Perspective of Brainiac
Beep...
Beep...
Beep...
Beep...
Beep, goes my heart monitor, in the rhythmic pulses of my faltering heart. It's a strange comfort, that constant sound, signifying I'm still alive, or perhaps it's just a reminder of how much time I have left. The white noise of the hospital ward surrounds me, but I can always turn the monitor off if I want to. I usually do on a regular day. But today? Today is far from regular.
My favorite game, Yggdrasil, is shutting down at midnight tonight. It's 10:00 right now, and I haven't played it at all today—mostly due to a string of tests and physical therapy the hospital insists on doing. Now, you're probably wondering why I'm here in the first place. It's not a simple story.
I have Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA), and Locked-In Syndrome. I was born with these conditions, genetic and progressive. My muscles are weakening, my movements becoming ever more limited, and now, my voice is the only thing I can still control with any sense of freedom. I can't move without assistance, not even to the bathroom without someone helping me get there. As for my mind, it remains intact, but my body—well, it's a prison I can't escape from.
And that's not all. On top of those, I have Hereditary Spastic Paraplegia (HSP). It's a rare genetic disorder that progressively stiffens my muscles, leaving me more immobile by the day. The doctors never seem to know what to say anymore. Their treatment options are limited. My condition is degenerative, and every day, it chips away at me.
The pain is constant. It's a dull ache now, always in the background, but sometimes it spikes into something unbearable. The loss of my independence has been the hardest thing to endure. A part of me has already accepted that there's not much left to hope for. My family is far away in Switzerland, and my online friends, scattered around the globe, have lives of their own. Jobs, families, careers… they've all moved on. I can barely keep up with them now, and meeting them in real life has become an impossibility.
Yggdrasil was my escape. It's been the only place where I felt alive, where my broken body didn't matter. It was my sanctuary from the world I could no longer participate in. But now? It's shutting down. And I'll be left with nothing but silence.
Earlier today, I requested the MAID treatment—Medical Assistance in Dying. I don't want to keep suffering. The pain from ALS, SMA, and HSP is more than I can bear. I signed the papers, and Camille, the nurse who helps me, left the room. She looked at me with those sad eyes, like she wished she could do more. I know she cares. We talk sometimes, just small talk. She probably doesn't want me to go, but I hope she understands. She's a compassionate woman, and I hate that I'm leaving her with that look in her eyes.
But, deep down, I know I've made my choice. My body is failing, and the world is slipping through my fingers.
The clock reads 11:45 now.
'Damn it, hurry up.'
I pick up my headset, carefully strapping it to my head, and press the button to boot it up. The screen flickers to life, and my character's avatar—Brainiac, the mechanical genius, rises in the digital world of Yggdrasil.
3rd Person POV
"Hey, it's been a while, huh, Momonga?" Brainiac's voice crackles in the virtual space, a trace of weariness hidden under his calculated tone. His avatar, a towering figure of sleek, metallic design, looms in the room.
"I didn't think you'd show up, Brainiac," Momonga responds, slightly surprised. "It's been... what, two years?"
"Has it really been that long?" Brainiac asks, his voice betraying a hint of fatigue as he rests his avatar against a digital table. "Time's been moving in weird ways lately."
"That sounds bad. Are you... okay?" Momonga asks, concern creeping into his voice.
Brainiac waves a hand dismissively, his mechanical fingers glinting in the virtual light. "I'm fine. My body's... deteriorating, but that's no surprise. Just another day of living with a malfunctioning vessel." There's a moment of silence before he continues, his tone softening. "It's just... hard to keep up sometimes, you know?"
Momonga doesn't respond immediately, his skeletal avatar staring down at the table in thought. Finally, he breaks the silence with a quiet chuckle.
"I know exactly what you mean. It's hard to watch something you've built, something you've worked for, fall apart... even if it's just in the digital world."
Brainiac smirks, albeit faintly, at the sentiment. "I know you do, my friend. But I think you're the only one who understands."
The two of them sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their words hanging in the air like an unspoken understanding. Their friendship, despite its complexities and occasional tensions, has always been grounded in mutual respect. They're not just two powerful players in a game—they are, in many ways, kindred spirits.
"Look," Brainiac says, snapping back to the present. "I didn't log in today to complain, really. I just wanted to check in before the servers shut down."
Momonga nods solemnly. "I get it."
As Brainiac sits back in his chair, his eyes scan the familiar surroundings of Nazarick, his home in the game. "This place," he muses, "it's been a long ride, hasn't it? All the years of hard work... And now it's all ending. I never thought I'd see the day."
"You and me both," Momonga agrees quietly.
Brainiac's expression hardens, a familiar edge of sharp intellect in his eyes. "But we've both done our part. This... This was our world. And, as much as I hate to admit it, it's time to let it go."
There's a heavy pause, the clock ticking toward midnight.
"You know," Brainiac continues, his voice now more playful, "I think I could get used to being guild leader. Seems like a fitting way to go out."
Momonga raises an eyebrow, his undead face betraying a smile. "You want the title?"
"Why not? I've always liked the sound of it," Brainiac responds, his voice laced with amusement.
Momonga chuckles. "Well, if you really want it..."
As the minutes count down, a decision is made.
"Brainiac, I'm giving you the title of guild leader," Momonga says, surprising his friend with the gesture. "Take it. It's yours."
Brainiac's response is slow, almost disbelieving. "You're serious? You're giving me this? On the last day?"
Momonga nods. "You've earned it. Besides, I think you'd make a better leader than I ever could."
Without hesitation, Momonga transfers the title to Brainiac and hands him the iconic staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.
Brainiac stands, stunned for a moment, before his voice cracks with emotion, something rare for him. "Thank you, Momo... this means everything."
"I'm glad," Momonga says softly. "Now, enjoy it while you can."
The final seconds tick away. Brainiac stands in the throne room, his new position of power heavy on his shoulders. He looks at Albedo, his cold, calculating eyes softened for just a moment.
"I should probably give my first order, huh?" he mutters to himself. "Kneel."
One by one, the guardians fall to one knee, and Brainiac's eyes flicker as he reviews their behavior scripts. He scans through Albedo's code, a smirk forming on his metallic face.
"A bitch, huh?" he murmurs, deleting the line from her script. "Let's see how you like this."
With a few quick keystrokes, he replaces the line with something more to his liking.
"She is madly in love with Brainiac."
He chuckles, but there's no joy in it. His eyes drift to the clock, the seconds counting down.
The needle in his arm pricks him sharply.
"Goodbye, Camille. Goodbye, Momo... everyone."
The countdown hits zero.
"WHAT?!"