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In another timeline, further into the future, Builderman was never saved. Shedletsky succumbed to his wounds, dying from what seemed to be an attack. Most of the swords were stolen and used to their full potential in the worst ways possible, ravaging the lands with tremors, with fires, with blizzards, with overgrowth, with several broken cities and towns.
In the wake of these broken civilizations were the rebellions—those who sought to claim their lands back and restore it to what it once was. One would call them heroes. These people would simply call themselves “survivors”, desperate to live, knowing they’d die otherwise. They pushed on and on, despite their conditions, despite the lack of supplies, despite the numerous deaths of fellow members…
…But their determination was never enough to keep most of its members alive.
Several factions were raided by The Noob Family—Blue and Red accompanying Purple and Green, regardless of how they felt. The Bubonic Plant and its minions ravaged another base, and was fighting for land against The Cruel Behemoth—who was once the Cruel King, kindness long forgotten before many were born.
Kyoko, the leader of a smaller faction, tried to save everyone who was with her. But only one other remained, and out of desperation to not lose another, she hid her companion within a burrow along with several electric blankets and food. The Player desperately tried to go against Kyoko’s wishes. They so desperately wanted to help their mentor—their dearest and only friend—to fight, run, anything, just to not be alone.
Desperation. It’s what led to Kiyoko’s final act before she fully succumbed to her wounds on the surface. The sight of her broken body haunted The Player, but they did not want to go against Kyoko’s final wishes. Her wish for them to live.
They didn’t know how to do that on their own. Everyone around them was dead, and no one could aid The Player to even attempt to get The Ghost Walker—which was miles away in the barren wasteland, several dead bodies surrounding it out of people’s desperation to do something about the chaos that surrounded them.
Desperation. That word seemed to come around often in their head. It’s all The Player had as they lay in the burrow, surrounded by powered-down electric blankets and depleted empty rations.
Their body couldn’t stop trembling. They found themself breathing too shallow, yet too slow, their heart struggling to beat from the sluggish breeze. The Player’s stomach stayed empty, but the pain from their hunger was now reduced to a numb ache. Their entire body ached from the cold of the air and the drenched fabric from the moisture.
They wanted out. But they knew that the topside was much colder. They would die the moment they stepped out of the burrow.
Not that they could, anyway. They’re pretty sure that their limbs had developed frostbite.
They found their eyelids to be heavy, snow and crystal collecting within their lashes. Their tears dried out long ago, and their vision was clouded by weak puffs of clouds from the condensation of their breath. They wish they knew what the world was like before it was frozen, burnt, blighted, and ravaged. They wish that they could change fate somehow.
They wished that they were useful, instead of helpless as they wasted the last of their dead faction’s resources.
They wished that they were useful, instead of helpless as they wasted the last of their dead faction’s resources. Helpless to change the fates of everyone they held dear.
They wished that they were greedier when scavenging for scraps and spare food. They kept leaving some for other survivors. Perhaps if they took all that they saw, several people would be surviving right now, enjoying the rations. Maybe they themself would've lasted longer.
They wished that they weren’t so alone at the ends of Robloxia. The silence was maddening, and it hurt to have no one to aid them and tell them what to do. They missed sitting on the swing at their backyard with their friends and family, surrounded by constant chattering and voices.
They wished that they weren’t afraid of dying, of being brave. But at that moment, they were afraid of what's to come. In truth, they did not want to die. Not like this.
They wished that their hatred of the world—how it was at their dying moments—were enough to simply change it. They hated the way the world became and what became of themselves. They hated the constant death that surrounded them. They hated themselves, and the fact that they could only do nothing at the end.
Their tears dried long ago. Did they notice that before?
The burrow was getting darker from the snow collecting on the hole. They could barely feel air enter their lungs. Their head hurt.
And yet they kept wishing. Because it was the only thing they could do.
They were on the brink of sleeping, on the brink of never waking up again as they could only see vague shapes and colors. But peeks of light started to shine through the entrance like someone had dug out a hole.
The Player couldn’t decipher who nor what was approaching them, only seeing a blurb of blue that almost blended with their surroundings. They realized that it was a person, speaking in a soft voice, but they couldn’t parse out what they were saying. How long ago did they see a living creature, let alone a person? Their voice were muffled and muted, like all the other sounds from long ago.
The person fished out a glowing light from…somewhere. It was then pushed towards The Player’s chest.
Huh. It was pushed into their chest. Absorbing the light felt funny, but not as weird as their surroundings slowly turning into pure light. They closed their eyes to spare themselves from the headache, but found themselves falling into slumber.
They felt…safe. Finally safe enough to truly rest.
Then they slowly started feeling their limbs again. They could feel the comfortable warmth of the air and the soft, dry fabrics surrounding them. Since when were their clothes dried? Their eyelids were too heavy to open, but the muffled voice seemed to be getting louder.
Finally, the voice started to make sense to their ears…or brain.
“Hey, wake up. Wake up, goober.”