Chapter Text
[playernamehere] walked on and on, pacing over and over around Turitopolis. Their ball and their sword kept where they could instantly defend, they felt safe.
Following the Ghostwalker retrieval ([playernamehere] shivered, recalling whispers of loathing and emptiness), Shedletsky hadn’t located the next sword, the Firebrand’s location.
[playernamehere] was thankful for the reprieve, no matter how short it might’ve been.
Passing by the tea shop the eighth time, [playernamehere] decided it wasn’t helping as much as the pacing did when they were walking around following Griefer’s defeat. It was a better attempt last time.
Following the Bubonic Plant, [playernamehere] took a walk around Turitopolis. The soothing tea, the kind strangers.. Everything was calm and safe. That really helped.
It wasn’t helping anymore.
Slumped against one of the many, many trees bearing many, many fruits (every jostle reminds them of the hundreds of papayas stuffed in their little satchel), they pulled up the menu.
Nobody seemed to see their screen beyond them. They must seem odd to others, tapping on a rectangle of glass invisible to the naked eye.
Most people had watches in this time period, but in the future, it was upgraded to just a thought eliciting the sleek, useful panel.
Scrolling through the Teleport section, [playernamehere] realized that one location, the one next to Bizville, had remained undiscovered throughout their journey. It seems that, despite their insistence on scouring everywhere for everything, a lot of stuff slipped through their fingers.
Teleporting back to Bizville, their search for the location began. A few obvious things to cross off..
It’s not anywhere by the train, that place was practically flipped upside down..
It isn’t beyond Roblox HQ, it’d be too obvious..
It couldn’t be any buildings already entered, obviously, so perhaps..
It had to be a regular-looking building, and it had to be somewhere that [playernamehere] glossed over. Where did they skip past? What did they rush?
Hm.
Oh, Terry’s plane! The airport! Yes, that must’ve been it.
[playernamehere] walked over to where the airport was and made their way to where the plane was. Around here?
Then, they spotted it. An unassuming blue building, like the rest of them, lined up. A door left ajar, just past the plane. Jackpot.
They made their way to the area, only to find a barely furnished room with one person meditating in the center. As none of the things around the room seemed to interest them, it seemed this person was why the area mattered at all.
A chat box popped up. “Guru” was their name.
“Mhmmm… Hello young one…” he hummed, eyes shut. Could he sense them, or something? Maybe it was just that they barged into his home for no reason, and he heard them. One of the two.
“Please, come sit with me.” [playernamehere] blinked once, wondering how this man was so eager to turn into a therapist to the person breaking into their home. “I’ll help you find inner peace…”
Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?
[playernamehere] nodded, sitting down next to the Guru.
“Tell me, young one… Please describe to me exactly what bothers you…” He murmurs, voice just barely loud enough to hear. “Fill in the blank for me… ‘I feel...’”
Four options pop up, each one concerning up until the final, [Fine] option. [Cold], [Toxic], [Nothing]. They click [Nothing]. After all, why not? They’re doing this to get their mind off of the Not-Builderman and the Not-Real world. May as well engage with the most truthful choice first.
The world distorts, the ambience warping and shifting disturbingly. To their left, the world stretches on, and red veins pulse and throb in the distance.
Nope.
The Guru speaks, which [playernamehere] ignores entirely.
They return to the Guru, panic in their arms. They feel like an ice bucket was just dumped on their bones and a personified snowstorm fused into their bones.
They feel [Cold].
Once again, the world shifts.
“Face your inner demons, young one… Or else, they might haunt you forever…” said Guru, although Player was trying to do maybe.. Hm, the exact opposite??
The pink clouds are colder than the rug. [playernamehere] isn’t sure if that’s because they chose [Cold] or if that’s how all the clouds typically are.
Suddenly, they looked up from the swirling pink clouds to see the Cruel King, previous wielder to the Icedagger, monarch to Blackrock, the first person [playernamehere] met who heard voices...
A man who is very, very dead.