The voice sounded just like his, which made him shiver.
"Who are you?" Lamair shouted in the desolate place, wielding his axes and getting into a battle stance instantly. His voice echoed in the place so loudly that it felt like he was talking to himself... well, he was technically talking to himself.
"I never expected that you would be this stupid. I literally said, Welco, my other self. Use your head," the voice replied in a disappointed tone.
"You might be playing with . Do you think I would believe you because you said that?" Lamair shot back as his eyes began to glow with a deep purplish light.
"You have a point there..." the voice answered as if it couldn’t feel how the place was shaking from Lamair’s aura. The ground cracked, and the sky shook.
Then the voice said again, this ti much deeper and god-like. It was still a bit similar to Lamair’s own, though.
"What is Death?"
"Huh? Is that so kind of test?" Lamair asked in confusion.
"Obviously... Were you expecting so food or what?"
"I see... Death is..."
The environnt changed.
"...the end," Lamair began. The word barely left his mouth when the world shattered. He opened his eyes and found himself lying down in tattered clothes.
His body felt cold and unmoving. His chest refused to rise, his lungs burned from the absence of breath. His vision dimd at the edges as shadows crept inward.
NO!
Panic surged as he tried to move his fingers. There was nothing. No movent no matter how much he tried.
He tried to scream, and there was silence. His body refused to listen to him. His heart slowed, ticking down like a ti bomb, then it stopped.
Darkness swallowed everything, and he rembered his first death. How he died protecting students of Anbord Mage Academy as a teenager.
...
Lamair jolted upright. Air slamd into his lungs as he gasped violently, falling to his knees. The desolate world had returned and his axes were still in his hands. And he was still alive... well, undead.
The voice spoke calmly.
"Was that the end?"
Lamair clenched his jaw as he realized...
"No."
"Then answer again."
Lamair’s breathing steadied slowly, as he thought hard, rembering all his experiences from when he beca a ghoul. Then he answered.
"Death is... the loss of life."
The world shifted again. This ti, he stood in the middle of a battlefield. It wasn’t familiar. Bodies littered the ground; soldiers, civilians, and children. The air reeked of iron and ash.
A blade pierced his back suddenly. Lamair’s eyes widened as pain exploded through him. He looked and saw blood pouring from his chest. This was not his war, nor his battlefield. But this body, that could feel pain was his. His body before he beca a ghoul.
He collapsed. Around him, people scread. He watched as life drained from their eyes. He watched till the very last person was dropped, and then he lost his life. Everything faded again.
...
Lamair found himself back in the desolate place. He had returned. This ti, he didn’t gasp. He just stood there, breathing heavily.
"That wasn’t just loss," he muttered.
"Good," the voice replied. "You’re thinking."
Lamair’s eyes narrowed.
"Death is... pain. The mont life is taken."
The world twisted again. There was darkness everywhere, as far as he could see. There was no pain this ti. He floated weightlessly. His body was gone. There was no breath, no heartbeat... there wasn’t even a heart to give the heartbeat. His senses were nonexistent. It was absence given form.
Ti didn’t pass, or maybe it did, but he couldn’t tell. There was no pain, no fear, no thought, just nothing. An empty stillness that stretched endlessly.
...
Lamair stumbled back into existence, his knees nearly buckling. His armor had disappeared now, leaving him bare, but he was too occupied to notice. Not like he could even do a thing about it if he realized.
His grip tightened on his axes as he used them to support himself up. The giant man was already feeling weak.
"That wasn’t pain..."
"Correct."
The voice was closer now, as if the being, Thanatos, was standing just beside him.
"So what is Death?"
Lamair’s mind raced. His aura flickered, becoming unstable. He recalled the two experiences he’d just had...
"Death is... the absence of existence."
There was silence for a very long ti. The world didn’t change this ti. Instead, he felt sothing worse. He was alive, standing, and breathing. But no one saw him.
He walked forward. There was no sound, no presence. He scread, but no one heard. He reached for a person... his hand passed through them, as if he wasn’t there. Like he had never been.
Ti passed; days turning to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, years to decades, decades to centuries, centuries to millennia... He watched civilizations rise and fall.
He watched people live, love, and die. So deaths were tragic, so were peaceful, so were unreasonable; he watched all these. But the most torturous part of it all was that he remained unseen, untouched, unacknowledged, alone... completely and utterly alone.
...
Lamair dropped to one knee as reality snapped back. His left axe clattered uselessly onto the ground, failing to support him. His breathing was uneven now. It wasn’t from pain, but from sothing deeper.
"That’s not death either," he said hoarsely. His expression had turned pale now, and his body shook with every movent. But he bit his lips and forced himself to stand up.
"No," Thanatos agreed softly. His voice and expressions were too soft for soone of his caliber.
He paused for so ti as Lamair managed to get his bearings back.
"What is Death, Lamair?"
This ti, there was no imdiate answer. Lamair looked at his hands, at his axes, and the cracked ground beneath him. His mind replayed everything: the end, the loss, the pain, the nothingness, the isolation...
All of them were parts, but none of them were complete.
"Death..." he began slowly, breathing in and out to calm himself down. His legs shook, but he kept himself steady.
The environnt shifted one last ti. This ti, it didn’t force him in. It waited for him.
It was a quiet, endless expanse, like a blank page. Lamair took a shaky step forward. Then another.
His voice steadied.
"Death is not just the end."
The space around him rippled faintly.
"It’s the transition."
A faint presence stirred close to him.
"The point where sothing stops being what it was..."
He saw souls moving beside him in long rows. So were wailing, so were smiling, so were so quiet that silence itself was loud, so showed angered expressions, and so showed curiosity.
His grip on his axes tightened.
"...and becos sothing else."
There was silence for a long ti. Then, for the first ti, Thanatos chuckled approvingly.
"Now you’re getting closer."
The space behind Lamair cracked and churned. A figure began to form. It was vast and indistinct, yet familiar.
"But tell , my other self," Thanatos continued, now echoing sothing ancient and inevitable.
"If Death is a transition..."
A cold pressure settled over everything. Lamair, for the first ti, experienced sothing beyond divine might. This one was heavier and truer.
When one reached the Emperor Realm, they got access to divinity. From emperor, to saint, to demigod, to god, and so it went. He now understood why Zark said Thanatos was beyond godhood.
Zark had never used his divine power... at least he’d never felt it, or Thanatos’ own wouldn’t have been too shocking.
Thanatos ignored his dilemma and continued.
"...then what do you beco after it? What do you beco after death?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)