The Babbles of a Dead Man

I'm going to kill myself.

At least, that was the plan. But maybe… just maybe, I should hold off.

Obviously, this world wants me gone, it's testing me, daring me to crumble under its weight.

But I won't give in to its grating whispers, nor will I fall into its cold embrace.

The winter breeze bites at my skin, sharp and unrelenting.

Snowflakes twist and swirl in the wind, mocking me with their freedom as they pirouette through the air, more alive than I've ever felt.

The dim glow of the newly risen moon bathes the streets in silver as night settles in, quiet but unforgiving.

I hope the store's still open. Not that it really matters.

The streetlights buzz faintly, their light flickering in and out, as if even they can't decide whether to hold on.

My legs ache with every step, heavy, slow, dragging weights tied to a life I can't seem to escape.

Maybe, if I try hard enough, the world will free me from these thoughts. But no matter how far I run, I always end up back here. Back at the edge. Back at the end.

I come to a split in the road, a crossroads of sorts.

Cars hurtle past in a blur of headlights and noise, their tires skidding over the icy pavement. No one slows. No one stops.

It's Friday night. Shouldn't these people be home, eating dinner with their families? Laughing?

So why does it feel like everyone is running from something, just like me?

I step forward cautiously, pausing at the curb to make sure no cars are coming. One step.

Then another.

The cold asphalt feels harder beneath my shoes, like the ground itself is holding its breath.

I was so careful. So damn careful.

But careful doesn't matter.

The blare of a horn tears through the night like a scream.

Blinding light swallows me whole, erasing the moonlight, the snowflakes, everything.

Tires screech. My body freezes, as though my mind can't process what's happening fast enough.

And then, impact.

The force is unimaginable.

Pain sears through me, sharp but fleeting, before chaos overtakes everything, metal, glass, sound, all crashing together in a deafening cacophony.

And then… silence.

My thoughts unravel like loose threads, fraying into nothingness. The cold seeps into my skin, and the darkness consumes me.

I died. Just like that.

I never thought it would end this way.

I always imagined it would be slower, heavier, but not so sudden. Not so… easy.

And oddly, I don't think I felt much pain.

Death...it felt kind of… warm.

I thought death would be cold, an icy grip wrapping tightly around your throat. But instead, it was instant heat, overwhelming, like standing too close to the sun.

My eyes felt heavy, sealed shut by an unimaginable weight, as though I was being crushed.

I could hear faint screams, cries cutting through the haze.

And then something else, metal clashing against metal, like swords colliding in battle.

What was this?

Was I dreaming?

Still enclosed in the darkness, I couldn't tell.

To really know, I would have to… open them.

My eyes, still sealed shut, felt heavy, but I forced them open, fighting against the oppressive darkness.

At first, all I could see was red, a deep, pulsating crimson.

The sharp, metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils as I blinked rapidly, trying to focus. When my vision finally cleared, I realized what surrounded me.

Bodies.

Piles of them. Twisted limbs, lifeless faces, and blood-soaked armor. The stench of death clung to the air, thick and nauseating.

I was buried beneath them.

My arms trembled as I pushed against the weight above me.

The bodies shifted slightly, just enough for me to wedge my shoulder through.

With a desperate grunt, I heaved myself up, clawing at the mound until I broke free.

The moment I stood, my legs wobbled, weak and unsteady.

The battlefield stretched out endlessly before me.

A barren wasteland, charred and broken, as if the very earth had been torn apart by the violence.

The ground was cracked and dry, littered with shattered weapons and torn banners.

The sky was vast and empty, a sickly mix of gray and ash. But the sun… the sun blazed in the center of it all, searing and unrelenting.

It hung low, too close, its harsh light burning my eyes as I stared directly at it.

The pain was instant, sharp, but I couldn't look away.

"Red."

The sun glared back at me, unyielding, its crimson glow consuming my vision until it was all I could see.

Red.

I instinctively ducked back under the bodies, peering cautiously through the gaps. The barren wasteland was teeming with life, or rather, chaos.

Hundreds of people were locked in combat, swinging swords with relentless fury.

Did I wake up in the middle of a war?

No, that didn't make sense. They're using swords. Swords haven't been used in warfare for centuries.

Did I travel back in time? No, that's ridiculous. Illogical.

Then again, logic hardly matters when I've already died.

The sun above blazes an unnatural red, casting a bloody glow over the battlefield. This isn't Earth. And it's definitely not Hell.

Could I have been... transferred to another world after death?

The thought felt absurd, something straight out of an anime or one of those fantasy novels.

But here I was. And everything about this situation screamed impossible.

Yet my body… it feels foreign. Compact. Stronger.

I glanced down and caught sight of long strands of hair drifting in front of my face.

Long hair? I had short hair before.

My hands clenched reflexively, and I noticed the definition in my arms, the rough texture of my darker skin.

This isn't my body.

I've been... transmigrated. Or something like that. I don't know for sure, but this is insane.

I shifted slightly, my armor, or what was left of it, clinking faintly.

It was shredded, barely offering any protection.

I had no idea which side I was supposed to be on, but my appearance told me a few things: long brown hair, dark skin, and a body that was far stronger than my own had ever been.

I really am in another world.

Most people would panic in a situation like this. But I needed to stay calm. Levelheaded.

There's a war going on, clearly. And from what I can tell, this place is nowhere near as advanced as Earth, at least not in terms of weaponry.

But then, there's something else.

I glanced at the bodies around me. Many were charre, burned in strange, uneven patches.

Not the kind of damage you'd expect from firebombs or conventional weapons.

Magic. That's the only explanation.

So magic is real here.

Or maybe they've developed handheld explosives with effects that mimic it. Either way, I need to stay alive.

Survival is all that matters now.

I waited under the pile of dead men, the stench thick enough to make me gag, almost pushing me to break free.

But I held on, waiting, listening for the sounds of battle to die down. I waited until the screams faded, then the footsteps.

I waited until the cold settled in, cold enough for me to think it was night, though I wasn't sure.

I suspected that on this planet, it might always be hot, day or night.

Eventually, I rose from the bodies and looked around.

The landscape was barren, dead trees, lifeless bodies, and a large moon hanging in the sky, split in two.

A massive, tunnel-like structure connected the two halves of the moon, stretching between them like some impossible bridge.

So, either they've been to the moon… or maybe I'm just seeing it all wrong.

I wasn't sure about the stars either, none of them looked familiar. I probably couldn't name many on Earth anyway, but they felt off, distant.

I stood fully now, brushing myself off, bits of dust and dried blood flaking away as I picked up a sword from the ground.

I didn't know how to use it, not one bit, but I wasn't going out unprotected.

I decided to walk in the direction opposite the moon. I didn't know where it led, but staying here was not a logical choice. I had to move, had to get away.

As I walked, the realization grew clearer: I wasn't on Earth.

This wasn't even the same world.

The animals looked familiar at first, but they all felt... wrong. And the dead trees didn't help either.

It felt like I had been walking forever, carrying the cracked sword, when I finally came across a river.

The stream of water was flowing gently, with patches of greenery along its banks. Fish swam in the water, an odd sight in this place.

I didn't care. I needed to drink, to steady myself. Kneeling beside the river, I cupped my hands and drank deeply, the cool water soothing my dry throat.

But just as I was about to breathe in relief, I felt a sharp pain in my back, followed by a low voice: "Turn around slowly."

I froze, every muscle in my body tensing. Slowly, I shifted my legs and turned.

There, standing tall and imposing, was a figure in black armor.

They had short, disheveled golden hair, green eyes, and fawn skin. In their hand was a long black steel sword, gleaming in the dim light.

On their chest, a symbol: a sun split in two, with a bell between the halves.

"Which kingdom are you from? Who do you serve? What's your oath?"

The words hit me in a strange way, like they were foreign but still familiar.

It was then I realized they were speaking a language I didn't know, yet somehow understood.

"I... I don't know," I stammered.

The stranger's eyes narrowed, confusion flickering across their face.

That's when I heard it, a voice, soft but insistent, inside my head. It wasn't quite human, not entirely male or female.

[Run.]