—There was darkness.
"Ah?"
He felt the sensation of weightlessness, as he drifted through a void.
"Where… am I dead?"
No… I guess I can't imagine I'm here unless I am dead.
Trying to "stand," trying to place himself "upright," he found that nothing he did, as he floated through darkness, would satiate his soul's desire to stand.
"Ah… crud."
"Riley Woods, you have died."
That familiar voice rang unto him, to which Riley's spirit sighed and groaned.
"Yeesh. Last voice I wanna hear."
"All who I call towards servitude end here."
Through the void of pitch-black darkness, Riley saw a creeping purple. As he drifted towards it, he came to see the figure of a man.
Remarkably pale and young-looking, the man's brown hair nested itself above his eyes, which carried an unnatural purple color.
"You died a martyr, for those in whom you didn't even know. Yet, you shall spend eternity here, lying with all the rest of my servants. What a worthless life you lived."
Riley looked down, his scraggly black hair floating in the void. His gaze narrowed towards the abyss, he weakly smiled.
"...Well, it couldn't have been that worthless, right? I saved some folks. I probably made some kids happy. I'd say it was worthwhile, wasn't it?"
"And yet, I'll continue to create servants. You will have gone down as a mere footnote in history. They'll remember the Red Mist, not Riley Woods. Even your beloved, can you truly expect her to love you for the rest of her life? She's known you for years, and yet you were only truly together for a month. She was your everything, and you will eventually be nothing."
His chest experienced pain. Even as a spirit, heartbreak was a very potent feeling.
As a child, Riley always considered heartbreak to be an exaggeration. However, it was only as he grew older that he came to find heartbreak to be a very literal, very physical sensation. Not even purely emotional, it was a weight which carried on through the body.
"In time, your actions will prove worthless. All will fade. Your actions, your heroics, your relationships and your loved ones—one day, all will pass. Even the heartbreak, even your memory of her, will vanish. Time ends all."
"...That's a bit somber. Ow… it actually hurts."
A soft chuckle escaping his throat, Riley smiled as he experienced his pain.
"—That, then, is why I say it. Everything is worthless. Your love was worthless, your actions were worthless. Life is simply meant to be passed by. Experience pleasure, so that you can pass the time until you die."
From a creature that was likely thousands of years old, those words were likely somewhat truthful.
"...I suppose I can get that. But Ghira, you really, really put it in the worst way possible, didn't you? Your pleasure came from killing people; hardly something I could get behind."
"It is what satiates me, and I fulfill it. I gain servants to show me their splendid work. I don't need anything bigger to cling to."
"That so…?"
Riley looked up, seeing the great throne of Ghira. As his eyes trained upon him, he began to pull down his sleeve. Looking at the spiral, he followed it—reaching the bottom. A noose.
Right. It's against despair, isn't it?
"Yeah. In the end, it really was worthless, wasn't it? Kara's death was pointless. A bad thing that happened for no particular reason at all. My relationship with Nina… I guess even that was worthless. I'm sure she'll mourn, but in time… yes, in time, she'll move on. I don't like it, but it's probably for the best… even if it hurts."
"You seem to grasp what I've spent hours trying to get you to realize. What a shame. Perhaps, then, if you had learned quicker, then you would have been able to live long enough to make good on your love. You could have hidden your true self from here, and you would have been able to live a long, happy life with her. Instead, you chose to be a failure."
"Probably. But, still. I don't care."
Looking back up, his eyes brimming with determination, and his lips creeping into a smile exuding gratitude, Riley Woods thoroughly embraced himself.
"Knowing that I helped people—that's what gave me joy. Knowing that I was loved—that made my heart feel so warm that I could hardly withstand it. The fact that I saved people, that I got to make people smile, that I could prove my value as a human being, that I still had a reason to live——that's something I could never call worthless."
Kicking off from the void, Riley Woods reached the Violet Throne of the Forgotten King, looming over him.
"The people were worth it. Even if their lives fade… in the distant future, when the world loses its breath, when the last of man falls to the ground, when the love so present in humanity finally loses its ember—I know I'll still consider it worthwhile."
Stiffening his hand, Riley plunged his fingers through Ghira's chest—and ripped out his heart.
"Hk. Riley Woods, do you understand the weight of your actions!? I offered up my true form to meet you face to face—should you continue, you will end my life, and take on my role. Becoming me, you will lose the ability to interact with your world as you remember it; your erasure from its existence is guaranteed. There is a reason I am the 'Forgotten King.'"
"...That so?"
Repeating himself, Riley Woods crushed the still-beating heart in his palm. Purple blood splashed, and the true form of Ghira went limp.
"...I see," Ghira softly muttered. "If that is the case, then… I regret nothing. I passed the time until I died. I long for nothing more."
Drawing his last breath, the corpse faded from existence. Riley quietly sat down, taking the crown for himself.
Having ascended the throne, he had become the Forgotten Friend, Riley Woods.
…
The first thing that must be done is to remove the lost life of the world.
Riley Woods could accept death coming from illness, or accidents. However, the victims of the servants, and those who lost their life to suicide—he would never accept those two deaths as valid.
—Ghira had once admitted to Frank Russo that he was not omnipotent. Whilst he could define and create new rules in reality, it would be tedious to overwrite that which has already been defined—even if it was his own work.
Naturally, that applied to Riley himself. It would take great troubles to rewrite reality, to put his pencil to the paper and draw over what Ghira had already created.
But, it was not impossible.
Is that so?
In his ascension above the third dimension, Riley Woods understood it.
In order to overwrite the laws and concepts Ghira had introduced, it would be necessary to use an "eraser." The only way to "erase" what had been done, was to transfer the action, and place it onto something else.
And now that I see what's been happening for the past millenia…
A farmer desperate to feed his family. A widow grieving her husband. A child abused by his parents. A man with undiagnosed mental illness. A slave. A victim of assault. A child soldier. An orphan.
—Ghira had preyed upon those of the world who were extremely vulnerable in mind.
He had seen it himself, being chosen by Ghira for his suicidal thoughts and failure to uphold his moral compass. Ghira was simply someone who took advantage of those who struggled to know any better—and upon seeing the countless victims of the Forgotten King, he found that a strong majority of them had initially resisted, just as he did.
—The enemy, then, was not the servants of Ghira.
Again. Time, and time again, it's not the people in this world. It's the despair.
"Then," he said, speaking aloud to himself. "I'll take it on."
With his words, there formed a bath. Within the pitch-black void, it was impossible to see with the eyes—yet Riley marched forth towards it regardless.
I see, then. Not just the victims of the servants of Ghira, or those who lost their lives to suicide—but the servants themselves, too.
It was the ultimate culmination of his ideals.
If every individual life was as valuable as he claimed, then this would be worth it. To which, Riley looked at the noose on his arm, and agreed.
That's right. I'll fight against despair, even for a world that has no memory of me. —What is most valuable, in all existence, is the life of my neighbor.
Standing over the sea of black, Riley Woods stepped foot upon the stage.
...
There, he had been torn apart, limb by limb.
…
There, he had his organs pulled out from his stomach.
…
There, he had his head removed and placed on a stake.
…
There, he had kicked from a stool and plummeted, his neck snapping on impact.
…
There, he had wept bitterly, lying in a bathtub with drugs in his system.
…
There, he had been scorched to death.
…
There, he had been locked inside of a freezer.
…
There, he had been locked in a box and died of thirst.
…
There, he had been met with a knife to the throat.
…
There, he had pulled the trigger upon his head.
…
There, he was maimed for weeks on end, one limb removed every day until finally he was killed with a hatchet.
…
There, he had—
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There, he had————————————————————————————
…
First day of college.
As Nina Lockheart entered into her classroom, she was star-struck by the grandness of it all. Her very first time being inside of a college lecture hall, she saw the hundreds of seats, and struggled to pick where exactly to sit.
Then, led by her friends, they chose a seat in the back. Upon planting herself in the seat, she took in the view. Incredibly far away from her professor, she struggled to fully comprehend it.
This was the big leagues, was it not? Far removed from highschool, she was now an adult, ready to take on the world.
Yet, in spite of the overwhelming odds, she was ready. As long as she had her friends nearby, she would be able to get through anything.
The smell of her friend's perfume tickled her nose. Lavender, perhaps.
Fidgeting, clicking her pen, she felt hot in the head, nervous but still determined. Bending to the side to take a drink of her morning coffee, she saw a man drop his papers. They scattered all along the floor, and she felt the deep desire to help him out.
Going over, she helped pick up those notes, as the man awkwardly laughed and thanked her. As she gave them back to him, she saw his figure—which held an awkwardly familiar visage. As if she'd experienced it before, Nina instinctively spoke—
"...R-Riley?"
Everything about him was that which she had seen before. Familiar, yet distant. His shaggy black hair, his short height which seemed to be overcompensated with by his incredibly thick muscles—particularly a wide back, followed by beautiful, almond-shaped brown eyes with luscious eyelashes that made her feel particularly—
"A-ah! Sorry, I didn't mean to say… um, sorry, I didn't mean to blurt out that name, h-haha."
"...Nina."
Silence.
How, then? How did this boy know her name?
"U-um, how did—"
"Wait, did I get it right? Pfft, wow. Sorry, it's just that you got my name right. Yes, I'm Riley. And you are…?"
"...Nina."
"Woah!"
The man laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away. "Really now? What a coincidence. Who knows? Maybe we're made for each other, hahaha? Ahem, bad jokes aside~ thanks. This would've been a pain to pick up all by myself."
"N-no problem!" Nina said, caught off guard by his strange mannerisms and her own feelings, which she herself didn't understand.
"...Actually, mind if I sit next to you? Promise I won't be too annoying."
Closing his right eye, the man—Riley, it would seem—flashed a beautiful smile at her. To which, her face went light-pink, brimming with heat.
"Um… sure, yeah. Go ahead."
"Sweet. Thanks, Nina… man, that's a lovely name."
"Thank you, um… Riley… yeah, that's a lovely name as well."
...
At least, that's how I wouldn't mind things turning out when I finally escape this place.
Snow. Then, red.
Heavy footsteps lumbered over to him, and a rock shattered his sternum with great might, all the while he heard the incessant laughter of a man.
Coughing up blood, rolling over to his side and digging his fingers against the snow, clawing at it and latching to its frost, he grit his teeth through the pain.
How meaningless this world is.
In his newfound hundred-some years of "living," Riley had seen it all. He had died in trailers. He had died in mansions.
He had died surrounded by corpses. He had died alone.
He had died instantly. He had died in pain.
In the end, we'll all die. I know this more than anyone.
His hearing was approached by footsteps, a tree-branch being broken off and impaling him through the heart.
"Hk."
It's all fleeting. But that's okay.
His body died, and he was moved on to the very next death.
…
That's right. The conclusion, therefore, is this:
—Even if the world is worthless, the people in it are worth all of this.