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A World Without Him
Chapter 22
His dream held nothing memorable. The black void had apparently lost its novelty after being dragged into its depths so many times before. Tang's expression held only annoyance as his body spinned and glided through the never-ending darkness.
He didn't want to deal with what he knew would come next. The hands, the voices, the damned buzzing that came in recently.
What he wanted right now was one of those phantom things to appear in front of him, actually consider him a person worth talking to, and answer his questions.
To tell him what this void was even for, how they had access to his head since he knows the reoccurring nightmares and chatter wasn't formed from his mind alone, no matter how those things try to gaslight him into convincing himself overwise.
However, he also knew nothing would come from screaming at the void or cursing these stupid voices out in every curse word he knew, dead languages included. Maybe some of them would understand; he saw the old style of clothing the two spirits had when they showed up at the infirmary.
But it's not like they would talk to him of their own accord (besides Cian, but that thing comes and goes as it pleases and only talks to him when it's amused or wants something. It's a wildcard he doesn't want to think of the implications of), those two he saw were freaking out when he just looked at them.
From the urgency in their voices, Tang doesn't think he has a good chance at a one on one like that again, especially not here.
So, he chose to do the only thing he could: wait, like almost every time before. He crossed his arms, folded his legs, and sat still, eyes closed as the void suddenly reacted to his choice.
It seemed to come alive as he relaxed into its atmosphere, accepting him into its domain. He swore he could feel tendrils of unseen energy suddenly coil and bend around him, letting themselves be seen for the first time. He could sense it slow and accelerate based on unknown variables, how it had potential, how it could be something more if someone just gave its power shape.
It was overwhelming, yet not unfamiliar, like an overenthusiastic relative hugging you a bit too tight. But when he opened his eyes again, everything suddenly stilled, only pitch black as far as he could see.
It was silent, empty, yet again. Tang didn't know what that could mean, or even what that rush before was, but he wanted to figure at least one thing about this place out.
And because of that, he closed his eyes, ignored the warning signs, and tried to coax the energy back out. He sat in silence for a good while, waiting for the familiar energy to return.
Nothing happened for a good while. No spikes in the atmosphere, no familiar feelings, and there weren't even the usual voices or hands crowding his space. It was just quiet. He didn't move to open his eyes, though, as he liked the peace and wanted to stay a bit longer, even with a small bit of paranoia in the back of his mind saying the nightmare would begin sooner or later.
So, he focussed on what he could feel. His hair swayed behind him in the low gravity, stray wisps tickling his neck as the strands went every-which-way. He could feel his clothes do the same, the soft fabric of his sleeves and the ends of his robe billowing away from him…
...My robe?
He slowly opened his eyes once again, looking down at his body. He was no longer in the drab uniform he was given at the sleeping quarters, but instead he was back in his old red, white, and gold outfit.
The fabric seemed brand new as he took a piece between his fingers, nothing like the worn threads of his actual outfit. His shoes, scarf, and gloves were absent, though, while he still had long white socks under his maroon pants.
He calmly unwound his legs, letting them dangle in front of him. Looking closely at the fabric, he could see a small, almost unnoticeable orange sheen over the clothing. Frowning, he lifted his hands to his face seeing the same sheen over his hands, sleeves, and… the bell.
It seems like this piece of shit followed me in here. He thought bitterly, scowling at the bracelet hanging off his wrist. He raised a hand to his hair, running his fingers through the strands.
He still wasn't exactly used to the length, having had short hair for a good decade before it started growing dramatically after LBD. His hand kept trailing through the strands, ending at the middle of his back. And even before then, he'd never had it this long.
He fidgeted with the ends of his hair, lost in thought. He noticed some pieces had become lighter than the others, similar to the highlights he'd seen in Mei's signature hairstyle. However, his were closer to ashy blond than neon green.
Tang wonders if the color was natural. It fits her family’s theme, the whole white, green, and gold palette, so maybe she did it as some self expression while also sticking to her family's rules. She’s also a descendant of the Dragon of the West, so he supposes it's possible to get it naturally from those mythical being genes.
If… when he goes back to Megatropolis, he'll have to ask her himself.
He let go of the strands he was fidgeting with, letting them float in place as he sighed into his palms. Taking his head out of his hands, he glanced around the void once more, trying to see if anything changed while he was stuck in his head. The scholar couldn't see anything different, so he sunk back into himself and crossed his arms with a huff.
He wonders if the voices are gone now, stuck somewhere, unable to interact with him anymore. He saw how panicked they were in the medical tent, and he hasn't been able to hear from any other voices like them afterwards. He wonders if Cian was the person they were talking about, how someone should have blocked the connections from them? The details were fuzzy.
Still, he remembered the clear fear on their faces, how they couldn't let him die just yet. He's supposed to stay away from Cian and the monastery apparently, and Tang is more than happy to avoid both if he could. He could feel it in his gut that interacting with either of those options would not result in something good.
It's not like he can do much else at this point. His bag had most likely been confiscated by those military officials while he was unconscious, so most of that supplies is stuff he's never getting back. He groaned at the thought. All of that work is just gone in the wind now.
He misses his journal the most. All the little notes and scribbles he makes help him to focus, and reading back on them helps keep the memories fresh. Most of the stuff he writes is just about the legends and Monkie Kid's adventures, though, as he likes to portray them on paper the most.
Speaking of the legends, he wonders what is exactly going on with these spirits. The scholar doesn't remember hearing of ghosts matching the descriptions of the spirits he'd seen in any of the myths he's read, and since he is a Certified Scholar Spectacular (name given to him from a 9 year old Mk with a paper badge to match. He kept it in his journal as a bookmark. He really wants that journal back now), he knows that they've never shown up in one.
He thinks they're somehow related to the Golden Cicada and the Great Monk, with the obvious gold and orange colors along with the multiple cicadas popping up in most of his dreams. He just doesn't know how that connects with the rest of the information he’s gotten.
Flickers of memories play in his head as he tries to think of anything tying these things together. Cian had called his visions flares, and that it had his powers before him. If Cian was anything like the other voices, did that mean those two spirits also had powers like his before, too?
How do his powers work in the first place, anyways? How can they be passed down from (most likely) the Great Monk if he had already ascended like in JTTW, and had no possibility of reincarnation?
He rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. Maybe Cian had lied to him at some point, about anything really, but then how were those voices from the medical tent related?
The truth is, Tang doesn't know.
The declaration hurts his soul, but it's true. He can't link these things to anything he's seen before. Everything is too foreign, too unpredictable where he can't wrap his head around all the stuff piling over one another.
He hates the feeling: being in the dark, not knowing what he's really dealing with. He prides himself on his knowledge, his ingenuity, as it's the only thing that really sets him apart from his friends.
So when that gets taken away from him, he's left scrambling, making situations worse than they already were in an attempt to make them better.
His teeth grind together as his hands grow tight on his arms, the unpleasant thought wriggling under his skin. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed here for so long. Nothing good has come out of this place so far, anyways. He thinks, looking out into the unchanging darkness; it's still empty.
He didn't know what he was expecting.
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Chapter 4 on ao3!
Redo Poll
I did something to the poll which I don't know what happened, but it gave some of the answers random votes so ima redo the poll here.
Hello dear friends, 🌟
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I like to think that Alastor survived Adams strike purely off of spite to not die to the f-boy of all people.
A World Without Him
Chapter 19
The air around them stilled, heavy with anticipation. Tang just held his hands together and bowed his head, trying to avoid the stares from everyone around him. When the silence from these people started to go on for a bit too long, he took a chance and glanced up at the bed, seeing Zach staring right back at him. The kid's face was contorted into some sort of grimace.
Aggressive Guy spoke up first. “Are we gonna start this thing, or are we just gonna sit around with our heads up our asses?”
A glare was shot at him from Red Hair, but the old man across from Tang just gave a small chuckle at the outburst. “Alright. I suppose everyone here must have a lot on their mind as we haven't had to do this sort of thing before. Why don't you give us a start, Ms. Manex?” The man asked with a small smile, both his hands settled on the wooden cane in front of him.
The soldier next to Tang stiffened and blinked a few times at the statement. Regaining herself quickly after, she gave a quick nod to the man and gestured to Red Hair. Once Red Hair gave the clipboard away, Manex stepped slowly up to the bed, staring intently at the papers in her hands.
She gave a quick cough before starting her questions. “Ahem. To start off, I want you to confirm the information given to our medical staff to stave off any misunderstandings. Your name is Zach Song, correct?”
The kid answered with what sounded more like a wheeze than anything, his eyes squinting at her as he did so. Manex bit her lip and kept her eyes glued onto the clipboard. “Uhm, I'm sorry, but could you repeat that for me?”
He wheezed again, louder and more scratchy than before as he turned his head to the side to face her, revealing bloody bandages lining his neck and chest. Tang grimaced at the sound, still staring at the floor himself while squeezing his hands tighter together.
Manex, however, seemed to be frozen in place. Her lip was close to bleeding with how much force she was using as she only stared at her clipboard, motionless.
The old man observed as Red Hair carefully stood up and turned Manex away from the bed. She took the clipboard back into her own hands and positioned Manex back at her place next to Tang, turning back to the bed herself as Aggressive Guy scoffed in the background.
Red Hair glanced at the old guy, her silent question acknowledged with a slow nod from him. At the confirmation, she carefully leaned down next to Zach's head and whispered something into his ear. A quieter wheeze was what she got, but she seemed to understand it as she wrote something down onto the clipboard.
‘Oh… oh this is not good.’
‘I think you'll need to specify exactly what fucked up situation you're talking about here big guy.’
The whispered questions and scribbling from Red Hair were immediately turned into background noise as Tang heard the first word from them. Good thing his face was locked towards the stone floor or else he would've probably been jumped for the pure exasperation stuck on his face.
‘What do you think? We're already in some deep trouble for letting that monster make contact with this supposed “waste of time” like you said.’
Tang rubs his eyes under the glasses, content in letting the voices run their course like usual. But still. The buzz of the voices, cries from patients, and the scribbling on that clipboard were all overlapping and starting to become too much for him and his head.
Or at least, that's what he assumed when his hearing started to shorten in and out and when his surroundings started to blur into monochrome blobs. He sighed internally as he continued to rub his eyes, hoping it would anchor his mind.
Blinking once again, he looks ahead at the foot of the bed. Everything has come back into focus now, but it seemed like the colors around them had been dulled, almost into grayscale. His eyes shoot open at the sight. This was all too familiar.
The room had turned almost eerily silent; it was especially noticeable with the background noise vanishing along with the scribbling. Everyone around him seemed stuck in slow motion, like Red Hair’s ponytail staying frayed out from a previous swish of her head and some staff running outside that were stuck mid-air through the crack in the curtains.
However, this was also different as there was still one thing he could hear properly. The two voices were still arguing at the same intensity, but now they didn't seem like they were stuck in his head. No, they echoed over the layout, and he could guess where they were as wisps of orange light swayed at the edge of his vision, painfully obvious now that world turned monochrome.
Tang didn't want to look up. He didn't want to see what was lingering in front of him. Do they see me? Do they even notice what's happening? What if they discover I can hear them!? They already seem pretty peeved at each other. Maybe they're too invested in the argument to see anything else. Maybe they wouldn't notice if I took a quick look?...
He was heavily tempted by the idea. Finally being able to see the two voices who were lingering near him since the beginning of his power surges? Now that might finally give him some answers on who these guys were and what they're doing in his head.
Cian itself could only really yank his bracelet really hard physically while keeping most apparent secrets to itself, and he would rather risk just a glance at the two voices for potential information than continue under the pressure of the medical tent for how much longer.
Gaining the courage, Tang steeled himself and slowly lifted his eyes off the floor. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't what he saw.
Both voices were seemingly floating in front of Tang, still fighting animatedly floating above the bed while thankfully not paying attention to Tang himself. Their figures seemed very similar to Cian’s, translucent orange skin and white eyes matching its appearance to a tee. There were some stark differences, though.
The one on the left had relatively simple clothing, loose pants and a matching traditional button down shirt with straw sandals as its choice of dress along with medium length messy hair. It seemed to have cracks along its skin like porcelain, almost as if its body had been dropped too hard onto a hard surface. It also raised its voice louder than the other with clear aggression on its face even without irises or pupils.
The one on the right had more elaborate yet messy clothing, with a tattered embroidered robe, ripped silk pants, and dirty cloth black boots along with longer, thinner hair waving behind it freely along with its long beard. It gave a gaze of contempt towards the other, while interjecting snide remarks with its shrill voice.
Tang didn't know how to react other than staring blankly at the two. This is what they looked like all this time? He didn't imagine them to look so… human. Cian had an almost ethereal and familiar atmosphere to it, wavy hair and loose untouched clothing to match the flowey speech it used.
In contrast, these two seemed to have come drunk from some type of costume party. They didn't even seem all that familiar other than the recognition from their voices, the faces unfamiliar to Tang before this moment
Now he really wanted his sketchbook. He wanted to draw them and jot down notes and theories of what they could be and why they're in his head.
He didn't even realize one of the voices had gone silent as he focussed on the other subconsciously and tried to engrave all of these details into his head, occasionally clocking back into the argument they were still having to see if they would give any less vague answers.
“... and now we're stuck HERE. Literally the worst place someone like him could be in when we're trying to- UGH. Nothing even matters anymore! We already failed, do we still need to be stationed here when he can't even connect with us now due to that prick’s influence?” The one on the left was still speaking, seemingly not stopping anytime soon.
“It’s like they're punishing us specifically for not anticipating the break. And we're not even- hey. Hey, why are you ignoring me?! I have some issues I need to vent out right now, and if you're going to give me that stupid self-righteous silent treatment again-”
Then it suddenly fell silent; the absence of the noise made the ringing in Tang’s ears more prominent. Its body immediately tensed when it noticed something to its side. Tang found out why as he focussed back into the full picture.
The one on the right had turned its head, fully making eye contact with Tang with an expression of shock and slight fear frozen on its face. Its colorless eyes bored into him as the other slowly turned its head to do the same.
They became entirely still, almost as if the monochrome world around finally took effect.
Now, Tang had caught their undivided attention.
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YES! Someone else finally says it!
I’m tired of some people spitting shit about the Adam v. Alastor fight
Yes, Alastor got cocky and had his ass handed to him.
HOWEVER: WE REALIZE HE TOOK AN ANGELIC WEAPON TO THE CHEST AND SURVIVED????
Demons die to Vaggie’s SPEAR, simply because of the nature of the weapon. We see angels and demons dying throughout episode 8 to these badass weapons.
And Alastor TOOK it. He got nailed directly in the chest, and yeah, suffered at very least a punctured lung or something (he was bleeding a LOT), and while he couldn’t physically get up, he got away.
Like, I’m sorry he wasn’t perfect in that battle??? It was super satisfying at first to see him go to town on Adam, but after the fuck up, he LIVED. He got AWAY.
I don’t know a single demon else that was hit by the axe that episode that lived. Alastor is not infallible, yes, I know this, but Jesus Christ y’all, give him credit for probably being the first demon EVER to survive that.
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