What if Dream gave up the book?
In a blinding pain he just couldn’t bear ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsmakeitstop! he hoped Quackity would fuck up and kill him on accident, then he begged for Quackity to just kill him, but he wouldn’t and in that excruciating moment Dream gave him what he wanted, filled with relief when Quackity rested a knife on his throat before sliding it across. There was no health potions or panic this time just ice cold death making his body go numb as he faded away, Quackity’s twisted laugher ringing in his ears.
But then he was back.
Quackity smirking in front of him “I wonder how many times someone can die before they don’t come back? Shall we test that, Dream? Hmm?” And Dream realized when his body hit the floor again, a sword plunged straight through his neck, that he had made the second biggest mistake of his life. The first was making Sam warden.
He watched Quackity finally float back across the lave, after death 16, after his detached head disappeared into a puff of smoke along with his body. He crawled out of the water on his hands and knees barely able to gain purchase on the floor entirely covered with blood too much blood for one living soul though that didn’t matter anymore.
He knew it was stupid to think there was any mercy in this hell. And yet, still when Sam showed up to glare down at him with nothing but disgust and distain, he hoped that maybe Sam would put him out of his misery and ban Quackity from bringing him back. For the safety of the server of course. But he didn’t.
On death 52, he thought immortality was overrated and he should’ve let Tommy kill him back in that bunker.
On death 88, he stopped moving unless forced by Sam or Quackity.
On death 100, the pain started lingering even after his body had healed from revival.
On death 133, he started praying to any god he could think of, even begging Philza’s wife, Lady Death, to help him.
On death 150, he started missing the torture before he gave up the book.
On death 167, he wondered if anyone noticed his death messages littering the chat or if they simply didn’t care.
On death 200, DreamXD showed up to watch.
On death 236, he learned that hope and mercy were nothing but fairy tales.
On death 250, he wondered if Quackity would ever grow bored.
On death 278, he knew he wouldn’t…
On death 300, he learned that gods did grow bored.
There was no death 301.
He didn’t come back no matter how many books they burned. Only his ghost remained. Appearing at spawn, desaturated, devoid of all color, countless black marks coating his skin, making him near unrecognizable. The only thing that gave his identity away was the distinct sound of his voice if you managed to get him to say something. It was no louder than an echoing hoarse whisper drifting through the wind.
He wandered the server, a hollow specter haunting the land. They say he seemed to be looking for something, but no one knew what.
He never found it.
