A Given Chance (Doom X Reverse: 1999) (Hiatus)

Chapter One: The New World

A Given Chance

Reverse: 1999 & Doom Eternal belong to their respective owners. Duh.

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"So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter."

"May your thirst for retribution never quench.."

"..may the blood on your sword never dry.."

"..and may we never need you again.."

Corrax Entry, 7:17

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Chapter One: The New World

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How long?

..

How long?

..

He tried to breathe, yet his lungs didn't move. He tried to open his eyes, yet his eyelids didn't budge. He tried to move a finger, but not a muscle reacted to his command.

How long?

..

He had lost track of time ever since he spent the rest of his 'imprisonment' counting days within his tomb. He didn't dream, he couldn't dream. He saw only black, yet his consciousness remained as if he was still awake. If there was torment, this was it.

He had once figured his fate was sealed and that his existence was naught, they never needed him anymore. Given that with the Dark Lord's death, he wouldn't have a reason to fight.

The demons are gone. Davoth was gone. And with him the Dark Realms followed. He vividly remembered the day he struck him down, the creator himself, the acclaimed first being, at least that's what his monologue told him if he remembered.

Of course, how could he forget the faces of the three seraphims that entombed him? Their emotionless visages gazed at him in indifference as one waved it's hand, opting the lid of the tomb, his grave, to close.

He wasn't sure if the decision to include the Mark of the Slayer, his mark on the lid pointing to his face, was meant as a sign of gratitude or a spit to the face.

Well, those were the things he had last seen before going into a comatose state, since then, he had to endure countless years, maybe even thousands of years worth of silent torment stuck in this spacious, uncomfortable stone coffin for what would be an eternity.

He felt absolutely nothing, not even a waft of fresh air came in, he had tried for some years to try and distract himself, trying to imagine himself arm-wrestling with the Dark Lord and even recalling his whole vague childhood up until now.

After about a century, he gave up, and simply decided to just go to sleep. Since then, he never thought of anything. He was effectively dead in a sense, and after all of what he had done? He thought it was somewhat fitting. Rest, after aeons upon aeons of fighting against Hell's forces and finally emerging victorious, well, in return for his own demise in a way.

..

..

He could've sworn he heard something.

In an instant, the Slayer's consciousness was brought back into the real world, he felt.. something. He heard.. noises outside of his tomb. They sounded like the muffled chirping of birds, or maybe he had finally lost it and gone insane?