The Unwilling Protagonist

Chapter 9: A Hero's Return (and the shit that follows)

Thanatos stepped out of the tower and looked up at the sky. How long had he been inside? Magician's orders were absolute, he knew that, which was why he thought it strange that his council would order him to act as the new vanguard following Devil's death. There were more suitable members that could have been the new vanguard. Chariot's speed could have allowed him to regain the land lost from Devil's death, although that would take some time. Justice's skill would have allowed her to be a more suitable vanguard, but she was delegated to defending the outer colonies, and the council certainly would not waste their time trying to speak with her. Hell, even one of the council members could have made for a better vanguard than him, they were just too lazy and concerned for their own lives to do it.

"Incapable my ass..." Thanatos grumbled.

Thanatos had been so lost in thought, that when he brought his mind back to his current settings, he was a long distance away from the tower already. Thanatos looked up again. The sky was blue now, not dark and gray like it was near the tower, and there was grass all around him. He looked down at his feet. Unsurprising to him, the land around him was dead, aged to dust. He had left a trail of dead land behind him, and he sighed as he knew the trail would only grow longer.

"Life is beautiful", that was what Thanatos always thought to himself. It was why he always admired the Empress and her constant efforts she put forth whenever she created the colonies and the instances that would live in them. Thanatos himself was a creation of Magician's efforts, not converted like some of the other members of the Arcana or like most of the colonists. How unfortunate for him that had to become the embodiment of death and decay. In a strange, ironic way, this was good though. Only when he was the manifestation of death could he see how precious life was. Still, he did wish he could do more than just watch it...

Opening Theme:

Y/N awoke with a deep breath as his eyes snapped open. He was staring up at the ceiling of the infirmary. Protective runes meant to encourage healing and recovery were etched into the marble above.

He tried to sit up, then the pain struck him. His chest was unbearably sore from Devil's dagger, but at least the burning had subsided. Whatever that knife was made of, it wasn't normal.

Y/N looked down at himself. His shirt was off and his chest had a scar left from where Devil practically disemboweled him and his arm was still missing and the stub was bandaged, unsurprisingly. What was surprising, however, was that in Y/N's left hand, he was still holding Devil's dagger. His fingers felt stiff and painful as he tried to let go of it. He placed it down on the nightstand next to him. His hand was red and the grip of the blade left lines on his palm. How long was he dead? A few days? That's what Judgement told him.

Y/N pushed through the pain and forced himself to sit up, despite how sore his body was. Why couldn't his Tough Guy talent suppress pain? That would certainly help with this situation.

As he managed to sit up, he took a look around him. The infirmary was empty. Were all the other patients discharged already?

Y/N tried to move his legs next. They felt unbearably stiff and his muscles resisted every effort he made to move them. Eventually, he was able to bend his knees and move his legs freely. Y/N leaned forward to stretch himself out and felt his spine crack as he did so.

"I need a damn chiropractor...and an orthopedic doctor." Y/N grumbled as he cracked his neck. He looked down at his bandaged stub as he wiggled it.

The door opened and Y/N looked up to see Miriam staring at him. There was a silence.