Prolog:
Edit: August 12th 2016: After reading the manga after I stopped watching the anime, there was a very crucial panel at the end of chapter 339. This means that Komugi and Meruem were left there in that room (After like a week, which is really messed up that no one bothered to give them a proper burial, seriously).
Because of this, I'll change the four days post the government collapse to twelve instead. Meruem will still be buried, except this time he was buried a week after the conclusion of the Chimera ant arc. How did he survive being left still for twelve days? Not showing it yet, but it will be astonishing. Also, that one panel helped me finalize how the story will end. (And the manga is still in hiatus mode, hopefully the Black Whale will make it to the Dark Continent by 2020).
AN: Huh, can't believe I decided to write an alternate ending to the Chimera Ant Arc, or more specifically, Meruem's fate. To be frank, I found the ending to be quite abrupt, there was so much wasted potential, but then I thought to myself: What if I can keep the ending as it is but for one major factor.
Meruem ends up barely surviving the Miniature Rose's toxin, while the rest of the Royal Guards- and sadly- Komugi remain helpless to the toxin's fatal symptoms, thereby leaving Meruem as the sole survivor.
The reasons behind Meruem's survival won't be explained by stupid excuses like "Nen!"/"Magic!", I can assure you that. In a way, I'm going to try my best to explain the Miniature Rose bomb's toxin; it's effects; and possible antidote to said toxin. Meruem's genetic makeup is very crucial in this fanfic. I'm no gynecologist, nor a zoologist, but I'll do everything I can to make the story's events realistic.
Speaking of realism. Meruem's psychological state post the events of episode 135. I won't make him OOC, yet he won't exactly be in character. He just have lost everything and everyone he held dear, you can't expect him to just accept that fact- if he ever will- that he is all alone now with nothing to accomplish.
Lastly: The main characters will not make any formal appearance in this fanfic, and even if they did, it will merely be either a cameo appearance, or mentions of the characters.
I believe this AN has gone on long enough. I don't intend to drop hints about the story's plot, so, if you like sci-fi mixed with psychological issues, then this story is for your liking.
Cold... Cold... The surroundings are cold, encasing... He felt tired, sore, and he was fading...
Colder... The soft, yet damp surroundings were cold... Though one of the enclosed walls was seemingly different... Somehow... He didn't know... He didn't have the capacity to know... He was fading...
Numb... It felt as if the three cold walls were trying to swallow him... And yet there was that sole presence... Is it to his right? To his left?... He can't register his surroundings well... Something... Something was... Was... Was?... He can't tell... He was fading again...
A dull, faint sensation flooded him... He felt more. More... More?... Pain?... He feels a dull burning sensation...That's the pain... Something else felt off... A part of him was... Intertwined with something solid... And bloated... A hand?... And his own hand?... He can't tell, for he is hit with a wave of blinding pain... He was fading... Albeit, slowly... There was something... Not... Right... Where... Where...
The pain is masked by a new sensation... A foul one... He was more responsive to it. He can tell, that this... Acerbic... Smell?.. Smell... The smell. The source of it, it came from the other presence... Another.. Person?... Most likely, his hand feels stuck to the other person's own... Somewhat... Sticky... Hand. The other person's presence was no longer desirable?... He shouldn't be here?... Where... Is... He?... Why is he here?... He is surrounded by damp, soft walls, with another person... Laying closely at his side?... Why is this person... Rigid? Their hand sticky and bloated?... Should he get out? Why is he surrounded by walls?... What are those walls?... Damp walls... Rigid person... He was fading once more... He tries to struggle... But that exhausts him... More...
He can twitch now, his toes, fingers... His tail brushes against the softness of the walls...Walls?... Earth... Moist earth...Is he? Underground?... Why is the other person so unresponsive?... His movements aren't igniting anything from the other... cold... damp... ever still person... Will this person ever response... This person won't respond to him... This person is dead... The stench of their now decomposing body has left him more chemically responsive... Should he thank that person?... That person is dead... He can't thank them.. He feels weak, but he is awake enough to avoid slipping back into unconsciousness again... He is buried underground with another person who's hand is intertwined with his own, so that must mean this is his grave?... He isn't dead... The other person is dead and is undergoing the first stages of decomposition.. He has been here for at least three days then, he should get out...
He starts by trying to stretch is limbs- while enduring the sharp, jabbing pain... Gradually regaining usage of his fine motor skills in spite of the pain. His minds wanders to the other person one final time... For a brief moment, he desires to remain with the dead body... He doesn't know why such a thought even crossed his mind, if he remains here, he will too die.. He is hungry, thirsty, and weak... Why would he want to die... Odd... And the sensation still lingers... Is he longing for this person's presence? Does he know them?... Will he... Miss them?... He doesn't know, his head feels fuzzy, and his mind is clouded.
He should escape from his tomb now, before he is too weak to be able to make a successful attempt. Survival instincts already kicking in, he pries his hand free from the other's... He will never hold their hand again, won't he?... As he begins digging his way out, he forces himself to stop thinking of the dead person. If he fails this attempt at escaping, he will never get another chance... That doesn't answer the current emotions he's experiencing... He will think about it later, once he's out and replenished.
He is gasping for air, he barely managed to lift himself from the dirt... He is wheezing... Confused... He tries to stand up.. He stumbles, falling onto his knees. He tries to rest the untainted palm on the ground... He vomits...The palm is now balled up into a fist as he undergoes a coughing fit that scratches his dry throat... Bringing him another source of pain... He is thirsty.. Very thirsty... He narrowly glances his bloodshot eyes towards the grave site... There lies a crudely made crucifix, he can hardly see another three crucifixes placed only a little further from his own... Are there three more people buried here?
Somehow, he knows, that the people within those graves... Are people... He once knew... They are all dead now... How did they all die?... He closes his eyes and dips his head for a few seconds in mourning...
He should get going now. Maybe he will remember what happened after he regains some of his strength.
I'm not sure if the prologue is good, this is the first time I've written a fanfic with the intention to publish, and English isn't my native language meaning that there will be tons of grammatical errors in the first few chapters, sorry. ((I got an English grammar book, so I will learn as I progress with the story))
The broken writing here was intentional, people waking up from even a brief state of comatose don't retain their full consciousness right away, they regain it gradually, and they also suffer from Post-Traumatic-Amnesia.
So, Was it good? Was it bad? I'd appreciate your opinions! ((I have a feeling it sucks))
I'll write the first chapter this week, maybe I'll make it a weekly thing, since chapters will be 3000+ words long.
