Lord Of The Lost

The world seemed to teeter on the edge of collapse. Whispers of a looming crisis filled the air, an unshakable sense of dread creeping into every corner of existence.

"The first Savior... will come soon," a voice had once said, echoing faintly in William's mind. "Heavenly Order... the end is near... only a few, chosen ones, will have the chance to rewrite fate... only the select... will see beyond the veil..."

These words floated through the remnants of his consciousness as William drifted into a black abyss, like a sinking stone swallowed by the depths of an endless ocean. The weight of the world pressed against him, suffocating, as if he had been lying in the dark depths for eons, forgotten. His body, heavy and lifeless, seemed to rot away, fused with the cold sea floor.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, his descent stopped. Slowly, inexplicably, he began to rise.

When William's eyes finally fluttered open, it wasn't to the tranquil starry sky or the rush of ocean waves as he'd imagined. No, instead, he found himself staring into the soft glow of bathroom lights; warm, white, sterile. For a moment, disorientation gripped him, his mind battling the strange reality before him. In the corner of his vision, a small notification blinked in the top right; a reminder that life had not paused in his absence.

His body felt foreign; limp, heavy, and unresponsive. It was as though even the smallest of movements required an impossible effort. He tried to move his fingers, but they refused to obey.

William squinted against the light, his eyes sluggishly adjusting to the scene before him. He lay in a porcelain bathtub, its gleaming white surface a stark contrast to the crimson liquid it held. Blood. His blood. It swirled and rippled with his faint movements, staining the water an unsettling bright red.

His arm dangled over the edge of the tub, and as his gaze followed the length of it, he saw the source of the blood, a deep, ragged wound across his wrist. The injury had begun to scar over, a brutal testament to a moment of despair that had passed.

The once-warm water was now cool against his skin, his body cold and clammy in response. William's head lolled slightly to the side as realization struck him with the force of a tidal wave. He had tried to kill himself.

"I was so scared... I tried to end it."

The thought settled in, heavy and chilling, but oddly, William felt a strange sense of calm. He sighed, a wry smile curling at his lips.

"Well, at least I didn't die."

The weight of relief washed over him. Somehow, he had survived. His soul had merged with the teenager he now inhabited, sharing not just a name but the same broken body. His left arm was ice cold, almost devoid of feeling, a direct result of losing so much blood. Weakness pulsed through him in waves, leaving him dizzy and unsteady.

For a brief, terrifying moment, William suspected he had gone into shock earlier. If he hadn't woken when he did, he might have drifted away for good. But now... now he had a second chance.

Summoning what little strength remained in his depleted body, William clawed his way out of the tub, his movements slow and deliberate, like some ancient, mythical creature emerging from the depths of the sea. Each muscle groaned in protest, his bones feeling as though they could shatter under his own weight. Yet, he managed to haul himself up, leaning heavily against the cold, tiled wall for support.

His legs wobbled dangerously beneath him, and his vision swam, but he remained upright. He stole a glance back at the bathtub, now filled with a disturbing amount of blood, enough to make anyone's stomach churn. He couldn't help but smirk at the grim scene.

"Must've lost at least 30% of my blood," he muttered, more amused than horrified. Instead of fear, an odd sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside him. "Hah! Still alive. Guess I made it after all."

Staggering over to the mirror, William took in his own reflection. A face stared back at him; pale, almost ghostly, with sharp, slightly sinister features that hinted at a dark past. His hair was damp and clung to his forehead, and his eyes, though slightly sunken, still held a spark of defiance.

He was young, too young to be staring death in the face so soon. And yet, here he was, bruised but breathing. A dry chuckle escaped his lips, a laugh born from the sheer absurdity of his situation.

"I'm not dead... I actually made it."

The adrenaline of his near-death experience pulsed faintly beneath his skin, though his body was far too weak to indulge in any real emotion. He had danced at the gates of death, and now he stood on the precipice of life, torn between exhaustion and exhilaration.

William forced himself to move, his body protesting with every step as he shuffled out of the bathroom. The apartment was quiet, and the dim lighting of the living room felt soothing compared to the harsh brightness he had left behind. His stomach growled, reminding him that survival required more than just sheer willpower.

He found the milk in the fridge, pouring it clumsily into a bowl before sticking it in the microwave. As the quiet hum of the appliance filled the room, William leaned against the counter, still feeling the weight of his recent ordeal. But beneath the weariness, a faint flicker of hope had reignited.

William sipped the warm milk slowly, letting the heat spread through his chest like the gentle flicker of new life. The warmth crept into his belly, chasing away the lingering cold, as if reviving a body that had forgotten what it meant to truly live.

Nestled comfortably on the worn sofa, he took another small sip, savoring the taste and the comforting sensation that came with it. His eyes fluttered shut as a sigh of relief escaped his lips. For the first time in a long while, he felt... alive.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. "How could I have been so stupid?" he murmured, his voice low, tinged with a hint of self-mockery. "All because my parents died in that car accident, and I became an orphan. Just because I got bullied at school and my secret crush never even knew I existed? Because I don't have a single real friend?"

He paused, eyes drifting to the ceiling as if searching for answers in the cracks. "Is all of that really worth dying over?"

A part of him whispered that maybe it was. Maybe the pain had been too much to bear, all those little tragedies piling up one after another until they felt like an unbearable weight.

But another part of him, the part that had survived, the part that had chosen to wake up; was louder now. "But then again... if I wasn't even afraid of death, what else is there to fear?"

He sighed again, settling deeper into the sofa cushions, as though the weight of his thoughts might press him into the fabric. "Sure, it was bad. Losing my parents, being bullied, never having the courage to confess my feelings. Yeah, that all sucked. But in a few years, when I look back on this, I'll probably laugh at how small it all seems. Life is full of setbacks, right? This is just a bad chapter, not the whole book."

It felt as if he was trying to convince himself, yet his words rang truer than he expected. His life had been a series of unfortunate events, but none of them were the end of the world. Not anymore.

"Losing my parents... well, that's just part of growing up, isn't it?" William mused, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the mug. "They're gone, and I'll miss them forever, but I'm still here. I've got to live my life. What good would it do to follow them? My dad would probably beat me with a belt in the afterlife for giving up so easily. Better to honor them by living."

He chuckled at the thought. As painful as it was to lose them, he could imagine his father's ghost, scolding him for being so foolish. "No, it's better to pay my homage to them by staying alive."

As for the bullying? "What am I so scared of? I wasn't afraid to die, so why should I be afraid of a bunch of school bullies? If they try anything again, maybe I'll give them a reason to be scared. Worst-case scenario, I'd take three of them down with me," he joked darkly. "Dying on my own was a waste. I should at least make it worth something."

He took another sip, feeling the heat spread through him, easing the tension in his body. And as for love? He laughed aloud this time, the sound bitter but honest. "What a joke! I didn't even confess to her, and I expected things to magically work out? Waiting around like some lovesick puppy, no wonder I got rejected. I should've been upfront, brave, and faced the consequences head-on. That's how life works. If I want something, I've got to go after it."

His mind wandered to the idea of friends, or rather, the lack of them. He shrugged, the sting of loneliness no longer as sharp as it had been. "So what if I don't have friends? What good is it to cling to something that doesn't exist? Maybe I'm meant to be alone. A lonely soul doesn't need ties holding it down."

There was something liberating in the thought. The hurdles in life, as high and daunting as they seemed, were nothing compared to the raw fear of facing death. Now that he had crossed that line, what could possibly stop him?

In truth, William had little to be unhappy about anymore. He was alive. And even though his current existence wasn't perfect, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He had lived a life much worse than this in his previous incarnation. How had he died back then? He could barely remember.

He snorted, recalling some fortune teller he had met on the streets in his last life. They had promised him a future of wealth and power, even grandly predicting that he would wear a "yellow robe" someday, living in luxury, surrounded by riches. "Yeah, right," William muttered, rolling his eyes at the memory. "I barely scraped by, working in a factory, selling door-to-door, handing out flyers. I worked so hard, I hardly slept, and then one night... I just didn't wake up. How ridiculous is that?"

Yet here he was, alive again, in a new life. A fresh start. "I should be grateful," he said softly to himself, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "This life... it's a second chance. Same name, same face, maybe this is some kind of parallel world. Maybe I'm meant to do something different this time."

He laughed again, a bit louder this time. "Everyone else is probably out there living their lives, and here I am, dying in a bathtub! What a waste!" He shook his head, but the humor in his voice softened. "I won't let this second life slip away so easily. Not again."

Sure, the William of this world might've been timid, too afraid to even speak up when someone cut in line. But that William was gone now. He had taken over, and he wasn't about to let fear dictate his choices anymore. Dying alone, unnoticed, in some cold bathroom was no longer an option.

This whole situation is going to be the most embarrassing chapter of my life! Pure black history! The kind of thing that, in a few years, will make me cringe so hard I'll wish I could disappear!

William sighed, staring into his nearly empty cup of milk. "It's better to just cut ties with my past," he muttered to himself, half-convincing. "That wasn't me before. All those stupid things I did, all those mistakes... That's a different person. I'm starting over now, from scratch!"

It was a strange feeling, this merging of two souls, two lives. His memories, his sense of self, now fused with the mind of the boy whose body he now inhabited. But one thing was certain—life was precious. If anything, his brush with death had taught him that much. Love, freedom; sure, those things mattered too, but they could only come if you had a life to live first. Without life, the rest was meaningless.

He took another small sip of milk, the warmth soothing his nerves, calming his thoughts. At least he was starting to feel better now. His strength was slowly returning, but the nagging reality remained; he really should go to the hospital. No telling what kind of long-term damage a suicide attempt like that could leave behind. He didn't need to add "permanent injury" to his already complicated life.

But then there was that pesky notification in the upper right corner of his vision. Flashing. Again.

"Ugh, what is that?" William groaned, feeling a surge of irritation bubble up. He had a bit of a thing for clearing notifications. Didn't matter if it was a spam email or some useless app update; if there was a red dot in his inbox or a notification badge on his phone, he had to click it. Otherwise, it gnawed at him, like a splinter under his skin.

And this? Whatever it was, it wasn't going away.

"What on earth is this?" He squinted at the flashing message, the words practically burned into his retina, even with his eyes closed.

"[The original world has been destroyed. You have come to this world and received an invitation for internal testing. Players are asked to prepare to enter the game in five minutes.]"

Five minutes? William's eyes widened as he re-read the line. What on earth did that mean?

"Internal beta? Invitation? What kind of game are we talking about here?" His heart raced as confusion flooded his mind. His hands felt clammy as he clenched his fists. He was barely conscious, exhausted from a failed suicide attempt, and now this? Now he had to deal with some cryptic message about a destroyed world and a game?

"It's the middle of the night!" William groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His body was still weak, begging for rest, but his mind was now spinning too fast to relax. Sleep was out of the question.

"Maybe if I just keep looking at it," he mumbled, "I can make some sense out of this. There has to be a logical explanation... right?"

He stared hard at the flashing prompt, as if the answers would magically appear from between the lines.

"Destroyed world? That... could explain things," he mused. "Maybe when I died in my sleep, it wasn't just my body that gave out. Maybe my whole world was wiped out too. But how? How does an entire world just get... erased?"

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Everything felt like a dream, like he'd been asleep for centuries and woken up in the wrong place. But one thing was clear, he hadn't just ended up here by chance. This wasn't some cosmic accident. No, it felt more deliberate, like someone or something; had chosen him.

A shiver ran down William's spine. Whatever this "game" was, it was no ordinary game. He wasn't getting ready to play some casual mobile RPG.

"Best case scenario? This is some kind of multi-dimensional simulation," William muttered darkly. "Worst case? It's something mystical... and that's way above my pay grade."

The notification continued to flash, as if taunting him. William sighed, rubbing his temples. His ability to accept the absurdity of reality was disturbingly strong at this point.

"Well, if I can't resist it, I might as well roll with it," he said with a resigned shrug. "Life's been kicking me around for a while now; what's a little more?"

"Once it comes, it will be safe," he said under his breath, echoing a familiar phrase. There was nothing he could do to stop this, so he might as well prepare for whatever was coming next.

Dragging his weak body from the sofa, William rummaged through his room, gathering a few essentials. He threw on better clothes, grabbed a travel bag, and stuffed it with whatever supplies he could think of. Food, water, warm clothes, just in case this "game" decided to drop him in the middle of nowhere, like some frozen wasteland or a desert where even the birds wouldn't go.

Before he knew it, the five minutes had passed, and the flashing countdown disappeared, replaced by another notification.

"[Sequence Game (Internal Beta Version) is officially launching]," it read.

"[You have been selected for "Magic Century"]."

"Magic Century? What the hell does that mean?" William muttered, eyes darting to the next line.

"[Guiding all internal beta players to the current node...]"

"Node?" His heart skipped a beat, panic creeping in. This was really happening.

"[We wish you a happy game!]"

And with that, the world around him began to blur.