faithful encounter

The swirling nebulae parted like a shroud drawn back, revealing the heart of the palace. Yet this was no ordinary citadel of stone or metal; it was an endless expanse, mirroring the neon sky above in a spectacle of raw energy. Arcs of power crackled and danced, weaving a shifting tapestry of light that illuminated the throne-like pillar where Shaun's astral form rested, shimmering and transient.

He observed this display with a detached curiosity, as though it were someone else's creation. Ascension had ripped his consciousness from his shattered body, thrusting him into this state of pure spirit. He now existed as a construct of astral energy, a form shaped by will and memory alone.

The palace reflected his spiritual core, a manifestation of his essence. Crystalline pathways wound through the expanse like veins, pulsing with luminous energy. The nebulae swirled in slow, mesmerizing patterns, and the faint echoes of unseen whispers resonated in the air. All of it—the pathways, the whispers, the cosmic expanse—was woven from the fabric of his own being.

His gaze drifted to the throne-like pillar. It was not a seat of power, not a symbol of authority, but a convergence point, the epicenter of his spiritual energy. It stood as the anchor of his existence within this ethereal plane, a constant amidst the ever-shifting beauty surrounding him.

"Interesting," Shaun thought, his voice manifesting as vibrations that rippled through the space. Words here did not require sound; they were felt, known. His form rose from the pillar, a silhouette of shimmering energy against the ever-changing backdrop. He raised a hand, watching arcs of light coil around his fingers, responding as though alive.

"A spiritual core," he mused, turning his attention to the pathways. "The source of my power... my connection to everything." He could feel it, the threads of energy stretching outward, binding him to this space. He was not merely within the realm—he was the realm.

Yet as he explored, a shadow of melancholy whispered at the edges of his consciousness. "I can't go back," he thought, a note of sorrow threading his resolve. His original world, his prior existence—it was beyond his reach. This transformation had severed that connection, leaving him stranded. He could return to the medieval-like world where his fight against the Warden had begun, but the thought felt hollow. Did he even care anymore?

The tranquility of this place tempted him. Here was solace, an escape from the burdens of existence. The nebulae offered quiet; the crystalline pathways, a retreat from struggle. He could remain, adrift in the serene expanse of his creation.

But then, the memory of Harold and Smith pierced through the haze of peace like a shard of winter ice. Their loyalty, their lives—taken by unseen forces. Their faces swam before him, vivid and accusing.

"No," Shaun thought, his form flickering with renewed determination. "This isn't peace. It's a trap. A warm blanket on a freezing night." The metaphor settled in his mind, unshakable. "You don't want to leave it, even when you know you must. In the morning, you have to rise, face the cold, and endure."

The spiritual realm, for all its beauty, was a gilded cage. It had tempted him to complacency, but he would not succumb. He could feel the threads of something larger—plots and machinations waiting to ensnare him. To remain was to abandon the fight, to betray the memory of those who had fallen.

"I have debts to repay," Shaun declared, his voice resonating like a drumbeat across the realm. "Harold and Smith deserve justice. That world... it deserves reckoning."

As his resolve crystallized, his astral form surged with light, a beacon in the endless expanse. The warmth of the spiritual sanctuary receded as his will burned brighter. He would not hide from the darkness. He would confront it, bend it to his will, and reshape the narrative that sought to control him.

The journey ahead would be perilous. But Shaun was ready. The warm blanket of his spiritual sanctuary could wait—for now, it was time to face the winter.

Shaun sat cross-legged on the crystalline throne, his focus centered on the swirling energy of his sanctuary. The peace of the realm—his realm—was absolute. That's what made the sudden voice all the more jarring.

"Wise decision, young man," the voice said, smooth and lilting, like silk sliding over glass. "This realm is not a place where you should spend your youth away. And, contrary to what you might believe, it's not as safe as it seems."

Shaun's astral form flickered as a wave of shock rippled through him. He shot to his feet, his luminous body emanating waves of energy that distorted the surrounding pathways. His gaze darted around the endless expanse, but he saw no one.

"Who is it?" Shaun demanded, his voice sharp. "How did you get here?"

The air grew thick with a strange tension. Then the voice spoke again, calm yet carrying a subtle edge.

"Don't worry, young man. I don't mean you any harm—not that I could, even if I wanted to. My abilities here are limited to conversation. But could you lend me your ear, please?"

Shaun's glowing eyes narrowed. The sweetness in the voice felt unsettling, bordering on eerie. "Why should I bother?" he retorted, his annoyance seeping into the fabric of his realm. The crystalline pathways quivered, the once-pristine light now warping and twisting. "Give me an ample reason to entertain you."

The voice gave a soft, almost playful sigh. "Please, don't be angry. You're much scarier than I expected." There was a pause, then a tone of intrigue. "To grow to this level in such a short span... What are you? It should be my question."

Shaun's frustration deepened, his presence growing more imposing. "Answer me," he demanded. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

The voice chuckled lightly, a sound that sent a faint shiver through the air. "Ah, you're quite the impatient one. Very well, I'll answer your questions. But first, let me tell you this—compared to you, the man who was here before… well, he was nothing like this. Nothing like you."

That last statement lingered, hanging in the air like a baited hook.

Shaun's glowing form steadied, his composure returning as the realm around him followed suit. The chaotic distortions smoothed into flowing light, but his vigilance remained sharp.

"What do you know about the original Shaun?" he asked, his voice firm, yet controlled.

The voice didn't hesitate, the same eerie sweetness lacing its words. "Of course, I knew him. I was the one who made him reincarnate into this world. He was doing… I guess you could call it fine. That is, until you decided to replace him." There was a pause, then the voice added with a hint of amusement, "Oh, and by the way, you may call me Delilah."

Shaun's energy flared momentarily but soon stabilized as his mind pieced together the fragments of information. "What do you mean? Did you summon me here as well?"

Delilah's laughter was soft but tinged with condescension. "Oh no, dear boy, I didn't summon you. You're a wild card—a rogue element that slipped into the game uninvited. And, let me tell you, quite the issue for us."

Shaun's eyes narrowed, the sharp edge of his will slicing through the strange sense of unease the voice brought. "What game are you talking about? And who exactly is 'us,' huh?"

Delilah sighed dramatically, her tone shifting to one of feigned exasperation. "Will you wait a moment? You're so impatient. Let a lady finish her explanation, will you?"

Shaun stood still, absorbing Delilah's words. Her explanation seemed to ripple through the air, each sentence carrying a weight that stretched far beyond his understanding. The glow of his form flickered for a moment, but he didn't interrupt, sensing that the truth, however bizarre, was slowly being revealed.

Delilah's voice softened, almost contemplative, as she continued.

"There was once an existence, a force so immense, so powerful, that its presence was felt across every plane of reality—an anchor that held the multiverse together. Its power wasn't one of raw force, but of balance, a stabilizing presence that kept everything from spiraling into chaos. No one truly understood it, or even knew its true form, but we could feel it. It was like a constant hum, a vibration that everything followed, every dimension, every world, every timeline… all in harmony."

Shaun's brow furrowed. "And then it just… disappeared?"

Delilah's tone darkened, her voice tinged with something approaching sorrow. "Yes. One day, it was simply gone. No one knows whether it died, ascended to a higher plane, or simply left the realms of our reach entirely. What we do know is that the moment it disappeared, everything changed." Her voice grew harder, more calculating. "The balance it upheld fractured. Without it, chaos began to ripple through the multiverse."

Shaun took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. "And this chaos led to...?"

"A war," Delilah replied coldly, her tone sharpening. "Not a physical war, not at first. But a war of ambition. Every powerful being, every entity, began scrambling for power, for control. The void left behind by that force needed to be filled, and each of them wanted to be the one to claim it. The stakes were higher than any war between realms or even the gods themselves—whoever filled the void would become the ultimate ruler, the highest authority in all existence."

She paused, her words hanging heavy in the air. "But a war on that scale… it would destroy everything. Every realm would burn, every dimension would collapse under the weight of such a conflict. The damage would be irreversible, and the noise… the constant fighting, the upheaval… it would tear apart the very fabric of reality."

Shaun clenched his fists, his mind racing. "So you decided to avoid it. Instead of fighting yourselves… you created a proxy war?"

Delilah chuckled, the sound light and almost mocking. "Oh, exactly. A battlefield, a world where the strongest beings would use others to fight for them. people summoned from worlds outside this one, brought in as players—not just pawns, but warriors in a game none of you fully understand. We combined our power, constructed this world as a crucible, a place where you could fight instead of us."

Shaun's eyes widened.

Delilah said with an amused lilt to her voice. "This world is not just a single realm or a single story. It's a patchwork, an amalgamation of quite a few realities you've known—games, books, movies, all brought into being and expanding simultaneously. Each of the 'big players' who decided to join this little war summoned people from other worlds to serve as their proxies. Some preferred to regress characters, others just chose whoever they liked, or who would best serve their purpose."

She paused, then added with a hint of irony, "Some of us are still thinking about it, of course. But before we even finished round two of the 'game,' things started to take a strange turn."

Shaun frowned, sensing the shift. "What do you mean?"

"Simple," Delilah said, her voice dark with amusement. "It became less about claiming the throne, and more about… fun. A game. A distraction. The stakes began to blur, and what was once a desperate battle for power became an entertainment, an amusement for those who had no idea how to fill the void left behind. The desire for ultimate rule morphed into a contest of ego, a show where those who were supposed to win started playing just to see what would happen next. We wanted a ruler. What we got was a spectacle."

Shaun shook his head in disbelief. "So, this is all just… a game to you?"

Delilah's voice softened, carrying a trace of something that could almost be mistaken for regret. "Yes, Shaun, the boy before you—the one you replaced—was my chosen player. But then you came along, and now, I no longer have a player under my command. Watching you, I realized you're far better than him in every way. So, I've come to ask... will you join me?"

Shaun stood there for a long moment, processing everything. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the situation. "So, what now? You want me to keep playing your little war?" he asked, voice laced with skepticism.

Delilah's tone shifted, becoming more definitive. "Oh, don't worry. I can't just force anyone. You're currently an outsider, a wild card entry, unaffected by our rules. Your presence makes things more chaotic, more fun. But there are rules we must follow. We can never reveal our true identities or the full purpose of the game to those we summon. All we can do is give you one ability and observe what you do with it—nothing more. By revealing myself to you, I've already broken two of those rules."

Her voice grew quieter, almost conspiratorial. "So when I ask you to join, what I mean is, play the game. Play on your own terms, if that's what you wish. But if you refuse, then I expect you to do everything in your power to stay out of our war. That's your right, Shaun. We won't force you into it."