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The chains wrapped around his wrists had been tightened until even the slightest twitch of pain showed on his face. His neck was forced down so harshly he could barely see the ground beneath him, let alone his surroundings. Ever since stepping through the portal, everything had moved faster than his mind could grasp.
Right in front of him, chains made of the same unforgiving metal swayed back and forth, coiled tightly around the wrists of Mapicc — his closest friend, or at least, the person who used to be.
Silence ruled the halls.
The only sound reaching Spoke’s ears was the bubbling roar of lava flowing behind the walls.
Until they descended another layer deeper into this hell.
The moment the guards dragging Mepicc changed direction, Spoke’s head snapped toward him instinctively. Exhausted from the battle and the endless hours spent inside the labyrinth, his half-lidded eyes followed the figure wrapped in the red bandana. Even as iron bars sealed around him, Mapicc’s sharp, calculating gaze never once left Spoke.
“Good job, Spoke… Good job.”
The hopeless bitterness laced through Mapicc’s voice carved the wound in Spoke’s chest even deeper. Even his Voidling body reacted violently to it, nearly falling apart under the strain. Holding himself together as one whole had already become impossible, even with the chains forcing him to remain upright.
After losing the one person who meant everything to him, existence itself had begun to feel meaningless. The Void — ugly, endless, pitch-black, where nothing mattered — called out to him once more.
And Spoke almost listened.
But just as he surrendered to that voice, the chains yanked him forward violently. He looked back at Mepicc one last time and, with a voice cracked from pain and thirst, whispered weakly:
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Mapicc.”
Even realizing Mapicc was already too far away to hear him, Spoke still spent the last scraps of his strength begging for forgiveness from his closest friend. If it would fix everything between them, he would have even swallowed the stubborn pride he inherited from his brother, Wemmbu, and begged for another chance without hesitation.
Thoughts flooded the Voidling’s mind — far too full for a creature of his kind — and he barely realized they had descended even further below the prison depths.
He stumbled down the stairs.
His body was melting apart.
Every second, it threatened to erase him completely.
Whenever his mind slipped, he could feel the stake anchoring him to life slowly being ripped from the ground.
The spear shoved into his back forced him into the cell waiting for him. Only then did Spoke truly remember where he was. His knees slammed hard against the obsidian floor, glitching static echoing throughout the prison.
He remained there on his knees, barely remembering how to move, waiting numbly for the bars to close behind him—
Until he heard his voice.
The voice of the man responsible for all of this.
“Spoke, Spoke… You really never get tired of trying to help me, do you? First you deceived your friends in my place, and now you’re just going to let yourself disappear?”
JamatoP’s hysterical voice, dripping with satisfaction from his own victory, shattered Spoke’s defeated silence instantly. Rage gave him enough strength to lunge toward him—
Only for iron bars to slam down violently in front of him.
A startled sound escaped Spoke before he stumbled back, his tail striking the floor hard. Every action that fed this disgusting man’s ego filled him with boiling fury, and with nowhere for that fury to go, his voice and body drowned in glitches.
“YOU— YOU’RE THE ONE WHO RUINED EVERYTHING! EVEN THOUGH I DID ALL OF THIS TO PROTECT THEM— TO PROTECT HIM! EVEN THOUGH I DID WHAT YOU NEVER COULD!”
Spoke shook the bars violently, glitches spreading through the metal itself and warping the air around them. For the first time, JamatoP’s hysterical laughter fell silent. All that remained on his face was cold anger and hatred.
“You deceived everyone… You convinced yourself so completely that you were doing this to save the server that eventually, even you started believing the lie.”
JamatoP never once lost the grin hidden beneath his mask as he listened to the Voidling’s outburst. After all, this was probably Spoke’s last chance to spill everything buried inside him.
No one would be visiting these cells anytime soon.
“You seem to struggle with accepting yourself, Spoke. Every accusation coming out of your mouth… I really wish Mepicc were here to answer them. The disappointment in his eyes when he told you who the real liar was — and that the one deceiving himself was you — wasn’t that enough? Though I’m sure you would’ve denied the truth anyway.” JamatoP’s gaze dragged slowly across the Voidling.
“Creatures like you…” he murmured. “Pathetic things so far removed from humanity that not even changing shape could teach them empathy.”
Spoke’s tail stopped lashing against the floor and instead curled tightly around his leg. He couldn’t hide the stress anymore.
JamatoP knew everything.
He truly, truly knew him.
Seeing every step he had taken — every step he would take — reflected so easily in JamatoP’s eyes was a nightmare for someone as unpredictable as Spoke. And yet remembering that JamatoP had once been the very first human he met after escaping the End… remembering how deeply he used to trust him, how comforting it once felt to be understood so completely—
It twisted painfully in his throat.
Spoke had loved JamatoP because he was the one person who knew every part of him. The person he had trusted enough to be transparent with.
Now, that same understanding had become the very reason Spoke hated him.
“The all-knowing, glorious Spoke… What’s wrong? Not going to keep screaming this time?”
JamatoP leaned closer through the bars.
But every time Spoke opened his mouth, nausea climbed up his throat so violently he had to force it shut again. He trembled, unable to answer.
“If you don’t intend to use your last chance… Fine, Spoke. I didn’t expect you to surrender to silence this quickly.”
JamatoP turned to leave with his soldiers—
But something tugged sharply at his cape, forcing him to stop.
Using the bars just to stay standing, Spoke had grabbed onto the fabric instinctively. Even the cape itself glitched beneath his unstable touch.
“Why… Why did you leave me behind? Two years, Jamato. A whole two years…”
Spoke’s body trembled violently as he tried to bury his tears somewhere deep inside himself.
“I thought we were going to save the server together… Not this. Not by locking everyone away. Not by taking me away from— from my closest friend!”
The hand he had reshaped into claws lashed forward, aiming to tear JamatoP apart—
But JamatoP drew his sword instantly and drove it through Spoke’s arm.
Spoke recoiled with a cry of pain, glitches exploding across his body as JamatoP watched him with nothing but disappointment.
“You never change, Spoke. Always the same tricks. Always the same accusations.” He looked down at him coldly. “Everything happening to you is because you refuse to admit what you are. Just like with the Mafia. Just like with BAT. And now with Mepicc.”
JamatoP stepped closer one final time.
“You can change your shape all you want just to belong somewhere, Spoke. But that doesn’t change the filth inside you. You belong to the Void. A part of nothing.” His eyes narrowed behind the mask. “You should’ve stayed in the End and rotted there.”
After one last glance over his shoulder, JamatoP disappeared up the endless staircase with the soldiers behind him.
And Spoke was left alone.
In the darkness.
In the unbearable heat of the lava-lit prison built only for him.
He collapsed beside the bars, one hand pressed tightly against the wound in his arm while the glitches spreading across his body threatened to erase his existence piece by piece.
And if he disappeared before Mepicc could forgive him—
Then, for the first time in his life, Spoke thought he might finally admit just how much he hated himself.