Chapter Text
Time had stopped... At least for Shedletsky.
He knew this was a dream— the weightless air, the quiet hum beneath his feet, the way everything shimmered like glass waiting to shatter. Still, he wished it weren’t.
In the corner sat 007n7, small against the vastness. Even here, even in a dream, he was an outcast.
Shedletsky’s throat tightened. The words came before thought could catch them. “You deserve so much better.”
“…? I—thanks…? But you shouldn’t really say that to me. People will get the wrong idea.”
His voice was wary, cautious, wrapped in the habit of flinching from kindness. As though he’d spent a lifetime expecting knives in every word.
Shedletsky’s heart ached. Even here, in a world made of memory, the man couldn’t believe he was worth standing beside.
“No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He reached out before he could stop himself, fingers closing around 007n7’s. The contact was warm— painfully real. “Let them think whatever they want. I should’ve said it sooner. I should’ve been there.”
007n7 blinked at him, confusion softening his face into something almost young. “Shed… what are you—”
“I’m sorry,” the ex-admin breathed, tightening his grip like the dream might dissolve if he let go. “I’m sorry for letting them treat you like nothing. You weren’t nothing. You were—” His words broke like glass in his throat. “You were better than me.”
Silence filled the air between them, trembling with things that could never be mended.
For a heartbeat, 007n7’s fingers twitched, almost— almost.... returning the touch.
And then the light fractured.
The dream tore itself away.
Shedletsky woke with his fists clenched and his heart raw.
“Fuck…” he whispered.
The dream felt real because he needed it to be. But reality waited for no one.
“You were talking in your sleep again,” Builderman said softly. He’d been watching for a while. “We have a few minutes before another round starts. I don’t know who the next killer is.”
“I don’t have the energy left to dirty my hands anymore.”
“I don’t either.” The old admin gave a weary smile before pulling him into a hug. “We’ll get out of here soon. Just… stay alive for me.”
Shedletsky hesitated, voice barely above a breath. “Can you tell 2x2 to let me rest more?”
“Yeah,” Builderman huffed gently. “I’ll tell him.”
Two Time and Noob slept beside one another, huddled against the cold. 2x2 had found a torn blanket to cover them with.
He sensed Builderman’s approach before hearing it.
“Worry not. You can rest more,” 2x2 said, voice steady as he removed Builderman’s hat, almost reverently. “I shall deal with this killer.”
“You’re going to deal with Noli.” It wasn’t a question, not an accusation— a knowing.
No survivor could kill the ancient god.
But 2x2 could.
He had erased The Spectre; he was capable of erasing Noli.
“Young Elliot may need comfort,” 2x2 murmured, stepping back. “I shall get going.”
Time no longer passed in the Forsaken Realm. It only folded in on itself.
The killers waited— restless, hollow. Without The Spectre, there was no rhythm, no order. The bell tolled, but it brought no new hunt. Only the echo of something dying slowly.
Azure kept to their small corner, tending to John Doe and Slasher, keeping them from collapsing into madness.
The bell tolled again, unanswered.
“I’m going to check on Sixer,” Azure said.
John lifted his head, eyes red and unfocused. “W–Who…?”
“Just a Guest. Another killer, on the other side of the house. 1x... ... said it wouldn’t be wise for you to meet.”
John nodded numbly. He had no will left to argue. What could he say? He was a creature who had murdered everything that ever loved him.
When Azure left, John sat in the silence, Slasher curled beside him, weeping without voice. The sound lived only in the air— sorrow vibrating through walls that could still remember.
Then Noli appeared.
He did not arrive with thunder or light— he simply was. The ancient god’s smile was carved from arrogance and delight.
“Leave us alone, Noli,” John muttered, too tired for anger.
“Awe, afraid I’ll bring up your [WIFE?]” Noli mocked. “Your p00r wife— a survivor, dying again and again by your own hand. I’m {{DY¡NG}} to see her kill you this time.”
Slasher didn’t move. John didn’t lift his head. The words fell between them like stones into water.
If his wife killed him, he thought, maybe that would be peace.
The bell tolled again— and Noli appeared in a blank void.
At first, he thought it was another trick of the realm.
Then the light began to bend.
He felt it— the glitch in the air, the way existence itself trembled, folding inward. The code around him shimmered like static on glass. He recognized the presence before it spoke.
“You’ve stayed too long.”
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, stripped of emotion— mathematical, inevitable.
2x2.
Noli turned toward the fissure of light opening before him. His eyes were calm, but his hands trembled— a tiny, human fear he’d long forgotten he could feel.
“You’ve [FORGOTTEN] who made this place.
“And you’ve forgotten what it was made for.”
The silence between them hummed like an electric wire, taut and humming.
2x2’s form flickered— a silhouette of shifting lines, faceless yet watching.
“This realm was meant to contain the broken,” He said. “Not feed on them.”
“Contain?” Noli laughed softly, hollow. “You call this containment? They [prayed] to me. I gave them purpose.”
“You gave them despair.”
“They already had that.”
The light shuddered. Reality flickered like dying film.
Noli took a step forward, the cracks of his smile deepening.
“You can’t [erase] me.”
“I already am.”
The words weren’t shouted— they simply became true.
Noli felt it first in his fingertips— the texture of existence slipping away, dissolving grain by grain. He reached for power, but there was nothing left to hold. No code, no flame, no will. Only cold logic, pressing in on all sides.
His voice broke into something almost human.
“W∆it—”
“For what? You have nobody waiting for you.”
“Pl€ase—!”
The light consumed him mid-word.
No scream. No ash. Not even memory.
Only a system’s whisper:
[Process Complete. Entity Removed.]
2x2 stood alone in the blankness, his edges flickering with static.
He did not speak again.
The bell tolled, at least this time someone was chosen.
In the survivors’ cabin, the air turned colder. The walls pulsed once, faintly, as if the house had lost its breath.
Chance looked up from the floor. “...Did you feel that?”
Elliot's expression was unreadable, but his eyes were wet. “Another one’s gone.”
“Who?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The absence itself was enough.
Even the Realm seemed quieter— as though a god’s name had been erased from its code.
Outside, a faint hum drifted through the endless fog, then faded into nothing.
No one spoke Noli’s name.
No one mourned him.
For an ancient god, he was easily forgotten—
as if the world had simply closed over where he once stood.
And the silence that followed was not peaceful.
It was final.
Somewhere else in a room, Builderman felt the same hollow in his chest that the Realm felt in its code.
He didn’t even know why at first— only that the air was thinner, easier to breathe but somehow worse for it.
He had hated Noli. He should have felt relieved.
Instead, there was a strange ache in him, like standing over the ruins of a temple filled with fake worshippers.
“Guess even gods die here,” he said softly.
“Seems like it,” Jane mumbles, out of so many days, she finally decided to speak.
Who knows?
Maybe she is accepting the fact her husband can't be save...
Or she is waiting to see John first.
The killers felt it first— the shift, the void where a god used to breathe.
Azure was the first to notice.
He had been tending to Sixer when the air flickered, the walls of the realm peeling into static for a heartbeat before sealing again.
His tendril tightened around his lantern.
“…What was that?”
The flame inside his glass guttered once and then steadied. He felt it... the weight missing from the world.
Something vast had gone silent.
Something cruel.
Something he had feared, even respected in his own way.
“...Noli,” He whispered.
It wasn’t grief. Not quite.
It was the feeling of standing in the ruins of a god and realizing that the ruins were quieter than you expected.
He turned to Sixer, who was still dazed. “He’s gone.”
Sixer blinked, not understanding. “Who?”
“Exactly,” Azure murmured. “No one worth remembering.”
John Doe sat by Slasher’s side. Neither spoke.
He had never liked Noli’s voice— the way it crawled into his code, turning pity into obedience.
Now it was gone, scrubbed from the world like an old file.
For a moment, he wondered if this was what freedom was supposed to feel like.
It wasn’t.
Freedom, he realized, wasn’t silence. It was the ability to choose what filled it.
And right now, all the silence gave him was guilt.
Slasher’s tears had stopped. His eyes were empty.
He remembered Noli— not clearly, just flashes of a god smiling down at him, telling him what to be, who to hurt.
He didn’t know if he should hate the god or thank him.
Now there was no one left to tell him what he was.
That thought scared him more than Noli ever did.
The bell will ring soon, the killers are not ready to meet their death.
Deleted dialogues
