The Final Desperation

Limbo is a place with many meanings. Some see it as a transition between heaven and hell, a place of indecision. Some see it as the boundary between life and death, where lost souls wander before their fate is decided. In either case, they are in a state of unknown, awaiting a conclusion.

But to Genji, limbo had a different meaning. It was a place worse than hell, a place that tormented the mind. There was nothing in limbo. It was as empty as it could get. There was no stimulation for his senses or a purpose. Only pure darkness stretched further than the eye could see if you could even call it seeing.

There was no sound, forming a realm of pure silence. No smell, no taste, no touch either. None of them. All there was to limbo was a feeling of emptiness and a lost sense of time. It was a dull place, but that was why it was worse than hell.

At least in hell, the sinners would be subjected to untold amounts of pain, a suffering that reminded them of their sins, of who they once were. Yet in limbo, there was none of that, leaving only the emptiness to drive the victim insane.

All senses of self were stripped from the victim, leaving them an eternity to think. To ponder their lives and forget it. Who were they again? What had they done to be here? And where even is this place?

Memories fade in this void, and their owners question their existence. Why were they here? Then they accept this void as their world and all there was to life. They completely forget what life was like before this and fully embrace the identity of a limbo dweller. At that point, they would leave their former lives behind and embrace their new reality.

That was what constituted a limbo.

Genji was in this limbo.

He didn't know how he got here but understood why. He was being punished for his atrocities. Whatever higher power decided his sentence had considered even hell as too easy and sent him here to go insane slowly.

And in a way, they were correct. Genji could easily bear the pain of untold tortures with ease, but limbo unnerved him. Just the thought of everything terrified some corner of his being.

Would he still understand all of this? Would he remember the reason for this punishment, or would his future self go insane? How long would it take anyway? A week? A month? A year? A decade? A century? A millennium? Or longer than that? Does time even matter?

All these thoughts passed through his mind and added to his anxiety, worsening the situation. A downward spiral of insanity started, and his mentality rapidly collapsed, letting the dread of future insanity seep into his being. Then all doubts disappeared, and he unleashed a peal of maniacal laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Why does any of that matter? Stupid me. I'm thinking like I'm not already insane. Wake up, Genji. Your sanity died a long time ago when you joined EverRealm. That's why you keep doing these crazy things."

Once he determined this, his mind instantly relaxed and returned to tranquility. Since he dared to kill, then he should be prepared for defeat. He wasn't invincible, and he wouldn't deny that. At best, he was a strong fighter who knew how to minimize his risks. At worst, he was a lucky fool who survived by the skin of his teeth.

There were many instances of him flirting with death, but he didn't regret them. Since his revenge, Genji lived without regrets, treating every day like a new beginning. It was a refreshing view, and nothing could deny that.

Honestly, those dances with death were the most exciting moments of his life. They filled his body with adrenaline and flooded his brain with dopamine, luring him like an addiction. Genji knew this fascination would one day be his undoing, but he looked forward to each encounter.

Why did it matter if these dangers came to him or if he went to them? The outcomes never changed and each process was unique. It was this intermingling of capabilities that captured his passion and became the measurement of his strength. If he died, then he was just not good enough. Why blame others for that?

His mind was clear and held no resentment for his situation. All that was left was to engrave this mentality into his soul and endure the passing of time. Genji was adamant about this and wanted to embrace the consequences of defeat.

He wanted to remain himself until the end, persistent until either his existence collapsed or time itself came to an end. Whichever came first, he'd accept, but he refused to go insane. He didn't want to give his punishers the satisfaction of seeing him break down, even if he had to forget everything.

They could forget about him, ignore him, or ridicule him, but he would still be himself. Genji was determined to become the cockroach of the afterlife, and nothing could shake that resolve. If they wanted to see him break, they had to do it themselves or have untold levels of patience.

Either way, Genji didn't mind. Now, all he had was time, and a game of patience with an imaginary foe would greatly entertain him.

"I guess I am insane. I'm even creating imaginary people to distract myself now. Oh well. That's what happens when I'm alone. It's a shame I can't hear my enemies' curses, or this would be a lot more fun. Patience gets boring after a while."

And so, time passed. Genji didn't know how long it had been but he enjoyed himself with numerous thoughts. At first, he reviewed his battles, learning from many overlooked experiences. After finishing that, he analyzed everything from an outsider's perspective, seeking any improvement.

Once he ran out of battles, he switched to theories, experimenting with countless new techniques. Many of them were quirky and niche, but he fully explored them nonetheless, using them to fill his repertoire of knowledge. Building off that, he theorized countless move sets that were possible but less practical.

Like when would he need to stab someone in the neck but not kill them? None, but the thought greatly entertained him and opened new doors for precision training. It was a pointless exercise, but Genji enjoyed the process of exploring these possibilities.

It was one of his favorite pastimes after all. He just never had this much time to fully immerse himself before now. Of course, all this was in his head since his body was gone, and he couldn't test them. Otherwise, limbo would be too easy to endure.

A while later, he finished that as well and moved on to pushing each technique to its limits, seeing how far his experience could perfect everything. This process took longer than the ones before, but he eventually reached the end as well.

Then he deconstructed everything, returning to the basics and redefining his understanding of martial arts. After pushing this understanding to its limits, he did it again, this time slower and more thoroughly. Then again. And again. Genji repeated this an unknown number of times until nothing he conceived was new anymore.

Subsequently, he incorporated other weapons and started this entire process over. It was easier this time, but Genji forced himself to define everything carefully, opting to waste as much time as possible. To his surprise, this made the refinement more efficient, so he used the excess time to merge the two systems.

Deconstruct, reconstruct, merge, repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. REPEAT!

Eventually, Genji ran out of concepts to deconstruct and was forced to move to a different topic. Martial arts could no longer distract him from limbo, and he needed something else. Something like other hobbies. Hobbies... What hobbies?

Did he ever have a hobby? Or a life before this? What was his life like? Did he have any friends? What about loved ones? It had been so long that he had forgotten everything. If he had to guess, maybe? Isn't that what everyone had?

But if he had to identify a specific detail, then he would be at a loss. Now, only an obsession and faint memories remained. There was nothing else to tell him who he was. Even his name had been forgotten.

Left with no choice, he started the martial arts deconstruction again. This time, he forced himself to forget everything and truly start from scratch. Many lines of thought repeated themselves and edged into his understanding, becoming a permanent brand. Another repetition. And another. Repeat. Start over. Forget. Redo.

At long last, his understanding reached a point where everything became second nature to him. He didn't need to think anymore, just instincts and understanding. If he needed the knowledge, he could repeat this process and remaster them. It was not like the process was hard after all that practice. And so, he forgot everything.

Next, his mind wandered to questions of philosophy and trivia, but they soon escaped his interest. Although he didn't remember himself, he knew he was never the type to consider those topics. If he was, he would never have persisted for so long in theorizing about martial arts to maintain his sense of self.

However, with that gone, he had nothing to anchor himself anymore. His mind continued to wander, and the most random thoughts came to him. What did limbo taste like? Did it even have a taste? Is there anything that could eat it? If so, what would such a being look like? Could he even perceive it if it existed? What even is limbo anymore? Is it just another word to him?

And why does he associate it with darkness? What is darkness, and why was he so attached to it? Was it even darkness that he's attached to or was it something else?

These thoughts caused his mind to deviate further, becoming a loose pile of sand. His sense of self chipped away, and he lost track of his origin. He couldn't even recall why he was so persistent in maintaining his mind anymore. His beliefs faltered until all that remained was a muddled consciousness.

Thoughts slowed down, and he found himself staring off into the void at random times. He didn't know how long each session was, and he had no way of finding out. Everything was the same for as long as he could remember, leaving nothing to distinguish the changes.

He was slowly becoming one with the emptiness, losing the last of sentience in a frightening process. But for some reason, he preserved his calmness and remained indifferent to everything. It was a peculiar trait, but he didn't care anymore.

His cognition was reaching its end and had merged with limbo. Limbo had no emotions or thoughts, just existence. It didn't need to think or worry. No questions, no desires, no pain, no reality. Just existence. Existence. Existence. Existence.

What is existence? What is limbo? Doesn't matter.

His mind had entered a permanent slumber, neglecting everything for eternity. That was all he wanted after being worn down so much, but his recluse was eventually disturbed by a foreign wave of emotions.

It was a long-lost feeling, one that he couldn't name, but it stuck like thunder, unexpected and swift. At first, he ignored it, but it persisted and grew in intensity. He tried his best to return to nothingness, but it clung to him like an unwanted bandaid.

"Go away. I just want to sleep."

For the first time in forever, he spoke, surprising himself with his energetic voice. Had he always been able to speak? Or sound like that? Why does he not remember?

But in contrast to his wishes, the feeling grew exponentially at his acknowledgment, filling him with an unpleasant emotion. It was strange, but something told him to act on it.

"Act on what? What am I supposed to do?"

No response, but another increment in the feeling. He hated this feeling of being on the edge and clueless about the unknown expectations it demanded. It felt heavy and disgusting, like an unwanted burden. A burden that was forced upon him, one that told him to move, but not how. He hated the way it screamed at him, blaring its ugliness in all its whole.

"ANSWER ME!"

He hated how his mind had to endure this torture for eternity, with no way out. He hated it. HATED IT! HATED IT!

Hated it? Hate? Why does he hate it again? Hadn't it always been like that? So why does he detest this normalcy so much?

"Must be one of those whims again."

He dismissed the feeling as one of his oddities and prepared to sleep again. He couldn't understand why he was so bothered by this feeling, but he had achieved peace of mind. Now, he just wanted to return to limbo and enjoy his slumber.

However, before his consciousness could fade again, another sensation disrupted him. This time, it wasn't a mental shift but a physical sensation. For the first time in forever, he felt something—the sense of touch, one so foreign.

For some reason, it felt familiar, despite having no recollection of encountering something so peculiar. He was certain that he would never have forgotten this unique sensation, yet there was a sense of deja vu?

And it felt painful? Like a maelstrom had formed in his chest? What was pain again? How did he know this sensation was pain? Is that energy he feels? Why does it feel so dark? Weren't energy bright and hot? Why is it so cold and sinister? But how did he know all these things?

Curiosity and doubts formed, sweeping across his mind like a storm. Questions were asked, and conjectures were made. Attention was given, and random thoughts resurfaced from the depths of his subconscious. Clarity returned, and his mind processed countless ideas at once. He had never felt so clear-headed, and he wanted to know.

So he gave in. The void faded, blinding him with a flash of light. It was then that he realized the name of the foreign emotion that had bothered him for so long. It was urgency, one formed from crisis and danger.

 

---

 

*Crack*

An ear-jarring sound drew Ezekiel's attention as a large vortex formed around the body. It was a volatile vortex that devoured the ritual energy and spun destructively.

The energy was greedily pulled in before a harsh grinding sound came from the center, obliterating everything. But within this destruction, there was a sense of barbaric beauty. It was an astonishing scene, one that Ezekiel had never witnessed, astonishing him like the first time someone admired the blossoming of fireworks.

However, if any of the 5 recently diseased generals were here, they would instantly recognize this vortex. After all, this was the last scene they saw before they died. This was Shadow Devour, but instead of targeting an enemy, it was directed at its user. More specifically, the target inside its user.

*GAAAAAAHHHHH*

A shriek of pain reverberated in the mind, echoing agony and jolting the body's owner awake. The next moment, the cry waned, and a soothing energy nourished his mind.

[Your Shadow Core has been destroyed.]

[You have destroyed a demon's spirit. Possession has ended.]

[You have killed 1 Demon General.]

[You have obtained: 1 epic ranked item.]

Shadow Core? Possession? What's that? Who am I? Where am I? Everything about his situation baffled him, and his throbbing headache didn't help either. And why can't he remember anything? Why is his memory like a haze, discernable but unpiercable? Did he forget something? If so, what?

Suddenly, a rush of memories hit him, reminding him of who he was. EverRealm, Barren Wasteland, Sphinx, Demons, relentless chase, battle, last stand. Everything up to his defeat came back to him, and he understood his identity. He was Genji, Nightmare of EverRealm and killer of innumerable.

'I see. They wanted to possess me. No wonder they chased me so much. But what's my importance to them? Or better yet, why were they so determined to possess a body?'

Genji shelved those thoughts and examined his body. To his surprise, all his injuries were gone, but the same couldn't be said for his energy. Unlike before, his body had no trace of it, having exhausted everything before his awakening. On further inspection, he detected traces of Shadow Devour that scarred his muscles.

It was a deep scarring, one that should have killed him multiple times over, but he miraculously survived. This should have been impossible if Shadow Devour attacked him, so it could only mean he wasn't the target but collateral damage. Pairing this information with the prompts and dying scream, he made a simple timeline of events.

After his defeat, the demons must have attempted to possess him. But during this process, his body instinctively activated his forbidden technique, deploying Shadow Devour to repel the invader.

Of course, Shadow Devour was beyond his abilities, so his Shadow Core was destroyed to initiate this. It was a heavy cost, but Genji couldn't complain. He was alive because of this, and he could recover. But first, he had to survive.

'Did it fail?' Ezekiel wondered as Genji adjusted to his body by clenching his fist and twisting his torso. 'No, that should be impossible. I even used the Mental Breakdown Combination on the way back. But why is he acting so weird?'

The Mental Breakdown Combination was the synthesis of a drug and a spell discovered by Ezekiel a while back. It was exactly like the name stated—it broke the minds of the target. Ezekiel didn't understand the exact details, but it didn't change the result.

The test subjects who experienced a controlled dose were never the same since. The most obvious change was the subconscious fear of the dark, a problem demons never had. After all, their world was covered in red skies, and their dwellings contained no light.

How could they fear darkness when it was something they were used to? Yet when Ezekiel confronted them about it, they looked at him like he was crazy.

"What fear? I'm perfectly fine in the dark."

The demons might say that, but Ezekiel was convinced otherwise. How could he miss such obvious shivering and cold sweat every time these subjects entered his dimly lit tent?

So he asked what they had experienced while under the drug's influence. The answer? They didn't remember. To them, they had only fallen unconscious for some time before awakening.

However, this response raised more questions than answers. There was no way it was that simple, or they wouldn't fear the dark so much. So that left two explanations for it. They either experienced something so dreadful that their mind suppressed the memory, or the drug had amnestic properties. Maybe both, even.

After further testing, he concluded that it was neither, but that the brain couldn't physically store the memory. Whatever they had experienced, it was far more informative than the brain could handle. So much that their brain would run out of memory space if they tried. That was why it forgot everything and remained blissfully ignorant.

After all, the contents of the experience weren't pleasant either. Many subjects had thrashed around significantly during their slumber, their faces distorting with terror and oozing panic. If pushed further, they would break down and become vegetative, alive but without a mind. He lost many capable shamans testing this.

Then he discovered the synergy between this drug and a spell that warped the target's perception of time. It was a lethal combination that exponentially increased the potency of the drug.

Within 10 minutes of administration, the target would break down and become a husk of their former selves. The longest someone lasted was 12 minutes and 14 seconds, a fraction of what the human experienced.

After all, it had been half a day since they returned, and he hadn't stopped channeling the spell since. It should be impossible for him to resist the possession and even if he did, the general should have easily overpowered him.

But then he recalled the human's tenacious willpower and the unexpected burst of energy. It was unlikely, but it was better to be safe.

"Nimbus, did it succeed?" Ezekiel asked as Genji finished his stretches. Hearing his question, the generals gave Ezekiel strange looks, but he gestured to them to remain silent.

"Yes. I'm just getting used to this body," Genji replied and approached the pile of equipment. Then he clumsily equipped the blood-soaked items, fumbling around with feigned unfamiliarity. During this process, he inspected the demon who gave him so much trouble.

 

[Demon Shaman, Ezekiel]

Health: 15,600/15,600

Dark Mana: 467/1440

Con: 36

Str: 32

Dex: 25

Int: 38

Spc: 34

Skills:

- Boss (Passive): +12,000 Health

- Mystic Arts (Grandmaster)

- Blessed (Passive): Convert energy to Dark Mana at 2x multiplier

- Vitality Manipulation (Passive): Consume Dark Mana to control vitality to your will. The cost varies depending on the resistance of the target, the amount mobilized, and the distance between. Due to your inherent race, you can control the vitality of demons weaker than you at a reduced cost.

- Anchor of the World (Passive): As half a child of fate, your body contains a large portion of the world's essence. It's not enough to grant you heaven-defying luck, but your talent is above the rest.

No further skills can be read.

 

Genji was out of energy, so he had to rely on the provided skill rather than [Eye of Horus's] scanning. But even if he could, he wouldn't since it would break character. According to his speculation, he could avoid combat if he assumed the demon's identity. All he needed to do was act and he would survive.

"Are you sure? You're acting weird."

"It's just the body. Give me some time and I'll return to normal."

"Is that so?" Ezekiel asked with a small smile before slamming his staff on the ground

Suddenly, a sense of danger assaulted Genji and forced him to dive aside, barely avoiding the energy spikes that shot up from the ground. Genji rolled onto his feet and glared at the shaman, seething with rage.

"What's the meaning of this, Ezekiel? Are you trying to kill me after we finally succeeded?"

Yet instead of defending himself, Ezekiel chuckled with amusement. "Drop the act, human. I know the possession failed. And this is not a bluff. Your gig is up."

In response, Genji drew his daggers, and his face stilled to calmness. "So what gave me away?"

"The demon that possessed you isn't called Nimbus, but Jeremiah. How could I not doubt you when you didn't correct me?"

"Haha so simple. You really are a pain in my ass. Fine, let's see how many I can drag down with me this time."

Then Genji got into a killing stance, confronting the wave of generals that lounged at him, claws blazing with green flames.