A tormented soul's reincarnation as Hashirama Senju sparks a sinister plot to disrupt the narratives of countless fictional worlds, all for his own gain—and one particular Satan. He's on a mission to unravel the truth of his existence. But what he seeks lays beyond mere mortal comprehension, and so he sets out to disrupt the very fabric of the multiverse, in a desperate attempt to attain it. The multiverse is in peril as he unleashes his chaos upon it, to unravel the truth behind his existence, and to gain what is beyond existence. Will he succeed in his quest or will the multiverse succumb to his madness?
Eternal Odyssey: A Senju Across The Multiverse
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 19
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 2
-
Statistics (2 threadmarks, 3.6k words)
User Total Lord Kismet 2 Threadmarks Reader mode
Chapter 00
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
A tormented soul's reincarnation as Hashirama Senju sparks a sinister plot to disrupt the narratives of countless fictional worlds, all for his own gain—and one particular Satan. He's on a mission to unravel the truth of his existence. But what he seeks lies beyond mere mortal comprehension, and so he sets out to disrupt the very fabric of the multiverse, in a desperate attempt to attain it. The multiverse is in peril as he unleashes his chaos upon it, to unravel the truth behind his existence, and to gain what is beyond existence. Will he succeed in his quest or will the multiverse succumb to his madness?
----
This is a fanfiction I wanted to write for a while now. With an OC insert, into multiple worlds one by one. world hopping, if you would. And now I am writing it. The thing is I won't be posting it regularly for now. I have a rule, I don't start posting online before I have 20-30 chapters written already, on Patreon.
I upload on patreon it as I write, so it's up-to-date with the chapters. This thread will be updated daily with a single chapter when I have 20-30 chapters written ahead. For now, only one chapter is posted for free, and there are up to 4 chapters written. You could check and show some support If you desire. I'm writing another story which is not been uploaded here, yet. That is above 150 chapters, and ongoing. Anyways, this, too, will be written as time goes on, and will be posted for free.
patreon.com/Lord_Kismet
For those who're interested!
----
This is a fanfiction I wanted to write for a while now. With an OC insert, into multiple worlds one by one. world hopping, if you would. And now I am writing it. The thing is I won't be posting it regularly for now. I have a rule, I don't start posting online before I have 20-30 chapters written already, on Patreon.
I upload on patreon it as I write, so it's up-to-date with the chapters. This thread will be updated daily with a single chapter when I have 20-30 chapters written ahead. For now, only one chapter is posted for free, and there are up to 4 chapters written. You could check and show some support If you desire. I'm writing another story which is not been uploaded here, yet. That is above 150 chapters, and ongoing. Anyways, this, too, will be written as time goes on, and will be posted for free.
patreon.com/Lord_Kismet
For those who're interested!
Chapter 01
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Chapter 01
—
"You want to kill me?" He asked haughtily as his lips twisted into a smile, revealing a flash of teeth beneath that glinted in the harsh light. He lifted his chin, a challenge in his piercing gaze as he quirked up an eyebrow in mockery. "...Pull the trigger."
The room was silent, except for the sound of his own breathing, a little ragged and uneven.
"..." The woman who stood in front of him wore an impassive expression, pulling the trigger.
– Bang!
– Bang!
– Bang!
– Bang!
– Bang!
A cacophony of five gunshots broke the silence, the sound echoing in the room, followed by deafening silence. He felt the searing heat of the lead as it pierced his flesh, tearing through muscle and bone. Despite the pain, he didn't let out a single groan, his gaze was fixated on the woman.
"Still the same, huh, mother?" He questioned, his hand reaching up to touch her cheek, slowly. The blood on his fingers dirtied her cheek, making his nose scrunch up in disgust. He expected some kind of reaction from her, but she held no expression. Cold and firm, like a diamond.
He could feel himself losing, to the darkness, and before long his haughtiness dulled down to one hazy smile.
As the metallic taste of blood sullied his tongue, his lips twisted into disgust. Blood gushed out of his mouth as he muttered his last words before the light seeped out of his eyes.
"...Fucking slut."
***
He sat in silence, his eyes scanning the crowded room filled with the buzz of lively conversations and clinking glasses. He felt lost, adrift in a sea of strangers, his mind devoid of any thoughts or emotions. It was as if he had achieved a state of complete emptiness, free from any worries or care in the world, or perhaps it was simply the alcohol—but he couldn't recall drinking that night.
Heck, he couldn't recall anything at all.
As he sat at the bar, he noticed the rows of bottles lining the shelves, each one glinting under the dim lights. The bartender behind the counter wore a white shirt rolled up the sleeves under the black apron matching his slicked-back hair. The half-smirk on his lips accentuated his sharp features as he mixed drinks with ease and a touch of flair—quite the cliche appearance, he might add. Amidst the chaos, the man stood apart with his controlled demeanor, lending sophistication to the surroundings.
His eyes roamed the dimly lit bar, taking in the peeling wallpaper and the worn wooden floors. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke. The only light came from a few neon signs outside advertising cheap drinks. He sat on a worn leather stool facing the bartender, who was polishing a glass behind the counter.
He didn't know how he got here or why he was here. He felt a strange disconnection from everything around him as if he were an observer in his own life.
The noise around him seemed to fade away as he sat there, lost in thought. He felt a sudden movement beside him, and his body twitched, his muscles tensing up. It was as if he had been jolted awake from a deep sleep.
He became acutely aware of the clamminess of his palms, the sweat on his forehead, and the dampness of his shirt sticking to his back. His legs shook uncontrollably, threatening to give way beneath him. He felt like he was going to collapse at any moment.
He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead and noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Panic gripped him, and a thousand questions flooded his mind. Where was he? How did he get here? Who were all these people? What was he doing here? Who was he? What the fuck was happening?
As he tried to make sense of his surroundings, a voice cut through the chaos in his mind.
"Damien."
He looked up to see the bartender looking directly at him, a half smile plastered on his face. The name sounded familiar, and yet it was not his name. He struggled to remember who he was and where he came from, his mind a jumbled mess.
"Damien?" the bartender repeated, his voice firm yet gentle.
Damien felt a jolt of recognition as memories flooded back into his mind. He remembered his name and who he was. The last thing he remembered was pain, a lot of pain, bursting inside his chest before his eyes went dark. He was killed, he remembered now, but the question remained, who killed him? He couldn't quite remember everything, still. He blamed it on the sudden situation, maybe he'd get his memories back in a bit. But an important question lingered; why was he here? He was not supposed to be here, in this bar, surrounded by strangers.
He stood up abruptly, his heart racing, his mind reeling with confusion and fear—it felt disgusting, for some reason, it was revolting to feel confusion or fear, to not be in control. He stumbled towards the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the bar.
He couldn't quite grasp what was happening, it wasn't nice, he wanted some clarity.
As he stepped out into the cool night air, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. The neon lights of the bar cast an eerie glow on the deserted street, and Damien felt a sudden sense of loneliness and despair. Why? He couldn't quite grasp the reason… but he reckoned it had something to do with the person who killed him.
After what felt like an eternity, Damien was calm so he turned around—he needed information, and this bar was filled to the brim with people.
"Excuse me?" Damien called out to the first person he stumbled upon but got no answer. "Uh, excuse me?" he repeated himself, hoping to get the man's attention, but he did not. Damien frowned and stared into the man's eyes.
Damien felt his eye muscles twitching as his eyes almost bulged slightly. This man, his irises appeared to be hazy with fog, as if he couldn't see anything.
Damien stumbled back, colliding with a bunch of drunkards, but much to his surprise, they didn't even glance at Damien and returned back to their position without much as a hitch in their conversation. He wouldn't have been surprised as much as he was, if he'd seen something like this in the past. The thing was, he had never seen anything similar to this. If he had, he wouldn't have freaked out in the slightest. He felt his heart thumping against his chest. What the fucking fuck was going on?!
Damien was more confused than anything, stumbling around into people. Damien's shirt stuck to his back with sweat, as he struggled to catch his breath. His panic mounted, and he felt suffocated by the dampness. This wasn't like him, how disgusting. Why was he feeling panic, no it shouldn't be like this.
Slowly, he focused on his surroundings, trying to calm down. The scent of alcohol, salt, lemons, and fire, and distant sounds of bottles clinking and people laughing like the drunkards they were helped ground him. Gradually, his breathing steadied.
"Need some assistance, do we, sir?" spoke the bartender in a playful yet slightly arrogant tone, with a sly smile on his face.
Damien's gaze whipped around and landed on the man, "Yes, I would like some help." Damien blurted unknowingly. How strange, now that he thought of it. He was feeling some things he shouldn't.
The man smiled, "I'm always happy to assist those in need, especially when it comes to libations. What can I get for you, sir?" said he in a suave and charming tone, with a hint of mischief in his eyes
"Where am I?" Damien asked slowly.
"I must say, sir, you find yourself in my humble bar," the bartender answered, his lips still outstretched.
"Why am I here?"
"Hmm," The man hummed, ignoring his question, and instead focusing on the tune he hummed. "I believe what you truly require at this moment is a drink." He said, and just as Damien parted his lips to deny, he suddenly found himself sitting on a chair, a table amidst him and the bartender who sat comfortably on the other side.
'What the…!'
Damien's lips were dry and parched as he tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He licked his lips, hoping to moisten them, but it did little to alleviate the discomfort. His earlier hyperventilating episode had left him feeling drained and dehydrated, and he struggled to find the energy to form coherent sentences. Despite his best efforts, he remained tongue-tied, unable to express himself as he wanted.
The man offered him a drink, and it slid across the table, stopping just a little bit away from his hand. Damien gulped, and picked it up, tipping it whole in one single tilt. The scent of the alcohol wafted up and hit him with a sharp pang. He tilted his head back, letting the clear liquid flow down his throat. It burned on the way down, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. This was some fine alcohol.
The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming, but he welcomed it. He relished the feeling of the alcohol coursing through his veins, dulling his senses and easing his anxieties. It was enough, numbing his thoughts and slowing his movements. He knew he shouldn't drink so much, but right now, it was the only thing that made him feel better.
"Well, well, well. Look who's finally found some inner peace. Calm now, are we?" the bartender said, leaning forward.
Damien sucked in a deep, slow breath, nodding.
"Tell me…" Damien asked simply.
"Human, you died. It's as simple as that. Your own dear mother put five bullets straight through your heart and left you to writhe in agony as she strolled off. Truly despicable behavior, don't you think? Fear not, my dear, for you've been chosen by none other than myself, Lucifer Morningstar, the one and only."
"...Huh?"
"Now, you shall depart down the Heart of the Fantasia, down to where you truly belong, carrying out my will, if you would," Lucifer continued while ignoring Damien, speaking in a smooth and charismatic tone, with a hint of mischief and a confident smirk on his face.
Damien, again, could not comprehend what was just said in but a few sentences. His brain was malfunctioning it seemed, probably that was a thing if this truly was the so-called afterlife.
So, he wasn't quite sure how to feel about all this. Was this even real? This reminded him of the cases where humans often dreamed of devils, and made a pact with them. Was this… that?
He was uncertain, and that feeling had him disgusted. Suck lack of understanding on his part, how unsightly.
"Now, now, don't tell me you're feeling lost, alone, and hopeless. Such a dreary state of mind, wouldn't you agree? Fear not, as I've given you another chance, with quite the 'perk', I might add. You should be positively ecstatic, for you'll be carrying out my will. The will to bring about mischievous chaos and provide me with endless entertainment."
Damien blinked. 'What is happening?'—he groaned.
Lucifer's eyes twitched to a side a little as if he'd just noticed something, and he sighed, "Time is of the essence, my dear human. I suggest you make your way before dear old Dad decides to summon my demonic arse," saying so nonchalantly, he waved his hand at Damien.
Damien found himself being hurled away, without control. Eyes wide, muscles twitching, he couldn't control his body as he slammed into something, losing himself to darkness in the process.
***
[Heart Of The Fantasia]
A place where the River Of Reincarnation, or the Cycle Of Reincarnation, existed—depending on how you look at it. Akin to a river that ran long and wide, wiping the mind before reincarnating souls as a means to preserve the cycle of life itself.
In this place, stood a few [Overlookers], that did their jobs of looking over the reincarnating souls.
One particular person stood out from them the most.
A lady with wavy navy hair that reached her ankles. She wore nothing but a few patches of clothing that covered her private parts, and her skin shone in a milky hue.
She was the [Overseer] of this place, and it was her shift to work. Yep, even these beings had shifts.
[Overseer] were the bunch that were in charge of the [Cycle Of Reincarnation], to make sure everything worked properly; that there was no error, or the [Overlookers]—who were a rank below [Overseer]—weren't slacking.
As she yawned with her mouth opening lightly, a small 'star' blitzed past her, making her eyes bulge out.
"Fuck!" She growled and flew behind it, gritting her teeth—she was too late!
As she arrived and looked at the 'river' that was taking everything to the other side, she could see countless 'stars'.
There was just no way she could recognize the one that blitzed past her.
"And it just had to get on the side after the [Purifier] too…" she murmured. The [Purifier], simply put, was what 'purified' every soul off their memories. And this soul, it got through without being purified…
'My job….' the lady whimpered softly, returning to her place. There was nothing she could do about it, not anymore.
"Nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened," she murmured like a broken record, in a soft voice.
"Ya a'right?"
An Overlooker asked, seemingly concerned for the Overseer.
"NOTHING HAPPENED!"
"Uhuh, okay?"
***
—Boom!
He blinked in confusion, eyes darting to look for any clue that could be of some semblance to sense for him. Confused as he was, Damien's blinking vision turned red with a hue shift.
'Blood?'
His hand involuntarily went up, touching his head. The patch of blood that marred his palm was frightening at best, but the confusion that had been plaguing his mind today was what had him on edge—the scrunch of disgust on his nose wasn't helping either. He'd never been that revolted to blood, not that he was aware of, his job desired him to be desensitized so it was strange that he felt disgusted all of a sudden. [1]
The feeling that came with lack of understanding was quite irritating, the situation was a bit out of hand—Damien hated it. So, he looked around.
Cries. Screams. Chaos. That was all he could see, the debris was falling. The ground rumbled beneath his feet, and Damien stumbled as the building he had been standing in front of began to crumble. Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, chunks of concrete and metal started falling to the ground, sending a cloud of dust and smoke up into the air. Panic set in as people started running in every direction, screaming and crying out for help. Damien looked around, trying to find a way out, but the rubble was closing in fast, and there seemed to be no escape.
Damien's breaths came in short, quick gasps as his panic escalated. He was close to hyperventilating, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him. His eyes darted from one person to the next, running about to save their skin, searching for any sign of safety or hope. But all he saw was destruction and devastation, with no clear way out.
Today, for sure, had been the most fucked up day of his life, he would admit himself.
But the most unsettling part was surely the fact that he felt how inappropriate he was being. To run like this, to panic, to breathe heavily… how unsightly.
As the building came crumbling down on him, Damien closed his eyes.
'To think I'd die this soon, again…' for some reason, a deep-rooted fire flared up, a will to live. To survive. He'd died. He'd accepted death. But this, he couldn't accept. He had to survive, he needed to survive!
As the building continued to crumble around him, Damien's senses were overwhelmed by the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn't see anything beyond the thick veil of smoke and dust, and all he could feel was a suffocating emptiness. It was a void of pure, unbridled blackness that seemed to swallow everything in its path. He had never experienced anything like this before, and it left him feeling small and insignificant in the face of such overwhelming power.
Darkness. Hopelessness. A burning desire for survival.
Those were the things he felt right about now.
The death he waited for didn't arrive, instead, when he opened his eyes to peak, he stumbled back on his rear, sucking in a deep, sharp breath that he felt going down his lungs, very clearly.
As Damien struggled to find a way out of the darkness, he suddenly saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a beautiful giant woman, towering over him with grace and power that left him in awe. Her long blonde hair fluttered around her like a golden halo, and her purple eyes shone with fierce determination that seemed to light up the darkness around them.
Without hesitation, the woman rushed towards Damien, shielding him from the falling debris and wrapping her arms around him protectively. Despite the injuries that marred her perfect skin, her torn costume—with one of her nipples poking through—she smiled at him with a warmth and tenderness that left him feeling safe and secure.
As the chaos around them continued to rage on, the woman held him close, her hair fluttering around them like a protective cocoon. Her strength and beauty were a beacon of hope in the darkness, and Damien couldn't help but feel grateful for the protection she offered him—he would remember this favor.
Damien was left in awe of this woman, sitting there, looking at her dazedly.
"Ya alright brat?" She asked through gritted teeth and ragged breath.
'Huh? Brat?? Who?'
Triggered as he was at being called such an inappropriate word, Damien swept his gaze around looking for someone she might've referred to aside from him, but found no one other than himself sitting on the broken concrete.
He blinked.
"Me?"
**
**
**
Not 100% accurate, but the scene was inspired from this picture.
[1]: for the dumb-dums or those who are late to catch on, a foreign personality trait invaded him, overwhelmed him, and he wouldn't notice it till later. Honestly, his personality was being affected from the start of this chapter as he was "transitioning".
(I will add things like these in each chapter where something needs to be clarified. I don't want to break immersion mid-chapter, so I will type in [1][2][3], and so on. Those who wanna stop reading and know what's going on and scroll to the bottom, and those who don't wanna break their immersion can ignore it and then read the note after finishing the chapter.)
Important note to keep in mind: For this chapter, and the next, his personality is dulled a little. Like, as if he's still not fully "in" his new body and is adjusting. After said two chapters, you can expect the full MC.
Name Of The Fic—[Eternal Odyssey: A Senju Across The Multiverse] (ATM)
Well, this is a new fic I was planning. The idea is simple, Hashirama Senju going about traversing the multiverse. I hope you like it! Please do comment and share your thoughts, while you guys rarely comment, as this is a new story, I would really—really!—appreciate your feedback!
—
"You want to kill me?" He asked haughtily as his lips twisted into a smile, revealing a flash of teeth beneath that glinted in the harsh light. He lifted his chin, a challenge in his piercing gaze as he quirked up an eyebrow in mockery. "...Pull the trigger."
The room was silent, except for the sound of his own breathing, a little ragged and uneven.
"..." The woman who stood in front of him wore an impassive expression, pulling the trigger.
– Bang!
– Bang!
– Bang!
– Bang!
– Bang!
A cacophony of five gunshots broke the silence, the sound echoing in the room, followed by deafening silence. He felt the searing heat of the lead as it pierced his flesh, tearing through muscle and bone. Despite the pain, he didn't let out a single groan, his gaze was fixated on the woman.
"Still the same, huh, mother?" He questioned, his hand reaching up to touch her cheek, slowly. The blood on his fingers dirtied her cheek, making his nose scrunch up in disgust. He expected some kind of reaction from her, but she held no expression. Cold and firm, like a diamond.
He could feel himself losing, to the darkness, and before long his haughtiness dulled down to one hazy smile.
As the metallic taste of blood sullied his tongue, his lips twisted into disgust. Blood gushed out of his mouth as he muttered his last words before the light seeped out of his eyes.
"...Fucking slut."
***
He sat in silence, his eyes scanning the crowded room filled with the buzz of lively conversations and clinking glasses. He felt lost, adrift in a sea of strangers, his mind devoid of any thoughts or emotions. It was as if he had achieved a state of complete emptiness, free from any worries or care in the world, or perhaps it was simply the alcohol—but he couldn't recall drinking that night.
Heck, he couldn't recall anything at all.
As he sat at the bar, he noticed the rows of bottles lining the shelves, each one glinting under the dim lights. The bartender behind the counter wore a white shirt rolled up the sleeves under the black apron matching his slicked-back hair. The half-smirk on his lips accentuated his sharp features as he mixed drinks with ease and a touch of flair—quite the cliche appearance, he might add. Amidst the chaos, the man stood apart with his controlled demeanor, lending sophistication to the surroundings.
His eyes roamed the dimly lit bar, taking in the peeling wallpaper and the worn wooden floors. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke. The only light came from a few neon signs outside advertising cheap drinks. He sat on a worn leather stool facing the bartender, who was polishing a glass behind the counter.
He didn't know how he got here or why he was here. He felt a strange disconnection from everything around him as if he were an observer in his own life.
The noise around him seemed to fade away as he sat there, lost in thought. He felt a sudden movement beside him, and his body twitched, his muscles tensing up. It was as if he had been jolted awake from a deep sleep.
He became acutely aware of the clamminess of his palms, the sweat on his forehead, and the dampness of his shirt sticking to his back. His legs shook uncontrollably, threatening to give way beneath him. He felt like he was going to collapse at any moment.
He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead and noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Panic gripped him, and a thousand questions flooded his mind. Where was he? How did he get here? Who were all these people? What was he doing here? Who was he? What the fuck was happening?
As he tried to make sense of his surroundings, a voice cut through the chaos in his mind.
"Damien."
He looked up to see the bartender looking directly at him, a half smile plastered on his face. The name sounded familiar, and yet it was not his name. He struggled to remember who he was and where he came from, his mind a jumbled mess.
"Damien?" the bartender repeated, his voice firm yet gentle.
Damien felt a jolt of recognition as memories flooded back into his mind. He remembered his name and who he was. The last thing he remembered was pain, a lot of pain, bursting inside his chest before his eyes went dark. He was killed, he remembered now, but the question remained, who killed him? He couldn't quite remember everything, still. He blamed it on the sudden situation, maybe he'd get his memories back in a bit. But an important question lingered; why was he here? He was not supposed to be here, in this bar, surrounded by strangers.
He stood up abruptly, his heart racing, his mind reeling with confusion and fear—it felt disgusting, for some reason, it was revolting to feel confusion or fear, to not be in control. He stumbled towards the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the bar.
He couldn't quite grasp what was happening, it wasn't nice, he wanted some clarity.
As he stepped out into the cool night air, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. The neon lights of the bar cast an eerie glow on the deserted street, and Damien felt a sudden sense of loneliness and despair. Why? He couldn't quite grasp the reason… but he reckoned it had something to do with the person who killed him.
After what felt like an eternity, Damien was calm so he turned around—he needed information, and this bar was filled to the brim with people.
"Excuse me?" Damien called out to the first person he stumbled upon but got no answer. "Uh, excuse me?" he repeated himself, hoping to get the man's attention, but he did not. Damien frowned and stared into the man's eyes.
Damien felt his eye muscles twitching as his eyes almost bulged slightly. This man, his irises appeared to be hazy with fog, as if he couldn't see anything.
Damien stumbled back, colliding with a bunch of drunkards, but much to his surprise, they didn't even glance at Damien and returned back to their position without much as a hitch in their conversation. He wouldn't have been surprised as much as he was, if he'd seen something like this in the past. The thing was, he had never seen anything similar to this. If he had, he wouldn't have freaked out in the slightest. He felt his heart thumping against his chest. What the fucking fuck was going on?!
Damien was more confused than anything, stumbling around into people. Damien's shirt stuck to his back with sweat, as he struggled to catch his breath. His panic mounted, and he felt suffocated by the dampness. This wasn't like him, how disgusting. Why was he feeling panic, no it shouldn't be like this.
Slowly, he focused on his surroundings, trying to calm down. The scent of alcohol, salt, lemons, and fire, and distant sounds of bottles clinking and people laughing like the drunkards they were helped ground him. Gradually, his breathing steadied.
"Need some assistance, do we, sir?" spoke the bartender in a playful yet slightly arrogant tone, with a sly smile on his face.
Damien's gaze whipped around and landed on the man, "Yes, I would like some help." Damien blurted unknowingly. How strange, now that he thought of it. He was feeling some things he shouldn't.
The man smiled, "I'm always happy to assist those in need, especially when it comes to libations. What can I get for you, sir?" said he in a suave and charming tone, with a hint of mischief in his eyes
"Where am I?" Damien asked slowly.
"I must say, sir, you find yourself in my humble bar," the bartender answered, his lips still outstretched.
"Why am I here?"
"Hmm," The man hummed, ignoring his question, and instead focusing on the tune he hummed. "I believe what you truly require at this moment is a drink." He said, and just as Damien parted his lips to deny, he suddenly found himself sitting on a chair, a table amidst him and the bartender who sat comfortably on the other side.
'What the…!'
Damien's lips were dry and parched as he tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He licked his lips, hoping to moisten them, but it did little to alleviate the discomfort. His earlier hyperventilating episode had left him feeling drained and dehydrated, and he struggled to find the energy to form coherent sentences. Despite his best efforts, he remained tongue-tied, unable to express himself as he wanted.
The man offered him a drink, and it slid across the table, stopping just a little bit away from his hand. Damien gulped, and picked it up, tipping it whole in one single tilt. The scent of the alcohol wafted up and hit him with a sharp pang. He tilted his head back, letting the clear liquid flow down his throat. It burned on the way down, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. This was some fine alcohol.
The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming, but he welcomed it. He relished the feeling of the alcohol coursing through his veins, dulling his senses and easing his anxieties. It was enough, numbing his thoughts and slowing his movements. He knew he shouldn't drink so much, but right now, it was the only thing that made him feel better.
"Well, well, well. Look who's finally found some inner peace. Calm now, are we?" the bartender said, leaning forward.
Damien sucked in a deep, slow breath, nodding.
"Tell me…" Damien asked simply.
"Human, you died. It's as simple as that. Your own dear mother put five bullets straight through your heart and left you to writhe in agony as she strolled off. Truly despicable behavior, don't you think? Fear not, my dear, for you've been chosen by none other than myself, Lucifer Morningstar, the one and only."
"...Huh?"
"Now, you shall depart down the Heart of the Fantasia, down to where you truly belong, carrying out my will, if you would," Lucifer continued while ignoring Damien, speaking in a smooth and charismatic tone, with a hint of mischief and a confident smirk on his face.
Damien, again, could not comprehend what was just said in but a few sentences. His brain was malfunctioning it seemed, probably that was a thing if this truly was the so-called afterlife.
So, he wasn't quite sure how to feel about all this. Was this even real? This reminded him of the cases where humans often dreamed of devils, and made a pact with them. Was this… that?
He was uncertain, and that feeling had him disgusted. Suck lack of understanding on his part, how unsightly.
"Now, now, don't tell me you're feeling lost, alone, and hopeless. Such a dreary state of mind, wouldn't you agree? Fear not, as I've given you another chance, with quite the 'perk', I might add. You should be positively ecstatic, for you'll be carrying out my will. The will to bring about mischievous chaos and provide me with endless entertainment."
Damien blinked. 'What is happening?'—he groaned.
Lucifer's eyes twitched to a side a little as if he'd just noticed something, and he sighed, "Time is of the essence, my dear human. I suggest you make your way before dear old Dad decides to summon my demonic arse," saying so nonchalantly, he waved his hand at Damien.
Damien found himself being hurled away, without control. Eyes wide, muscles twitching, he couldn't control his body as he slammed into something, losing himself to darkness in the process.
***
[Heart Of The Fantasia]
A place where the River Of Reincarnation, or the Cycle Of Reincarnation, existed—depending on how you look at it. Akin to a river that ran long and wide, wiping the mind before reincarnating souls as a means to preserve the cycle of life itself.
In this place, stood a few [Overlookers], that did their jobs of looking over the reincarnating souls.
One particular person stood out from them the most.
A lady with wavy navy hair that reached her ankles. She wore nothing but a few patches of clothing that covered her private parts, and her skin shone in a milky hue.
She was the [Overseer] of this place, and it was her shift to work. Yep, even these beings had shifts.
[Overseer] were the bunch that were in charge of the [Cycle Of Reincarnation], to make sure everything worked properly; that there was no error, or the [Overlookers]—who were a rank below [Overseer]—weren't slacking.
As she yawned with her mouth opening lightly, a small 'star' blitzed past her, making her eyes bulge out.
"Fuck!" She growled and flew behind it, gritting her teeth—she was too late!
As she arrived and looked at the 'river' that was taking everything to the other side, she could see countless 'stars'.
There was just no way she could recognize the one that blitzed past her.
"And it just had to get on the side after the [Purifier] too…" she murmured. The [Purifier], simply put, was what 'purified' every soul off their memories. And this soul, it got through without being purified…
'My job….' the lady whimpered softly, returning to her place. There was nothing she could do about it, not anymore.
"Nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened," she murmured like a broken record, in a soft voice.
"Ya a'right?"
An Overlooker asked, seemingly concerned for the Overseer.
"NOTHING HAPPENED!"
"Uhuh, okay?"
***
—Boom!
He blinked in confusion, eyes darting to look for any clue that could be of some semblance to sense for him. Confused as he was, Damien's blinking vision turned red with a hue shift.
'Blood?'
His hand involuntarily went up, touching his head. The patch of blood that marred his palm was frightening at best, but the confusion that had been plaguing his mind today was what had him on edge—the scrunch of disgust on his nose wasn't helping either. He'd never been that revolted to blood, not that he was aware of, his job desired him to be desensitized so it was strange that he felt disgusted all of a sudden. [1]
The feeling that came with lack of understanding was quite irritating, the situation was a bit out of hand—Damien hated it. So, he looked around.
Cries. Screams. Chaos. That was all he could see, the debris was falling. The ground rumbled beneath his feet, and Damien stumbled as the building he had been standing in front of began to crumble. Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, chunks of concrete and metal started falling to the ground, sending a cloud of dust and smoke up into the air. Panic set in as people started running in every direction, screaming and crying out for help. Damien looked around, trying to find a way out, but the rubble was closing in fast, and there seemed to be no escape.
Damien's breaths came in short, quick gasps as his panic escalated. He was close to hyperventilating, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him. His eyes darted from one person to the next, running about to save their skin, searching for any sign of safety or hope. But all he saw was destruction and devastation, with no clear way out.
Today, for sure, had been the most fucked up day of his life, he would admit himself.
But the most unsettling part was surely the fact that he felt how inappropriate he was being. To run like this, to panic, to breathe heavily… how unsightly.
As the building came crumbling down on him, Damien closed his eyes.
'To think I'd die this soon, again…' for some reason, a deep-rooted fire flared up, a will to live. To survive. He'd died. He'd accepted death. But this, he couldn't accept. He had to survive, he needed to survive!
As the building continued to crumble around him, Damien's senses were overwhelmed by the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn't see anything beyond the thick veil of smoke and dust, and all he could feel was a suffocating emptiness. It was a void of pure, unbridled blackness that seemed to swallow everything in its path. He had never experienced anything like this before, and it left him feeling small and insignificant in the face of such overwhelming power.
Darkness. Hopelessness. A burning desire for survival.
Those were the things he felt right about now.
The death he waited for didn't arrive, instead, when he opened his eyes to peak, he stumbled back on his rear, sucking in a deep, sharp breath that he felt going down his lungs, very clearly.
As Damien struggled to find a way out of the darkness, he suddenly saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a beautiful giant woman, towering over him with grace and power that left him in awe. Her long blonde hair fluttered around her like a golden halo, and her purple eyes shone with fierce determination that seemed to light up the darkness around them.
Without hesitation, the woman rushed towards Damien, shielding him from the falling debris and wrapping her arms around him protectively. Despite the injuries that marred her perfect skin, her torn costume—with one of her nipples poking through—she smiled at him with a warmth and tenderness that left him feeling safe and secure.
As the chaos around them continued to rage on, the woman held him close, her hair fluttering around them like a protective cocoon. Her strength and beauty were a beacon of hope in the darkness, and Damien couldn't help but feel grateful for the protection she offered him—he would remember this favor.
Damien was left in awe of this woman, sitting there, looking at her dazedly.
"Ya alright brat?" She asked through gritted teeth and ragged breath.
'Huh? Brat?? Who?'
Triggered as he was at being called such an inappropriate word, Damien swept his gaze around looking for someone she might've referred to aside from him, but found no one other than himself sitting on the broken concrete.
He blinked.
"Me?"
**
**
**
Not 100% accurate, but the scene was inspired from this picture.
[1]: for the dumb-dums or those who are late to catch on, a foreign personality trait invaded him, overwhelmed him, and he wouldn't notice it till later. Honestly, his personality was being affected from the start of this chapter as he was "transitioning".
(I will add things like these in each chapter where something needs to be clarified. I don't want to break immersion mid-chapter, so I will type in [1][2][3], and so on. Those who wanna stop reading and know what's going on and scroll to the bottom, and those who don't wanna break their immersion can ignore it and then read the note after finishing the chapter.)
Important note to keep in mind: For this chapter, and the next, his personality is dulled a little. Like, as if he's still not fully "in" his new body and is adjusting. After said two chapters, you can expect the full MC.
Name Of The Fic—[Eternal Odyssey: A Senju Across The Multiverse] (ATM)
Well, this is a new fic I was planning. The idea is simple, Hashirama Senju going about traversing the multiverse. I hope you like it! Please do comment and share your thoughts, while you guys rarely comment, as this is a new story, I would really—really!—appreciate your feedback!