Chapter Text
What do you think happen after you die?
When your heart stop beating and you let out the last of your breath, what would greet you on the other side?
Some people believed in the afterlife, in eternal paradise for the saint and eternal damnation for the sinner. Some believed in reincarnation, that you will be born anew once more. And some believe that you would simply cease to exist. Like you never lived in the first place.
Player is never the one to think about it. They're not religious person, nor do they think life would simply end without meaning. But the question itself never seemed to cross their mind, and if it did, it was not important enough to be remembered. Even when they had dealt with deaths more often than anyone should.
Well, it's too late to think about anyway. Because now the answer is right in front of their face..
Nothing.
There is nothing after you die.
Only the endless void would greet you into its arms.
Every sense you had will be stolen from you. No eyes to see, no voice to speak, no hand to feel, no body to be called as you.
There is nothing.
And in a way, Player was comforted by it. That they cease into obscurity after they took their last breath instead of the other options. (They don't think they'll be at peace any other way)
They doubt they were nice or good enough for heaven. Their wrongdoings would surely weigh them down, nor were they evil enough to deserve eternal torture. They had saved multiple people and the world itself after all. If anything, they would end somewhere in the middle of the two. And as for reincarnation, they doubt they can handle all the problems that come for living again.
Being a part of the nothingness itself is better than any of options they had.
But it's not really nothing, isn't it?
To be nothing, one should give up on existing entirely. To erase themself from the history of people who had existed before and will after them. Nothing is the absence of everything. Yet their consciousness remain.
It had bothered them ever since they first got here. ..Wherever is here anyway.
There is no exact up or down. They don't know if the place was truly endless or finite with their lack of eyes.
Player can't exactly remember how they got here, but what they do remember is that they had accepted death with open arms. Their quest was finished. And instead of fear or sadness, relief wash over them when they finally passes.
Its been forever ago since then, they think. Time does not matter in this place, just like any other concept they knew. It was as if this place was completely removed from the universe itself. Their death could happen years ago or happened just then, and they wouldn't know.
As much as they try to find comfort in the silence, they often find themself homesick in this place.
They missed their family. They missed their friends. They missed the way their voices would brighten their day like the sun in the middle of summer. They missed the feeling of grass beneath their feet, the weight of a sword in their hand, the sound, the smell, heck even they started to miss that damned quest.
(They wonder how they react to their death. They hoped the grief doesn't eat them alive like it did to them.)
Player starts to ponder. They wonder if Kyoko is still traveling, maybe with Calypso too, if Griefer become a mayor just like his father did, if Red and Blue are all adults now. They wonder if Terry is still as grumpy as he used to, if Jerry is able to use the rocket boots without an issue..
All of those daydreaming and pondering would eventually end to a halt of realization.
They had died, and there is nothing that could change that.
(But what if it did anyway?)
Player had grown used to the lack of, well, everything in this place. It was rather boring to just exist without the ability to do anything other than to think. But after what they went through, they feel like it was both a well-deserved punishment and a break for them.
Unlike the battles, this place was predictable and stable. There's no stakes in this place. No people who rely on or need saving from them. No avian admin who ask them to get his cursed swords that nearly cause their arms to fall off.
And they doubt it would change any time soon..
Until fate thought it'd be funny to do otherwise.
The first thing Player noticed is the fact that they feel weight. Not heavy but still weight. Quite odd when everything other than their consciousness seem to be nonexistent here.
They were light as feather, as if floating on water or something similar. The liquid is colder below them, and somehow, the void feel warmer. Everything was still dark in their eyes, but their nose managed to catch a small whiff of antiseptic.
'What—'
Something from beneath warped tightly around them and pulled them below. It didn't give them enough time to wrap their head around it as it pulled them deeper into the water(?). They tried to struggle against the hold, but right before they knew it—
The inphernal inside the glass tank woke up with a gasp.
They're alive again.
The first thing that greeted them when they woke up was water, the strangely luminescent one at least, enveloping their body whole. Bubbles rise lazily from their mouth.
Player blinked, 'Where.. am I?'
The water slosh slowly around them as they inspect their surrounding. There is something beyond the water. Their eyes are still adjusting, but they could see a distorted haze of a room. They're no longer sinking, but they're not out of the water either. The thing that dragged them down also has disappeared without a trace.
The water muffled the sound of mechanical whirls somewhere beyond.
'Where..'
Player eyes snapped open when water entered their nostril instead of air. Cold burns their lungs as panic flood their veins. Shit— they are still drowning.
Their legs tried to push them upward to the surface, but it was closed shut, leaving no gaps for air. Swimming to the side doesn't work either as their hand slammed against some wall of glass instead.
They're trapped,
And it won't take long before they run out of air.
They thrash, water splashing from their movement. Tubes yank harshly at their skin, threatening to rip, but they didn't care. They need to get out now.
Their hands, even their whole body, slammed hard against the glass as a desperate attempt to break free.
The panicked movement sent the tank forward, but it settled back. Sensing an opportunity, Player tried to push against the glass again, now using their full weight. Ignoring the way needles and tubing finally tears from their arms.
When the tank finally buckles over the edge of it supposed placement. A low groan vibrates across the room. Player braces for impact as the tank crashed onto the floor, shattering into pieces and flooding the room with its contents.
Player immediately sat up and lurch forward, coughing out the liquid that filled their lungs in heaves. Clawed hands grip on to their clothes as they empty the water from their lungs. The first breath of air they took after felt heavenly.
They can breathe again. God, they can finally breathe again.
Their lungs hurt as they took another desperate breath between coughs. The small lungs could only contain so much air. But, it feels so nice to be able to breathe again. The liquid pools around their kneeled legs, slowly tainted with red.
Player ragged breath, finally slowed down. Taking smaller breaths to prevent their raw lungs from hurting.
Fuck, their head feel heavy. Player lean against the broken tank for support, (the extra weight on their head is the least of their concern now). The old hero shivered lightly in their soaked garment. The wet fabric cling to their skin as the liquid slowly drips on to the floor.
For a while they just sat there, managing their breaths and adjust to the new environment. The only thing accompanying them is the faint thumping of their heartbeats.
With barely working vision, Player start to inspect the room they were in. It look too futuristic to be anywhere they know of, present or past. The wall and floor are made of dark concrete and the light barely illuminating the room. There are some strange machinery on the corner where they broken tank once stood, along with some strange glowing tubes. Reminiscent of the sci-fi movies they used to watch.
Maybe they were revived in the future? Or in some mad scientist's basement. That was an option too.
Well, wherever it is— it's cold as fuck. And that's alot coming from the hero who used to held Ice Dagger in battles.
Not mentioning they don't know even know why or how they ended up in here. (Aren't they supposed to be dead? The only one that could possibly bring them back is Shedletsky, but the HQ doesn't have any room like this)
Player sighed, taking their clawed hand down their face— wait, clawed?
They stared blankly at their hand. And sure enough, their fingers end with claws instead of normal nails. Not only that their skin is strangely pale. (Damn, maybe reincarnation is real after all.)
This new body feel weak, fragile, it wouldn't take that much damage to completely send them back to the void again. But now they don't have time to complain. They need to get out of here—
Something hisses open, and their eyes immediately snap towards the new figure that stepped into the room
"I swear to the SFOTH if the tank shattered, every single one of you will be turned into the next exp— oh." Their steps come to a halt when they see them leaning against the broken tank.
Player was immediately sent to a full-blown internal panic. Because of their blurry vision, they can't tell the expression on the figure, and they hated the fact that they couldn't. (Are they a threat or a savior, they do not know)
They should've fight back maybe even cowered in fear, but they find themself unable to move. Instead their wide eyes trace the movement of the figure.
"Seem like my hypothesis is correct after all." They could hear the grin in the voice.
The figure steps closer, and their boots scrapping the concrete floor seem to echoes in their ears until they loom before them. Shadowing them in darkness. Their body is still too weak, and their head remain heavy. They can't do anything.
So, the blurred vision closed, and Player braces for whatever comes next.
But whatever it is, it didn't come.
Instead, they could hear rustle of fabric and the shadow looming over them kneeled down to their level. An unfamiliar hand begin to cradle their face to inspect them closer, like they were a specimen under the microscope. But it doesn't feel like a threat yet.
Their eyes begin to flutter open. Although blurred, they can tell the figure is pale with blobs of red adorning the side of their obscured face. (Possibly horns?)
Player start to blink, slowly but surely, blobs of colors start to make sense and take more comprehensible form. And they— are a demon?
The figure snickers, their claw rub away the warm liquid dripping down the side of their face,
"Welcome to the world, Cards."
Somewhere deep in the mountain tops where blizzard will keep on raging on for eternity, a deity paused on his path. He felt something had changed in the fabric of the universe. Something old reborn a new. Something.. familiar.
He turns back, facing away from the path that would lead him deeper into the mountain. Whatever it was, the other swords must've felt it too. They possibly have taken notice of it, and it won't take long before they start labeling it as a threat.
The breath that left his mouth turns into white fog that rises slowly, then fades in the air. His wings flutter open as an idea comes to mind.
Well, since he's the closest one to Blackrock, why not check on it? A little peek wouldn't hurt anyone. His siblings must be shocked to see him finally doing something for once—even if it with mortals.
The deity smile to nobody but himself, rising up into the sky with a flap of his wings and flies towards the supposed source of change. Maybe if he's lucky, he'll get a worthy opponent from it. But anything would amuse him anyway.