Here I lie in a pool of my own blood—
Blood that gushes out from the gaping wound in my abdomen.
Am I going to die?
Is my life going to end here...? If so, why do I fear it?
I was never afraid of death before; in fact, I welcomed it. I've been waiting for my own demise. I've grown accustomed to the cold sensation of loss that governs us all.
So why now, on the verge of what I've waited so long for, why do I fear it?
Why am I begging for my own survival?
Is this the nature that befalls all life, a primordial fear of the end?
"I don't want to die...!"
I shouted, but no one was around to hear my plea.
I am left alone to suffer before my end finally reaches me.
Why...?
If this is how it ends, then why does it exist to begin with? Why is anyone alive?
And why do they have to die?
[Well... That is the question. Why does any life exist when in the end it fades away? Is it some twisted joke, a curse placed on existence, or something else? That is one question even I cannot answer: What is the meaning of life? And as it stands, that is a question you'll never get to answer, as you are now dead. But you welcome death; you view it as a comrade who's been at your side since you were born, or at least that is what you used to think. Now you are afraid, which all life should be, since fear is the cornerstone to survival. Interestingly, your fear burns the deepest; hence, it brings me to this question: what would you do to survive?]
I blinked, and I was no longer on the verge of my own death; I was in some kind of alternate space.
A void of darkness where it seemed light's concept did not exist.
I paused, tumbling back onto whatever it was I stood on.
The horror of my reality settling within me.
Is this fear... no, it is much worse than that.
"Who are you? Your voice sounds so familiar, yet I know not your name."
I said, hoping for an answer among all of this abnormality.
[Who am I...? You ask me that yet already know who I am. After all, I am a part of all things, the one who breathes concepts, thoughts, ideas, truths, and lies into existence. I am—]
"The Voice of all Existence, the one who spoke, 'Let there be light,' at the universe's beginning. I've heard tales about you speaking to the chosen and granting them wishes in return for a cost. But what do you want with me? I have nothing to offer, not even my own life."
I interrupted, standing to my feet.
[Like I've already asked, what would you do for life?]
I hesitated for a second, tilting my head towards whatever the equivalent of the sky was in this place.
What would I do for life?
I once believed that I had no fear of death, no will to survive, but now I feel this deep sensation inside of me dwelling together; it's unbearable.
Is this it... my will to survive?
It's powerful and unrelenting, yet there is nothing I would not do for it.
Where death was once my closest companion, it is now my greatest adversary.
And...
"To answer your question, what would I do to survive? Well, it's simple: there is nothing I wouldn't do, and there is nothing I wouldn't offer in return for my life!"
I said, my eyes iron-willed as I stared into the boundless expanse of nothingness.
[In that case, let's make a trade. In return for your ability to speak the truth, I shall revive you and grant you the power to see all of a person's veracities... So Enzo, do you accept this trade and all it entails? Are you willing to go this far for life?]
"I accept. My truths mean nothing to me; the truths of others, however, I can surely use to my advantage."
I answered without any signs of hesitation.
My will to live once equated to nothing, but now, after experiencing the helplessness of death firsthand, it stands unparalleled, replaced by a fear of my own extinction.
If I am to be given another chance at living—
Then I will never die again...
And I will become TrulyUnkillable!
[Your resolve is admirable... your will is strong... your future untold. This is what intrigues me about you: a future even I cannot speak of is something that brings me much joy. I am eager to witness where your journey may lead. I'll be watching young Enzo.]
The space around me began to crack, shattering away like broken glass and unveiling the world as I remembered it last.
A small village raided by the imperial empire, the buildings were all burned to the ground, men lay slaughtered in their makeshift warriors' armor, the lifeless corpses of children were spread about, and only the women who lacked appeal were left behind with decapitated heads.
Yet I stand alive, touched by death but not fully embraced, my body covered in my own dried blood, my clothing torn where a wound once was; however, I am unscathed.
In this grotesque scene of death, that'd make even the most solid stomachs throw up.
I am alive.
I feel the inflow of fresh oxygen filling my lungs, I hear the beautiful lullabies of chirping birds, and I can feel the gentle breeze of wind brushing over this horror scene.
Before I was deaf to it... blind to it... unaware of its presence, but now I know that this is what life feels like, what it sounds like; this is what's worth fighting for.
Slowly I walked through this demolished village, scanning the area for something of worth.
If I am willing to survive in this world with death lurking at every corner, I cannot do so empty-handed.
While I searched, I came across a man.
A man decorated in high-quality armor distinct from the artificial armor made of wood and hay worn by the other villagers.
I had recognized this man; after all, he was a celebrity within this village.
Protecting it from bandits many times.
Though no one knows why he came here or who he is.
But it is undeniable that he was a true warrior who has seen many battles, proven by the blade he carries, which is of a rare quality, an awakened artifact.
An artifact only known to those who have poured their soul into their weapon.
I walked over to the man.
Somehow he clung to his life despite the blood pouring from the many wounds that covered his body.
From this it was easy for me to see that his will to survive was strong.
Though not nearly as strong as my own, as he is now on the verge of death.
At the mercy of another.
"I've seen many wars, watched many families crumble, and have witnessed the destruction of many villages. But never have I ever seen resolve as thick as yours. Your will to survive leaks off of you. I can sense it with all of my senses. Come, boy," he said, gesturing his hand towards me.
I approached him slowly and with caution, stopping just before his fatigued form so that I was looking down on his pitiful state.
He glanced up, locking gazes with me.
And that's when it happened.
Memories... knowledge of his past becoming known to me.
In mere moments I learned more about him than he knew about himself.
Is this the power that the Voice of All Things spoke of?
The power to see a person's truths.
"You just did something. What?" He said, tightening his grip around the hilt of his blade, attempting to force himself to his feet. "Who are you, kid?"
Who am I...? That is a great question. Am I still merely the boy named Enzo who saw death as his closest companion, or am I someone else? No, I am someone different. I'm now the boy reborn, Enzo, the one who will transcend death.
"I am Leone."
I spoke, my words betraying my thoughts.
Strange...
Could this be the curse that was placed on me in return for this power and my life?
The inability to speak the truth, where I can't even offer my own name.
Though I wonder what this curse considers to be truth.
Not being able to speak the truth is a bit vague.
Will I struggle with basic speech and be forced to plot my way in and out of every conversation?
This may become more troublesome than I first thought, or perhaps it can be my greatest tool.
I smirked with a malicious grin.
Before kicking the man's face with enough force to knock him onto the ground, his grip loosened from around his blade.
"Why, I gave everything to protect this village. You are an inhabitant, aren't you? I could swear I've seen you around before."
The man said, trying to appeal to my emotions.
But unfortunately, my emotions died a long time ago.
I am now an empty shell devoid of all humanity.
My will is only for the bettering of myself and nothing else, and unfortunately for him, his blade is rare; it holds power that no other has, and I want it.
Maybe if this was me 16 years in the past, he would have a chance at living on, but this is not the past.
I reached out my hand and grabbed the blade from the ground's clutch.
Upon contact I felt a similar rush of knowledge as when I met the glare of this dying old man.
I viewed all the battles the blade has endured, the change of ownership throughout its lifetime, and the moment of its awakening.
"So this is an awakened artifact. I can feel its power; I can sense its life. This blade pulses like a heartbeat, pounding with vitality."
I remarked, inching closer to the man, my dark grin only growing.
I've never felt this rush of being alive before.
What have I been missing out on this whole time?
How can anyone not want to live when the body is so warm, the oxygen is so fresh, and the air has an aroma so sweet?
I can't believe I've been missing out for so long.
In one swift motion I stabbed the blade—a katana—into the man's chest.
His blood attached to the blade like it were being absorbed.
After a while the man's body shriveled up like a dried-up carcass.
The blade glowed with a bright red light, and viney tendrils extended from its hilt, leeching onto me.
I felt it... a connection between me and the katana being forged in blood.
Like the many who've wielded it before, but this time it was different; our connection was stronger.
Maybe because we both held similar goals: a blade that wishes to make its wielder unkillable and a mortal who wishes to become Truly Unkillable.
This is where the journey begins, then.