He was born into it.
There was no 'Earth' without it.
The playground was his entire life.
A toddler's mind—oblivious as it was, was shown no love, and knew no affection.
There was a voice, but no speaker. A message, but no presence.
No doctors held him with smiles beneath their masks, and no nurses were there to cheer brightly at him. Instead, his back was laid bare on the rocky surface of the cold, hard soil.
There was no woman to see him, and no mother to embrace his little frame. He only had himself—forgotten and abandoned, in all that darkness.
Just like every other child, he could only grimace at the pain he felt. From the sharp rocks piercing his back, the cold wind that bathed over him, and the horror of the snarling pit he was born into.
A bloody pit, stacked with corpses.
[Player xxx, welcome to the Cosmic Playground!]
It rang in his ears, and somehow his little mind grasped the meaning of those words. The cries of every other barely living child mattered not to him, as he could only see the light above, and hear the indifferent voice of the System.
What happened after was beyond his remembrance.
How he survived as a child was always a mystery to him. And now that he had lost his memory, he knew it was pointless to think of it.
More importantly…where am I?
Noel stood in vast darkness. The horizon stretched into obscure infinity, blanketed by what seemed darker than black. Wherever he looked, he could only behold himself….
…and then, suddenly, anything he thought of.
He thought of a pen, and a pen appeared to him. A house, and one appeared to him. He even thought of an island, and one appeared to him.
Noel relaxed his shoulders. He knew where he was.
He could now see anything he decided to see, as if he were creating them himself. As long as it had a form, it was. If he was unclear about what he thought of, he would see nothing but scribbles, with few traits of the said thing scattered over its form.
Everything was birthed from his memories, as well as his imagination.
How and when did I get here?
His last memory was of him sitting on the bed, bowing his head and trying to figure out where Gregory Watkins's soul might have vacated to. However, the mere thought of his name seemed to have drawn him into this...abyss.
Noel heard a slight giggle. And then a voice.
"You were always here."
Noel shot his gaze forward, peering into the darkness that lay before him. Amidst the endless span of black, stood a thing.
It looked like a scribble of lines blended together to stand out on a black page. However, those lines shook, collapsing and assembling themselves into what seemed like a figure. The thing which seemed alive, took on a humanoid shape. One which was oddly similar to his.
It was a shadow. It moved.
What are you?
The hoarse, cold voice sounded again.
"Your mind is very dark, you know?"
Is that…my voice?
For a moment, his words hung in empty space. Then when Noel began doubting whether he was heard or not, it spoke.
"Yes it is," it replied, answering his thoughts.
Noel sighed.
Is it you? Gregory?
"Ah"
Once again, the void went silent, and then completely still. Till nothing was.
The darkness before him twisted, and flesh began to warp out of it. Poking through the fabrics of the void, a face formed. Then a torso. And then a complete body.
Gregory Watkins stood before him.
"Was my guise too obvious?"
Noel observed him.
The barren scalp, the saggy belly and his sorry-looking physique.
This was definitely him.
Noel glanced back at himself.
Well sculpted frame, superb muscles and the soothing familiarity of the weight he felt down there.
Yes, this was definitely his original self.
But this wasn't reality. It was just his mind. And his form was simply birthed from memory. If he decided, he could see his body contort, and become whatever he pictured of himself.
Completely ignoring the person before him, Noel wished to remain this way for the rest of his life. After all, it felt more like..'Noel'.
Isn't there a way to get my body back?
Noel tried clapping his hands together, but his palms just went through his forearms, highlighting his frame in a ghost-like transparent hue.
A message appeared.
[Physical sense of touch is impossible in the mental plane—except through memory]
That's so helpful.
"Err..what's that thing by the way?" Gregory suddenly asked, pointing at the message before Noel. The mysterious aura that once surrounded him was now nowhere to be found.
Noel gazed at Gregory. He stood there, staring back with an expression he couldn't comprehend. Actually, his folded face made it quite difficult for anyone to read his countenance.
So that's how I looked? Dang!
Noel's brows furrowed, and his gaze became stern.
"Who do you think should be asking questions?" he inquired.
Gregory paused, putting on a thoughtful gesture. "Well, considering I asked first—!"
"Shut it."
He kept shut.
Noel ran his hands through his hair. He had several things he wanted to ask. But because there were so many, he felt overwhelmed as to where to begin.
Words, which were his thoughts, began inscribing themselves onto the void, littering the space around him. As this was his mind, every one of his imaginings appeared visible to the naked eye.
That seemed to be the case for both of them.
"First of all, you have no idea how pissed I am to see you," Noel said "And this is not a matter of fatshaming."
Gregory shifted backwards a little. However, Noel continued.
"First, you invade my mind, and now you stare at me like a lost fool?"
Gregory retreated even more.
"One more step and I swear I'll end you. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
Gregory stopped and sighed.
Only when they both stood silent, did Noel realise that he had been speaking in his original voice for a while.
"You've got a lot on your mind, don't you?"
Noel couldn't tell if that was some half-assed joke, because they were quite both literally in his mind. But he wasn't imagining Gregory.
He was just there. Somehow.
"Well…." Gregory retorted, "You also did kinda steal my body."
What should I say? Thanks?
"Well, that's a start." he answered, reading from his thoughts.
Noel didn't feel very comfortable. The mind was the private bosom of every man. And there was this old bag of flesh in his.
"I want to know. Why on earth would you sign a contract?" he asked, slightly irritated.
Gregory paused, imitating him by running his fingers over his vacant head. "Well…I didn't think you would know that much." he answered.
What?
There was this goofy vibe Noel kept getting from him. As if nothing really mattered in his 'so ancient' eyes.
Gregory sighed again, scratching his scalp even faster. Then, through the slits that were his eyes, he shot a very distinct look at Noel. It was the classic 'don't-get-mad-but-I-just-made-your-life-worse' look.
He began stuttering.
"You see…" his eyes wandered away. "When you say 'about to'" he replied, "there's actually more to it."
Noel shut his eyes. His fears were right. Gregory had done something foolish and he wasn't able to say it.
Noel thought of a sword, and a sword appeared in his hand. His irritation had slowly begun turning to anger.
"You will now say everything I need you to." He roared. "I will not accept lies, or any form of withholding.'' His voice echoed far and wide.
"Is that clear?!"
Gregory seemed terrified.
"F-fine, but you know you can't actually kill me though."
Noel drew closer. "How about we find out?"
"P-pause. Time out!" He scampered further backwards, waving his hands in defeat. "I'll answer all your questions."
Noel retracted his sword. This was a great platform for solving all the unknowns that weighed on his mind.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Hi, I'm Gregory Watkins. Nice to meet you."
"I see you want to die."
Gregory's face moved in a way that seemed like a wry smile. Then suddenly, he looked serious.
"I'm an apostle of 'Watcher of Ages'. Or rather, I used to be one."
Hmm?
"But your status says you are still one" Noel questioned, clearly puzzled about the matter. "And why would you even sell your soul to a god?"
"I'm kinda working overtime." He answered. A chair materialised in the empty space behind him, and the moment Gregory sat, the scenery changed.
They both appeared in a bedroom. Gregory's bedroom.
Huh?
They weren't in an actual one as it was simply a projection of Gregory's thoughts in Noel's mind. Seeing as he could do that, Noel felt his sense of privacy dim and he hated that feeling.
What's up with this roach?
"I'm not a roach," Gregory remarked. "Just one lucky b*stard."
He stretched his legs, relaxing his bulky frame on the chair. "You sorta saved my life, Noel."
Gregory glanced at his super-king-sized bed. But the moment he did, Noel was flashed with a sight that made him want to peel off his eyes.
Six women?
"Ah sorry. Intrusive memories." Gregory apologised, quickly looking away from the catalyst of misfortune.
Looking at the bed had caused him to remember certain activity on that bed, and as this was the mental plane, his thoughts were laid bare before both of them.
Frame by frame. In 16k resolution.
I now hate myself for saving filth like you.
"Hey! That's not nice." Gregory retorted, looking at him in disbelief. Noel, who had forgotten that he could read his mind, gritted his teeth in annoyance.
Yet another thing that made him uncomfortable.
He tightened his grip on the sword. "How did I save you, and how are you in my mind?"
"Safe to say you came at the right time. If not for you, I'll be dead." Gregory responded, with a slight tinge of gratitude in his voice.
Noel didn't give the slightest f*ck.
"I almost got devoured, till you came along and saved my ass."
"I saved you?"
What was this guy on about?
"Well it's sorta hard to explain."
Suddenly, Gregory stood up and walked towards the window, causing the curtains to part in one accord. Outside the window, there was no sky, neither sunny nor cloudy.
There were nothing but lines. Scribbles in seemingly tangible darkness that moved.
They zig-zagged in discordant patterns, like the drawings of a demented child but brought to life.
Gregory glanced back at me.
"How about I show you?"