Am I dead?
The question echoed through the void. There was nothing but blackness. No ground beneath my feet, no sky above—just endless dark, thick and silent. I tried to move, to breathe, to scream, but even my voice felt swallowed whole by the nothingness.
"Well, well," a voice rumbled, deep and ancient. It was like hearing thunder whisper. "You're more aware than I expected."
"Who are you?" I called out, heart thudding like it still mattered. "Where am I?"
"A good question. And one I don't have a good answer to," the voice replied, calm, thoughtful. "But me? I'm... well, I guess you could say I'm a being. An entity of the past."
"That doesn't help," I muttered. "Why are you even talking to me?"
"Hmmm," the voice hummed, thoughtful. "Because something within you called out. Or maybe... maybe you were always meant to end up here."
My vision shifted—if it could even be called vision in this place. Slowly, something began to take shape in front of me. A figure, featureless at first, until the shadows pulled together into something horrifyingly familiar.
Me.
"What the hell?" I stepped back instinctively.
"Yes," the figure said with a grin. "I am you."
He smirked, the exact same way I did when I didn't want to show I was nervous. But it wasn't just mimicry. He was me—same face, same scar over the right brow, same haunted eyes.
"You're dead," he continued. "Did you know that?"
I stared at him. "Am I?"
"Pretty much. But don't worry—death's just a crossroads for someone like you."
I swallowed hard. "Do I... have any regrets?"
"You say you don't," he replied, stepping closer. "But you do. I know you do."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.
"You lost your memory five years ago. You have nightmares almost every night—visions of dead bodies. People you've never met, whispering things you don't want to hear. Telling you to jump. To let go."
My throat tightened. "How do you know that?"
"Because I am you, Kane."
There was a strange comfort in how easily he said it. A kind of horrible honesty.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm not here to torment you. I'm here to offer you a choice."
"What kind of choice?"
His eyes lit up with something more than just light—something ancient. "A choice to die and be forgotten… or to create a new world. One where only the true and pure can live."
My head spun. "What do you mean, 'create a new world'?"
"When you were born—created—they told you the world was a machine, didn't they? That it ran on order, on purpose, on design."
His voice darkened, taking on a hypnotic rhythm.
"But you see it, don't you, Kane? The truth hiding in plain sight. This world isn't a machine. It's chaos. Raw, beautiful, fractured chaos—wrapped in the lie of structure. Every soul clawing to be special. Every heart convinced it matters. And in their desperation... they rot the world."
He paused. His voice softened, almost kind.
"You've felt it too. The weight of purpose that wasn't yours. Given to you. Forced on you. They saw your gift—your illusions—and tried to make you fit. But illusions? They're not lies. They're possibilities."
I stood still, my breath slow and unsteady.
"I'm not here to bind you," he whispered. "I'm here to free you."
His eyes gleamed now with something more than reflection. It was like staring into infinity. "Accept me—and I'll show you what your gift really is. Not falsehood. Not trickery. But reality, rewritten."
He raised a hand. I flinched, but there was no harm in the gesture. Only power. Truth.
"Together, we won't serve this world," he said, reverent now. "We'll purify it. Not with control. Not with rules. With truth. We'll strip away the masks. We'll let them see what they really are."
I couldn't speak. I could barely think.
"No more pretending," he whispered. "No more lies."
He leaned closer. "Be my vessel, Kane. Let me give your illusions weight. Your vision, form. Your pain... purpose."
The void trembled around us, as if the world itself had paused to hear the question.
"The world is screaming in its sleep, Kane."
His hand reached out.
"Let us wake it."
"Hold on," I said, finally finding my voice. "So I just hand over my body and become a spectator while you wear me like a jacket?"
The figure—Genos, I guessed—laughed. It was a low, amused chuckle.
"Of course not," he said. "When I say vessel, I mean... I'll offer you guidance. Suggestions. Maybe influence some decisions. I might even help you speak to people your mind can't comprehend."
"Oh, and let me guess—kill whoever you want me to kill too?"
"If needed," he said with a smirk. "But more than that, I want to see what you'll do with a second chance. And in return, if you're ever near death—or if I allow it—I'll give you access to a sliver of my power."
He leaned closer. "Because, Kane… you don't have nearly enough fear—or willpower—to even stand in the presence of what I truly am."
I chuckled dryly. "Sounds like a hell of a deal. Especially since if I say no, I just die anyway."
"Exactly."
"…Alright. I'll accept. For now. But we're gonna need to have another talk real soon, Genos."
"Naturally," he said, nodding. "Like any relationship, we'll have our... squabbles."
I clenched my fists. "Alright, then. Let's get to it."
Fenix
Who was he? I didn't have time to think about it. My kidnapper was still out there, and I had bigger problems.
"Ahahahaha, well well," Galick said, grinning like a snake. "Now that he's outta the way, we can get back to business, little one."
"Yeah, sorry. Not doing that," I replied flatly.
"Tsk. That's fine by me," he shrugged. "The Bishop and my money are waiting at a certain location. We can do this the easy way—or the hard way."
I cracked my neck. "Hard way it is, then."
Galick laughed. "You can't hope to beat me. Not when I have True Sight!"
He raised his hand—then stopped.
His eyes widened in horror.
"What… what is that?!"
I turned to see what he was looking at.
And there he was—the merc. Somehow still alive, despite the bullet hole in his skull. His eyes burned with a dark crimson light, and a shadowy skeletal form loomed behind him.
His voice came in two layers—two beings speaking at once.
Kane
I opened my eyes. Galick stood frozen in fear, staring straight at me. Or more accurately—at the thing behind me.
He saw it.
The red, glowing skeleton. Genos.
"You're supposed to be dead!" he shrieked.
I smirked. "To quote Mark Twain... my death was greatly exaggerated."
I threw my head back and laughed. The power running through my veins was agony and euphoria in one. Pure, violent ecstasy.
"You're dead now," I growled.
My body moved on its own—fingers drawing ancient sigils in the air. Genos again, I was sure.
A black orb formed in my palm. A miniature void, dense and devouring.
I hurled it at Galick.
He screamed.
"You will live every possible death, Galick! You'll die over and over... until we are satisfied!"
And then—
He turned to dust.
The power faded.
I was still standing.
I had won.