It knew not what it was, but it felt something draining from a part of its existence before it became blank.

* * *

A muffled hum of discontent briefly pierced the unconscious mind of something asleep, something that didn't know what it was. Its world was pain, so it weakly resisted its awakening before falling back into its deep slumber.

* * *

He woke slightly more, his burning senses cooled by an icy touch. It felt nice, and he leaned into it, causing the pain to recede.

Another force pulled him backwards, into the agony. His broken mind prepared to lash out, but something growled within him, and his arms lost strength at the last moment, petting the strange creature gently.

His mind wanted to dive below the waves again, to let everything wash over him, but another part resisted.

Survival. He wanted to survive, and he didn't know if he could if he ever went to sleep again.

But he certainly couldn't stay awake. He was too strained already: a solution had to be found.

Unintentionally, this exact train of thought led him to the same resolution it had last time, and he felt his mind enter a pseudo-state of wakefulness where his body and soul lost touch. Everything became slightly grayed out, and the damage to him began to regenerate at a much faster pace…

Or at least it should have, if there was anything to heal.

The damage to him was extensive, too deep. He wasn't hurt, the majority of his soul was simply gone.

"No," something said, "Not gone. Severed, yet close by. Nothing can save you here. Reach out, everything is there."

In the half-state of healing, something twitched, His burning core tilted, feeling where its nearby fragments sat, and dove deeper than ever before.

The perfect representation of what it means to act, guided by his own willpower, felt out towards him. It sat below him or… no… it was him. He was what it meant to act, he expanded out to infinity, and the many sensations assaulted him- or should have, but there was nothing in his mind to attack.

The self expanded, twisting and writhing, until it felt what it needed, the pieces of something within and without. It ignored everything that wasn't it, and sought everything that was.

If he could look upon his soul right now, he would see a mass of tentacles reaching into itself, overlapping with impossibility until it grabbed at something across the sea of everything. He was the spitting image of Ouroboros, endlessly eating his own tail as he stretched himself thin to grab something further and closer than the eyes would imply.

The spell morphed, and Disconnect called out its new name- Eldritch Self.

At once, he felt his desired pieces drifting into their places. A series of horrific pops, breaks, and crunches filled the space as he thrashed wildly on the ground. When his trachea finally realigned, he did what he'd needed to since he arrived: he screamed in agony.

A wailing cry of pain and death, the understanding of what it meant to be undone, ripped through his throat. Frost grew along the space as a shrieking undertone caused the windows to shatter and wood to shrivel.

When his lungs ran low and his voice tapered off, he finally took the first breath in an eternity, gasping and heaving as he glanced around the space, eyes wild. He internalized nothing, not understanding so much as he simply assessed for threats, finding himself to be alone in the immediate vicinity.

At some point he realized he was standing, and a dawning recognition finally allowed him to see the space. His mind calmed, and he began to internalize what was happening and all the signals his body told him.

The main thing he felt was a pervasive weakness, his legs shaking to the point where he knew he couldn't stand for long. Luckily, there was a chair in front of him, which he gratefully collapsed in.

Next, he found what his eyes told him to be rather interesting- that he knew this place. He was in the principals office of his middle school, sitting in front of the empty desk where his old principal should've been.

'A memory?' he thought hesitantly.

A knock came from his left, and he would've jumped out of his skin if he could've. The remnant weakness of Disconnect- now Eldritch Self- kept him rooted though. If there was an enemy, the next few moments would be hard fought, as he was in no position to do battle.

In the open doorway was a skeleton beneath a black cloak, holding a scythe larger than himself. Its knuckle floated beside the door frame where it'd rapped against the wood.

"You're Grim," Dei said simply, and finally knew where he was.

The Plane of Death. He was dead.

"I am," Grim confirmed.

The space repaired itself with Grim's arrival, the shriveled wood creaking and flourishing as life was breathed into it once more. Fragments of the shattered window flew back into place, and several trinkets adorning the space put themselves together.

'I forgot that I'd done that… I've doubtless created another spell.'

As if reading his mind, Grim said "I'd recommend not using that spell again."

Startled, Dei asked "How come?"

"Without the System's assistance, spells lock into the soul using the memory as its anchor. When you use it, you will be brought back to the moment it was formed. Eldritch Self is a mutation of Disconnect, so it will be safer as the guards are already placed upon it. Hollow Cry? Your mind is repressing the memory of its formation, the moment it came to be. It will be torture to cast it again."

At Grim's mentioning, flashes came unabated. Dei's soul and body were tied, and when his soul exploded, his body had as well. When he was pulled into Death? His body came with him.

Moments before, he'd been little more than viscera lining the space, a series of red streaks coating the walls. It was a miracle he was alive.

The memory of his death and the time after caused a ringing to fill his ears and a headache to form. Leaning over to the side, he emptied his stomach on the floor.

Moments later, the mess disappeared, and he found Grim looking at him sympathetically as he started walking around the desk, slowly sitting in the principal's chair.

The engraved nametag on the desk switched from "Reginald Amidan" to "Grim," and the Reaper gave Dei a few more moments to calm down.

"I'm surprised you managed to collect yourself in time," Grim told him, "But I doubt you would've done it without my assistance if not for your little helper. Ashvorn connected just enough of you for you to finish the job, and pulled you from death when you almost gave in."

At Grim's mentioning, Dei panicked as he turned his sight inward, as the little System hadn't said anything yet. His heart skipped a beat when he found it still, but quickly realized it was alive, just in a hibernation of sorts.

"I apologize for scaring you, but everyone's death is personal to them, no outside help allowed. The moment the trial started, Ashvorn was not allowed to help any longer."

Dei relaxed slightly, but still asked "What would've happened if Ashvorn hadn't helped? You said you would've?"

"Yes, but it would have come at a cost. Everyone dies eventually, and the more you rely upon me, the closer you come to your final resting. If you'd leaned into death's grip, it would've put you back together, but you may have never gotten another rebirth. This is your second already, and each subsequent one becomes more difficult… and by no small margin. Ashvorn grabbed your will, your survival instinct, and Disconnect. Linking the three, it gave you the tools to save yourself."

"How did it survive without me?" he asked, knowing that it needed his Entropy to live.

Grim chuckled, "A portion of yourself is not truly your own any longer, this you surrendered when you created Ashvorn. Even in your death, it still held right to all the pieces needed to survive. It was still allowed to draw from Harmonic Sanctuary. As a matter of fact, if you'd perished fully? It would have inherited those spells in full, and been sent back to the land of the living, a fully independent being. That would've been its first rebirth into something else. Now? It won't have wasted its first chance."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Dei's heart thumped like a drum in his chest. Though it sounded like he was going to escape, he was only just starting to realize he was dead. Well and truly, no escape, no trick or survival.

His head sank into his hands as he fought back tears. "I'm dead?"

"Mm," Grim hummed a confirmation, saying nothing else. He knew Dei was aware it wasn't truly his time, but the knowledge of one's own death wasn't something to be easily disregarded.

A quiet breeze found its way to his side, and a bony hand rested on his shoulder, a comforting warmth emanating from it.

He felt himself center, and he laughed bitterly. "You know? Out of everything I've faced, I didn't expect the thing to finally kill me to be… myself. I should've, but it's just… I guess I've fought too many things outside the quarantine. I should've known something with my experience and a burning desire to win would've pulled one over on me. When I get back, there'll be many more things like that. I can't be as passive as I've been so far."

"Mm," Grim hummed again, and the warm feeling slowly faded as Dei found his bearings.

When he looked back up, Grim was already sitting in his chair once more, scythe resting on the wall behind him. Dei found no judgement in his gaze, only a paternal warmth, a desire to guide lost souls to a peaceful rest.

He cleared his throat and asked "What now?"

"Now? You have a few options. First is if you hate your existence, you can be wiped clean and enter the cycle of rebirth. Your identity will be put to sleep, and you will not feel the Void Beasts consuming you. The last time, you did this through a very… unconventional and… painful way. Though I could not step in, understand that I was watching, and I felt every bit of agony you did, as you'd essentially almost cremated yourself before you were actually dead.

"Your next choice is to pass on and join one of the Gods in the afterlife which lay claim to your soul. This can be the Champion of Earth or Aloran, though I would recommend The Champion as Aloran's heaven is not fully balanced yet- it's much more fitting for his insectoid followers.

"Third is to undergo a normal resurrection, one which will alter your existence depending on… various factors. Due to Aloran's influence and your own history as a half-spirit, your body will die and you will shed your flesh. Rather than becoming a Union, you will become a full Spirit, specifically something called a Pink Wraith.

"The last option is to finally step around your mortal bounds, and join your predecessors on the path you've walked for oh-so-long. Congratulations Dei, you have the option to become a Reaper."

Dei already knew which he would pick, as anything other than Reaper would be insane. A few seconds later, Grim continued his speech, saying "Dying is an important step for Leviathans, as it teaches their mortal followers what it means to live and to cherish one's own limited mortality as well as the sanctity of others. Alter and Command, the two Leviathan abilities only accessible to Reapers, are heavy burdens to bear, and should almost never be used. There is a reason Leviathan's place a cultural taboo on Alter, even if it's their own ability. A Leviathan wouldn't change the memories of a gnat if given the chance, much less anything else."

"Then… What are they for?" he asked, though he wasn't exactly opposed to this. He held no interest in recreating others to fit his personal opinion of what they should be, but he still wanted to know.

"Nothing, they're vestigial remnants of a time long-past, pieces of the Primordial's gift that were never meant to be used by anyone other than her alone, echoes of her nature that were rediscovered by the Leviathans of old, and this is what I must tell you here today: how Leviathans were created. Should you choose to become a Reaper, you will be told something you must never tell any others, is this what you desire?"

The first thing he asked was "Will I regret knowing this?"

Though he wanted to become a Reaper, he knew how dangerous knowledge could be based on his own experiences.

Grim chuckled, "No, it's nothing so serious, merely the Leviathan's embarrassment. You already know many of the pieces, I'm simply going to put them together for you."

"Then… alright. Yea, I'll become a Reaper."

"Very well. Ah, also, by becoming a Reaper, the internalization of this death will not draw you closer to your final demise. The cold wrapping around you will be drawn into your soul and used to transform your existence, loosening my hold. All others after this will affect you the same, but this one won't count."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Dei asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It simply never came up," Grim said, and the unmoving skeletal face seemed to express amusement. "There's no reason for me to trick you into dying faster. I do not mind the living, only that death be respected."

Dei nodded. If Grim wanted him dead, he suspected there was little he could do to stop the man from killing him.

"What's the trial gonna be? I've heard a lot about these, and I think I'm ready."

"It differs for all, but you've already passed your own. By pulling yourself back together, you've proven yourself. The question I usually make people answer is 'What gives you the right to survive when none others have?' and oftentimes, they cannot answer. Those with achievements can feed them to me, weakening themselves but earning their ticket back. Other times people will prove it for one reason or another by fending off a few of my own attacks, or crafting legendary equipment to prove their worth. A third group are those who fall into none of the previous, such as you. You created a little impossibility within your soul that gave you a helping hand, then stitched your own corpse back into place. You've given more than enough reason to buy your way back into life."

Dei relaxed in his chair. It'd already been a stressful few… however long it took him to piece himself together. He didn't know if he had another trial in him.

'Who am I kidding, I would've done it if I'd had to.'

His eyelids felt heavy, but he wouldn't rest until he was out of death's grasp. It wasn't like he needed to sleep.

"At least there's some good news."

"Indeed. Now then, do you feel… well enough to hear what needs to be heard?"

He sighed quietly, "No, but hit me with it anyway. I don't want to be here for longer than necessary."

Grim nodded, "These halls are not for mortals to walk for long, lest they be drawn in by something from beyond."

Dei became acutely aware he knew little about the plane of Death, so he quietly kept his senses open.

"Leviathans have long debated what to tell any Reaper who follows behind them. Not many can agree, and nothing can be too wordy, as I've previously mentioned that souls cannot handle Death for long. The one fact that they agree should be told though, is of their creation.

"As you may know, The Primordial was only one. I see you know of others, but The Primordial as is widely recognized was alone, and such a thing is a cruelty to all life. Since the beginning, existence came in pairs. The Primordial was a woman with none to stand her equal, and desperately desired companionship, yet found only grief until the rise of the First God.

"Their story is too long to share now, but the First God held a fragment of the remnant flesh of the Sun Primordial. His rise to the plane of divinity shocked The Primordial and him, as it was a rather unexpected thing, but not an unpleasant one. The two had been in love for a long while, but believed a true union to be impossible until that moment.

"The Primordial's loneliness abated, but a new issue arose: they could not bear children. This was a time before affinities, and the First God was no Primordial, meaning they were genetically incompatible, but not all was lost, as they thought up a strange little solution which you've already had experience with: Celestial Parasites. Despite not being of the Primordial's flesh, they were capable of producing entities, so the Primordial and the First God thought up the clever solution to usurp one of these paths, altering it to create their own children."

"The World Below?" Dei hazarded a guess, as Leviathan's were The World that Walks.

"Surprisingly, no. They turned their eyes towards Primordial Cancer, as it held a piece of the Moon wrapped in the Primordial's own flesh, and the results of this path created their own independent entities. They interpreted this as two separate entities joined into one, in other words, children.

"I suppose the rest is history," Grim said with a simple shrug. "There weren't any complications. The First God poured himself into the path of Primordial Cancer, The Primordial nurtured the result rather than rejecting it- and the first Leviathan was born. Funnily enough, the shape remained unchanged , leading to it resembling the flying parasites of the time, but their child was intelligent and kind, a far cry from the feral beasts. From then, they created many, and soon Leviathans held a real population. As other Gods rose, the manner of reproducing was repeated, and the same path is followed to this day. Over time, the Celestial Parasite has even changed into a mundane, harmless echo of itself, one of the few that has lost its bite, as the original user was weak-minded to begin with."

Dei spent several seconds in confused silence. "So… what's the point of this story?" he asked, trying not to be rude but not knowing what else to say.

"The point?" Grim returned, slightly amused.

"Yea like… if every Leviathan agreed that this is more important to know than anything else, it's gotta be something, but this just seems like a random history lesson. Don't get me wrong, it's a good story and all! But I don't know, it feels a little… unrelated to everything."

Grim could only shake his head. "The point is that this is what the Leviathans wanted to share. From your perspective it's strange, but Leviathans place cultural importance on it. Still, they don't talk of it much, and as I said before, even feel embarrassed by their start- as they aren't truly the children of the Primordial. They hold no resemblance to the Primordial or First God, but instead the parasite. If you want a lesson, I suppose it might be a cautionary tale against pride as even the greatest beings may be considered lowly? Maybe they want to say life can arise from the strangest situations? Or even that every existence can become cherished in the right circumstance? There isn't really a centralized moral to be taken from the story, it's just a history lesson."

Dei felt a little awkward for asking such a flippant question, but it was a good one considering he'd expected some kind of forbidden, incomprehensible knowledge.

He opened his mouth to respond when he heard a loud bang in the distance, one that reminded him of a door hitting the wall.

"Time to go," Grim said quickly, grabbing his scythe and flipping it around so he was holding it by the bladed half, pointing the blunt staff at Dei.

At the edge of Dei's hearing, words could faintly be heard as a female voice screamed "DON'T LE-"

Grim poked him in the chest and he never heard the end as he fell backwards out of the world. A feeling of disorientation took over, until his vision filled with blinding white, distant dark stars, and animals all around him.

He was back.

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