Chapter Text
Heavy… It is just so heavy.
The sensation is horrible, huge weight pulling the legs back relentlessly.
Dragging, no matter how much effort is put on the fight, it just gets heavier and harder to keep the resistance.
It is dark, so dark. Not like lights have been turned off, but like there is just nothing to see at all. Pure blindness.
There is nothing to see. Nothing to feel. Pure pulling and a fight against it.
It is like an endless dream, where nothing changes, only repeating over and over. But the sensation is undeniable.
It happens again, and the weight only seems to be greater each time.
The legs won't move an inch, they are glued, sentenced to not leave the spot.
There is no resistance against it, not as much as before.
Because there was no need to fight against something nothing has control over, something that can't be changed no matter how hard the fighter.
It takes over, exhausting to the brim until there is nothing but the bitter acceptance of defeat.
It became carved, shaped and molded. Now the chains are bones, and the host can't live without the parasite.
There is no doubt they won't ever be able to break free from whatever silently keeps them chained strongly.
Again. Once again, they had the same dream.
It feels weird to use the word dream, but there isn't any better term to describe.
After the daily routine of the so-called ‘rounds’, all the killers would move to their respective cabins to rest for the next day. Even if they don't quite need it.
1x1x1x1 lays on the bed, something close to comfortable, it can be considered since it's the only thing that envelops them in a warmth enough to their mind to actually rest, even if just for a moment. Like the fire of a fireplace in a shivering, cold night.
The ceiling became the view they mostly look at when at the cabin designed for them in the camp.
As usual, they don't feel tired. More like upset, as they prefer to call. When upset, they lay on the bed and stare at the walls or the wooden floor until their eye eventually close, waiting for the mind to go blank and kill some time until the next day.
There aren't days in this realm, simply being the same ‘time’ forever. Although there is some sort of clock for every being — the only thing that allows them to have some close notion about the time in this place.
Moving out of bed, the being leaves the cozy covers in order to join in the daily game they all had to play.
Not like they could choose whenever to go or not, but it is better to be ready if they chosen are nonetheless.
Normally, 1x1x1x1 wouldn't care less about anything but the chance they are given of doing havoc and destruction, but it can be a bit hard to focus when even their already twisted mind is haunted by something beyond.
Don't take them wrong — actually, do, but the thing is that they do have a certain care and look after a few things. But the focus isn't that.
It shouldn't be a worry, nothing worth the headache, yet, it did bothered. A lot.
Furthermore, it is possible that they would deal with it for more months, years or even the rest of their existence. It is getting just so annoying it is almost the level of their hatred towards their creator. Actually, not at all, but just enough for them to think about it more than they should.
After what seemed to be 3 rounds, the hatred creature got her chance and was sent out to play.
Holding her two swords of trust she walked around the place; somewhere familiar.
Every round was somewhere familiar. After all this time, surely everyone in the realm was used to them, even when they all were different one from another.
Heavy footsteps, the ground itself trembling under the crushing of hooves, as if the place itself were slightly bending upon feeling such a creature pass by.
If it were as the usual, 1x1x1x1 would already have slaughtered at least half of the robloxians in a matter of minutes, but those months haven't been the same.
Starting as a small night where she had a quick dream, just small enough for her to forget about quickly. Then another, and on the other nights repeating again.
When there wasn't any dream or sleep, the dull, ghostly feeling of something pulling her silently were so loud she couldn't ignore.
Since then, the creature had started wondering more, thinking more of it, obviously wanting those gone as quick as they arrived.
It wasn't much in comparison to her doings towards the robloxians also stuck in this forgotten place, yet it was something that managed to sneak into the being's mind, enveloping in the shivering feeling of something beyond their claws.
Never had her ever felt the same dread when dealing with them, the nightmares that somehow kept her stuck longer during the sleep hours.
Even a creature such as she needed some sort of rest from time to time. This place had taken their potential energy, drained to the brim. She had just enough to actually still keep a firm composure, training and preparing.
Although she didn't quite have any memory from before.
One day, woke up and was here, surrounded by the dense, endless forest and by unknown creatures.
They all had received some sort of advice about the whole ‘game’ they were meant to play.
Some of them remembered quite a lot from before, some came to this realm seeking revenge, another simply wanted to, and some obviously aren't supposed to be here. Simply are due to some other unknown reasons.
But him? That is a different story.
There is this unknown sensation that he does not belong to this twisted space, even if it is supposed to be like this. This playground about chasing unknown innocents just for the thrill of slaughter should bring all the enjoyment he could ever need, fulfilling the thirst for spilled blood.
Yes, it did fulfill his want for such. Yet there was always this faint heaviness on the back, like something hiding, something whispering there is so much more.
It angers him in the worst of the ways.
Hating towards what he recalls as creator and betrayer haven't been enough of a solution when there is something beyond it all.
So he slaughters, tortures once again and then twice more, making sure to bring pain differently in the most gruesome ways.
So why is it never settled? Why does this ghost never leave his cabin?
It is stupid. Such a powerful, full of hatred being shouldn't pay attention to the most irrelevant and despicable things within this place. Nothing else should matter but bring to all what they deserve. To be annihilated completely every single time, no matter how many once again he has to repeat.
.. That is what he was supposed to keep as a silent mind note until it got worse.
During those matches, as everyone would call the daily rounds, every killer would deal with a group of different people — win, or lose.
With a win, the currency would be given as a reward, along with the chance of obtaining something better for the daily routine. Such as a better meal option, maybe a new and more comfortable bed.
Just like some sort of society.
1x1x1x1 even had already got to know which survivor was which and what they did, the weak points and possible strategies that could be used in the battlefield. At least most of them.
If you really want the victory to be grasped by you only, then get to know your enemies. That easily might bring you more chances of succeeding.
Sometimes new ones would come over — more like thrown over the realm. Either with the labor of killing or surviving.
That's when any strategy must be changed, shaped into a different line of reasoning.
During those “get to know, then build a new strategy to take them down” moments, he would see new prey amongst the ones he already knew or had seen before.
That was when that dreading sensation would creep into his ribcage, bringing unease and uncertainty.
It angered the being, and 1x4 wanted nothing but to slaughter the robloxian behind the motivation of the sudden event
And so the creature did, focusing on first eliminating the sudden menace to his beforehand plan, while also getting rid of the headache as a bonus.
The beings probably were just another robloxian amongst the crowd, but there was this shiver indicating something beyond.
They moved slowly like silk, clothing so long and wavering like a waterfall, floating like some sort of incorporated deity.
Oh, yes, that weird pumpkin replacing a head.
That, somehow, fit in the whole ethereal appearance, having a faint flame glowing inside those pupils and head, highlighting dimly the path they would pass by — which really was another way of tracking the person.
Dark antlers adorning the head as if a crown, some vines hanging and swinging weakly with the unnatural wind. Holding onto an unknown artifact similar to a staff.
Why should they even pay attention to it all? Maybe just so they can recognize the newcomer from afar, and even learn more to create a strategy against the being.
It was a matter of minutes. A bit handy, but in the end, as always, 1x1x1x1 got their hands on the survivor, giving them a gruesome death.
Some of the others who had the capability of defending themselves tried, multiple times, to intervene in order to save the current victim of the killer, yet it was of no use in the end.
Nothing worth the worry or even the thought.
After all the common matches, the hatred creature settled in the camp designed to the killers of the realm.
For some reason they were in charge of the daily meals. In the beginning, they would absolutely hate it and threaten anyone who dared putting them in that old kitchen. But now they wouldn't say a thing against doing the cooking chores.
Although 1x4 wouldn't admit, it was a way of entertaining their twisted mind in this place, having some sort of routine besides the bloodbath battlefield, even if the other wouldn't call them a professional cook.
Winning a match meant receiving a few perks such an amount of the currency, and 1x1x1x1 obviously had a solid quantity of successful rounds, which gave them the perk.
They would choose new ingredients and different things to have a more variable menu, also for the want of baking or cooking different things.
Mostly, cooking and baking would take the edge off of their mind when not in a match, which they silently found good, just wouldn't admit. But even a creature such as them has the right of finding a different feeling in something other than hatred.
Apparently, it wasn't as successful as before after the.. Unknown encounter dealing.
That robloxian simply would not leave the back of their mind, not even in their sleep — which honestly, they didn't have before anyways, but after it, seemed to just worsen.
Instead of that dim, restless bother on the edge of their brain, now a small sparkle of light was itching. And they hated it even more than just the bother, because they knew exactly why that changed, just wouldn't admit it at all.
There was a night where they couldn't relax at all; after a sequence of non-stop matches, so many that even the survivors and other killers were just as much as tired.
That same night, 1x1x1x1 laid on their bed, staring at the sight outside the window of their cabin — a dark, dense forest adorned by the night sky and a full moon. Although they were sure it all wasn't a real forest nor moon.
They felt heavy and their eye almost jumping out of the last eyesocket, yet wouldn't even blink.
Because they were more than sure it would happen again. That ghostly sensation were pursuing the creature the whole day, and when that happens, 1x4 just knows it will happen no matter what they do.
When the eye can't push another hour sleepless, it finally flutters close, pulling the being into a deep sleep, even if against their want.
When they are able to open their eye once again, things are different.
It isn't dark, there is actually something to see instead of the pure nothingness.
Some sort of forest — way different from this realm's.
Everything feels like it's floating, the tree leaves slowly swinging within the almost nonexistent wind.
It looks endless, a bright and strong sun highlighting any possible path amongst the field fulfilled with infinite trees.
1x1x1x1 can't think about anything in that second but how everything feels too much light, like feathers being taken by the wind.
It is strange, unknown and sudden, bringing such a different scenario from the one they always are stuck every single day since who knows when in this place.
The being begins moving, hooves slowly making a path under the casted shadow of the trees.
With every look it just seems more impossible to see the end of the field. Even if different from the usual thing they would almost be used to, it still had the repetitive motion of before, just in a different portrait.
After walking what felt like hours, the creature stops, almost sighing in defeat upon having their opinions of the non ending forest confirmed.
With a slow, and so slow motion, they take a seat under one of the dozens of trees, the shadow creating a refreshing and comfortable atmosphere.
They simply stare at the grass, moving softly with the wind that brushes it at a natural pace.
It takes a blink — maybe not even it, it's impossible to properly move or feel in this place — for them to give up on the tiredness that has taken over their form, the restlessness accumulated from so many nights pushing the being forward to take a moment for rest just for once.
Even if unknown, even if strange and puzzling, they wouldn't be able to resist even with their stubborn nature.
The wave of weight take over and it's about seconds until 1x1x1x1 is lulled into a deep sleep, the grass underneath a natural bed, the tree shadows aside the wind comforting the tired physique.
That night, the personification of hatred had healed with something beyond the repetitive routine, something beyond even their knowledge.
The chains were strong enough to keep everything settled, like an animal caged until the end of time.
But what happens when the chains have another end? Something so far and beyond anyone's control capable of creating another path — a path that shouldn't even exist to begin with.
It is like a river. The rocks underneath create the following stream, molding every single way that can be taken, creating decisions.
Even if the river is completely changed, shaped to not follow any stream no more, it will dig into the dirt slowly, not allowing the limitation of working differently.
After all, it is not possible to change what is bound to happen. Even if it is changed, it will redo everything once again, no matter how long it takes.
Because that is balance. The destiny can't have its balance taken forever.
have some sketches since I've been addicted to them in a while! :>
