Chapter Text
Another round was about to begin.
C00lkidd sighed— it was his turn.
The air felt heavy with dread. He knew he was going to make it painful for the survivors, but…
He didn’t feel good.
“Kidd?” A voice, the embodiment of hatred itself, snapped him back to reality. “You don’t look well.” 1x raised its eyebrow, brushing the back of its hand against C00lkidd’s forehead. “No fever…”
“I. Am. Fine.” C00lkidd slapped the hand away. “Leave me alone.”
1x sighed. “Just come to me if you’re not feeling well. I’ll make sure the damned Spectre gives you a rest.”
C00lkidd stayed silent, watching as 1x left the room. He curled up, staring at his reflection in the broken mirror.
Ugly. Disgusting. Demonic.
The c00lgui he’d stolen from his dad flickered and sparked, malfunctioning— but he didn’t realize that yet.
He thought about 1x offer... Maybe he'll ask for help after the round end.
The round started.
C00lkidd searched for survivors. Useless. All of them were useless.
Elliot was running. C00lkidd chased the healer down. Activating walk speed override, he burned the skin off the pizza man’s arms.
“You’ll burn just like the rest of them.”
He raised his scythe—
BANG!
“Bullseye!” Chance cheered, muttering a quick thanks to his Lady Luck.
Elliot stumbled but was pulled up just in time. Chance grabbed his hand, dragging him away.
C00lkidd should’ve chased them, but— his eye was bleeding. That damned gambler had shot him in the eye and this time, it hurt worse than ever.
Usually, The Spectre made it hurt less.
C00lkidd’s scream of frustration echoed through the “Work at a Pizza Place” map. He turned in fury, searching for another survivor— then froze when he saw the wall.
A wall he had carved on, back when he was still naive. Back when he didn’t know he was trapped in an endless cycle. Back when he didn’t know he was killing them.
Clenching his teeth, C00lkidd broke into a sprint.
It’s useless to care now. Finish the job.
“Anyone notice something unusual about C00lkidd?” Builderman asked, adjusting his dispenser to keep Elliot healed. “Taph mentioned her bomb hurt the kid more than usual.”
“Really? No way. Did Taphy get a buff?” Chance joked, brushing it off. “Killer just looks more ticked off than usual.”
Elliot sighed, glancing at his healed burns. He had seen it— the monstrous child was bleeding. That wasn’t normal. His eyes trailed to his pants, where C00lkidd’s blood had stained the fabric.
Something was wrong.
The Spectre hadn’t made a sound. That was unusual. Too unusual. Elliot’s chest tightened. Something was *off*. Tyler, too—the first victim of the Spectre—hadn’t shown himself. And only Elliot knew Tyler still existed.
Why were they both silent?
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
“C00lkidd was bleeding.” The words escaped him before he realized. Both Builderman and Chance stared at him in shock. “I— I don’t know. Maybe I saw it wrong.”
“…Well.” Builderman hesitated, then spoke. “2x2 is back from fishing. Just before the round, I saw him return.”
Elliot’s eyes widened. 2x2?
The God the Spectre had tried desperately to keep out?
If 2x2 was back— then that only meant one thing.
The Spectre was gone.
If the Spectre was gone, the killers are now weak.
“Oh no… no. NO.” Elliot’s voice cracked.
That meant the killers could die.
That meant the child would die.
C00lkidd was going to die.
He didn’t like C00lkidd. He didn’t like 007n7. Their past misdeeds still scarred him. But this? This wasn’t right. The boy didn’t deserve this.
“WE HAVE TO GO NOW!” Elliot’s voice was urgent, desperate. He had to find C00lkidd. He had to explain.
C00lkidd staggered through the burning debris, clutching his bleeding eye. His breaths came out ragged, each step heavier than the last.
The map flickered around him, unstable. The absence of the Spectre was tearing at the realm itself.
“Tch… useless…” he hissed, gripping his scythe. The blade still burned, but his hands trembled. His health was dropping faster than ever before.
“C00lkidd!”
The boy froze. Elliot’s voice.
He turned, snarling, ready to strike—
He wasn’t running. He looked… desperate.
“You don’t have to keep fighting!” Elliot shouted, moving closer despite the danger. “The Spectre is gone. You’re weakening because it’s gone!”
“LIAR!” C00lkidd’s voice cracked, torn in anger. “I have to finish this— I have to!”
The scythe shook in his hands. He raised it, forcing himself to believe he was still strong. That he could still be the monster the Spectre wanted.
But then the ground shook.
“💣💥!” Taph throw out her bomb from the distance.
The explosion ripped across the map, flames engulfing C00lkidd. The boy screamed, dropping his scythe as the burns consumed him.
“NO!” Elliot lunged forward, reaching out.
For a moment, he swore he saw the child— the real child— through the smoke. A scared, wide-eyed twelve-year-old, reaching back.
Then the light faded. The scythe clattered against the ground, lifeless.
C00lkidd was gone.
The realm fell silent.
The smoke cleared.
The survivors froze.
C00lkidd’s body lay crumpled on the scorched ground, the scythe fallen beside him. His chest barely rose, each breath weaker than the last. His demonic features flickered— horns dimming, skin cracking as if the Spectre’s grip was unraveling.
“...H-He’s… he’s down?” Noob voice cracked. “K-killers don’t— they don’t just—”
“No…” Elliot whispered, his legs shaking. His hands hovered, unsure if he should touch the boy. Killers don’t bleed. Killers don’t fall. This isn’t supposed to happen.
“...” Taph stood there, the weight of her own bomb sinking in. Not again, she thought. She killed someone again with that bomb of her.
Builderman’s jaw tightened. His sentry hummed uselessly, still shooting the monster lying before them. “This… ... what's going on…?”
Even Shedletsky stood frozen, his sword lowered. For once, not a single survivor moved forward to finish the job.
Because there was nothing left to finish.
Then—
“ᴷiᵈd..?”
The voice broke through the silence.
007n7.
He stumbled into the clearing, his face pale, eyes wide. When he saw the small figure on the ground, his knees gave out.
“No… no, no, no…”
The survivors had never seen him like this— his walls crumbling, his carefully kept silence shattering. The outcast, the ex hacker, the one who never let himself show weakness— now sobbing, raw and broken.
He crawled to his son, gathering C00lkidd in his arms. His voice cracked, trembling against every word.
“Please— please, not you. Not my boy. I—I can’t lose you too—”
Tears fell freely. The survivors could only watch, paralyzed.
Everything hurt. His body was heavy, fading, but his mind was clear for once.
Through the haze, he saw him. His dad. Crying.
Dad… you’re here?
Warmth wrapped around him as he was pulled into his father’s arms. His heartbeat slowed, but he smiled faintly.
He wasn’t a monster. Not to him. Never a monster to his father's eyes.
“…Dad.” His voice was fragile, almost gone. “You came…”
007n7’s tears dripped onto his face. “Of course I came, son. I’ll always come for you.”
C00lkidd let out a shaky laugh, something soft, almost human. “You’re… warm.”
His vision blurred. The pain dulled. He felt small again— just a child, safe in his father’s embrace.
At least… I got to see you one last time.
The darkness took him gently, as if he’d finally been released from the loop.
Elliot turned away, pressing a hand to his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. He had seen C00lkidd burn once before— back when the boy had set fire to his pizza place, long before Forsaken. Back then it was an accident, a child’s mischief gone too far. But this? This was final. Permanent.
I didn’t want this, he thought, bile rising in his throat. God, I didn’t want this.
The cabin was quiet. Awful silence it brings many discomfort.
The survivors kept their distance, trapped in the weight of the scene. 007n7’s sobs, Shedletsky’s hand resting heavy on his shoulder, that admin is comforting the ex hacker.
But somewhere else— in the dark place beyond the realm— two greater beings were watching.
The Spectre writhed beneath 2x2’s foot, its form flickering like smoke trying to claw free.
“You… can’t…!” The Spectre’s voice grated like broken glass, echoing with fury and desperation. “They are mine— killers, survivors, all of them— mine!”
2x2’s gaze didn’t waver. His presence filled the void, calm yet crushing, his boot pressing harder against the entity’s chest.
“Your game is over.”
He tilted his head, watching through the tear in the veil as the father wept over his fallen son.
“...Such a shame.” His voice was almost gentle. “He was just a boy. But there is no other way. If the killers escape Forsaken, Robloxia will fall into chaos.”
The Spectre screeched, thrashing, but 2x2’s hold was unbreakable.
“Rest, child,” 2x2 murmured— not to the Spectre, but to C00lkidd. With a faint glow, he ensured the boy’s soul would not rise again.
No loop. No resurrection. Just peace.
He closed his eyes. “This is mercy, though few will see it as such.”
The void rumbled. The Spectre’s scream fractured into silence as 2x2’s weight drove it deeper into the dark. For now, the god had won.
And yet, he did not finish the game. Not entirely.
“Let the survivors face the rest,” he decided, pulling back from the veil. “They must kill the others themselves. That is the only way they will understand the cost.”
The Spectre hissed faintly beneath him, but its strength was broken.
And so the match would go on.
The killer’s den was quiet. Too quiet.
Usually, after a round, the killers returned in their own twisted ways— licking blades, sharpening tools, bickering over who caused the most bloodshed. But this time, the silence was deafening.
1x paced restlessly, its twin swords clinking faintly with every step. Its single eye glowed in agitation, scanning the shadows again and again.
“…Where is he?”
It had been waiting for C00lkidd to reappear in his usual flicker of flames and ash. He always came back. They all always came back. That was the rule.
But the child was nowhere.
1x gritted its teeth, reaching inward, trying to call upon the Spectre— the only thing that ever answered it.
No reply. Not even the familiar whisper of madness. Just silence.
The rarest thing of all.
“…This isn’t right.” Its voice cracked with something foreign. Worry.
The shadows stirred.
Noli emerged, tall and languid, brushing nonexistent dust from his robes. His mask is eerie as he regarded the room, the tension, and the anxious embodiment of hatred pacing like a caged beast.
“Looking for the [CHILD?]” Noli asked smoothly. His tone carried no weight of sorrow, no hesitation.
1x spun, its swords tightening in its grasp. “…Where is he?”
Noli tilted his head, as if the question amused him. Then he simply said it. “He’s dE@d. [Dead dead.]” The words fell like a stone in water. No flourish.
No pity. Just fact.
1x froze. For a moment, it couldn’t process the words. “…No. He’ll respawn. We always respawn.”
“Not this time,” Noli replied with a shrug, as though it meant nothing. “The L00P is broken. [Your little boy won’t be coming back].”
1x’s hands shook. Its blades lowered, scraping against the floor. The embodiment of hatred— so often untouchable, cold, merciless— looked almost… small.
Noli’s smile was faint, cruel. “I wouldn’t get too [attached]. The rest of you may follow him soon.”
Then, just as suddenly, he vanished into the void again, leaving the silence even heavier than before.
Noli’s words lingered in the silence long after he was gone.
Your little boy won’t come back.
1x stood frozen, blades slack in its hands. It replayed the words again and again, as if repetition might make them false.
But the room was empty. The air was silent. The Spectre did not whisper. The child did not return.
For the first time, 1x felt something it couldn’t name. A weight pressing against its chest, an ache crawling up its throat. Its swords clattered to the floor, forgotten.
“...No.”
The word escaped weak, hollow. It had never begged before. Never needed to. But now—
“No, no, no— come back— come back, dammit—!”
1x sank to its knees, claws digging into the floorboards. The embodiment of hatred, trembling. All the fury it had ever carried, all the rage it had embodied, now turned inward and tore at itself.
There's no body to mourn.
Hatred was supposed to make it stronger. Unstoppable. But now, stripped of the Spectre’s grip, it was drowning in something new—something it could not fight with blades.
Grief.
1x’s chest heaved. It didn’t understand the tears running down its face, didn’t understand why its body shook like prey instead of predator. All it knew was emptiness where C00lkidd’s presence should have been.
“...Kidd.”
The name came out cracked, fragile.
For so long, 1x had believed it incapable of weakness. Hatred had no room for tenderness, no cracks for pain. But the boy had carved one anyway. And now, with him gone, it hurt worse than any blade.
The room stayed silent. No footsteps. No mocking laughter. No Spectre to order its rage.
Only 1x, alone, drowning in a grief it had no idea how to survive.
And then—
The match bell tolled.
It was 1x’s turn.