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by Hole Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Fantasy · #1972796
A tale of magic longsword that can cut off body parts and let them live.
This choice: Neither, you're in 3rd person now.  •  Go Back...
Chapter #5

Neither, you're in 3rd person now.

    by: Unknown
What are you doing? You'd been out on a walk in the woods, celebrating the last day of school, when you discovered some kind of magic sword and a note. It had a bunch of modes on it, you'd skimmed though the note trying to figure out which mode sounded the most interesting, but... had you picked one already? You don't remember doing that, but then again your memory was never that good. You forgot you were still holding the sword until you tried to scratch your head and felt the weight of the blade in your hands.

"Oh yeah." You said, holding the blade out in front of you for better observation. That said, you couldn't really see anything on it that you hadn't seen before. There was a dial on the bottom, but the labels were downright microscopic. You'd need to get closer if you wanted to see what you'd chosen, if you'd chosen anything at all.

Tossing the sword onto your bed, the blade thankfully not cutting into the blankets, you turned yourself around, bent down, and picked yourself up, brushing some dirt off your cheek and pulling a few strands of lint out of your hair. "Damn, I really need to clean this carpet." You said, before tucking yourself into the crook of your arm and walking over to the sword's pommel, where the dial was. Holding your cheeks and bringing your face in close, you were able to read the tiny text.

"Incognito mode? So like, people who got cut wouldn't notice? Well, makes sense I would pick that, it sounds trippy." You said, standing up straight and tucking your head back into the crook of your arm. You are just starting to consider who you should test this out on, when you hear a knock at the front door.

"Ugh, Jenna! You forgetful bitch!" You groan, knowing that 9 out of every 10 knocks your front door received were from your sister, who'd made forgetting her keys as much a part of her daily routine as most normal people made remembering them. You reach for the sword, when you realize just how insane it would be to walk down and greet your sister with a giant fuck-off sword and a story only an insane person could cook up. No, even if she was to be your first test subject, which you hadn't settled on yet, you should ease her into it.

Then again, you really didn't want to leave the sword unsupervised. While it was a little ridiculous, you were paranoid that this thing would vanish as soon as you took your eyes off of it, like it had never even existed. A clan of ninjas swooping in and absconding with your magic sword in a puff of smoke was no less insane than the fact that you had a magic sword in the first place, you would argue.

The knocking intensified, an indistinguishably muffled female voice echoing through the house, and you realized the obvious solution. "Duh!" You said, smacking your own forehead before setting your head down on your desk facing the sword. While it wouldn't be much of a defense against ninjas, it would at least allow you to keep an eye on the sword. Walking down the hall toward the front door, the knocking getting more impatient by the moment, you couldn't help but feel that something was... off. And it wasn't until you were reaching towards the doorknob that you realized what it was.

You were looking over your own shoulders from a few feet back, like the character in a 3rd person video game, and you were facing your face, like a shot in a movie, and concentrating, you could willingly shift both of these views around yourself, though you could not move them away too far or zoom in too close. You were always the center of your perspective, and as your mind wandered, the perspectives returned to a sort of neutral look at you. You remembered having to bring something up real close to your face to read it, but shifting your perspective around your room, you could read most of the spines on your bookshelf across the room with relative ease. It was only the small print ones you squinted at, and squinting didn't seem to change anything about your perspective or how the room looked at all. It just sort of... made you able to know what they said. Like what your eyes picked up was independent from your perspective and focusing them to pick up small details was a separate action you could take.

Something felt very wrong about all this, but you don't recall anything ever being any other way. Nothing had changed, this is just how life is. Why else would so many movies, games, and books be made like this if it wasn't how people took in the world? As the knocking became pounding, you shrugged and chalked it up to one of those weird moments of existentialism that people just randomly got out of the blue. Everything was as it should be, everything was fine, but if you didn't open your door soon there would be an actual problem as the door was about two seconds from being kicked. Shrugging your shoulders and trying to suppress the inexplainable weird feeling that something was unexplainably weird, you flung open the door to reveal...
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