In an unfathomable void, where the darkness bellowed and surged like a living entity, a lone figure stood radiating a brilliant bluish hue. Scott, unmoving, stared ahead at a gigantic screen that projected images of a burning clay road.
Is that me? he wondered, watching the screen intently. Thousands of insidious faces writhed within the flames, struggling to free themselves from the inferno’s binds. He saw a version of himself on the screen, effortlessly annihilating crimson apparitions and exchanging words with other sentient beings, yet none of it made sense to him.
Is this an illusion, or are these suppressed memories? Scott’s thoughts raced, but no answers surfaced. He had awoken in the void without warning, and the first thing he’d seen was the massive screen. When he mirrored the actions of the figure in the projection, nothing appeared—no road, no apparitions, no changes.
There must be a way out of here, he thought, glancing past the screen. Ignoring the chaotic scenes playing out, Scott turned away and began walking, trudging through the endless darkness.
“Can anyone hear me?” he called through the party channel, but only silence answered. His expression soured. Damn it... What is this place even supposed to be? The more he wandered, the more questions piled up. Chief among them: Who or what brought me here?
I hate not being able to use my abilities, he brooded, scanning the void. Turning back to where he’d left the screen, he froze. Where did it go? His gaze darted around, but the projection had mysteriously vanished.
Why did it disappear? he mused, then a stray thought flickered through his mind. If it can disappear, doesn’t that mean I can leave too? There was no logic behind the thought, but he clung to it, nonetheless.
Why am I always stuck in places like this? Scott sighed, memories of the nihilistic zone creeping into his mind. But even the current darkness couldn’t compare to it—for it was an all-consuming nothingness that gnawed at body and soul.
Just as he turned again, his eyes widened in surprise. There, right in front of him, stood the massive screen once more, silent and menacing. It had reappeared without a sound.
“Why do you run away from what you are?” a voice boomed from the depths of the void, cold and powerful. The force of it caused Scott’s luminous form to tremble.
“Who said that?” Scott demanded, his gaze tearing away from the screen, which now displayed a version of himself battling against a swarm of aberrations. “Show yourself!”
His voice echoed endlessly into the dark, yet no response came. No figure emerged; no face revealed itself. Still, Scott was certain—he wasn’t alone here. I hate all this mind-fucking nonsense. Who even was that, and what does he mean by running from who I am?
His gaze returned to the silent screen, where the other version of himself struggled against bluish enemies. Their relentless attacks weighed heavily on the projection, even as Scott’s real form stood unharmed.
“What do you hope to attain when you don’t even know who you are?” the voice thundered again, its echoes shuddering through the void.
Scott’s eyes flicked upward, desperately searching for the voice’s source. “Show yourself, damn it! Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”
Once again, only silence greeted his demands. His fury rising, Scott approached the screen with measured steps, eyes narrowing in frustration. Without hesitation, he swung his fist toward the projection with a ruthless blow.
A distinct chime reverberated through the darkness as his fist collided with the thick screen. Ripples spread across its surface, distorting the images of the burning clay road. Even the faces trapped within the flames wavered, as though the entire world within the projection trembled.
The version of Scott on the screen paused, confusion crossing his face. The aberrations attacking him ceased their assault, their movements halted as they searched for the unknown threat that had shaken their reality.
Back in the void, Scott stared at his fist, then at the screen. Without warning, he slammed his fist into it again. More ripples spread, and the entire projection quivered on the verge of collapse. The burning clay road splintered, the faces contorted in pain, and the very fabric of the scene teetered on destruction.
Scott watched his projection scampering frantically across the burning road as the aberrations merged further with the flames, seemingly determined to quell the tremors that threatened their survival. Undeterred, Scott slammed his fists into the screen again and again, unleashing greater distortions within the projection. He found a strange satisfaction in the destruction, watching as the clay road shattered and the towering flames blared wildly in a desperate attempt to preserve themselves.
Just as he prepared to unleash another blow, tremors shook the dark expanse around him. He froze mid-strike. What was that? The thought had barely formed when another tremor rocked the void, forcing him to stagger.
Scott raised his head, realization dawning on him. No way... could it be? His gaze shifted back to the projection, focusing on the version of himself that had been struck by several falling walls. He raised his head again, and as if on cue, more tremors rippled through the darkness.
"Could it be... I'm not the real one?" Scott muttered in a daze, the possibility unsettling.
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In another part of the void, Scott now walked along a tiled marble road that emitted an azure glow similar to his own form. He had traversed many of the tiles already, but one in particular stood out. On this tile, as if projected from above, he could see a bluish figure, identical to his own, furiously pounding on what seemed to be a mirror.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Can you hear me?" Scott called out, his gaze fixed on the figure, which appeared to be raising its head. There was no response.
Scott tapped the tile beneath his foot. "Can you hear me?" he roared, but once again, silence was his only answer.
What kind of crazy place have I ended up in? Scott mused, turning his gaze from the figure in the tile. He looked back at the long stretch of bluish tiles he'd crossed so far, noticing crimson tiles faintly visible in the distance, far beyond the sea of blue.
Neither Orion nor the others are answering, and my abilities are useless here. Scott sighed. Why do I always end up in places like this? His focus returned to the tile, where the figure had stopped attacking the mirror and was now frantically running away from it.
I don't even know what I'm looking at. Are there others like me, trapped in this place? He debated whether to continue his journey along the winding road. I can't stop now. I can't let Orion bear the burden of protecting me... And now that I think about it, I'm always the one needing protection like some damn Disney princess.
Scott shook his head, sighing softly. He glanced at the tile one last time, watching the figure sprinting away from the mirror. Guess this guy's just another trapped soul like me. With that, he took a step forward, quickly crossing hundreds of tiles, though thousands more stretched ahead. He journeyed onward, his mind wandering, only occasionally thinking of the figure he’d seen punching the mirror.
The way he reacted to my stomps... it stirred something, but we couldn’t communicate. No point in wasting time on it, he thought, refocusing on the road ahead. The last thing I saw before coming here was something about the Mad God’s inheritance. Is that what this is? His thoughts swirled, unable to determine if this was an illusion or something more.
Suddenly, a gloomy voice thundered through the space, interrupting his thoughts. "Lonely... It’s lonely. Is this the solitude you yearn for?"
Scott froze, his senses heightening as he searched for the origin of the voice. He turned frantically, but no matter how hard he looked, he found nothing.
Damn it! Where is that voice coming from? He instinctively reached for his arm, but the war hammer of the Mad God and the Chains of the Abyss were nowhere to be found.
"Why do you resist so much?" the voice boomed again, echoing across the dark road.
"Who's there?" Scott shouted, frustration edging into his voice. "Show yourself!"
"Embrace what has already been bestowed upon you. Must you cling so tightly?"
Scott's brow furrowed in confusion. He couldn’t make sense of the voice’s cryptic words. Fan-fucking-tastic. The first thing I hear in this place is some creepy voice spouting nonsense. He waited for a response, but none came. Moments later, he resumed his journey, moving silently along the glowing tiles.
On the hundredth step since his last pause, the voice returned, sharper and more aggravated than before. "Why must you cling so desperately to what is of no use to you?" it demanded, irritation palpable in its tone.
Scott, equally irritated, ignored the voice’s probing scorn, continuing his aimless trek. Now that I think about it, what would happen if I stepped off the road? The question clung to his mind. He had assumed the glowing crimson road was the natural path to follow, but now curiosity tugged at him, urging him to test the unknown.
Without hesitation, Scott walked to the edge of the glowing road and stared into the endless, unfathomable darkness. He lifted his leg and planted it down. Surprisingly, the surface was solid—he didn’t fall, though the brief thought of plummeting had crossed his mind.
Fully stepping off the road, the path vanished behind him, leaving his own glowing form as the only light in the void. He turned back, staring at where the vast road had once been, his mind racing with thoughts. Should I explore this darkness or stick to the path prepared for me?
Taking a deep breath, Scott resolved, sometimes you’ve just got to take chances, and stepped further into the darkness, determined to brave the unknown.
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Meanwhile, in an unknown space at the farthest reaches of the universe, a grand altar, adorned with intricate ritualistic patterns, hovered in the void. Countless flames flickered above an empty dais, while mirrors swirled around the altar, basking in the warmth of the flames. Every mirror reflected the same image—Scott, or at least a version of him, traversing the endless darkness.
At the nexus of the spinning mirrors floated another version of Scott, motionless, his eyes closed. Occasionally, his fingers twitched, or his face contorted briefly, and the countless projections of him reacted accordingly. But this Scott remained unconscious, unaware of the world shifting around him.
He wasn’t alone. Six entities, beings beyond comprehension, watched the mirrors in silence until one finally spoke.
“Such a being shouldn’t exist,” the voice thundered through the abyss, laced with frustration. “While others fear, loathe, or succumb to the darkness, he seems indifferent.”
“And why is that a problem?” another voice questioned, calm and unbothered.
“An entity incapable of succumbing to madness is unfit to inherit the Authority of Madness.”
Scoffs echoed through the void, causing ripples across several mirrors. In these mirrors, the various Scotts stumbled, tripped, or suffered minor injuries, yet the unconscious Scott floated peacefully, untouched by their misfortune.
“Let us not forget,” a different voice interjected, “neither you nor I have the right to judge who is worthy of the throne. There must be a reason the throne deemed him fit to receive the inheritance, just like those before him.”
Another cooler voice followed, breaking the tension. “Regardless of what we think, our role remains the same—to observe. This is the first time an entity with an identity crisis has been tested. Soon enough, his mind will be broken, and from that madness, he will be reborn. If he’s destined to succeed...” the voice trailed off as a soft knock echoed within the void, like one tapping on glass.
Among the swirling mirrors, one version of Scott with a delirious smile tapped on the surface of his mirror, as if letting the mysterious watchers know he was aware of their presence. Unlike the other Scotts, who glowed with azure light, this one was drenched in insidious black. His left eye flickered with the Yellow Sign, while his right eye reflected countless worlds engulfed in raging black flames.
The blackened Scott knocked again, and this time, the unconscious Scott floating in the void twitched slightly in response.
As silence filled the void, interrupted only by the insistent knocks, a nihilistic portal opened within the abyss. The Scott in the mirror, now frantic, banged harder, desperately trying to rouse the sleeping voidweaver from his slumber.
Another Scott emerged from the nihilistic portal—whole, complete, unlike the slumbering Scott or the projections scattered across the mirrors. He stood tall, fully there.
Scott stared at his own sleeping form, confusion gnawing at him. “Where the hell is this place?” he muttered to himself. The knocking grew louder, and Scott noticed the insidious version of himself glaring from the mirror, mouthing words he couldn’t hear or understand.
He averted his gaze from the mirror and looked down at his arm, noticing the absence of the chain and pendant. He didn’t dwell on their disappearance, though. Instead, he slapped his slumbering form on the head, despite the visible disapproval of the blackened version in the projections.
Without opening his eyes, the sleeping Scott spoke in a voice eerily similar to his own. “Your existence has forgotten what it means to know madness.”
Before Scott could react, the sleeping version stood upright, grasping Scott's hands, his eyes still closed. The mirrors stirred violently, a chorus of sickening howls filling the void.
“Allow me to remind you,” the slumbering Scott whispered, his voice cold and unsettling.