Dying Sucks.
That's right, I said it.
To be honest, this time around it really shouldn't come as a shock to most of you, but Dying really, really, really Sucks.
Awaken
And so he did.
In the void between realities, a figure awoke to find himself incorporeal and incapable of any bodily function, purely because he had no body to function with.
Their perception of the void slowly slid around them in the upside-down and the left-right until it landed on the inverted space of void which, apparently, is just something. A something was better than nothing. They drifted their attention towards whatever it was breaking the monotony of the void, as they did so the something twitched, writhing in some incomprehensible dance that only they understood.
"Greetings," The voice boomed from every direction. "Pull yourself together, you died. You weren't sundered. Here."
And with an infinitesimal amount of will, the being pulled reality from nothing and gave the man form. The form was brought forth with a chair, comfortable but stiff, and a desk to sit at. The man allowed his form to be moved and sat like a doll, still recovering from the shock of simply existing. Honestly, it was a lot to deal with.
"Who am I?" The man said, frankly the language he used sounded alien to him but as he did not know where he learned it he supposed it was, as everything else was, a figment of this dimensional being's power.
"You are my child, who else would you be?" The being said, the omnipresent rumbling coalesced into meaning within the man and was understood deeply. "I am surprised you found yourself behind the forge of souls instead of atop it, but I suppose you are a particularly wilful one if it took you less than an age to mature into a full soul."
"Well, I cannot say it was my intention to find myself in a place where I would have to be found. What is going to happen to me?" The man said, fiddling with his fingers as his right hand laid limp on the table, his left tracing spirals on the underside of his right wrist.
"Well, but of course you would want to do something! That is fascinating." The being rumbled with enthusiasm and with a shudder of rippling void the blackness gave way as a sense of intense vertigo filled the man as his desk was raised through the bottom of the liminal space he was bought into being. He supposed upwards was a mere suggestion for those that could control souls. He guessed, he couldn't really say he had much experience in soul forging, being that he just was born in some sense of course.
"My God, what is that?" The man asked as colour filled his vision. A maelstrom of pure sensation appeared with lights and sounds, heat and chill, power and meekness. It radiated from the vague space that he was placed near on his neat little desk.
"It is kind of you to call me such, but I am but a craftsman. You are the God of your own self, young one." The being seemed to be further away, but the rumbling rippled through the small man. "Perhaps…"
And with that the voice was given form, for what else could the being appearing ex nihilo be? Even with his own, more comfortable looking chair. "This is better is it not, It has been eons since I have fractured myself to talk in the flesh, so to speak. It is so novel to speak to a soul that has a language developed fully when they break from the forge. I suppose I should look for a reality to let put you into, should I not?"
The question did not sound like one to answer as the man looked at the man across from him. "May I ask for a reality that would be different from the other souls. I want to live. I want to be different."
"Oho? Is that so, well then I'll scrap the life as a millionaire playboy for you in the world of a large and amorous society. Instead… child soldier it is. That seems more your speed. Off you pop." And with that, so I did.
With a snap, the man felt himself pop into being. His ears rang with a small trill as his new reality responded with excitement before it fell silent. The man becoming deaf to such abstract concepts and instead focusing on the ground that was rapidly approaching underneath him. It was not a far distance, but it was a distance that his body reflexively tensed up for. He held his arms out to shield his vitals and awaited his demise. Cursing the Forge Lord for his likely death, he closed his eyes.
Only to find himself stood atop the plateau of earth, a small rise on the edge of a prairie of dying vegetation with a thick frost settling into the depths of it, glistening in the angled sun. Early morning or later in the evening, the man guessed.
Then it hit him. Hard.
A solid piece of wood caught him in the shoulder before he was launched backwards in an explosion of sound, fire and shrapnel. His world blew out into a deep, white-hot agony that spread down his arm and right side of his chest.
Kenta Kesen.
His name rippled through him and as Kenta became accustomed to being a being with a name, he also came into the realization that pain really sucked as well, almost as much as dying would.
He felt his body come back to him slowly, moments that felt stretched into eons, his body finally responded to his need to check on himself. His left hand reached up to his right shoulder and felt a small amount of wetness. When he pulled it away, he saw a red liquid staining his hand.
Memories he hadn't known blew through him and in the handful of seconds since he felt the explosion occur he felt his soul buckle as it folded outwards from itself to envelop his new reality and as he did, the pain grew.
He let out a pained scream, his soul burning and branding his body until it subsided. As he came to, a figure stood above him with green light illuminating his face.
"Male. Teen. Shrapnel pierced the right deltoid. Explosive residue and scorch marks on his right pectoral. Administered first aid, I am going to evacuate him with our wounded. Haruko, cover our retreat with fog." With a burst of yet more agony, Kenta was lifted and pulled up onto the new man's shoulder and carried quickly through a quickly gathering fog cloud that drifted up from the ice on the dead grass.
'Hmm, maybe it was a bad thing to ask for… something different.' With that final thought, Kenta fell into unconsciousness.
Kenta Kesen: Age 13.
Strength:
N/A
Chakra:
N/A
Speed:
N/A
Repertoire:
N/A
Resources:
N/A
Threat Level:
None.
And with that done, the introduction is done with the newly revamped and much more serious Dying Sucks rewrite - 'Life is Glorious'. Yes I did just think of that while I was typing this because inspiration happens at the weirdest times of day, apparently this time it hit at 4 am.
I hope to continue with this and give the 'Gamer' system that I used in 'Dying Sucks' (Which to me is a tired excuse for lazy writing in some of the canon clone fan fictions) a revamp. Instead, it will be styled more like a Bingo Book entry to keep the theme and kept so light it will be inaccurate to call this story a gamer fan fiction. But I recognize that quantifying power and giving it a scale is always fun for readers, hence this streamlined version.
I do hope to continue rewriting this, please give me a follow, favourite and review. I am entirely praise motivated. I'll start writing the next chapter now… which means nothing to you guys, but that's on you for not being transcendental beings. :) If nothing is posted after this, assume I have returned to slumber and will awaken years from now with something else that I see as worth sharing.
With that - This is Stonesage signing off!