KonoSuba: Genesis of the Apocalypse

Prologue - To Die Trying to Save and Innocent

(Y/n) Discordia was an average young man of twenty. Having just finished an IT course at a university, he had decided to take a trip for his home town of Glastonbury England, opting to go to Japan for a few weeks. He was an avid lover of video games, and one in particular had caught his attention was Darksiders. He loved the concept of playing as one of the four horseman of the apocalypse. Out of all of the horsemen, (Y/n) had felt that Strife was the most relatable to him. So, then THQ Nordic had made the announcement that Darksiders Genesis would star Strife as one of the two playable characters, he jumped at the opportunity to play it.

To say that he wasn't disappointed when he got to play it, was an understatement. He thoroughly loved the entire game, enjoying the witty quips and comebacks that Strife would blurt out during the game. He loved how Strife seemed to be an easy going sort of guy, much like himself, yet had a serious side, that he kept locked away. All these aspects of Strife made (Y/n) feel like the character had been made for him in particular. Even their names matched. (Y/n)'s surname, Discordia was one of the many different Latin words that meant strife.

When (Y/n) had gone to Japan, he had been looking for inspiration. The IT department he had studied under specialised in game design. When he had gotten there, he had hoped to get away from all the troubles of a normal life. However, that was not to be.

...

(Y/n) was in a bank at the time. He had, somehow managed to get himself so lost, not understanding the local language being one of the factors, desperately trying to find someone who could give him directions to where he was headed. The location being a game designer expo that he had heard about online. He had gone into the bank, hoping to find someone who; A: spoke English and B: Knew the directions to the Expo. He was asking around, mostly receiving odd looks from the people there. He had all but given up on that idea, when a man pushed into the bank. He held a gun in his hand and was screaming something in Japanese. It didn't take someone who spoke the language to know what he wanted. Out of the corner of his eye, (Y/n) saw someone move. He turned to see a little boy break away from the grip of his mother, the boy ran at the man, obviously trying to be a hero.

(Y/n) acted on instinct. The man had turned and trained his gun on the boy. In a split second, (Y/n) had ran forwards getting between the boy and the gun. There was a flash form the gun, followed by a loud CRACK! (Y/n) did not feel anything, his body was filled with adrenalin, he did however notice the sudden jerk in his shoulder, even as he lunged forward, tackling the man to the floor, wrestling with him to get the gun out of his hands. There was a sound of sirens from outside. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment. That was all the criminal needed, (Y/n) felt a sharp pain in between his ribs. The handle of a knife stuck out from his chest, blood seeping out, staining his white shirt a ruddy crimson. His arms went limp at that moment. The criminal snatched up his gun and pulled the trigger a total of six more times. (Y/n) jerked back as six bullets ploughed into his chest, two hit each of his lungs and two managed to pierce his heart, his head sagged down, but he managed to stay standing. Police rushing in, grabbing the criminal, as one went to check on (Y/n), but they were too late. (Y/n) had managed to stay standing the entire time, but as the police rushed to him, his body crumpled to the floor. He had bled out even as he stood and was dead long before his legs had even buckled.

...

(Y/n)'s head rose, he looked around, only to find himself in a blank empty area. A white mist floated through the blackness, the only contrast to the utter bareness of the area. (Y/n) realised then that he was sitting on a red upholstered wooden chair. Across from him was a large, white, throne. A table situated beside it. On the table was a book.

(Y/n): Where am I?

(Y/n) then laughed at the hilarity of the situation. There he was, sitting on a chair in some unknown black environment, filled with mist, and here he was, talking to himself. He did not know why he felt so calm. He was somehow at peace, content to just sit there and wait for something to happen, because, for some uncanny reason, he somehow knew that something was going to happen. Then he heard it, the sound of heels striking a stone floor. He ventured a glance at the ground and saw that it was tiled with large black and white squares, much like that of a chess board.