Questionable Choices [Yan!DSMP x Reader]

Epilogue

November the seventeenth.

A day which you will never forget, ever. Because this is the day that everything changes for you.

You're standing in the middle of the graveyard, holding a bouquet of moonflowers, and staring down at the name on the tombstone. 'J. Schlatt.'

Although you have only heard stories of what happened from both co-workers and subordinates, you have no idea what exactly happened, but apparently, the people of the City finally were done with his lazy leadership.

According to Connor, Schlatt was drunk at the moment it happened. "He's always had a weak heart," he'd told you, "so it was only to be expected that that would be his end." Surrounded by the people who once feared him, killed by the enormous amount of adrenaline, too much even for the heart to handle.

But you weren't there, so how are you supposed to know what exactly happened? All there are, are stories. Ideas. Nothing else.

It has been a long time since you've entered the City, but here you are, in the graveyard of the anomaly itself. You're wearing a neat suit and a black glove on your left hand. To prevent anyone from finding you suspicious or noticing something off about you, you put an illusion disc in your robotic arm. The high-pitched sound that it makes, is impossible for the human ear to hear, but it still has an effect on the brain. Thank to this marvellous creation, which is not safe for long-term nor waterproof at all, everybody will see a normal arm.

You squat down and put the flowers on the grave, the only sign that anybody cared enough to even pay their respects. Of course, you know that there are people in the Deserts mourning Schlatt's death, but a majority of those people only do it out of respect, not because they actually had a connection to him, like you and Connor.

But at the moment, you're the only one there. And honestly, you don't mind. You don't mind at all.

November the seventeenth.

The day that you officially inherit all that Schlatt has. All his belongings. Money, political position, blueprints of machines he's never continued working on, antique artifacts that have been passed on through his family: all of it.

You've already looked through some of his stuff. Hell, you were just doing research on one of the anomalies at the Site, already prepared to go off to the chamber of UFA 357, when a bunch of the subordinates came in to just give you his shit. Only when you went to ask George what was going on, you got an explanation.

You inherited his flask – in which you always carry your medication – and some old books, along with all of his own notebooks and files on both anomalies and other things he's studied. One of them being very interesting to you. A subject which he refers to as 'UFA 666', which people used to believe to be the afterlife. After reading through it, you came to understand why Schlatt always called the Revival Book to 'not be a revival book, although kind of'. Not only that, but the phenomenon, if you can call it that, has already appeared before in your life. In anyone's life, really.

The Limbo.

To say that the subject interested you, would be an understatement. Oh no, reading through the notes on Limbos has been the one thing you've been doing all day yesterday, along with looking at the blueprints he left you. One of them being a blueprint of a machine he had told you about before, another one being a blueprint of Tubbo. They've given you ideas, to say the least.

November the seventeenth.

The day you became a dictator. A leader. A king. God of the gods.

You're in charge of the way everything goes. You're in charge of the Deserts. And well, you're even in charge of the City. If you tell the security around the anomaly to kill themselves, they'll do so. If you tell them to pull off all their clothes and do the chicken dance, they'll do so. Because you're the only reason they're standing there to begin with. You, with some help of George, of course, are the one to give out orders. Without you, there is no 'Deserts'. Without you, there is no 'City'. Without you, there is nothing anymore.