Chapter 20
It hurts.
The pain in my chest doesn't subside, even after what feels like hours of crying out my regrets.
I can't breathe.
The knot in my chest has only grown tighter. I desperately gasp for air, but I feel nothing entering my lungs. The pressure in my chest is so great that I feel like I might burst.
I'm dying.
My head is getting fuzzy from the pain and the lack of air. My vision, blurred by tears, is beginning to go dark. A primal and instinctive fear overcomes my very being.
If I don't get rid of this pressure, I really will die!
My fingers turn into blades and stab into my chest. The physical pain provides almost no release anymore. The bloodstains all over the tree branch attest to the fact that I had already overused that form of escape. This knot wasn't going to go away unless I ripped it out at the source.
My hands were buried in my chest. They had already cut through my ribs in their search for the source of that pain. When I finally grasped it, I ripped it out immediately.
In the palm of my hand was a pulsing sack of flesh and blood. I had torn out my own heart. My eyes widened with terror at the realization of what I had done. In my panic, I threw away the bloody lump and brought my hands to my chest. There was no real meaning to the action, just the instinctive human response to feel the place that you know should be injured.
Only, it wasn't injured. The gaping hole in my chest had closed up as if it were never there in the first place. The heart that should be splattered across the forest floor was beating with life within me. My body was in the peak of physical health, despite having been torn apart moments before.
That isn't natural.
All my panic and fear left in an instant and I only felt foolish for having felt it. I have had this power for years now, what's the point of freaking out now? I'm immortal, I can't die. There's no reason for me to fear death like the rest of those weaklings. I'm different. I'm not like them!
… But then, what am I?
"You're nothing more than a monster with human skin!"
A voice echoes in my mind. It's the voice of someone dear to me. Someone who completely and utterly rejected my very existence.
No! I'm not a monster! I'm a survivor, damn it! No matter what I have to do, no matter what anyone says, as long as I can survive longer than they do I will have a chance for something more. That's why I will do whatever it takes. Do you think that makes me a monster? The world I had to grow up in would have killed me in less than a month. I did what I had to do so that I could be here today! So that I could get what I want.
"There's nothing like that for you, is there? You're empty."
Another voice comes to me. This one grates on my nerves. It's the voice of an idealist who turns his back on all the real problems in the world so that he can be happy looking at only what he considers good.
There's nothing empty about me. I've always had a dream in my mind. A dream that I was willing to do anything and everything to obtain. As long as I held on, I would be able to get back everything that I lost. Then my heart would be so full that nobody would even dream of calling me empty. As long as I got it all back: My passion, my dreams, my joy, my adventures… My family.
"I no longer have any little brothers."
The words that had tightened the knot to an unbearable degree before rang out like an alarm in my mind. An alarm to wake me up to reality. The pain and pressure that my delusions had momentarily rid me of returned in full force at the same time.
It hurts.
I don't have anything left…
The pain was there, but as soon as I had that thought, it began to subside ever so slightly. It's almost as if it were telling me to accept the truth. The truth is that all my struggles, all my pain, all my perseverance, all of my life: every last bit of it was completely and utterly meaningless.
I became a monster so that I could one day feel human again. I emptied my heart of all its compassion so that I could receive enough love to fill it back up later. I cast aside everything that made me who I was so that I become something greater in the future. None of it made any difference once the light that I persevered for refused to accept me.
Now, everything that I have done has lost its purpose. I've lost my means to justify my actions. My excuse is gone and I can only accept the truth now.
I became a monster so that I could find some pleasure and excitement in the slaughters that I caused. I emptied my heart of its compassion so that I didn't need to feel bad about the things I had done. I cast aside everything that made me who I was because I had seen that I was too weak and naive to survive outside of the light.
Survival was the beginning and the end of my goals and dreams. That and only that was the motive behind all my actions. It had been nothing more than a childish delusion to think that I could one day enter the light. Deep in my heart, I always knew that it would never happen, and I never wanted it to happen.
The knot in my chest had loosened to the point where I could hardly even feel it anymore.
I persisted because I had hope for this world. I held onto the hope that this world was a place that would eventually give me endless excitement and stimulation. An entirely different experience from the stagnation of my previous world where everything was delegated into systems and governments. A world where everything had already been discovered and no adventure remained. I had thought that this world would offer me a kind of freedom that I could never hope to obtain in that boring place.
"The world just ain't fair, and where you're going, you can't even pretend that it is."
I finally feel like I understand the meaning behind the words that were spoken to me on the day that I first saw a glimpse of the world outside of the light.
Everyone is just pretending.
I pretended to have hope when I knew there was none. I've seen the truth of this world time and time again, but I still held onto the hope that everything would get better with time. I pretended that I had some noble reason for surviving, but I was just terrified of dying.
Makarov pretends to be kind when that kindness truly only extends to the members of Fairy Tail. If you are a non-mage who had your house blown up by Natsu or Erza, he will slap them on the wrist, then pretend that everything's okay as you lose everything you own and starve on the streets.
Erza pretends to be just when she only addresses the evils that are right in front of her eyes. She knew that Jellal had kept her friends as slaves in the tower, but she wouldn't speak up about it because he had threatened to kill her friends if she did. She completely disregarded the lives of the hundreds of other slaves who would have been saved had she been willing to risk her four friends.
Mirajane pretends to love her family above all else when she turns her back on them completely at the words of an outsider. She spoke of never harming my family as she attacked me. She threw me away in disgust for the things that I had done without even considering what might have happened to me if I hadn't done those things.
Everyone in this world is just pretending that it's a good place and that they are good people.
Well, I'm done pretending.
No, I no longer care about what happens to this world.
The demons of Tartaros successfully deploy Face and destroy the continent's magic. Fine, magic is the root of most problems in this shitty world anyway.
The Alvarez Empire successfully invades and Zeref acquires Fairy Heart. Good for him, I hope he can make this a better place by going back in time.
Acnologia destroys the world and all life on it before that can happen. Perfect, this rotten world deserves it.
All that has nothing to do with me anymore. What good has coming to this world done for me? What joy has it given me? What reward for my perseverance?
I have seen nothing but death.
I have received nothing but pain.
I have felt nothing at all.
What worth does a world like that hold? What meaning is there in preserving it?
I remember Elfman's face as he died. I remember his voice as he called out to me. I remember the weight of his skull in my hands. I remember the words Mirajane said to me as she rejected my very existence. I remember the agony in Lisanna's voice as my blade ran through her back. I remember the woman who was the root of all of that. I remember everything that had previously caused me to boil with emotion, whether those emotions be rage or sorrow.
I distinctly feel it all melt away into apathy.
What is the point of getting so worked up?
Mirajane Strauss and Erza Scarlet are just two more pretenders desperately turning away from the truth. Lisanna's pain is only physical, it will heal soon enough. Elfman's death means that he no longer needs to live in this accursed existence. If anything, I should be happy for him. Life in such a world can only result in despair and pain.
That being the case, why insist on clinging to it? Would it not be infinitely better to seek the release of death? To be set free from such a wretched existence?
I've already died once, I know what comes next.
After death comes rebirth. A reincarnation of your soul in a new body, in a new world. Elfman might be in such a place right now. In a world filled with true light, not the false imitation that covers this one. A world where dreams of adventure and joy are more than just hollow deceptions.
Why was I so scared of dying in the first place?
I already knew that death only leads to a new beginning. How could I not have seen that it was the perfect escape from this shitty world? A perfect escape from the pretenders.
Even as that thought hits me, my eyes pick up on the form of a black speck on the horizon. I can only barely see it due to my high position and my enhanced vision, but I already know what it is.
Acnologia has come.
A bright smile forces its way onto my face. It feels like the first genuine smile I've had in my entire life. No, in both of my lives.
Before me is the one who seeks to rid this world of pretenders. The incarnation of the only truth in this rotten world. Destruction.
I pry my eyes away to check on how the pretenders are doing.
It seems that my presence caused more changes than expected. They are still scattered around the island.
Makarov, Natsu, Grey, Gildarts, and Laxus are all fighting against Hades. Hades is losing, but he is still managing to hold on. Fairy Tail must have never gotten the information about the Devil's Heart, because the ship is still intact.
The rest of the Fairy Tail mages are either tending to the severely wounded like Erza, Lisanna, and Gajeel, or they are gathering up the corpses of the fallen.
Kain Hikaru is tied up near Fairy Tail's camp, unconscious.
Meredy and Ultear are on a small boat on the ocean, I can barely see them.
I can't find Zeref anywhere.
None of them are prepared for the arrival of Acnologia. It seems that they won't be able to use that time-skipping ability that saved them in the story. I don't know if Mavis will be able to save them or not, but I doubt it. At least, not all of them.
It doesn't matter to me though.
My smile brightens as I stare at the rapidly approaching dragon of the apocalypse.
I'll be getting my new beginning soon enough. I don't have to keep enduring any longer. I can finally give up.
I can hear Hades calling for me to return to his side and help him, but I ignore it. He's just a pretender anyway.
I pick up my sword from my side and pull it from its sheath, which I toss away. I look at the blade for only an instant before my mind is made up.
The grey eye near the hilt slides out and falls to the forest below. My magic no longer works to sustain its life. My legs swing from the branch and I hum to myself as the process repeats itself four more times. Purple, black, blue, silver: The remaining four eyes fall to the ground below and the remaining four lives are snuffed out.
I hold out my sword with a smile. The pure white blade looks far more beautiful than ever before. Looking past the blade, I can see that Acnologia has already made it to the island.
The pretenders below are screaming and running around in a panic. Hades is even trying to start his ship, but it's all too late. They already have no other choice than to embrace the release being offered to them.
I consciously block my magic from activating as I hold my sword up to my neck.
I do feel bad for Meredy though, I shouldn't have denied her the chance for release. Oh well, she will get it eventually.
I feel tears slide down my face. I know that they are tears of joy, the joy that one gets when one obtains enlightenment.
With a quivering smile, I pull the blade and everything goes dark.
How long has it been?
How long have I been in this darkness?
Years? Decades? Centuries?
It's been an unimaginable amount of time drifting in nothing but a pitch-black void. I can't move at all. I can't see anything. I can't hear anything. I can't feel anything. This is a place of complete and utter nothingness.
I can do nothing but think, and if I could have stopped doing that, I would have a long time ago.
This wasn't supposed to happen!
Wasn't death supposed to only be a beginning, an entrance to a new life?
"What an interesting soul this one is."
Pain.
Excruciating pain racks every fiber of my being when I hear the soft-spoken androgynous voice. It's the first thing I've heard since arriving here, but I already would rather return to my solitude. The pain that that voice brings is worse than anything I've ever experienced by multitudes.
"Gifted at birth with the knowledge and wisdom of another's life, but you wasted this gift with more naivety and foolishness than any of those born without knowledge."
It hurts so much.
I try to force myself to escape it, to cover my ears, but I can't. I still can't move at all. I may not even have a body to move in the first place. I can do nothing but endure.
"In pursuit of life, you spread death. In pursuit of joy, you spread terror."
I want to pass out, to do anything to make the pain stop, but that isn't allowed here. Every word that is spoken sends a wave of agony through the very core of my being.
The only thing I can do is accept it and endure. This new existence doesn't even allow me the choice to give up.
"You lived as a slave, even though your only wish in this world was to live freely. Not a slave to any man or god, but a slave to your own narrow worldview and lack of courage."
As I am forced to fight through the pain, I try to listen to the words being spoken to me. I try to understand where exactly I am and who exactly is speaking to me.
"You struggled desperately to cling to life. Yet you, yourself, were the one to take it away."
They are talking as if they know me, but I still have no idea who they are. The pain is making it hard for me to think. I don't even really care, I just want this all to end.
"You died by your own hands when you realized what a farce your life was. You justified all your actions as part of your fight for survival, only to crumble apart from the realization that you lived for the simple fear of death."
Everything they say weighs heavily upon me, not just from the pain, but from the realization as well. What they are saying is the truth, the complete and unadulterated truth behind my life.
"Even your death was a contradiction. You convinced yourself that because you had another soul's memories, death would give you another life. In truth, you were simply running away. You wished to give up on everything, but you could not bring yourself to admit it. You were one of those pretenders who you scorned to the very end."
The agony that their words inflict only increases when I try to reject them. This is a truth that I don't want to face, even though it's undeniable. I guess that very fact makes me a pretender.
"What an interesting soul you are. You're an existence defined by paradoxes."
Paradoxes, huh? I merely lied to myself. I was given a second chance at life, a reincarnation. I let this get to my head and believed that it made me special. I just couldn't get myself to let go of that belief until the very end.
"You were never reincarnated nor have you lived another life. You were nothing more than a toy of Ours, an experiment to ease Our boredom. We took the memories of another soul, a soul that had read a story that happened to be very similar to this world, and placed them inside an infant. We were curious to see what a mortal could do with such a gift."
What are they talking about? I wasn't reincarnated? Did they give me the memories of another soul? Then…
"You took the memories and the knowledge, but you didn't learn anything from them. You gained a more mature attitude by mimicking that other soul, but that could not cover up the fact that you were still an infant soul. Like when one reads a book: they can see the character's life and see the growth that character makes, but they don't grow themselves because they read it. Your infant soul was still naive to anything beyond your own fantasies. Still, that was entertaining to watch in its own way."
If what they are saying is true, then nothing comes next. This- this nothingness is my new world? This is my release?
"Soul of paradoxes, do you still not understand? There is no release, this is your eternity. You were an entertaining existence, but We still must fulfill Our role. When We receive a soul, We pass judgment and either put it back in the cycle after purifying it or punish it accordingly. Your soul, while interesting, is too marred by sin to be worth purifying."
Despair fills me at the realization of exactly who is talking to me. I finally understand where I am.
"You are, unfortunately, much less interesting than Our other toy. He is an exceptional soul, but he is being punished for trying to steal from Us. He tried to take a soul from Our grasp, so we punished him by forcing upon him a cursed existence. One that can never find joy in life, but cannot obtain the so-called 'release' of death either. You, however, are not worthy of such attention from Us. Be grateful that We chose to speak with you in the first place. It is an honor you do not deserve."
Ankhserum, the god of death, is passing judgment on me. I ran away from my sins and even tried to run away from myself. Ironically, I ran straight to the thing I was trying to escape. I am now faced with the consequences of my actions. I have nowhere left to run.
"The judgment We have given you is this: For the foolish mortal who wanted a world of absolute freedom, We shall grant him one. A world with no pain, nothing to tie you down, and nothing to worry about. We grant you an eternity in a world of nothing at all."
Just as abruptly as it came, the presence leaves and I am once again alone. My five senses fail me and all I can do is think to myself. All alone, I drift into the void of emptiness.
Thus, begins my eternity.
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....THE END...
WRITTEN BY UPPER MOON'S EYE
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This FF novel is written by "Upper Moon's Eye," If you want to continue the story to give the MC a good life, share the story, we all love good fan fiction novels. Thanks