An Unforgivable Mistake. || Voidburger

Chapter 4

Noli couldn't believe his eyes.
Seven was calling him.
No—no, that wasn't possible. That couldn't be possible. Seven was dead. He had been dead for months. Noli had seen the body with his own eyes, smelled the rot, felt the horror lodge itself permanently into his memory. This had to be something mundane and cruel—either a prank call or phone number reassignment, some random stranger inheriting a number that still bled tragedy. He stared at the glowing screen as if it might vanish if he didn't look away fast enough.
His fingers trembled as he finally answered. "Hello?" The word slipped out flat, almost robotic, like his voice had shut itself down to survive. Static crackled on the other end. Loud, aggressive, distorted—like the call was being dragged through layers of broken reality. Beneath it, something struggled to form words. A voice glitched, warped, breaking in and out like it was drowning.
"Noli—"
Just one word. Just his name.
His breath caught so sharply it hurt. His hand tightened around the phone. That voice—God, that voice sounded exactly like Seven. Same tone. Same cadence. Same faint rasp that always showed up when he was tired or stressed. Noli's knees went weak.
"Seven?!" he blurted, panic and hope colliding violently. "Is that you?! What's going on? Are you alive? How is this possible?"
The static surged, swallowing everything. No answer. Just noise. Of course. Of course it was a prank. It had to be. Reality didn't bend like that—not even for gods. Seven was dead, and Noli had to accept that, no matter how much it shredded him from the inside out.
He sniffled, his eyes burning as tears finally spilled over. His chest shuddered as he ended the call, the silence afterward crashing over him like cold water. "Who the fuck would do something like that...?" he whispered.
This wasn't just stupid. This wasn't even funny in a dark way. This was cruelty, deliberate and calculated. Someone knew exactly where to hit him. And worse—someone was reckless enough to do it knowing he was a god. Whether they believed it or not didn't matter. The risk alone should've scared them.
The phone rang again.
Noli flinched so hard his hand jerked. His heart slammed painfully against his ribs. For a moment, he considered throwing the phone against the tree, smashing it into useless shards.
Instead, he answered. "Whoever you think you are, this isn't funny!" he snapped, his voice shaking violently. "Seven's dead!" The last word broke completely. Tears streamed freely now, his vision blurring as his shoulders trembled.
Static answered—worse this time. Thicker. Heavier. Then the voice returned, barely holding together. "I—don't have—time—"
Noli sobbed aloud. He pressed the phone closer, as if proximity alone might make it clearer. "Please," he begged. "Please tell me this is a prank. Just say it. I can take it. I just—I just need to know you're not really—"
"Noli—you need to—Dusekkar—"
His blood ran ice-cold.
Dusekkar.
His eyes widened violently as realization slammed into him. The god of death. The ferryman. The one who guided souls through the In-Between. Of course. Of course that was who Seven would try to reach through—if he could reach anyone at all.
"Fuck," Noli breathed. "Fuck, I'm so stupid."
He could see Seven again. Or at least learn the truth. He just needed to talk to Dusekkar. "I promise you Seven, I'll find you!" He hung up and ran.
The jagged path to his castle tore beneath his boots as he sprinted upward, moving faster than thought. What would've taken a mortal twenty minutes barely took him five. His heart hammered not from exhaustion but from terror—real, raw terror that something had gone horribly wrong.
The purple-black spires of his castle loomed as he burst inside, bolting straight for the sealed hall no one else was allowed to enter. The void star hovered peacefully above its pedestal, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Noli didn't hesitate. He grabbed it, gasping as energy crackled against his skin. The sting was familiar, grounding. He closed his eyes.
Reality tore.
When he opened them, he stood in the Realm of the In-Between. An endless, colorless expanse stretched in all directions, eerily silent. No wandering souls. No distant echoes. Nothing. This place was never empty.
"Dusekkar," Noli called, his voice echoing too loud. "I need to speak with you. I need your help!"
No response.
"Dammit, I don't have time for your rhymes and riddles! I need to find—" A sudden feeling of uneasiness crept deep into his chest. He turned slowly—and froze.
Bones lay scattered nearby. Too large. Too familiar. Noli stepped closer, dread coiling tighter with every step. A skeleton. A horse.
"No..." His voice came out broken. The stories flooded his mind instantly. Dusekkar's steed. His oldest companion. Bound to him long before gods were worshipped or feared. It was dead. If this could happen, then—
A presence bloomed coldly behind him.
Noli turned, summoning the void star instantly, heart pounding. A dark figure floated before him, its shape bending and reshaping, never fully settling into one form. It radiated amusement and control. "W-what—who are you?!" Noli demanded shakily. "Where's Dusekkar?!"
The figure chuckled low and dark. "Dear Noli. I'm quite a big fan. A mortal who chose power over love."
Rage flared hot. Noli raised the star. "Answer me."
    "I am the Spectre," the figure said smoothly. "Nothing more than a spectator... and a game master." The words echoed unnaturally through the In-Between, bending as if the realm itself were listening. The Spectre drifted closer, its form rippling like smoke caught between worlds. Noli could feel pressure building behind his eyes, the same sensation he got when reality strained near his power.
    "I know what happened to your friends," the Spectre continued, voice rich with mock sympathy, "both Dusekkar—and," it paused deliberately, savoring the moment, "007n7."
    Noli froze.
    The name hit him hard, like a blow to the chest. His grip tightened around the void star until it crackled violently in response. "What," he said, voice low and dangerous, "did you do to them?"
    The Spectre laughed. It wasn't quiet or restrained—it echoed loudly, delighted and unbothered, bouncing endlessly through the empty realm. Noli felt his skin crawl.
    "Oh, nothing so crude as what you're imagining," the Spectre said with a lazy wave of its hand. "I didn't destroy them. No, no. That would end the fun far too quickly." It extended its hand toward Noli. Long fingers, too many joints, shadows pooling between them like living ink.
    "They're playing my game," the Spectre said sweetly. "Same as so many others. Rules, objectives, winners, losers. Survival." It tilted its head. "You understand games, don't you, Noli? So much cleaner than chaos."
    Noli's heart pounded. His thoughts raced faster than he could control them. A game? Dusekkar—Dusekkar, a god—reduced to a piece on someone else's board? And Seven... Seven trapped somewhere Noli couldn't reach?
    "Where are they?" Noli demanded. "Without Dusekkar, there's no one to guide souls to their haven!"
    The Spectre's grin widened. "Oh, I know. That's what makes this game so much easier to play."
    Noli took a sharp breath. His instincts screamed at him to attack, to tear this thing apart where it floated. He could feel his power itching beneath his skin, begging to be unleashed. But the Spectre wasn't afraid. That alone terrified him.
    "What are the rules?" Noli asked carefully.
    "Oh, that's the best part," the Spectre replied. "You'll learn as you go."
    Noli's jaw tightened. He glanced down at the void star in his hand, feeling its familiar hum. He was a god now. He wasn't weak. And yet—this being spoke like it held all the cards.
    "What happens if I refuse?" Noli asked quietly. For the first time, the Spectre's amusement sharpened into something colder. "Then the game continues without you. Your friends play until they break... or until they're forgotten."
    Noli's throat closed. Forgotten. The word echoed in his head, dragging memories with it—Seven alone in his house, dead for weeks, untouched, overlooked. Noli swallowed hard.
    "Can I see them?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
    The Spectre chuckled again. "Eventually."
    Noli closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, resolve burned fiercely behind the grief. "Fine," he said. "I'll play."
    The Spectre's hand drifted closer, shadows curling eagerly. "That's the spirit."
    Noli hesitated only a second before reaching out and taking it. The moment their hands met, reality snapped. Cold rushed through him, sharp and invasive, like being torn through a thousand screaming layers at once. The In-Between folded in on itself, fracturing into shards of light and darkness. Noli felt himself falling, weightless and helpless, his senses blurring.
    "Anything for Seven," he whispered instinctively.
    The Spectre's laughter followed him as the world dissolved.
Noli blinked, and the world snapped back into focus. He was now standing inside a small cabin.
The first thing he registered was the smell—old wood, damp earth, something faintly metallic underneath it all. The air was thick, stale, like it hadn't been changed out in a long time. The walls were made of rough wooden planks, scratched and gouged, some of them darkened as if something had seeped into the grain long ago and never quite left. A single hanging light flickered lazily above the main room, casting uneven shadows that crawled along the corners.
Noli inhaled sharply and looked down at his hands. The void star was still there. Relief washed through him so suddenly his knees nearly buckled. He curled his fingers around it instinctively, feeling the familiar crackle of contained nothingness hum against his skin. Whatever this place was—whatever the Spectre had dragged him into—it hadn't stripped him completely bare.
"Okay," Noli muttered under his breath. "Okay. That's... good. That's good." Before he could take another step or properly gather himself, the cabin door flew open.
Three small figures burst inside, loud and chaotic, their laughter echoed unnaturally in the enclosed space. Noli stiffened instantly, muscles tensing as his brain jumped to threat assessment before logic could catch up.
They ran straight past him like he wasn't even there, their feet thudding against the warped wooden floor. One was bright red, small and sharp-edged in a way that made Noli's chest tighten immediately. His breath snagged as recognition hit him like a punch.
c00lkidd.
The sight of him stirred something ugly inside Noli all at once—anger, shock, envy, grief—everything twisted together into one painful knot. This was Seven's kid. Seven's. The living reminder of everything he had lost and never protected well enough.
For half a second, Noli just stood there, frozen, staring. Then he forced himself to move.
He shoved the emotions down as hard as he could, burying them where they wouldn't show on his face. The last thing he wanted was to scare the kid. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped toward the red child as the other two—a blue boy and a pink girl—halted nearby, watching him with open curiosity.
"Hey," Noli said gently. His voice sounded strange to his own ears here, like it carried just a little too far. He crouched down to one knee so he wasn't looming. "Is your name c00lkidd, perhaps?" The red child tilted his head, eyes narrowed slightly. After a brief hesitation, he nodded. Noli forced a small smile, one that felt brittle on his face. "Okay. I'm... I'm looking for your father. 007n7." Saying the name made his chest ache. "Do you know where he might be?"
Before c00lkidd could answer, another voice cut in sharply.
"Nice try."
Noli looked up. A person with stark white hair stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over their chest, eyes narrowed with open hostility. They were shorter than him—most people were—but something about the way they stood made them feel larger, harder to push around. "Killers and survivors are separated," they snapped.
Noli straightened and rose slowly to his feet. He hadn't even sensed them enter, which set off an immediate warning in the back of his mind. "I'm not trying to—"
"The hell do you think you're doing?" the white-haired person interrupted. Their voice was sharp, edged with irritation.
Noli frowned slightly, confused. "I was just asking a question."
They scoffed. "Yeah? A question that leads to advantages in the game!"
Noli tilted his head, extremely confused. Advantages? This was the Spectre's game it seemed but he was still so puzzled. "My name is Noli," he said calmly. "And who may you be?"
The person's lips curled. "1x," they spat, like the name itself was a challenge.
The two stared at each other for a moment, tension thick enough to taste. The cabin felt smaller, tighter, as if it were bracing for something to snap. Before it could, another voice chimed in, lazy and amused. "1x, chill out."
Noli's gaze darted to the open doorway. A noob leaned casually against the doorframe, cigarette dangling loose from his fingers. He wore a tuxedo that looked oddly clean for a place like this, a fedora tilted low on his head, long yellow hair spilling down past his shoulders. Smoke curled lazily around him, drifting upward toward the flickering light.
"We're all stuck here with one objective," the noob continued, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Try not to kill the newbie within the first five minutes, yeah?" 1x shot him an annoyed look but didn't argue. The noob flicked the cigarette aside and pushed himself upright, strolling into the cabin with an easy confidence that made Noli wary. He stopped a short distance away and offered a small, crooked grin.
"Name's Mafioso," he said. "So, Noli... how'd you end up here?"
Noli blinked. "Here?"
Mafioso chuckled and waved a hand vaguely around the cabin. "The game. This place. All of it."
Mafioso gently nudged c00lkidd away from Noli with his knee. "Go on. You three go play outside."
The red child hesitated, glancing back at Noli for a moment before scampering off with the other two. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the room noticeably quieter.
Noli's brow furrowed. "Game?"
"Yeah," Mafioso said casually. "That what we're calling it."
Noli shook his head slowly, trying to piece things together. The Spectre. The hand. "I don't understand."
Mafioso hummed thoughtfully. "Most newbies don't."
"Who'd you kill?" Mafioso asked suddenly, tone light but eyes sharp. "Who'd you have it out for? Which survivor's your enemy?"
Noli stiffened. "I didn't kill anyone."
1x scoffed. "Bullshit."
"I'm serious." Noli's voice hardened slightly. "I'm not here for any of those reasons."
A brief silence followed.
Then 1x leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Alright, then how'd you die?"
"I didn't," Noli said flatly.
Mafioso blinked. "You didn't... die."
"No."
Mafioso rubbed the back of his neck. "Then how the hell did you get here?"
Noli hesitated. Saying it out loud made it sound absurd. "I was offered the chance to come here." For a second, neither of them reacted.
Then 1x burst out laughing. Loud. Sharp. Uncontrolled. "You chose this hellhole?!" they cackled, doubling over slightly. "You walked into this voluntarily?"
Noli shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't have a choice."
"The hell you didn't," 1x shot back.
"No," Noli said quietly. "I'm here for someone. Actually... two people." He swallowed. "I'm not here to kill anyone."
Mafioso gave a humorless chuckle. "Yeah. That's what I said, too. Right up until I saw that little bitch, Chance."
Noli ignored that and glanced down at the void star still clenched in his hand. His grip tightened. "Alright," he muttered. "Enough of this." He closed his eyes. "I'm leaving."
He focused hard—on the void, on the pull of space folding, on the way reality usually peeled back at his will.
Nothing happened.
Noli opened his eyes. He was still in the cabin. "No," he breathed. He tried again, harder this time, forcing power into the motion. His temples throbbed. The void star crackled angrily.
Nothing.
"What?" Panic crept into his voice. "Why isn't this working?"
He tried a third time, heart racing, cold dread sliding into his chest. His breath grew shallow.
Mafioso sighed and shook his head. "Yeah. That's not gonna happen."
Noli looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"The Spectre doesn't allow escape," Mafioso said simply. "Once you're in, you're in."
Noli's eyes widened as the weight of the situation finally settled fully onto his shoulders. So this really was a game. A controlled environment. A cage. Designed by something powerful enough to trap gods.
Questions flooded his mind all at once. Was Dusekkar here? Was Seven alive—or trapped—or already broken? How big was this place? How many others were playing? Who were the survivors, and what did they do to make even killers sound wary? And most importantly—what would this game demand from him? Noli tightened his grip on the void star, jaw clenched. He would find Seven. No matter what the Spectre wanted in return.