A/N: This is it. The fabled rewrite. So, this story is meant to act as a sort of proof of concept. The Minecraft archive has an increasing amount of Mob Talker stories, but a lot of them seem to be the same events and concepts over and over. In addition, I can compare some characters for certain stories, and they'll be a little too similar for my liking. I don't mean to be pretentious or anything, but I can only get so much enjoyment from seeing characters with similar personalities go through really similar stories. And I'm assuming some other people feel them same. So, I'm going to attempt to create a different kind of experience. I'm not the most consistent with updates however, but I'll try my best.
Edit (25/2/18): This chapter actually combines the original Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 and adds a lot more detail and changes. I'll work to make the new chapter two just as good.
Raise the Curtains!
It's Showtime!
[Phosphorus]
- New World Arc -
Hand One: Luck of the Draw – Pt. I
I don't even know why I'm writing this. Maybe someday someone will read this and gain something out of it. I sure as hell don't know. Besides, it's not like people don't already have an idea of what happened. I'm pretty sure some prick claiming to be a god coming through a portal and slaughtering the population of LA got someone's attention.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Instead, I think I'll start at the beginning. The very beginning. Hell, I think I'll start before I even got dragged into this mess.
So then, introductions are an order.
The name is Mikhael Harris, and don't you forget it either. I don't necessarily care who you are, since I'll probably never meet you. I don't expect people to find this until I'm dead. And if you do find it before I kick the bucket, whoop-de-fucking-doo. I still don't care. Unless you're Marie. Or Anna. But not Luna. Fuck that bitch. I respect women and everything, but not her. Just...no. You'll know what I mean. Marco, if you're reading this, I just want you to know that you are a bro. Anyways…
Let's get back on track.
This is a journal (obviously) that details the events of the giant fucking mess that my life turned into. Buckle your seat belts children, we're going on a trip. A long trip.
Phosphorus
When I was younger, I read a lot of fanfiction. I don't know what it was but, I loved something about stories of people getting sucked into other worlds. Maybe I was tired of hearing about shootings on the news, or how our country was going to hell. Maybe I was tired of pretentious and judgmental people.
I grew up in Alaska, but my family moved to California when I was seven. It was hard saying goodbye to my friends, but I managed. I spent my time in Cali in a relatively peaceful neighborhood, but there was always some kind of gang fight in our town. My mom would tell me to not wear red or blue in certain parts of town, so I wore a lot of black and grey. I guess it stuck, since I still do today.
But back onto my love of fanfiction. I really loved reading in general, to be honest. When I wasn't helping around the house I was reading or playing video games. But I when I reached about 11 years of age I started really paying attention to what I was reading. And I ended up always wondering the same thing.
Why the hell did they always have some kind of Edgy Backstory?
And yeah, the capitalization is needed. It's always orphaned child, last of his species, consistently abused and/or raped, etc. Like, it's not like that kind of thing doesn't happen, but I mean, does it really always have to be in the main character's backstory? Or even worse. It's all of the above. Not joking either. I dunno. Maybe it would be nice to see just a normal dude with normal problems.
Maybe I should find some humor in the irony of my thoughts.
Like when you see suffering so many times, you get, I guess, used to it? It sounds bad, I know. But how else do the people in world stay so fucking apathetic? Maybe Persona 3 was on to something…
Oh, you're probably wondering about the aforementioned irony. There's really only so many ways to say it, so I'll give you both the short and the long explanation.
On paper, I died. I was hit by a car, going 75 miles per hour in a 55 zone to be specific, that would have hit my ex-girlfriend.
In reality though? I wish I would have just died instead. So let's fast forward now.
I'm twenty years old, attending UCLA, and it's the year 2027. Wild, I know. And I almost forgot the biggest part. I share a big flat with a couple of my friends, but I bought an apartment for me and my girlfriend. It took a long time to get that money, and I had been working my ass off since fifteen to get it.
And no, we don't have fucking flying cars yet. I don't even understand how we have them now, but hey, the discovery of convenient interdimensional travel probably had something to do with it.
I had stopped by the store on my way back home from hanging out with my flat-mates. I figured Luna would enjoy some home-cooked dinner after a long day. She had been texting me all day about some BS she was dealing with at her job. As I was fishing my keys out of my pocket to unlock the door, I heard some thumping from inside.
(At the time, I didn't think much of it. Luna was rather clumsy sometimes, but that was part of her charm. Looking back on it now, I realize that if her day was really as exhausting as she claimed, she would have been sleeping while waiting for me to get back home.)
I was humming as I pranced around the kitchen with a spring in my step, getting everything I needed to make a nice delicious dinner. My pace slowly lost its energy and vibrance as I approached our bedroom. Light thumping and odd noises revealed itself to be the slapping of skin and moans. Moans I had only heard one other time.
I opened my door to see my girlfriend on some random dudes lap, bouncing in time to his thrusts while moaning out his name and squeezing her arms around his body. She opened her eyes with a gasp of bliss only to see me standing in the doorway with a blank expression. 'Blank' is fitting now that I think of it. I was angry, yes, but I also felt like something had been ripped out of me, leaving me empty and weak.
"Mikhael, I – AH! OH! I–"
"Save it." I nodded scornfully and closed the door. The man inside the room 'and her' smirked, probably unloading at the same time. That was fine. He can have her. After all, who wants a useless, clumsy slut like–
I shook my head of violent and demeaning thoughts as I silently gathered my things. It looked like they had done it on the couch and dining table too.
Guess I wasn't enough for her.
With a passing thought, I took all the money out of the man's discarded wallet, and hers too. When my old PS4 and some other stuff was in my backpack, I stalked back towards the room.
Opening the door, I saw her panting on the bed as he asked her about another round. I decked him in the face and slammed his head into the bedframe until I saw blood. I dragged him to his feet and threw him across the room for good measure. She said something but I didn't care. I left the damn apartment and didn't look back.
Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I didn't. After all, wouldn't you get mad if you quite literally saw your girlfriend cheating on you? On your fucking bed nonetheless?
I avoided her for weeks afterwards, even despite her constant texts and calls. I almost felt bad to be honest. Her searching for me was damn near obsessive. Almost was the key word. When I told my friends, Kieran (He was a badass Scot who was majoring in Engineering.) told me it was about time I realized it. Apparently this was the third time she's done this this month.
(To put it in perspective, it was the 19th. Of February. Exactly.)
She had also hit on a few of them a few times. Eric (He was some odd mix of a lot of things in West Asia. He also was a strong advocate for the One Punch Man workout. Eric also loved Love Live. Like, consider this: A buff Asian dude chilling in his room watching 'Love Live! Sunshine'. We thought it was fucking hilarious.) compared her to some girl from those hentai that Marcus (He was a Sudanese dude who played for the school team. Since we had similar tastes in humor, Marcus and I pulled pranks on people whenever we could get away with it.) watched like year ago when we searched his browser history. Some thing from 2016 called JK something or other. Some decent shit that was. Not like that top tier shit, but it did the job.
Anyways, Marcus busted out laughing the moment the words left Eric's mouth as I contemplated what I had learned.
Kind of sucked learning that the girl you loved slept around a lot. Didn't really answer why she was obsessively looking for me though. She had showed up sometime during my first week of avoiding her with bags under her bloodshot, puffy eyes and disheveled...well, everything. Luna stood outside the door to our flat rambling about her search for me before she suddenly straightened and got an odd gleam in her eyes.
"Is...Is Mikhael...here?" There was something dangerous in her tone, something hungry and desperate. Kieran told her no, but continued to come back every other day for two weeks. When she didn't come back for a couple of days, we assumed she had given up. We were proven extremely wrong when we came home from Dave and Busters to find an unlocked door and Luna in my room, smelling one of my old shirts.
She ran at me in frenzy, sobbing and begging that I 'come home' with her and that she 'needed my warmth'. Eric shook his head and Marcus and Kieran looked away. Wincing, I led her outside, pried her off of me, and closed and locked the door. As she begged for forgiveness from outside the door, I couldn't help but remember the bandages on her arms and thighs. But I shook my head and turned on my PS4. I wasn't a cruel person, but trust was a fickle thing for me. Despite not having any trauma, trust was just a hard thing for me to give. Hell, it took two years for me to even call Eric, Kieran, and Marcus my friends.
(She sat sobbing and begging outside our door for thirty minutes.)
Phosphorus
The next time I saw Luna was when the accident happened. She was walking across the street with a lost expression on her face. It had been...about a month and half I think. Of course, you already know what happened from there. The car came, Luna turned, I pushed her out the way, and I got fucking pulped by a car going at like 75 miles per hour. But the worst part?
Apparently once you die, after the pain you're at peace. That's how it's supposed to go right? So tell me why the absolute FUCK it felt like my soul was being ripped from my body. Like, imagine that one punishment where your arms and legs are strapped to horses that run in different directions.
Yeah.
Now imagine feeling that with every part of your being. Exactly.
Now then, this is where this whole mess starts. With me laid out, broken, and battered in the middle of the street, my ex crying over my dead body, and me getting my soul ripped from my carcass.
Next thing I knew, I woke up in an interrogation room.
The room was painted in hues of grey, complete with a one-way window to my left, and a table in front of me. Oddly enough though, the chair I was sitting in was an almost ethereal, velvet blue. The rest of the chair, specifically the legs and uncushioned areas on the back, was made from a jet black metal. After a brief one over, I couldn't find any cameras in the room either. The door on the other side of the room from me had no doorknob and had some kind of...aura drifting out from the seams. Overall, it was a surreal experience.
Not to mention that I could see through my hands. I don't mean like see the blood and veins and stuff, I mean like one of the ghosts you see in like cartoons or movies. I would have freaked out if it weren't for me remembering the whole, "Oh fuck I died" thing. As I contemplated getting up and walking to the door, I heard a giggle. No, not a laugh. A giggle. Almost like the ones you hear from a girl who's amused with her pet.
I wasn't anybody's damn pet.
"I bet you aren't, Mikhael. But, your reactions are rather adorable. Especially the way you're looking around. You almost remind me of a lost puppy."
(To this day, I'm sure I gave myself spiritual whiplash with how fast I turned around. The only reason I say this is because when I woke up, I felt like someone necked me at Mach 5.)
My eyes immediately locked onto the girl sitting in the dull golden throne across from me.
Wait jUST ONE FUCKING SECOND!
NO. THAT'S NOT HOW ANYTHING WORKS.
(If I had to specifically mark where my life became a trainwreck, it would actually be here. I feel like this experience alone fucked up my mind. I don't even know why either. I'm just saying, after this, a lot of stuff didn't surprise me.)
The girl looked to be about fourteen or so, and was oddly plain in appearance. Aside from the stereotypical king's crown on her head, the weirdly dull gold throne she was sitting on, and the fact her pupilless – 'What the fuck.' –eyes were iridescent – WHAT THE FUCK.' –she looked pretty normal. Her hair was brown and cut to her shoulders, and she wore a grey sundress. Her bangs slightly hung into her view and partially obscured her eyes, but the amused, almost smug smirk on her face was fully visible. As (relatively) plain as she was – 'HER FUCKING EYES. HOW.' –something told me that she was way more than what she seemed.
Ya know, aside from her fucking eyes–
Okay I'm done. Sorry bout that.
"No worries, Mikhael."
Why.
"Because it's fun. It gets boring watching over a place nobody goes." This girl is absolutely outside of my realm of comprehension. How the hell is she reading my mind?
"Because you're speaking out loud, you dumbass."
That explains a lot. Well then, I guess questions are an order.
"No, they aren't," Came the snarky girl's reply.
"What the hell! Why not?" I was mad, in so many words. Not only was I dead, but I was also trapped in an interrogation room with a super loli.
Wonderful.
If anything, the girl's grin seemed even more smug. "I can't answer your questions, since that would mess up everything. I can't have the boss getting mad, now can I? But if it makes you feel any better," The girl tensed, and her expression grew slightly grim. Her eyes seemed like they were attempting to convey an apology. "I'll pray for you."
The door opened, and the girl made a gesture. The last thing I remembered was a vortex of lights and colors, a sensation of falling, and the girl's voice.
"...My name is Sekai. Live, and maybe we'll meet again, little lamb."
(If somebody asked me before then why I believed in a higher power, I would tell them it was how I was raised. After this, I would tell them because I met one, and they told me they would pray for me. If that doesn't say something, I don't know what does.)
"...w..ke….u.."
Uh. Excuse me? What?
"...wa..k...p..."
Can you like, the fuck not? I can't even hear you, mate.
"..wake up..."
...This isn't Breath of the Wild, lady. I'm like, part African and a crap ton of random European shit. Nowhere does that say Hylian. Plus, and they like hella pale? You know, because elves and shit?
"Wake up."
Alright, so you're definitely not that Elise chick. Mind telling me why I need to wake up? Like, I'm clearly awake and luci–
Wait, why are my eyes closed?
"WAKEUP PLEASEDONTLEAVEME–"
Damn, you're loud. Hold on a sec, doesn't that kinda sound like…
"Please. Not again. Please don't leave me again."
I awoke to the sound of a grief-laden scream echoing through my mind.
Phosphorus
"Bloody hell, it's bright." I sat up, taking a look around at my surroundings.
Alright, so… "I have no idea where the fuck this is! Great!"
ISN'T THAT JUST LOVELY.
I was laying on, "Bump this.", scratch that, standing on a rather beautiful beach. The sun was high in the blue sky overhead, and the waves were shining in the warm light. It was...rather peaceful, to be honest. It was almost like a spawn point or something. Nice and peaceful...at least until I got sniped with a damn backpack.
(Looking back, I feel like the Universe didn't like me being a cheeky fuck. I can't imagine why, I think I'm pretty badass...Right?)
The offending object was pretty well-made and sturdy, not to mention made from some fabric I couldn't recognize. Judging from where it hit me…
This piece of crap fell from the sky.
"...I don't even want to know."
After a quick glance to the left and right, I unzipped the bag and looked inside.
An Undefined Amount of Time Later…
"Well this is a bust." The bag was actually pretty useless. Well, not the bag but the shite inside it. I mean sure, the bad had a lighter, food, a pretty stacked first aid kit, a military grade knife and shit, but like what do I even do with this? There was also a letter from Sekai saying that the book inside would answer all my questions, but there wasn't even a fucking book.
Well, technically I guess.
The 'book' in question was a thick stack of immovable pages between two slabs of...something. The 'spine' was a bunch of threads woven together, and the front had a bunch of weird carvings and markings on it. Even when I got frustrated and slammed it on something, the fucking. Thing. Wouldn't. OPEN! I even tried burning it in my campfire that night, which by the way, what kind of idiot do you take me for? Like hell I'm gonna leave some shady beach to go into a shadier forest. Sorry man, that's a death wish. Anyways, I burned it and it was undamaged. Not even singed. That doesn't even make sense, I tell you! What the hell was this thing?
(Oh you poor, poor fool.)
Whatever. Time to get moving. The sun had risen and the beach was pretty well lit, so I figured it was around maybe 10 in the morning. My belly was full of canned peaches, and I was relatively 'read: not at all' satisfied with my findings in the backpack. With a sunny day like this, what could poss–
Oh. Oh hell no. Oh fuck.
I almost said those words.
I was not about to do that bullshit. Not today, not any day, never. That way lies madness, and only madness. And humiliation. And failure. But hold on, how the hell can I even take another loss? I kinda actually got cucked. Literally, and of course, not consensually. You a weirdo if you accept that shit. Like, come on man, fight for your girl. And if that's the way she treats you, then I'm not sure if she loved you in the first place.
Or maybe I'm just stupid. Or ignorant. One of the two. Or neither. You decide.
But on an unrelated note,
"Jesus, what the hell is that smell?" It's been like maybe ten or fifteen minutes since I left that damn beach man. It took like ten minutes, and now it smells like someone fucking died? Jeez man, if you're gonna kill somebody, at least bury the body. Now then...where…? Aha! It vaguely smelled like it was coming from like somewhere to my left. So like...northwest, maybe? The hell if I know. So then, possible adventure...or safety…
I'm already in the deep end. You only live once, right? Wait a sec...I guess that doesn't apply to me so…
Second time's the charm, I guess?
"Onward!" And I hope you can feel how stupid I felt after saying that. With my stupid cry of adventure, I went forth on my quest to–
Find a goddamn dead body.
A dead. Body.
This was a terrible idea, wasn't it? And now, I might end up like this poor bloke. The dude was wearing some kind of metal-slash-something armor that obviously didn't help him. His body was pinned to a tree by several arrow shafts lodged in his throat, shoulders, hip, and eyes. A leather helmet covered his pulped face, heavily stained by blood and brain matter. His chest was ripped open, showing a bloody soup of pulped, shredded, and liquefied organs.
I keeled over off to the side, emptying my stomach of my breakfast. This dude...he didn't stand a chance. His blade was off to the side, abandoned. I felt even more nauseous at the sight. I knew what that meant.
He didn't see it coming. He couldn't even fight back.
My eyes shakily identified a trail of blood leading into the clearing from the opposite side. He came from the north…
My heart sped up.
He…
He was running for his fucking life. And whatever chased him down...it wasn't happy. This was completely new territory for me. What the hell was I supposed to do? This dude was armored and had a weapon, but was still torn to shreds!
My heart was pounding out of my chest, my mind filled with thoughts of what could, what would happen if whatever killed that man found me. There was only one thing I could do to be honest.
'RUN. NOW.'
A twig snapped. And so did my patience. I ran across the clearing, grabbing the sword and assessing my surroundings.
The clearing was mostly circular, with the foliage being thicker on my right– probably the west– and the tree with the mangled corpse off to the left in front of me. My eyes scanned the clearing, and my body tensed, ready to run in any direction with a thought. Nothing...nothing…
Another twig snapped. Claws scratched against bark, and a raspy breath echoed in the clearing.
"yOuU..." It was a terrible thing, its voice. A wet, bubbling, rasping roar of a voice. Everything about it was contradictory, almost like its vocal chords were diseased and damaged, but yet still functional. "You sMeLL...fReSh...fReSh Meat..." It was excited. Bony fangs were bared for the world to see from behind mottled, scaly green skin. Its eyes stared at, no, through me like the sunken-in pits that they were. A viscous, slightly greenish black liquid streamed from its eyes and various holes on its body, covering the spikes on its arms, legs, and torso. Grotesque, bony claws ripped through the scaly flesh on its arms, dripping with the same slime and bits of flesh, presumably from the corpse behind me. Its spiked tail flicked behind its body, sharing the same twisted glee that was vaguely present on its features.
I froze at the low hiss it gave off.
This...thing…
It was going to kill me. I was going to die. Again.
Hell no.
In a heartbeat, I turned tail and ran back in the direction I came from. Maybe if I could trick it into the water…
No, that definitely wouldn't work.
Alright then. Mid stride, I glanced down at the blade in my hand. It was seemingly well made at a glance. But it was pretty light for metal. I didn't have time to think about it though, what with the whole 'running for my life' thing.
A chill ran through my body, and I dodged to the right. Not a second too late either, since the monster's claws sliced through where I just was and cut into the ground. That was pretty fucking–
The ground detonated.
I barely had time to register the fact that the thing's body was apparently covered in a motherfucking contact explosive before I was knocked into a tree. Clearing my head of dizziness, I ran to the right again, this time putting more space between me and the monster than before. I had a sword, I had a general semblance of what this thing could do, and now I had an idea.
A stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.
This time when I dodged to the side, I lashed out with my recently acquired weapon. In return, I got a pained hiss and some grayish blood on the sword.
We're making progress.
Alright, so now I know it can be hurt. Next up…
I started to run zig-zags through the trees, trying to lose the monster hot on my tail. Finally I caught sight of a relatively decent sized tree, perfect for the second part of my plan. Someone I came to know later might have called me a coward because of what I did next.
I like to call it being smart.
I grabbed onto a low-hanging branch and pulled myself up as quickly as possible. Then grabbing the next branch, I scrambled my way up the tree and sat on a bend in the upper trunk.
Now we play the waiting game.
"HIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSS"
...Dear lord this was a mistake.
I've been in this tree for about ten minutes now. TEN. And this freak has been waiting for me. Waiting for me to fall and fucking die. It's not even moving. Hell, it's not even blowing up the tree. It's just staring at me.
In fact, that might even be worse.
But while it is positively shitting horrific to look at, something inside of me just burns with anunquenchable violent fire at the thought of its very existence. It needs to be eradicated. It needs to–
"Wait, what the fuck?" I quickly looked away from the monster, feeling my rage start to dissipate once it was out of my field of vision.
Well, damn. I guess I now have crippling rage from looking at freaks of nature.
Does this technically count as like racism or some shit? What does my instinct even define as a freak of nature?
Grabbing the blade off my belt loops, I stared at the monster again and let the rage slowly return to my body.
And now I'll rip it limb from limb. I jumped down off the tree, bringing my blade down on its vulnerable head. The edge cut though its chest and skull like a hot knife through butter, spraying grayish blood and brain matter on the surrounding areas. I hacked it to pieces until I was absolutely sure that–
HOLY SHIT.
The monster, or at least what I think was left of it, was splattered on the ground and trees nearby. In my blind rage, it looked like I had hacked it to pieces, and then cut those pieces into smaller chunks which I then pulped with a hammer. The liquid steadily dripping from my 'borrowed' sword said something similar as well. In other words, I went to town on the damn thing.
So, is it bad if I feel proud of myself? I mean, I'm alive, plus I killed a monster that makes things it touches explode.
If I told any of my friends this, they would never believe me.
After I had wiped the gross blood off my new sword, I dragged myself back to the beach I woke up on. I honestly felt like crap by now. The adrenaline had worn off, and I'm about eighty percent sure that it was what kept me from feeling the pain in my ribs. One of them has to be cracked or broken, at least according to the pain I was feeling. My left hand also had a cut on it, which I proceeded to quickly wrap up with some gauze.
Before I sat down to eat, I piled some sticks onto my old campfire and relit it with the lighter from the backpack. I hummed in relief as the taste of pork and beans filled my mouth.
And then I choked when my eyes fell on a box that definitely wasn't there when I left.
The box wasn't a fancy thing, despite its sudden appearance. It looked like something you'd get from UPS or something. I grabbed the note taped to the top and glanced over it, scratching the chin hair that was...supposed...to be...uh…
Did I somehow get shaved when I was reincarnated? I dunno if that's how anything works either, but alright I guess.
Dear little lamb,
I forgot to give you a few things, so here they are. You should head northwest as soon as possible. Do that, and the answers to a few of your questions, such as where you are, will be answered.
Sincerely, Sekai
P.S. You might want to look in a mirror. :D
The hell is that supposed to mean?
Well, first things first. Let me check in this box real quick.
Whipping out my combat knife, I cut open the box and dumped its contents onto the sand. There was a black scanner thing, a chestplate, a tool belt, a pile of random shite, a pair of gauntlets, and a pocket mirror.
Those gauntlets and the chestplate would've been useful to have during my close encounter of the monstrous kind.
Thanks Sekai. You're a real doll.
Stuff in the box, check. Now onto that last part…oh.
Looking into the mirror, I can definitely say that the face looking back at me is not mine. At all. For one, my eyes were brown, not emerald green. But more importantly, I looked like a fucking trap.
I hate my life. Wait a sec...
My hair was still black, but it reached to shoulder length and had bangs slightly similar to Sekai's. My skin had gotten a shade darker, and I had freckles. My teeth were also unnaturally sharp to boot. All and any signs of facial hair were gone. Overall, I looked like a female version of my old body, except combined with my old body and given sharp as fuck teeth.
Weird description, isn't it? Only way I could describe it. At least I didn't really sound like a girl. I guess that's a win at least. That alongside the fact I kinda– Read: Barely– resembled my old self.
On a different note, the gauntlets were pretty comfy, and the chestplate wasn't too heavy. A sticky note on the black scanner thing told me that it was, in fact, a scanner. Ain't that a surprise. The sticky on the tool belt told me that it worked like hammerspace, at least until I managed to create one for myself apparently, and one final sticky on a book in the pile of random shit told me that I should smear my blood on the slab.
Pleasant.
Putting the small pile, the scanner, and the book in a couple of pockets on the belt,– 'How does this even work?'– I grabbed the slab/book/unspecified thing that gives me grief and unwrapped the gauze covering my left hand.
Oh boy. I'm gonna regret this won't I?
I smeared the blood from my hand onto the surface of the slab and stared at it. For a moment, I was sure that nothing would happen, and that Sekai was just screwing with me. The key words here are 'for a moment'. Mainly because the slab glowed.
I froze, eyes wide. The glow from the slab slowly got brighter and brighter.
"Open it."
I obeyed the voice before it registered in my mind that is wasn't mine.
And then it burst into flames.
I let out a strangled scream as the slab burst into golden flames that covered my body and blinded my eyes. And after the pain came the whispers. And with the whispers came the visions.
I stared at my hands, soaked in blood as I stood on a pile of corpses overlooking a field of broken blades and bodies.
My lips twisted into a crazed smile as I watched a mansion burn to the ground. The smile only grew wider as I looked up and saw a mass of mangled flesh, blood, bones, and fire descend on the nearby city.
People stared at me in horror as the executioners broke their blades on my skin, not a single drop of blood falling to the ground. I looked their king in the eye. "You're next," I mouthed.
A bridge went up in a ball of fire and smoke. I made a gesture, and the hooded man next to me pressed a detonator. The town went up in smoke next.
A set of doors opened. Joyous, enchanting music wafted through the opening as bright light shone through. A step. Another. I passed through the doors...and the world ended.
I stood by myself. The grass and trees lay dead around me, sapped of any life they had before. The sun cracked. And then the sky shattered. As the shards fell to the ground, the field erupted into blades.
I stood in the interrogation room gazing at Sekai's dead body. A blink, and she sat on her throne again. "These are only some of the many paths that lie before you, little lamb. Be strong, and never falter. You were brought here for a reason, but that reason itself..." She sighed. "That is a different matter."
It suddenly occurred to me just how tired she looked. There were bags under her eyes, and she looked positively drained.
"You don't understand what kind of mess you've been thrown into," Her eyes flicked down before focusing on me again. "And I wish you would never need to understand. Now then, repeat after me."
"My soul is a blank slate."
I was born from nothing, and I will return to nothing.
I am the absence of compassion.
I am the absence of understanding.
I am the absence of hope.
I am the concept of Oblivion.
I am a weapon, nothing more and nothing less.
I am not capable of protecting, for I exist to destroy.
This is my fate. This is my purpose. This is what I am.
This is all I will ever be.
And as my soul fades into the expanse of nothingness, I call upon you.
[Nihil Grimoire].
"There are forces that lurk outside of our reality. Malevolent, vile things that desire nothing more than our destruction. And these forces can now use you as a conduit to do their bidding. If you wish to blame anything, blame Creation for allowing your soul to be compatible with that cursed power."
"So I will tell you once more,"
"Be wary young hero. This new world who've been thrust into is anything but friendly, especially to lost lambs like you."
A/N: And cut. The ending sequence of this chapter honestly took way too long to write. Now then, I'm going to start on Chapter 2 today and tomorrow.
So then, about Mikhael's new body. I chose this because of the nature of his power. Essentially, in exchange for having a lack of empathy, he is now a living weapon. In other words, whatever reconstructed his body took away his remorse. Now, that blind rage of his that saved his life is more of a curse than a blessing. You'll see why. The new body also acts as a way of completely cutting himself off from his old life and identity.
There's no going back from here.
RR, por favor.