Mirai SMP (SMP Live AU x Future Diary)

➸ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: god

chapter 1 ; god

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TECHNOBLADE

"Welcome all!"

His eyes snap open and he finds himself waking up in a large, grandiose hall, standing absentmindedly on a tall podium.

He looks around, and finds that there are also many people standing on a podium too. Each of these upstanding podiums are distributed clockwise in a circle; in the centre, is a symbol of a cathartic-seeming crown.

But most of all, above everything — is the looming, prestigious figure of a large, almost inhuman being. It's details and features are obscured by it's shadows — like a silhouette. The only thing differentiating itself from his black as soul body is the obnoxious mask tied around over his face. For the most part, it's a greyish-silver; with two big, black holes forming the eyes, and an eerily open mouth which Techno can only assume is a smile.

Suddenly, an echoing voice startles him from his observation. "Where am I?!" yells some boy on the podium. Dishevelled, blonde hair is covering the majority of his face, and he is wearing a plain white T-shirt. "And who are you? What is this place?!"

"Don't worry, Cooper," says the shadow God-like figure, "this is all a simulation in your head. In reality, you are merely just asleep, but I have linked all your drea—"

"How do you know my name?!"

He raises a fair question, in all honesty. Cooper's, at least that's what the figure called him, face contorts inarticulately, expressing a variety of enigmatic emotions; but Techno assumes the majority of his feelings are probably stemmed from fear.

Techno decides to keep quiet, watching the conversation from the sidelines; the last thing he'd want to do is start even more drama.

Ignoring Cooper, the Shadow man continued. "In case you have not picked it up already, I am God. Yeah, I'll give you a minute or two to let that sink in."

So I was sorta right? He is a God, he wonders, but. . . this thing... has been what was ruling the world this entire time..?

"Do not worry," God says a minute later, "I have no intention of killing you. In fact, I'm leaving that task up to you guys!"

Immediately, the atmosphere of the stadium-like arena around him tenses, becoming almost as dense as being underwater. Shock and confusion ripples throughout the hall like a tranquil lake being disturbed by a rock. Techno looks up at God, into his big, round eyes; the void in his pupils ever growing. But even despite his facetiously cheery tone of voice, he detects that there isn't the slightest hint of smile in his eyes. In fact, he seems. . . almost tired. Like simply just talking was a chore.

He continues. "Haha, yes I know, very funny, now shut up."

God folds his arms as the hall assents obediently. God clears his throat. "As you should know by now, there are 15 of you standing here. Why? Because you all have one thing in common: You always use your phones."

He pauses for dramatic effect, giving time for everybody to process that, too.

"Aaha, okay I'll elaborate." The vacancy in his void eyes do not waver. "Each of you log things down on your phones for a specific purpose. For this game, depending on what you use your phone for, it will give you a certain insight into the future."

He points to a tall boy with brown hair and a yellow turtleneck. "You, for instance, use your phone to write down song lyrics. So your future will be told in the form of a song! Fun, right? I thought that would be fun."

Yellow turtleneck gives a weird expression that Technoblade is unable to identify. Probably disgust.

"Okay, sorry, getting too off topic here," God scratches the back of his neck, "Anywho, you get the picture. Each of your phones will tell the future in one way or another. And the goal of this game, you wonder? Ha, glad you wondered! Because it's easy as pie. You must kill everybody until there's only one survivor! Haha, yep — 14 out of the 15 of you will die, simple as that!"

All at once, the wafting murmurs and fearful chatting pick up again; some people are frozen in disbelief, others have a more quick reaction — crying, yelling, outrage, ill. All the while, Technoblade finds his thoughts beginning to drift off into another dimension once again.

He feels blood rush to the tips of his fingers and head; trembling. He doesn't look down, but he can feel himself trembling.

He screws his eyes shut.

This is all a dream. Right? It has to be a dream. It has to be. This can't be real. None of this can be real.

"No, this isn't a dream," God quickly says, reading his mind. "It's real, all of it. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, too: Once you kill somebody, you will unlock a special ability. This ability will relate to your characteristics especially. Like you."

He points to the yellow turtleneck again, who's probably grown sick of his bias already. "Your power will probably be heightened hearing, or something. I don't know I'm still thinking."

"What?" Is all turtleneck says.

God doesn't seem like a very organised game host.

"So," God says, ignoring the fear-stricken faces of the people around him, "any questions?"

Come to think of it, there was a question that had been in Technoblade's mind for some time. A question that had found itself wandering into his consciousness — a question that might determine the true purpose of this situation he's in.

He raises his hand, but instead, God chooses another contestant.

This other contestant is wearing a pink sweater, with the white collar of his tucked beneath undershirt sticking out. Curly, dark brown hair covered his eyes, and questionably real amber brown dog ears point up from his hair. He's shaking violently, looking worlds beyond terrified.

"Yes, Travis?" God casually inquires to the pink sweater boy, Travis.

He swallows. "Mr- uh- Mr God, sir. W-What's the... Meaning— of this..? Why are we k... K--k—... killing each other?!"

The masked God replies impulsively without hesitation.

"Because I'm bored. And being God is boring. I have been God for thousands of millenia, and I'm starting to grow tired of it. Besides, my assistants are incredibly dumb."

Assistants? Technoblade wonders, looking around. He doesn't see any 'assistants' anywhere. Assuming these assistans even exist.

"Next question? Oh yes, you!"

God points to Technoblade. He takes a deep breath. It's his turn now to have a say.

"Okay, God," he utters, tucking his hands into his pockets in an attempt to assuage his nervousness. "So why do you think you can just decide to put a bunch of random kids into a game? Surely, you'll give us a motive to actually participate?"

His eyes narrow as he stares into God's eyes; trying desperately to dig up any hint of real emotions behind his inarticulate hollow pupils. " What do we gain out of this? What do we get if we win?"

The masked God stops and thinks for a moment. There is no enthusiastic, "well I'm glad you asked!", or some annoyingly cheerful pre-thought of response. Just silence. The hall falls deaf as they await for his response.

A minute passes before God puts his hands together; and for the first time, there is not but a fake, cheerful smile on his face — but rather, the corners of his lips cure upwards in a cruel, stone-cold fashion. He swears he can see something wicked, shimmer vaguely from beyond his abyss-painted, hollow eyes.

"The winner," he grins maliciously, "will become God."