Chapter four... Chat with a deity

I was sinking. Cold, weightless, utterly submerged in something that felt like water—but I wasn't drowning. If anything, the fear that had gripped me only moments ago dissolved into nothingness, vanishing so completely that I couldn't even remember what had caused it.

Deeper and deeper I went, or at least it felt that way. My senses were stripped down to a singular thread—touch. My eyes remained shut, my ears deaf to any sound, my voice trapped in my throat. I couldn't even move. Yet, inexplicably, I welcomed it. The sensation was oddly liberating, as though I had been freed from something far heavier than gravity itself.

And then—violence.

Something yanked me out with force, shattering the eerie tranquility. My body collided with a cold, hard surface, and reality came rushing back like a flood. My senses reignited, flickering one by one, grounding me in my new surroundings.

"Welcome."

The voice was familiar. Unsettlingly so. But I couldn't place it. My vision, still sluggish, blurred at the edges as I blinked against the overwhelming whiteness surrounding me. It was everywhere—an endless expanse without walls, without doors, without any discernible structure. Just white.

Well… white and him.

The moment I saw him, I froze. My breath hitched, my thoughts tangled in disbelief.

"Surprise, surprise," he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips, and that was because... He was me.

I sat there, stunned into silence—not for lack of words, but because my mind refused to piece them together coherently. It was as if every thought I had was slipping through my fingers before I could grasp them.

"I don't have the time for dramatics," he—I—said, his tone laced with impatience. "So I'll make this quick. Once your brain catches up, feel free to ask your questions."

He turned away, settling himself on… nothing. Just sitting there in the white void, as if gravity itself bent to his will.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" I rasped, my voice weak but laced with raw urgency.

He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Well, that was faster than I expected," he mused, grinning as if he knew something I didn't,

I stared at him—no, at me.

"Why do you look like me?"

"Where am I?"

"What happened to me?"

"How... the hell are you sitting on air?"

"What is going on?"

The questions tumbled from my lips in rapid succession, my mind scrambling for something—anything—that made sense. He merely sat there, laughing. Not just amused—mocking. Probably because, for the first time, I was seeing how utterly ridiculous my own expressions could be. A sudden, irrational urge to punch him burned in my chest. If he weren't floating on nothing, I might have done it.

"And why do you smell so horrible?" I added, wrinkling my nose.

That was when he stopped laughing. Not gradually, not naturally—he froze. Completely. His body, his grin, his posture—suspended in eerie stillness, like someone had pressed pause on reality itself.

"The fuck?" I muttered, instinctively inching backward.

Then, with unnerving fluidity, he blinked and resumed movement as if nothing had happened. "You're quite the peculiar human," he mused, his expression returning to its prior, mildly amused state.

"I can't answer all your questions. That would take too much time," he said, his hands beginning to move—twitch—in odd, unnatural motions. His fingers twisted and curled in ways that defied anatomy, like a grotesque dance. "But the basics? Simple. I look like you because, in your current state, this is the only form you can perceive me in without shattering your mind."

A smirk. A slow, deliberate pause. Then, casually:

"As for why you're here? Well... I brought you here myself."

His hands never stopped moving, their bizarre rhythm making my skin crawl. What was he doing? Why did it look so wrong? If nothing else, he'd make a hell of a gymnast.

"And where is here exactly? And why did you bring me?" I asked, forcing myself to stand despite the dizziness clawing at my skull.

His expression faltered for a fraction of a second, surprise flickering in his gaze. Had he expected me to stay on the ground?

"Your world is about to change," he said, finally resting his hands on the arms of his invisible chair. Then, as if savoring the words, he added:

"Let me rephrase that—your world is ending as we speak."

His laughter erupted—maniacal, hollow, the kind that snakes into your bones and nestles there. A chill spread through me.

"What?" I breathed.

Under normal circumstances, I'd have dismissed him as a lunatic. But nothing about this was normal. Too many impossibilities had unfolded before my eyes, and my mind, stretched thin, had no room left for disbelief.

"The world as you know it is dying," he continued. "The Aberrant—or Wraiths, as your kind so fondly misnames them—are coming. With numbers, power, and fury beyond anything you humans can withstand."

As he spoke, the endless white void around us *ripped* away. In its place—horror.

Bodies, torn and strewn like discarded dolls. Limbs twisted in unnatural angles. Rivers of blood, thick and dark, carving obscene paths through the landscape. And the screams—God, the screams. They filled every inch of the space, raw, ragged, vibrating against my eardrums until my head felt like splitting apart.

I doubled over and vomited.

Through the haze of my nausea, I heard laughter. His laughter, rising above the symphony of agony like an orchestra's lead violin.

Then, just as abruptly as it appeared, the vision vanished. The whiteness returned.

I gasped for breath, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My legs trembled beneath me.

"What... the actual fuck?" My voice cracked, and before I could fully process it, a hand—his hand, *my hand*—was suddenly over my mouth, silencing me.

"Fear not, human," he murmured, leaning closer. His grip was firm but not painful—possessive, perhaps. "Not all hope is lost."

He released me and stepped back, as if he'd merely adjusted a piece of furniture.

"You, my dear anomaly, have been granted a chance. A rare opportunity," he continued, smiling as if bestowing some divine gift. "You have two options."

Two hands appeared in the air, hovering.

"One—accept death. I can erase you this instant and spare you the torment of what's to come." One hand vanished.

"Two—choose life. Be blessed with an ability of your choice." The second hand disappeared as well, leaving behind his pleased smirk.

My brain—exhausted, fractured—refused to function. Everything had happened too fast. The horror, the revelation, the ultimatum. And now, he wanted me to choose?

Strangely enough, death didn't sound so bad. It would be easier. Quieter. I wouldn't have to witness the world crumble into chaos. I wouldn't have to fight for survival, watching people I loved suffer and die. Maybe… maybe it would be better not to wake up at all.

Yet, as I opened my mouth to speak, something unexpected flared inside me.

A slow-burning anger.

I lifted my gaze, my breathing steadying. "Is it you?*l"

His brow arched. "Whatever do you mean?"

"This," I gestured vaguely. "The end of the world. Is it your doing?"

He chuckled. "And if it is?"

"I don't give a damn about the world," I said, voice low, measured. "But my family is in it."

His grin widened. "So?"

I took a step forward. For the first time, I was the one smirking. A twisted mirror of his expression reflected back at him. His laughter stilled.

"If you caused this," I said, my voice ice-cold, "then you can stop it."

Silence. Then—pure, unhinged delight spread across his face, his laughter returning tenfold.

"Oh, you are an interesting one." He clutched his stomach, as if barely containing his amusement. "Very well. Let's make a deal, shall we?"

He straightened, stepping closer. "Survive. Grow strong enough to challenge me. If—if—you manage to defeat me, I'll restore your world."

A pause.

"But if you die? Or if you lose?" His voice dipped into something darker. "Then you'll suffer for all eternity in a world of my own making. Devil-type shii." He chuckled.

I didn't respond. Didn't move.

"You have one minute," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Choose your ability."

A minute? To decide something that could shape the future—my future?

It was cruel. And yet, I knew he had planned it this way.

Billions of possible abilities. But in the chaos of my mind, only two choices surfaced—both opposite in nature, yet equally viable for what lay ahead.

And even among them, one whispered louder.

The void of indecision collapsed.

"I've chosen," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

His eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Oh? Do tell."

I exhaled.

"Shadow."

For the first time, his smirk widened. Not humanly—no, it stretched, unnatural, ear to ear.

"Interesting," he murmured, voice laced with something unreadable. "Let's see how it goes."

And with that, he turned and walked away.