Chapter Text
Doors of gold held the frame of reality together like Atlas held the heavens.
At some point, though D3rlord3 cannot conclude as to when specifically, this was no longer a game.
Perhaps it was never a game.
Maybe he is afraid.
Space warps around the golden doors that are the size of a small mountain, stone fragments from where the frame must have originated are held in stasis around them, contrasting the utter nothingness that he has stepped into.
And that’s what it is. Nothing. Nothing at all.
It’s late. D3rlord3—as is his online alias—knows this. He could, in theory, look away from his laptop monitor, but it feels as though the nothingness on screen has leeched into reality, and no, this is not a game anymore.
He can no longer feel his fingers pressing each key to move forward, he only knows that he is. There is no clicking of the mouse as he tries to break through the black, and there is no thought as he steps through the crack in those golden doors.
At what point does a man become a god?
If it was power, then Derek was by no means divine. He knows now—maybe he always did—that none of the “choices” that led him to this point were his own. He was entirely powerless in his own existence.
If it was benevolence, then he simply cannot believe in that which is holy, for nothing borne of goodness would allow for this.
And if it was knowledge, then Derek is suddenly keenly aware of how little interest he has in ascension. For being a god is nothing short of insurmountable agony.
And suddenly, as a new wave of agony rippled through his skull, he now knew exactly what divinity truly was, and maybe, all it would ever be.
The King. His King.
Derek—is that still his name?—distantly felt his humanity tinged with something else gush violently from every orifice in his face. If he didn’t know better (and he does, he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter), he’d assume he sprouted about twenty other eyes for the sole purpose of weeping blood.
He might have screamed at some point, though he isn’t sure. Actually, that’s an utter lie. He did not scream. He choked on about an ounce of his own blood. It strained itself through his teeth, clots that have no logical reason to have formed pooling under his tongue as he gagged on it. It flooded down his chin, soaking his plain white t-shirt with crimson and gold, before dripping onto his pants.
He didn’t see anything. That’s not the right word.
But in the way a gazelle knows when a lion is stalking, he knows that He has undoubtedly seen Derek.
Yellow swallows his consciousness whole.
My knight, a voice purrs. He shudders as the phantom-feeling of cold fingers wrap around his shoulder, something directing his chin towards the screen. He doesn’t attempt to turn to whatever it is. He doesn’t have to.
You are prepared to serve.
It’s not a question, not a demand, nor a challenge. It’s a statement. The grass is green, the sky is blue, the universe collapses in 8,976,105,039 years, eight months, five hours and 24 seconds, and Derek is prepared to serve.
In a feeble grasp at remaining humanity, he ignores The King hovering over his shoulder, and makes a last ditch attempt at saving what he can. A soul he suddenly knows as well as his own, a destined connection he is desperate to sever.
“Whatever you do, at the crossroads, don’t turn left.”
—
“What.. the fuck? The hell is this?” Avery murmured allowed, leaning closer to his screen, as if it’d allow the text on it to change into something that made sense.
It was about 7:30 in the evening, as it was the last time he glanced at the clock in the corner of the laptop. He didn’t have to change the timezone, so the original owner was probably not all that far away.
That, however, does not explain the book in the seemingly untouched Minecraft world. Though it’s virtual text and the font is all the same, there are clear signs of rushed writing, maybe even distress. At the end of the written pages, there is an entire page full of meaningless numbers. Some sort of.. Coordinates, maybe? The part that captures Avery’s attention the most, however, is the clearly horrified ramblings of someone who probably wasn’t all there.
“Whatever you do, at the crossroads, don’t turn left.
Don’t be fooled. It’s listening
You can’t outsmart it
It’s listening tom e
It’s watching me
It isn’t from this world
At the crossraods, don’t durn left
At the crossroads, DONT turn left--“
Yeah, okay, whoever this guy is or was has completely lost his fucking mind. Do clinically insane people have access to storage? Of course there’s always the chance that this is a joke, but then why would he have left this as the only thing in his storage locker? Gave up his pretty decent laptop for a joke? It’s got good storage, though that could be because the rest of it is wiped entirely. A relatively new model, built for small games, there isn’t any other reason to give up this laptop.
Listen. Avery isn’t a Redditor by any means. That is like—the most insulting thing you could ever call anyone ever without actually directly insulting them. He goes there to post his Skywars clips and YouTube links, occasionally looking for hints for other video games he’s gotten himself stuck on, but he’s not a Redditor. Which is why it pains him to make a video of the book that he immediately uploads to YouTube, and then links to Reddit.
And with the code (or whatever it could have possibly been) at the end, he can’t possibly figure all of this out on his own, and those nerds could probably solve anything in just a few days.