Scenario:Lobelia - Fateful Encounter

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Fateful Encounter

An ecstatic Lobelia murders his parents and records their agonizing death throes. As he grows into a young man and continues his murder spree, he realizes there is no perfect sound of slaughter that will ever fully satisfy him. By the time he's recorded around 200 screams of death, the card of The Tower appears before him.



The parricide, Lobelia, continues traveling and killing, recording the sound each time.
He commits every killing to memory and carries his archive of conches to keep the spectacle fresh in his mind.
Lobelia continues living this way until he becomes a young man. One day something occurs to him.
Lobelia: (Humph... I'm a genius. Anyone should be able to see that.)
Lobelia: (But if word of my magical genius were to spread through the world... I probably couldn't be happy for long.)
Lobelia: (Then I must live plainly... out of the public eye. I'll be obscure but happy...)
Having made up his mind, Lobelia works to hide his abilities from acquaintances and live in anonymity.
He minimizes interactions with others, adapting to society in a way that is both unassuming and cunning. All the while he continues to mete out carnage.
But in the process of committing uncountable murders, Lobelia has a realization.
Lobelia: (The sounds I heard today were far from happy.)
Lobelia: (I want to hear a happy sound that makes for more harmonie!)
Lobelia: (I'm not fulfilled yet... No matter whose sounds I listen to, I'm not fulfilled at all.)
Lobelia: (The only two who could make me happy... were Papa and Maman.)
Lobelia listens to the pair's destruction on loop day after unfulfilled day, sighing on occasion.
He had been destroying other people from sheer force of habit, but after a long stretch of days Lobelia reaches a turning point.
Lobelia: Huh?
It happens precisely when he archives the sound of the two-hundredth person's destruction.
An object suddenly appears before Lobelia's eyes in a flash.
Lobelia: Is that... a card? It's difficult to make out in the murk, but... it seems to have a picture of a tower on it.
Without too much thought, the puzzled Lobelia extends his hand.
His fingertip makes contact with the card, and in the next moment...
Lobelia: Ack, what!
Lobelia turns his face away from the burst of blinding light, and at the same time a rumble sounds out.
Lobelia: ...!
Lobelia lets out an unspeakable scream that intermingles with the rumble.
The sudden disturbance has him awash in pleasure.
Lobelia: (That thunderous noise! It's sounding out! It's sounding out!)
Lobelia: (The cacophony of collapsing buildings! The bevy of beings being cut down by explosions! A symphony of screams!)
Lobelia: (Such exquisite harmonie!)
Lobelia: Très-bien!
When Lobelia cries out, the burst of light grows diffuse and vanishes.
Lobelia: This town's been... Nothing's left standing... My goodness!
Lobelia: Heh-ahahaha! This destruction is wholly parfait (perfect)!
Lobelia: The one who did this must have been... you.
Lobelia, quaking with delight, begins to speak to the towerlike being that rises up over him in an instant.
???: ...
But the towerlike presence remains mum. With a childlike glimmer still in his eyes, Lobelia continues speaking.
Lobelia: Ah, how long it's been since I've felt this satisfied.
Lobelia: Are you... a monster? Or perhaps a primal beast? No, no, never mind. What does it matter!
Lobelia: To you I give my respect! And my gratitude for such utterly parfait (perfect) destruction!
Lobelia: You've helped me realize what an insignificant and foolish creature I am!
Lobelia: Hiding behind excuses of wanting to be happy and obscure, I've only let off tiny pops of harm.
Lobelia: But all that resulted for me was unhappiness...
Lobelia: What I want is to be able to lay down destruction as parfait (perfect) as yours!
Lobelia: Take me under your wing so that I might live happily! Surely you approve!
???: ...
Lobelia speaks passionately, but the towerlike being displays no reaction.
He begins, however, to feel a strange link between his heart and the tremendous being standing there.
Thus begins the relationship between the natural genius and the natural disaster.