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"WH4T H45 G0TT3N 1NT0 Y0U-?!"
Griefer barely managed to roll out of the way as you brought the Venomshank down where he had just been moments ago, the sword leaving a faint trail of toxic, flammable fumes behind it. One of the vines on Griefer's shoulder caught on fire, which he quickly extinguished by covering it with his gloved hand.
You stared back at him, an empty look in your eyes as you looked back at him. The Venomshank hung loosely from your hands, but you quickly regained your composure and lunged towards him.
Griefer parried your slash with his crowbar.
"SN4P 0UT 0F 1T, (Y/N)! 4R3 TH3 V01C35 G3TT1NG T0 Y0U 4G4iN?!"
The empty look in your eyes quickly vanished as you realised what you were doing. You looked down at the Venomshank in your hands, the sword dissipating and turning back into a card as you cut off the flow of Sword Energy to it.
"I…didn't mean to…"
Griefer groaned and looked back at you with an exasperated expression.
"TH15 15 TH3 F1FTH T1M3 TH15 W33K. AR3 TH3 V01C35 G3TT1NG W0R53?"
You let out a dejected sigh, not wanting to meet his gaze. You knew how this was becoming a problem, but you didn't want to admit it.
"Yes, yes…and don't call the teachings of the Spawn mere "voices", please. The Spawn is so much greater than that, so much wonderful…"
Griefer watched as you slid the card pack into your pouch.
"…in fact, I am going against The Spawn itself by not killing you just yet. I'm supposed to follow in their footsteps…I'm supposed to sacrifice you for a second life…"
The two of you knew very well who you were talking about.
Two Time - another member of the Spawn Cult. Someone who had previously sacrificed their lover to The Spawn for a second life.
You knew about them, for you were once good friends with them and Azure. Before Azure's death, the three of you would do practically everything together- pray, have meals…almost every single bit of your free time was spent together.
But after Azure's death, it was just the two of you. Two Time's eyes always seemed glazed over after that, and they always seemed to have a small, empty smile on their face.
Two Time explained that they did it for The Spawn, that it required them to kill their lover to prove their worth in its eyes. It whispered to them promises of a second life, promises of salvation…and they followed it, like a lost lamb to its shepherd.
You got where he was coming from, you really did…but deep down, you had your doubts. Some cult members were known to have sacrificed other people for a second life, maybe even a third- but when they died a natural death and every cultist gathered round to watch the beautiful moment of rebirth, it never came.
Just a final, still breath. And all was silent.
Some cultists thought that they were simply reborn into another life and given another soul somewhere else on Earth. They dropped to their knees, praying for The Spawn to take them back to the cult one way or another for the salvation of the new soul.
Other cultists thought that the deceased had aggravated The Spawn in some way and had their second life ripped away from them.
But you had other thoughts. Thoughts that you knew for sure would have the other cultists behead you and drive a stake through your skull for every other cultist to see, and make an example out of you.
You started questioning your faith in The Spawn.
After so many failed rebirths, after so many empty promises of The Spawn bringing back the deceased, you had seen enough. You wanted to get out of the cult, you really did- but you couldn't. The cult's leaders made sure to cut off its members from the outside world, manipulating its members to believe that their existences were based around nothing but The Spawn and The Spawn alone.
Your beliefs were further reinforced by Two Time's mysterious disappearance one day.
You believed they were overcome by grief, sorrow and self-hatred for killing the one person they loved so much.
And for what- fake words and promises?
You waited. Days, weeks, months- but they never returned.
Eventually, you got through your days just like a robot. The cult's prayers and hymns droned by in a static buzz. Rituals were second nature to you, and you performed all the necessary animal sacrifices with not a single thought in your mind, not a single praise to The Spawn in your thought process.
You wanted to break free, your faith in The Spawn wavering- but you knew it wasn't possible. The leaders of the cult had eyes everywhere and would ruthlessly track down any escaped members. That was assuming you could even escape to begin with, as security was tight when the sun was down. Even if you did escape, you knew your chances of survival were low- you didn't have anything, not even a dime.
You lived without a purpose or a goal.
Everything changed when you woke up in an unfamiliar bed one day.
It was comfortable, unlike the pitiful excuse of a mattress the Spawn Cult provided. You relaxed back into the sheets, ready for a few more minutes of shuteye before one of your superiors inevitably woke you up. If Amarah was sent to wake you up, you'd probably get a more gentle awakening compared to the others-
"Hey. Wake up. Get up, goober…did you have a good nap?"
You could only nod weakly and give whoever was speaking to you a quiet hum of acknowledgement.
"That's great…NOW GET OUT OF MY BED!!!!"
You jolted awake. Instead of one of the other cult members, your eyes met those of a short, blue penguin.
That was your first introduction to your new world.
You saw it as a promising, empty canvas. You found a purpose, as a so-called admin named Shedletsky tasked you with collecting the SFOTH Swords for him.
You were happy at last. You were free from the cult, without anything else holding you back.
All that changed when you died for the first time.
You remembered it vividly. You were kneeling before Cruel King, gasping and panting for air in the chilly throne room.
The King's cold, apathetic eyes stared back into yours. His knights stood beside him, their swords by their sides as they prepared to deliver the final strike. Blood trickled down from all the scars on your body. As you breathed your last, you slumped down on the floor, motionless.
You thought it was the end of the line for you. That is, until you came to on an odd, grey pad. It stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the icy hallway, and as you looked down at it, your blood ran cold.
The Spawn's logo was etched on it.
Even after retrieving the four Swords Shedletsky requested, you still felt off. The respawn pads everywhere were unnerving, and the voices in your head weren't any better.
Griefer knew about the voices- he was a victim and past wielder of the Venomshank, after all. However, unlike you, he knew that it was from the Swords themselves.
He didn't doubt it. He didn't think it was from an external entity to begin with.
So watching you slash at him with the very Sword he tried to kill you with all those weeks ago was a mind-numbing experience, to say the least.
Fresh cuts and bruises littered his arms from all the other episodes you had when you gave in to what you believed was The Spawn talking to you.
He was hurt and wounded. He just wanted you to return to how you originally were before you got your hands on all those Swords, but he couldn't blame you for your behaviour.
You refused to talk to him about the Spawn Cult, after all. Even when he questioned about it, you would simply mumble one or two phrases in response before changing the topic entirely.
"I'm sorry, Griefer…it's just…The Spawn is talking to me after so long, and I can't help it. It…it's been too long since I've heard anything from it…and now I finally have a sign…something to let me know that it's still watching over me…"
As you dropped to your knees, weak and exhausted from the Swords' influence on you, Griefer ran forward to support you.
He wanted to tell you the truth. He really did.
But he knew that you had too much on your plate to be worried about.
You were fully convinced that the voices in your head were from The Spawn. If he told you the truth, you would either disregard his words entirely and push him away or you would have a severe mental breakdown, with an existential crisis to boot.
He decided to just wait. That would be a problem for another day.
"T4K3 1T 345Y, 5W33TH34RT…D0N'T FR3T."
At his words, you broke down in his arms, tears streaming down your cheeks as you wailed and cried.
"I…how do I take it easy? We've only been together for a few weeks, and yet…look at all the scars on you…all because of what The Spawn wants…"
Griefer silenced you with a quick peck on the forehead.
"1'LL M4N4G3. D0N'T W0RRY 4B0UT M3. 1'LL B3 F1N3."
He hugged you tightly, clinging to you in a desperate attempt to ground you back into reality.
"1'LL G0 THR0UGH H3LL 4ND B4CK JU5T F0R Y0U."
The voices getting louder- or The Spawn's voice, as you put it- would be a bigger problem for another day.