Classic, this. It's just like it is in the movies. Frost stepped up onto the gallows and felt the firmness of the well-used wood beneath his feet. The familiar warmth of the sun shined upon his face, impartial in a way that his captors were not. He didn't feel sorrow in this moment, only utter indifference. If his life had led to him hanging in this place, then so be it. He'd lived by his principles, and he'd stuck it to the people in charge until the moment he drew his final breath.
But Frost Direshard wasn't willing to die for his principles. No. That was how an idiot thought. The best way to defend your ideals was to live until the next day to fight for them. But how to escape in this situation, exactly? He was surrounded by guards, and this whole setup was on a cliffside with no apparent exit from where he was standing. That, and the other spectators that might get in his way.
That's right. He'd been ignoring them until now, but it seemed that Richmond had done Frost the courtesy of bringing every single slave in the damned place out to watch his neck get snapped. The ones that weren't a fan of him were yelling various profanities, while the ones that liked him remained silent. That was the difference between those with and without a good nature; knowing when to keep your mouth shut. Frost wasn't very good natured himself, then…
Frost's eyes fell on Forty-two. He had a lot of things he wanted to say to that man. Thank you for taking care of me, for instance. Frost owed him a lot in his stay here. If not for him, he probably wouldn't have eaten lunch on any of his long days. And now he'd have to lose another friend. The second one this month that died before his eyes. Frost was sorry for that, if nothing else. Hulk and Liz on the other hand, the other two with whom he was closest, didn't meet his eyes as he looked upon the rest of the crowd
"Sixty-three is to be executed for murder of another slave, and then attempted assassination of the master," one of the guards declared.
"Not bad, kid!" One of the dissenters called.
Richmond blushed and turned away.
"Let's get it over with," Frost said. "I've seen enough of this place for one lifetime."
The guard eyed Frost in a sorrowful kind of way. Frost was shocked by that. It confirmed his earlier realization. We're all slaves. This was a typical example of the fragility of humankind. Was there anything more reprehensible than coming from oppression and joining the oppressor? The glare Frost returned to the guard caused the man to look away.
It was the other man that put the rope around Frost's neck. He bounced playfully up and down, feeling the springiness of the boards beneath him that were designed to fall out when the lever was pulled. Death was closer than ever now, yet he was trapped by the neck and handcuffed. Frost was now placing his fate in the hands of the last people he wanted to. Dammit. You better be right about this.
[Checkpointer20: Awakening occurs with closeness to death.]
[Checkpointer20: Your awakening wasn't fully complete before.]
[Checkpointer20: Think of it as an egg that you didn't bang good enough.]
According to that mentality, I'm going to splat into goo after the next bang… But Frost didn't have anything else to rely on right now. The fact that he had ghosts talking to him like a livestream chat was strange enough that some part of him believed their words to be true. When exactly would this awakening occur, though? Would he get closer to death than he was now…?
Oh… Sweet Jesus. He needed to drop first, didn't he? Frost clenched his jaw and looked down at his feet. It would be a moment of terror before it happened. At that time, he'd either find salvation or he'd find an eternal void. Could he really awaken? What the hell was going on? It seemed like this world just had new confusing details all of the time. His head spun around like a top, the sounds of the background mixing with them like items thrown in a blender.
The guard finished his speech.
The crowd went silent.
Frost looked up one last time and realized that the vista of the mountainside was incredible. Ice loomed above, but below was a field of seemingly infinite green. The birds were singing and the animals of strange nature were jumping through the trees. A city loomed in the distance. This wasn't Earth. It was far too beautiful to be on Earth. Frost's eyes glistened with amazement seeing this. Indeed. It really is a beautiful day to die.
The guard pulled the lever.
Frost plunged toward the ground beneath the gallows. Time stretched infinitely in that moment as he approached his fate. His eyes were wide, the rope tightening around his neck gradually in the milliseconds that grew in length exponentially. He saw his whole life moving before his eyes, a theatre screen with himself as the only patron. This wasn't a movie worthy of popcorn, only of tissues and an unsatisfying ending.
But… I'm not ready to die!
That conviction saved the life of Frost Direshard. A bright flash occurred before his eyes. The world spun around and curled into nothingness, and yet his feet found ground in the darkness. It was as quick as a snap, and the world was reduced to nothing. This darkness was not the same as solitary. There, no light illuminated his surroundings. Here, there was nothing. Even so, Frost could see himself standing at the end of it all. He looked down on the infinitely empty universe and the knowledge of it was imparted upon him as it stroked his head with kindness like a cherished dog.
He breathed in, but his legs still gave out and he still clutched at his throat, breathless. There was an instant of powerlessness at the grandiose nature of it, but it was quickly replaced with a wave of power. He felt like a god that could destroy with the flick of his finger. Planets were his to play with like toys, a game of intergalactic basketball. It was a rush so euphoric that it inspired panic. A mortal, when instilled with so much power, could do nothing but lose control of themselves.
Frost had spent his whole life caring about money. He wanted to be rich and he wanted to be powerful. This was a different kind of power. It was a power he hadn't fathomed as a mortal. It was… Too much. No. Too much. It was terrifying. One being alone couldn't be trusted with this much, especially not himself.
This power was not his own. This was the power of the world. The power of everything. It belonged to everyone and yet no one. The power of eternity.
And an explosion rocked the fabric of reality in front of him. The darkness sprung to life with stars that spread as far as his eyes could see. The power faded from him and was given to all of them. A parent to his children. The explosion kept going until it threatened to encroach on where Frost was standing. He stood up, the invisible ground rippling beneath him. This is… The big bang? And the explosion hit him head on. He was sent flying.
His back hit a seat.
He looked around frantically, and shot out of the seat with panic. This location was simply too mundane compared to what had just occurred.
"A movie theatre?" He asked aloud.
"A metaphorical one," a voice responded.
Frost spun and found the figure standing right beside him. To call it a figure was perhaps an inept description. This individual was the embodiment of a shadow; a black spot in the air with the shape of a human and the voice of one, but no human features. He wore a simple fedora atop his head. Frost was immediately permeated with the sensation of knowledge, like standing before an old librarian.
"What the hell–" These were the only words that could pass his lips.
"You really kept me waiting, Direshard. Luckily the popcorn here is to die for." The being waited a moment. "Oh, sorry… That must be a touchy subject for you."
Frost couldn't even bring himself to give a worthy reaction after the last minute that seemed to last an eternity. He just sighed and then sat back down in his seat. His brain was fried like an egg, struggling to process reality and eventually giving up entirely. "What is it, man? You got some exposition for me or something?"
The being tilted its head. "A little bit of meta commentary, huh? I bet they'll find that entertaining."
"Huh?" Frost rubbed his forehead in agitation. His neck stung with phantom pains.
"See. Look at that. I can do it better than you," the being taunted. "You don't even know what you're referencing. I, on the other hand, can look straight at them and say…" He seemed to look off into the distance beyond even the stars in the sky. "I see you, and I hope you enjoy." His face moved in a way that made it look like he was winking at something though he possessed no eyeballs to do so.
"Speak English, man!" Frost banged on the side of his chair. "I– Are you here to kill me!? Get it done with!"
[Translation service active.]
"I don't speak any language a mortal being would understand, 'man'." The being flopped down playfully in the seat beside Frost. "And I'm not here to kill you. Quite the opposite."
"And who are you, exactly? God?"
The being seemed to smile. "You talk about exposition and such, and then say a line like that? Talk about cliche." He laughed, and then immediately stiffened up and took himself more seriously. "No. I'm not God. The word 'God' doesn't quantify me. You ought to bow before me, weakling."
Frost knew this being's name instinctually. He'd just had a taste of his power only a moment before. Infinite, bestowed upon everything. The breath of life and the breath of death. The rocks, the soil, the cosmic dust and the human marching along to his fate. There were bits of everything within him, and bits of him within everything. Frost opened his mouth to speak his name.
"Eternity."