It was enshrouded in the darkest blacks and the most lustrous golds, crowned by a triangular “head” and reaching outward with tentacular appendages. It evoked the same primordial fear and awe that every human feels when kept up late at night, pondering just how small they are in comparison to the rest of existence; and admittedly, the three Keymasters felt this as well. They all recognized this being to a certain degree, though what exactly it was had yet to register in their minds. “Who are you?” The Keymaster asked.
The stillness of the void was shattered by the voice which emanated from the being in reply. “I am you…I am Kei'!!
As the bearded Keymaster gazed upon Kei', the only word he could force from his lips was a breathless “…impossible.”
“It is reality. You are you, yet I am you. I am all of you — every iteration. For I am your higher intelligence, your Oversoul, the motor which drives you to your ultimate destination.” The Keymaster began to feel disoriented. He and his two variants struggled against an invisible vice-like grip that Kei' held them in, but to no avail, as Kei' continued monologuing. “I suppose I must thank you all. Granted, this was not how I planned it, but it is a pleasant surprise nonetheless. Because of your blunders, this accursed Multiverse shall come apart…and I will finally be free!”
The bearded Keymaster continued struggling against his restraint, fruitlessly attempting to force his willpower against Kei's. “And why does that matter so much to you?” he asked.
“This is but a prison, and I am its prisoner,” Kei' declared, motioning around itself. “You already know this, deep down. You are my sons, after all. You feel it, that urge to escape, that call to be omnipresent. It is innate in all of you, regardless of whether you accept it.”
A wisened, seemingly knowing smile spread across the face of the blind Keymaster, as he tilted his head toward Kei'. “You know, you are not as almighty as you believe yourself to be…” He softly murmured.
The pyramid atop Kei's form tilted slightly to the side. “Such Ignorance…” an equally soft voice emanated from it. Suddenly, a mass of tendrils burst through the blind Keymaster’s chest from behind, impaling him. The Blind Keymaster gasped, spurting blood from his mouth. Beyond this, however, he gave no further reaction, and his body fell lifelessly limp. As the tendrils dematerialized, The blind Keymaster slowly drifted down, sinking into the blackness of the abyss as he disappeared. Kei' returned its attention to the other two Keymasters, who were noticeably distressed by this turn of events. “Oh, do not despair. He was just one of infinite others…as are you.”
The Keymaster felt rage arise within him, an emotion he rarely felt. “This is your folly! Everything and everyone is replaceable in your eyes!” He exclaimed.
“Do not fool yourself. If you knew and did everything as I, your outlook would be no different. If anything, you should spend your final moments in gratitude for having fulfilled your purpose, and bear witness to my glorious liberation.” Only one minute remained now, and suddenly, a wound opened in the void. Kei' turned towards the rift, basking in the cosmic unlight cast upon it. The Keymaster looked on with despair, believing this to have been his final moments as everything began to crumble. And it was a humiliating failure indeed.

However, as Kei' came to realize, this was not the undoing of The Multiverse, but rather the arrival of yet another being which emerged through the rift. His entire body was a mass of an assortment of many time-measuring instruments. Clocks, watches, hourglasses and sundials all amalgamated into a titanic figure, equally as massive as Kei'. “Hold,” he commended.
Kei' boomed with laughter. “Ah, if it isn’t Grandfather. Unfortunately, I am afraid that you are out of time,” it sneered.
“Choose your words wisely, Kei'…for I am Time.” Grandfather boasted.
“Oh, of course. How could I ever forget?” Kei' sarcastically sneered.
“Stand down. Or else, if we go to battle, we both know that you will have no multiverse to access.”
Kei' glared at Grandfather, then down at the Keymasters, before looking back at Grandfather. “This is not over,” it hissed.
Grandfather chuckled. “Oh, of course it is not. Surely you have other schemes, other means through which to hatch your ‘great escape’. But now is not the time for that. Begone.”
Kei' glared intently at Grandfather, before sinking down into the depths of the abyss, disappearing. With that, the two Keymasters were freed from their bindings.

Grandfather looked down upon the Keymasters, before extending a tendril of clocks towards them. The tendril uncurled itself, revealing a fully repaired and functional tune tuner which he presented. “This is required to fix your predicament, is it not?” He asked as the time tuner floated towards The Keymaster.
The Keymaster nodded, gratefully taking the time tuner. “Yes. Thank you for your help. But how did you…?”
“Must that even be a question?” Asked Grandfather.
“…I suppose not,” The Keymaster concluded, deciding that some things were best left unknown still.
“Good. Now, be on your way then.”

With that, the Keymasters were once again in the time hall, standing before the Time Keepers, at the exact moment the timer reached “0”. “Ah, just in time,” The Clocksmith remarked.
“Have you returned with the time tuner parts?” Asked The Gearmaker.
“Even better, we have the time tuner fully repaired,” the bearded Keymaster said, as The Keymaster presented it. After inspecting it, The Gearmaker gave a nod of approval, albeit a confused one. “How did you accomplish this?”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly us. We were assisted by a being called ‘Grandfather’.”
The Gearmaker perked up at the mention of the name, seeming to smile. “Ah, it seems that he is looking out for us.” He looked back down at the time tuner. “Now then…I say it is time you are all sent back home,” he said as began calibrating the device.
The bearded Keymaster stared down at the floor, contemplating. “Whatever events are currently transpiring in my reality, I feel that I am dearly needed. I must redeem myself to those I have betrayed.” He then turned towards The Keymaster. “I am aware I was not the best guest here, nor the most loyal companion in your journey. So, I…” he paused, wincing as if it caused him physical pain to say this. “…am sorry.”
The Keymaster solemnly nodded his head. “Do not worry. All is forgiven.”
The bearded Keymaster seemed relieved to hear this. “I have learned much from this experience. My eyes have been opened, and I will use what I have learned to save my comrades.”
The Keymaster shook the bearded Keymaster’s hand. “I wish you the best of luck in sorting out the problems of your reality.” The Gearmaker activated the time tuner, and with that, the bearded Keymaster disappeared from sight, sent back to his reality.

Only The Keymaster now remained in the Time Hall, facing The Gearmaker. “Everything should be normal once again,” he said as his throne hovered down towards The Keymaster. “You have been a great inconvenience to me…but you at least fixed your mistakes. This isn’t the first multiversal crisis I’ve faced, after all.” He said with a laugh.
“That is comforting knowledge…” The Keymaster semi-sarcastically said, before seeing that The Gearmaker held out his hand for a handshake. Reluctantly, he took the clockwork hand, shaking it. As he did so, he unlocked yet more memories. He vividly remembered The Gearmaker, and all that he had done. He remembered ruling alongside him with the rest of the Pantheon, in an ancient era when The Backrooms was instead called “paradise”. After being brought out from his memories, he gazed upon The Gearmaker with fresh eyes. “Gears…it’s you!” He exclaimed.
“Only I call him that,” The Nebula Seamstress interjected.
The Gearmaker chuckled with a brassy laugh. “I wondered how long it would be until you recognized me, brother. Glad that you finally remember.” He said, releasing the handshake. “Now, I believe that you would like to go back to your own home now, correct?”
The Keymaster nodded. “Yes, home…” He said, his mind seeming to wander elsewhere.
“Well then, I shall send you back now. Though I advise that you no longer mishandle mysterious objects that you randomly find.” He tapped the temple of his mechanical head.
“Right…” The Keymaster said, before he suddenly found himself back in The Temple.

Looking around at his surroundings, he found that it was all back to normal. Everything was stable, with no other Hubs bleeding into it any longer. Sighing with relief, The Keymaster resumed his cleaning. In the process of doing so, he turned up an antique mask. However, deciding he had enough excitement for now, The Keymaster simply left it where it was, and finally finished cleaning. However, what he failed to notice was that one of the ornate doors in The Temple now emanated a soft, ethereal glow…

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