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The sky flashed. Just briefly. But it was enough. Undeniable and the most blinding white Noob had ever seen. Surely whoever still lived till now had seen it too. A change in the space. A shift in the fabric of reality.
Still stunned, Noob finds it difficult to tear away from the scene unfolding. Even in the darkness, illuminated by the spidering cracks in the firmament, the sky bulged above them. Unnoticeable at first, until the edges of the dome visibly bent into its imposing shape. Like a meteor encroaching upon the land from the beyond.
The sky is falling.
Screams and suddenly cut off voices echo from within the wooded maze. The pursuit continues. But Noob just stands there. Engrossed by the approaching doom. Surely doom is all it can be. Because what else is there beyond the grip of hell itself?
The ground rumbles.
Noob thinks it must be one of the changes happening within the structure of this plane. But the louder it gets, the more obvious it becomes; the sound of approaching footsteps. Slow and dragging. There is no urgency. That can only mean one thing. Whoever is coming doesn’t care for their presence being known. No survivor would be willing to risk a move like that.
Panic clenches within the survivors chest. The confining wall beside them crumbles away, falling into what can only be described as an endless void. Nothing. This really is it . Stuck in a corner between gruesome death or a death within the unknown, they make themselves as small as can be behind the brush. Hopefully, whoever it is, might just pass by without noticing them.
The hefty thump of incoming footsteps steadily make their way closer. The shape of someone making their way into the small clearing is almost visible. It’s unclear who it is through the leaves, and Noob isn’t taking any chances to try and get a better look.
Please don’t see me .
The shape stops in the middle of the clearing for a moment. The silence in the air is deafening. Not just because the slightest move can spell the end. But because the quiet oppressive decay of reality around them is too loud. As the world falls apart, the Nothing swallows its dying screams. The figure turns. They limp towards where Noob sits curled up.
They know .
High on panic, there is nowhere to go. Nothing Noob can do. Nothing but sit and stare as the killer comes closer. Throat hitching in between shallow breaths and racing blood, they close their eyes. Praying, whatever happens, happens quick. Grasping at the only thing on hand in a pocket—a bloxy cola—Noob clutches the drink to their chest. A useless sentimental reminder of better days long gone. They had been saving it. For a safe quiet moment they could sit down and simply reminisce while sipping the comforting fizz.
Trying to entice a better memory before death claims it’s long awaited due, images flash through their mind; a thousand per second.
But nothing happens.
The footsteps have quietened. Death has not come. The presence remains. More time passes.
Noob opens their eyes. A single sharpened claw extends through the brush in front of them. Cloaked in an otherworldly hue, the fingers contort into a gesture, pointing at Noobs chest where they desperately clutch the last memento of a more peaceful time: the can. A taste of the past.
Dread, confusion and a faraway tingle of curiosity gnaws at Noob. The cracks in the sky have spread outward. How could this get any worse? The looming shadow beyond the foliage remains motionless.
“Well?” They laugh-cry incredulously. “Aren’t you going to kill me then?” Given up, what other choice is there really? But even goading the killer doesn’t elicit a response. The outstretched finger taps on the can. A small and non-violent gesture. Something that doesn’t really exist in a place like this.
“What?”
Baffled and scared, it’s been a full minute since Noob last blinked. Tears blur their vision, but they don’t dare present a moment of weakness. The darkness is ever encroaching. But still they observe, wide-eyed, the person on the other side repeating the movement. The finger taps the can again.
“This?” Noob raises the drink. Shaking from fear; gulping a hard swallow, their own hands stretch to offer up the last remaining thing in their possession. Perhaps it’s all the killer wants. A wishful thought, but a hopeful one. Maybe they’d leave after this.
But the person behind the clusters of leaves retracts their arm and looks up. Up at the opening sky; the deep maw that threatens the stability of this realm. It's not entirely certain, whether that is a curse in itself, or the long awaited blessing of sweet release from this torture.
They step back.
Noob watches them retrace their steps with a heavy eye before they turn back again, this time gesturing to the edge of reality where the wall keeping everyone and everything inside had fallen away. Is that an invitation?
Unmoving at first, Noob simply observes with caution. Whatever is going on, this is clearly out of the norm. None of this is supposed to happen. But what really is supposed to happen?
Why are we here at all? A question that’s been asked too many times.
The slow rip in this veiled limbo twists and warps around them. Around everything. Noob gets up; steps out from behind the sticks and branches, questioning every move—every breath that signals they still yet live. Somehow.
The figure looks into the void and makes no move to cause immediate alarm. They’re definitely not one of the survivors. Must be a killer, though they look nothing like the other murderous skulker Noob narrowly avoided.
Two killers? Isn’t that against some rule?
Reality fades and falters before Noobs very eyes in every direction. What rules? They scoff at the absurdity. There wasn’t anything fair about these games anyway.
The figure doesn’t look completely human, but there is an air of human clarity in its demeanor. Noob hears the thud of every heartbeat echo in their ears. Something feels off. There is a strange sense of familiarity—one they haven’t had the pleasure of confronting for a long time. And it’s haunting.
Noob doesn’t dare get too close.
Because there’s no way those calloused hands could have twisted into such claws. There’s no shot those same recognisable features now lay stark against the grotesque horns that protrude among them. Not even the end of the world draws the kind of shock that pierces through Noob’s mind at the sight before them now.
There’s just no way.
But there is no one else that carries themself the way they do. The figure turns and looks Noob in the eye. Even in the depths of that tortured gaze, with eyes that shine a deep red, the look is the same. Tired, but still the same.
“Sixer?” Barely a whisper.
The thing flinches at the mention of a name long unspoken. Hands tighten into balled fists at their side.
“I—is that really you?” Noob chokes out the questions. “Or do you just wear the same face?” Even now, the bitterness still lingers.
A distant rumble tremors throughout the space; simmers just under the surface everything sits on. This time it really is the ground shaking. The sound of some trees falling can be heard. Neither really pay attention to what goes on around them.
They don’t move, not yet. Fear courses through the blood and fire rises within the heart. There’s so much still unanswered. Noting the expression—the one who wears the face of an old friend, the overwhelmed survivor sees something of a familiar anger, a foreign apprehension, something of a wear and tear that can’t be described. A swirling whirlwind of emotion.
Sixer looks away. It's a hard watch. Making the way here after who knows how long; tearing, clawing the way through game after game, person after person—the very thing that put them here. Burning in anger and self-loathing for what feels like years. Long enough for those blazing embers to fizzle out and leave nothing but loneliness and regret.
They point to the cliff, a silent demand, or maybe just an invitation. To the edge that overlooks the void that is as full as it is empty. A glittering shimmer swirls from within. Or perhaps from without. Maybe beyond this clusterfuck of an arena, this world of nothing is all there is, wherever this is. Sixer sits down at the edge with difficulty. Loose gravel tumbles over; they’ll never reach a bottom.
Noob stands there as another tremor pulses through earth beneath their feet, hesitating to take another step. “Are you—“ their voice cracks, “Are you going to answer any of my questions?”
Sixer does not look back nor give an answer. Just pats the ground next to them.
Noob takes a shaky step towards the edge, then another. The survivor takes a cautious seat next to who they are sure is their friend. Whatever is left of them. Are they still a friend?
“How are you here?” Where have you gone?
Noob looks at Sixer’s face filled with conflict. A battle between wanting answers of their own and just letting all of it go wages fiercely. Before this moment there was so much to say, so much to answer for—apologise for.
None of that matters now. So many words they could say right now, how could they find the right ones in time? The weight of it, and what they had done, it's too crushing. Sixer looks at Noob, mouth parted, but no sound comes out. They sigh. They couldn’t even if they tried.
Noob notices the way the lines on their face scrunch and furrow in an attempt to think of what to say. “I’m sorry—“ Noob blurts out. Before anything could be said or done, they had to get it off their chest. A long-time regret. “I’ve always wanted to tell you…I’m sorry…”
Sixer leans closer. With their other hand, they wipe a tear that rolls down Noob’s cheek. An answer enough. They nod to the canned drink laying in a patch of grass between them.
As Noob cracks the can open, a terrible ripping sound tears through the air around them and drowns out the subtle fizz. They both look up, to the ever growing dome coming down onto them that had burst under the weight of a breaking reality; the sky is no more. When the first one came down they barely noticed. But then came another, and then a third. Small twinkles of bright little lights; each a glimmering remnant of a real night sky that never existed here.
Falling stars.
Taking a sip of the cola, a sudden sense of wonderment and nostalgia hits Noob. An impact to the heart that can’t help but come out. More tears well in their eyes but they pass the drink to Sixer without looking at them. The light from the shooting stars illuminates everything on its way down. Even the falling debris breaking off this level. Looking around, the cage that is this forest has been reduced to a bare and weightless island; few things still remained.
“So, it’s really all over?” Noob asks as Sixer gulps down the contexts of the can.
The horned killer nods.
“It’s all disappearing.” The survivor mumbles as another star soars by and shines enough light to witness the tree they hid beside earlier break off into the abyss. What happened to whatever put them here? Are they dying too? Or maybe they simply moved on and decided to erase this space entirely.
“So we finally…get to go home?” Sixer nods at them again, relief flooding those harsh features. The killer thinks back, to the moment they managed to wrest control back from the haze of murderous rage that made them what they are now; the promise of revenge against the entity that caused all this.
“But aren’t you tied to this place now?” The survivor asks suddenly. “These games, these rules…look at what it’s done to you…” Noob runs a soft caress over Sixer’s scars. The realisation dawns on Noob as hard as their heart drops into the pit of their stomach.
Sixer looks at Noob and a small smile spreads from the corners of their mouth. The motion feels almost alien. It’s alright . A reassurance. They pass the cola back.
Patting a clawed hand on Noob's shoulder, still smiling, savouring every tender moment. You’ll get to see friends again . An actual life beyond this hell. And this wretched body will get to know peace.
Noob shakes their head violently and grabs the hand clasped around their shoulder.
“But what about you?!” Trembling, fear glints in their eyes once again. This time, not for themself.
“Six…” Noob grips the killer's hand like their life depends on it “I don’t want to lose you again.”
Sixer looks at Noob with a soft expression. It’s been so long and so many conversations have replayed in their mind. A red hand cups Noob’s cheek gently. No words can express the hole left behind within them from the time spent apart. Words aren’t needed.
Sixer places a kiss on Noob's quivering lips. Hopefully it is enough to say what couldn’t be said aloud. I’ll always be with you . In this timeless place, they kiss forever. At least that’s how it’ll be remembered.
Hand in hand they watch as the stars descend into the well while the world crumbles around them; sharing their favourite drink together. A shower of bright lights against the nightmare to be left behind. Until only their little patch of grass remains and the last twinkles of hope fly by.
Then the last star falls through this awful illusion and everything envelopes in black. They fall. Chasing after the star shower, they hold each other with the desperate embrace of a tree's last clinging leaves before they crinkle away into the cold of winter. They fall and they fall. Together, a single droplet plummeting into an endless ocean.
And then Noob wakes up. To sunshine and a perfect day and the sound of chirping birds outside. A regular Monday with a refreshing yet otherwise unremarkable breeze.
Alone.