Ivan Version! Not As Slay As I Imagined It To Be, But I'm Glad To Have Finished It

silly guys. you can leave them in a room together nothing bad will happen.

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HE JUST WANTED TO HELP

FORSAKEN: REDO REPENT REPEAT AU

First instance of Friendly fire

Summary

Shedletsky asks for Elliot and Taph’s help for a plan. He wants to show how reliable and capable he is as 1x is deployed as this round’s killer.

Unfortunately for him, plans aren’t meant to go smoothly.

Note:

I took the liberty of changing some things in the Map with the mansion.. It’s just for plot reasons really since I don’t know how to describe that small area all too properly 🥹

Shedletsky sat near the fireplace, elbows resting on his knees, absentmindedly scratching at his arms. The itch had been bothering him more frequently lately—right where the feathers had begun to spread.

He didn’t think much of it anymore.

Just something he’d gotten used to.

Second Life had a way of changing how you thought about things. And Shedletsky was feeling a lot of things.

His fingers grazed a patch near his elbow, soft plumes brushing beneath the fabric of his sleeve.

There he paused for a moment, watching the flames dance in front of him.

There was a pulse under his skin. Not painful. Just… alive. Like something was waiting.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He was slowly getting better at this. The dying then coming back stronger part at least.

He and the other Sentinels—Chance and Guest—were finally figuring it out, syncing better, fighting harder.

They weren’t just surviving anymore. They were adapting.

And maybe, just maybe, they were getting closer to something big.

He leaned back on his palms, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin as muted voices echoed from the other room and outside—others were preparing. Psyching themselves up for whatever killer the next round would throw at them.

“We’ll get one of them,” he muttered to himself.

“Eventually. Doesn’t matter which one. We’ll bring one down. For real.”

His gaze dropped back to the fire, confidence glinting in his eyes. Victory was a rare word in the cabin.

Most had stopped believing in it after enough rounds.

But he could feel it now—just barely—like heat from the flame.

A win was coming.

And he wanted to the one to deliver it.

The crackling fire was soon nearly drowned out by the familiar, lighthearted voice coming from the cabin’s side window.

Shedletsky perked up, scratching stopping mid-motion as he turned his head toward the sound.

“…you’re just saying that ‘cause you don’t have to deal with cooldowns,” Elliot was saying, voice with amusement but a little strain.

A second figure beside him—Taph—gave a lazy shrug, hands moving in practiced sign language that Elliot translated on instinct.

‘Well my traps are stationary. And I can only put a few down before it expires.’

Shedletsky stood almost too fast, brushing down his sleeves and making his way to the door.

His feet thudding against the floor with purpose.

“Yo! Elliot!” he called, stepping outside into the fading dusk.

Both robloxians turned to look at him—Elliot giving a curious nod while Taph lifted a silent hand in greeting.

Shedletsky didn’t waste time. “Glad I caught you two before the next round ‘cuz I got a plan I wanna test out.”

Elliot raised a brow. “A plan from you? That’s either real good or very bad.”

“Relax,” Shedletsky said with a small grin, “this one doesn’t involve either of you being bait.”

Taph snorted quietly at that—shoulders shaking in a silent laugh.

Shedletsky stepped a bit closer, lowering his voice just enough to feel like he was letting them in on something.

“I’ve been thinking about how we’ve been using Second Life,” he began.

“Me, Guest, and Chance—we’ve been playing offense hard. But the supports are always stuck rotating between the rest of the team, patching people up. No set structure. No anchor.”

Elliot crossed his arms. “You want us to anchor to your squad?”

“Exactly. Stick close to us. We’ve been lasting longer after second life, and I think the only downfall to our offense is that we don’t have an active healer by our side.”

Taph looked thoughtful, tapping a few signs that made Elliot roll his eyes.

“He says he doesn’t want to get blamed if the whole team dies again.”

“To be fair, last round wasn’t my fault!” Shedletsky defended, straightening up. “I was—tactically taunting.. that round..”

Taph signed again.

“…Okay, yeah, yeah.” Elliot says translating Taph’s words to Shedletsky, but Shedletsky already understood what Taph says.

Shedletsky chuckled under his breath and shook his head. “You two in or not?”

Elliot smiled, resting a hand on his hip. “I’m down. If you’re serious, it might actually work. And if not… well, we can probably rework the plan with the others.”

Taph gave a small thumbs-up.

Shedletsky looked between them, a rare moment of silent appreciation passing through him.

“Good,” he said.

“Then we’ll make this one count.”

——-

The world folded in on itself with a low, ringing shudder.

Yorick’s Resting Place was veiled in the night and stillness, as if time had been paused and forgotten there.

A few rounded trees spread the area, and moss-choked stone bridges stretched over a shallow poisonous ravine that ran through the center of the map.

The shattered remains of what might have once been a mansion loomed far in the distance, crumbling under its own weight.

The moment Shedletsky's boots hit the mossy earth, he knew this map.

1x1x1x1

Shedlestsky was thankful that there was an indicator on who the killer was, but It was probably already obvious by the distant sound of ticking and a slash of hateful energy echoed.

But for once, it didn’t put a weight in his stomach when fighting against this creation of hatred.

Not like before.

He adjusted his grip on his sword and moved forward with confidence, eyes scanning the area as the round began.

The survivors had been scattered like usual—no telling where Elliot or Guest had landed—but he didn’t feel worried since he trusted them.

Movement soon caught his eye at the edge of the bridge path.

He approached carefully, footsteps muffled against the firm dirt, until the familiar silhouette of Taph came into view.

The mute trapped was crouched low, hands working swiftly as he rigged a trigger tripwire just under the stone arch of the bridge.

Shedletsky grinned and raised a hand in silent approval, offering a firm thumbs-up.

Taph glanced over his shoulder, briefly raising his brow before giving a casual wave in return, then gestured something quick with their hands that roughly translated to,

'Don’t step here later.'

“Noted,” Shedletsky muttered, nodding once as he scanned the far side of the bridge.

“We’ll make this work. Stick to the plan…”

.

Noob darted between broken tombstones and fog-heavy trees, limping as they clutched a bleeding arm.

Panic twisted in their chest. The static hum behind them grew louder, unnatural, heavy, like a broken wire singing just before it sparked.

1x1x1x1 was gaining.

The dual sword user ran with hatred, and it made himself painfully known. His form flickering in and out of place like corrupted memory.

His limbs twitched at strange angles, and the world around it seemed to bend, rejecting it with each step.

Noob stumbled over a tree root.

They hit the ground with a pained gasp, knowing they wouldn’t have time to get up, but luckily for them—

Crack!

A flintlock rang out through the air.

The single shot exploded into 1x’s side.

The impact wasn’t clean—nothing ever was with a thing like 1x—but it was enough.

The killer jolted mid-step, its body glitching harder, convulsing in and out of shape as if the code couldn’t hold it still.

“Go! Go!!” Chance called out from the treeline, smoke curling from the barrel of his flintlock.

“That’s all I got for now!”

He was already reloading, snapping the weapon open with urgency, fumbling the powder and shot back into place.

Noob pushed themselves up, stumbling toward cover just as heavy footfalls approached from behind Chance.

Shedletsky emerged, sword drawn and posture loose with confidence.

His feathers caught the dull light, shifting with the breeze as he came to a halt beside the Support.

He glanced toward the stunned killer, then at Chance. “Nice timing.”

Chance let out a breath. “Yeah, well, I’ve got one shot per cooldown, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

Shedletsky gave a half-smirk and nodded toward Noob.

“Then go cover them. Patch 'em up. I’ll hold this line.”

“What?” Chance blinked. “You want me to leave you?”

“I want you to flank later,” Shedletsky replied, already stepping forward.

“Get Noob out of here and circle back when we start pushing. You’ve better have a full health—I need you and guest 1337 alive for when 1x manages to hit me down.”

Chance gritted his teeth but didn’t argue.

They grabbed Noob, slinging one of their arms around his shoulder.

“You better not run your luck out before I get back.”

“No promises,” Shedletsky called over his shoulder.

“But I’m feeling quite lucky.”

Noob glanced back as they were led away. “Tell him to not get too cocky…”

Chance huffed. “That’d be like asking 1x to play fair.”

And behind them, Shedletsky walked straight to the sizzling hatred.

The air warped ahead of him—heatless, yet blistering with pressure.

He could feel it crawling over his skin like static, picking at the edges of his mind.

The dual swordsman blinked into form at the far end of the path, standing unnaturally still infront of the mansion. Jagged pixels peeled from their shoulders like smoke, and their dual swords dragged lines of void along the ground with each pulse of their corrupted form.

“Creator,” 1x greeted, voice sharp and stuttering—like it had been crushed through a broken speaker.

“Back again. Your persistence is laughable.”

Shedletsky drew his blade, resting it over his shoulder as his feathers bristled behind him.

“You talk a lot for someone who needs two swords to actually fight. Are you really a real sword fighter?”

1x leapt down without a sound, blades raised, that smirk still buzzing through their voice.

“Says the bird who keeps feeding himself to the fire. What is it this time? Glory? Or guilt?”

Steel rang against steel as the clash began.

Shedletsky caught the first strike with the flat of his sword, twisting his wrist to parry and lunge forward.

But 1x was already stepping to the side, twin blades slashing down in tandem. One hit air, the other grazed Shedletsky’s side—not deep, but enough to sting.

“Still slow,” 1x mocked, flickering briefly to his left side as if reality forgot where to put him.

“You’ll never be fast enough to kill what you made.”

“You’re not me,” Shedletsky spat, spinning to slash upward, narrowly missing.

“But I am what festers inside you.” 1x’s voice warped mid-sentence, doubling over itself in a mess of digital noise.

“Every loss. Every failure. Every second you stood by and did nothing.”

They circled each other—one blade against two.

Shedletsky’s breaths were steady, but his grip was firm.

Each of 1x’s swings came with calculated cruelty, forcing Shedletsky into a rhythm he hated. A fight he knew too well.

And worse—he’d never won it.

“You always get close,” 1x said.

“Then you crack.”

Shedletsky didn’t answer.

He ducked low, swept a leg, then drove his sword upward in a piercing stab.

1x caught it mid-air with both blades, pinning it in a cross and pushing back. Sparks burst from the strain. The killer’s face twisted into a grin.

“You’re getting better,” 1x whispered. “Too bad it’ll never be enough.”

Shedletsky snarled and pushed forward with all his strength, the weight of his own annoyance pushing back against him in every parry and taunt.

He wasn’t sure how long he could last.

But he was sure not going to retreat.

The team needed him afterall.

He knows they needed him.

.

At the graveyard, Elliot’s hands moved quickly, steady despite the tremble in Noob’s breath.

A swipe across the bac and arm slowed them down durastically.

He pressed down a clean wrap, his brow knit in focus as he finished dressing the wound as the medkit was finished up.

“You’ll be good to move in a bit,” he said quietly, offering Noob a soft smile before sitting back on his heels.

The rest of the team lingered nearby, catching their breath, tending to gear, or simply watching for any sign of danger. The others were doing generators so everyone was somewhat busy.

He looked around, scanning the group. “Where’s Shedletsky?”

Chance glanced up from where he was reloading his flintlock, the cooldown glow still flickering around the barrel as they flipped a coin.

“Told me he’s handling 1x by himself at the moment. He’s at the mansion.”

Elliot’s expression tightened—not in worry, but something close to it.

Concern threaded with understanding.

“Alone?”

“He told me to back him up later once Noob’s patched,” Chance shrugged, snapping the flintlock shut with a click.

“Y’know how he is.”

Elliot didn’t reply immediately. His eyes drifted to the side, locking on Builderman at the edge of the group.

The man was quiet, knelt beside a half-finished sentry, goggles reflecting the static-blue flicker of its energy as he made careful adjustments. Focused. Or maybe distracted.

Hard to tell with him sometimes.

But Elliot noticed the small twitch in his hands. Just barely.

He returned his gaze to Noob, resting a hand on their shoulder for a moment before standing again.

“And Taph?”

Chance exhaled through his nose, tapping the side of his head as if trying to remember. “Last I saw him, he was near the mansion. Probably rigging the bridges.”

“Tripwires again?”

“Most likely,” Chance confirmed. “He always starts there when it’s this map.”

Elliot nodded, the weight of his decision already made. He rolled his shoulders back, adjusted the straps of his kit, and glanced toward the treeline where the mansion’s silhouette loomed, distant but pulsing with tension.

“Then I’ll go,” he said, voice calm.

“If Shedletsky’s pulling 1x’s attention, he’ll need someone to support hum.”

Chance raised a brow but didn’t argue. “You sure..? I can go with you.”

Elliot looked over his shoulder at the team again. Noob, still recovering. Builderman, silent. Chance, watching.

“No no, wait for Builderman to finish his sentry first. This group needs defense.”

“yeah,” Chance said. “okay then. May lady luck guide you I guess.”

With that, he turned and started toward the mansion, footsteps quiet, gaze steady.

The trees swallowed him soon after, the chill wind trailing behind him like a silent escort.

The plan was in motion.

And Elliot was sticking to it. And he was sure Taph had the trip mines ready too.

.

Shedletsky's grip tightened around his sword’s hilt, the heat of the fight setting fire to his nerves.

Sparks flew with every clash, and yet still—1x’s strength was overwhelming.

The two danced in a brutal, wordless rhythm.

1x fought like the malice incarnate he was.

Every swing of his dual swords came down with the weight of something more than physical force: hatred, loathing, and twisted familiarity.

His strikes were messy but deliberate, cruel but precise.

Shedletsky missed once—just once. A swing too wide, a second too slow.

And he paid for it.

1x’s twin blades entangled around his in a flash, twisting and locking his weapon mid-swing before slashing across his side with a jagged cut.

The blow sent electricity through his body. A high, sharp buzz rang in his ears as his feet gave out beneath him, the world tilting just enough to feel dizzy.

“Still so weak,” 1x snarled, voice dripping in contempt.

“You swing like you’ve forgotten what made me.”

Shedletsky grunted, pulling back—staggered, yes, but not out.

His health bar flickered in his mind’s eye, a sliver away from red.

Another clean hit like that and he’d be finished.

But that wasn’t a problem, was it?

No. He had a plan.

His fingers twitched near the base of his sword’s blade, brushing over the engraved mark that shimmered faintly with the promise of Second Life.

He wouldn’t go down easy—not now, not ever again.

If the worst came, he’d take matters into his own hands.

One well-placed stab to the chest, and he’d rise again, reborn into a burst of power and resilience. Better and more capable.

So he pushed.

The next time their swords met, it was less like a duel and more like two forces colliding.

Sparks and sweat flew as they clashed, locked together with neither giving ground.

Their feet skidded against the cracked earth of the mansion’s outer courtyard.

Then—

A simultaneous knockback. Their blades collided with a sharp clang, and the impact sent both of them stumbling in opposite directions.

Dust kicked up beneath Shedletsky’s feet as he braced himself, panting.

And that’s when he saw him.

Out of the corner of his eye—Taph.

The support bolting away from the edge of the mansion, his silhouette clear against the dark night.

Shedletsky’s chest lifted with hope.

The traps were ready.

Finally.

Without hesitation, he dug his heels into the dirt, letting out a short breath through gritted teeth as he surged forward.

The sting in his side begged him to stop, but his focus was locked on the mansion ahead.

The field was his now.

Shedletsky burst through the mansion’s double doors, his breath ragged and blade still wet with his own blood.

The dim interior stretched ahead, fog pooling in the corners of the abandoned hall like smoke, and every step echoed against the rotted floorboards.

Behind him—he could hear it.

The thunder of footsteps. The vicious, uneven gait of something that wasn’t meant to walk like a person anymore.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he pivoted mid-stride and threw himself forward again just as a sharp, metallic click sounded behind him.

SNAP—a tension wire sprang to life.

BOOM! Purple sparks crackled in the air as the trap discharged, arcing bolts catching 1x in the legs, blinding the killer with purple flashes.

The manifestation of hatred hissed, his momentum slowing as he staggered through the brunt of the trap’s effect.

Sparks danced along his dark form, flickering against the walls and casting his twisted silhouette in harsh light.

Shedletsky didn’t waste the moment.

He turned, he swung and sliced into 1x’s side, the blow landing solid and clean.

1x let out a snarling growl, but Shedletsky was already pulling back, disappearing deeper into the mansion’s, drawing him in further.

The plan was working.

But 1x wasn’t deterred. He shoved forward with the same venomous fury he always carried, shrugging off the jolt from the trap like it was nothing more than a mosquito bite.

“You run, even now,” he spat, following Shedletsky’s trail. “You think this’ll end any different than the last dozen times?”

Shedletsky didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

This was his round and he hopes Elliot finds him before 1x could reach him.

Meanwhile, just outside the mansion’s perimeter, Elliot skidded to a stop, eyes flicking toward the sudden flashes of purple light illuminating the windows.

The trap.

Taph’s trap was going off.

Shedletsky had made it there—and 1x was right behind him.

Elliot sucked in a breath through his teeth.

The faint echo of sword clashes reached his ears, overlapping with heavy footsteps and the static hum of more tripwires snapping under pressure.

He hesitated—only for a moment.

Just a second.

Then he shook it off.

He tightened his grip on his sling bag, the insides glowing faintly with the regenerative energy it carried.

The scent of melted cheese didn’t calm his nerves like usual. Not this time.

Shedletsky was inside.

He needed that heal.

Elliot darted forward without another thought, ducking beneath low-hanging branches and leaping over crumbled steps leading into the mansion.

The world seemed to thicken as he neared the doorway, the sounds of battle getting louder, more brutal.

The light from the tripmines still flickered within.

He just had to find the right moment.

Then, he could throw the pizza at the right moment.

.

1x’s footsteps crushed broken debris underfoot, ignoring the crackle of fading electricity from the disabled tripwires.

His swords dragged faint lines across the stone floor, a slow and deliberate warning.

The traps were gone. The advantage had crumbled.

“You’re not winning this,” 1x hissed, flicking away the last wire with a twirl of his blade. “You know that, don’t you?”

He raised his head, face twisting into a sneer.

“All this noise, all these toys… You’ve barely lasted longer than before.”

Inside the hollow halls of the mansion, the glow of battle had narrowed to a dim corridor choked with debris and shadow.

Shedletsky didn’t reply—his mouth drawn tight, sweat clinging to his temple, and his arm already aching from parrying the relentless hits.

He could feel his health waning, but adrenaline pushed him forward.

He had Second Life. That edge was all he needed. If 1x brought him down, he’d return even stronger.

That thought alone gave him the courage to keep pressing.

Soon their blades met again, sparking against each other’s force, each swing heavier, angrier.

1x’s expression was wild now, savoring the suffering, a predator drawn to unfinished destruction.

They circled through the mansion’s halls, past the scorched remains of fallen portraits and warped furniture.

Shedletsky stumbled once, nearly falling to a knee.

“You’re bleeding faster than you're thinking,” 1x spat, stepping through the remaining trap with little care. “It’s over.”

But it wasn’t.

Not yet.

Behind them, unnoticed, Elliot crept into the corridor.

The sound of steel clashing had told him enough—Shedletsky was stalling with all the strength he head. Likely he was barely holding on.

He had hesitated earlier. He regretted that. So now, with the bag straps gripped in his hands, he moved with intent.

He would get closer—just enough to throw it safely, make sure it landed near Shedletsky before it could be intercepted.

Shedletsky’s vision swam slightly. His body was giving out.

‘Not yet. Not yet.’ he repeated as he would time it—stab himself with the blade, and trigger Second Life before 1x could land the final blow.

He could do this.

He had to do this.

Then 1x began to wind up.

His shoulders pulled back, a twisted black pulse gathering around his swords—mass infection again.

Shedletsky didn’t recognize the bait, blinded by adrenaline he moves forward to stab again.

He moved.

But too fast.

1x canceled the charge instantly and sidestepped, switchinng to a normal fast swing.

It was a trap.

And Shedletsky couldn’t stop the momentum.

But neither of them saw Elliot.

He stepped into the fray at the worst moment possible.

1x’s blade came down first.

It struck Elliot hard—slashing across his chest with enough force to stagger him back toward Shedletsky.

And as Shedletsky swung his own sword forward, still caught in motion from his charge—

It hit.

It struck Elliot clean, right after the first blow had landed.

The moment shattered like glass.

Elliot didn’t scream. He barely had the breath.

He stared at Shedletsky, wide-eyed, stunned. His mouth trembled, trying to form something—maybe a word, maybe a breath.

Shedletsky froze, his hand still clenched around his hilt. He hadn’t even realized. His teammate was right there, and he had—

Blood pooled down Elliot’s uniform as he struggled and slumped forward, falling into Shedletsky’s arms.

For a moment, everything stopped.

Shedletsky stood frozen, sword still buried in Elliot’s chest, his own breath caught halfway up his throat.

Shedletsky’s eyes widened. His grip around the hilt tightened.

“Awfully dramatic,” 1x sneered.

“But it’s in my favors now.”

Shedletsky looked up, and the world lurched.

1x was already winding up again, his swords lifted, coiling in green spiked light.

The energy focused, hungry, and sizzling. For a moment, Shedletsky didn’t move.

But something inside him did.

His body snapped forward on instinct, as if something deeper had taken control.

His fingers wrenched the sword free from Elliot’s chest—too fast, too sudden—and swung it upward in one smooth, brutal arc.

Steel met steel.

The force of the clash sent sparks flying as 1x reeled back in surprise. Not at the block. Not at the timing.

Shedletsky stood, shaking, his breath heavy and uneven.

That familiar radiance coursed through his veins—Second Life. It had activated.

But he didn’t trigger it directly… right?

There was no self-inflicted wound this time.

No deliberate stab to force it through. It had moved on its own, surged through his body like fire and instinct and desperation all wrapped together.

His arms trembled—not with exhaustion, but with something else. Something wrong.

This had never happened before.

And 1x saw it.

The killer straightened slowly, expression twisting into something just shy of intrigued. “...That’s new.”

He tilted his head, studying the faint tremble that still clung to Shedletsky’s limbs.

The small sparks of energy left behind by the forced activation.

Then, with a shrug, 1x spun his swords back into position.

“Not that it matters.”

He stepped forward again, blades at the ready. Whatever curiosity he'd had was gone—replaced by the same vicious grin as before, like nothing had changed.

But for Shedletsky, everything had.

And behind him, Elliot’s blood still soaked into the floorboards.

---

freaking out on main guys

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The Underwold Saga. Parte 3

Tiresias: "Sisi, te va a pasar tragedia tras otra, pero mira que bonito vals me sé." ✨

Part 1 - Part 2 ‼️

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HOLYYY YOU’RE INSANELY TALENTED. THIS IS SO SO GOOD YOU’RE CRAZY

I'll cherish you, forevermore.

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exam tomorr

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I HAVE A DILEMMA

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present!issi is a little sad. past!issi is confused but understands. they mostly do simple domestic stuff. present!issi teaches past!issi to fish.

present!grae is also sad. past!grae is really angry. "why can't you teach me to control it?" "you don't need to control it, and you aren't strong enough." "i never thought i'd turn into a huge loser."

present!jak'cs is quiet. past!jak'cs is as well. they sort of just talk about animals. past!jak'cs doesn't care much about them. present!jak'cs has a lot of information about them.

past!tomu is confused. he doesn't meet his present version.

Your oc is momentarily time traveled into meeting their younger self. How does it go?

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a pedo commented on one of my posts chat

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tyfbtvomse

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