"You know what I want?" asked the homunculus in the flask. He was talking partly to himself, as the quote in question was simply a rhetorical question, but at the same time, he was talking to the man who stood next to him, Slave Number 23, a golden-haired young man who was not as bright as he looked on the outside.
"What?" asked the slave.
"I want to be free," said the dwarf in the flask. "Just once, I want to leave this flask, and see the world for myself. And you, you look like the perfect person to help me."
"What do you mean?" asked the slave, rather dimwittedly.
"You look like the perfect person to help me achieve what I want," replied the dwarf. "We'll have to decide upon a new name for you. It'll have to be something simple, easy enough for you to remember and that'll be remembered for years to come."
There was a silence between the two. Broken only by an exclamation of realization.
"I've got it! Hohenheim! Hohenheim of Light!"
"Hohenheim? Hohenheim."
Slave Number 23 considered that name carefully, seeming to roll it around to see how it sounded. "I like that."
"Then Hohenheim of Light it is!"
Little did Hohenheim know that because of this fateful destined meeting, this meeting of little coincidence, that the fate of the world, now rested on his shoulders, as a power struggle between warring factions of the land, would rise to threaten the balance of the land, and bring about the promised day.
"What?" asked the slave.
"I want to be free," said the dwarf in the flask. "Just once, I want to leave this flask, and see the world for myself. And you, you look like the perfect person to help me."
"What do you mean?" asked the slave, rather dimwittedly.
"You look like the perfect person to help me achieve what I want," replied the dwarf. "We'll have to decide upon a new name for you. It'll have to be something simple, easy enough for you to remember and that'll be remembered for years to come."
There was a silence between the two. Broken only by an exclamation of realization.
"I've got it! Hohenheim! Hohenheim of Light!"
"Hohenheim? Hohenheim."
Slave Number 23 considered that name carefully, seeming to roll it around to see how it sounded. "I like that."
"Then Hohenheim of Light it is!"
Little did Hohenheim know that because of this fateful destined meeting, this meeting of little coincidence, that the fate of the world, now rested on his shoulders, as a power struggle between warring factions of the land, would rise to threaten the balance of the land, and bring about the promised day.
"All is one, and one is all."
The story begins....
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