Echelon: A Multiverse Story

"You've made your decision," the spaceman said. It seemed to be greeting Quinn as he opened his eyes, sat next to him on one of the thousands of seats occupying the arena. "Means there's more left for me to clean up, seeing as you had a neighbour in that world of yours. Nevertheless, it was an entertaining choice, so I cannot fault you for that." 

Everything seemed to flash before Quinn's eyes, yet they remained entirely unbothered by the scale of the arena as he focused. The world he'd only moments ago been in, the people, the life, it was all gone. 

"Where is this?" he asked, eying the spaceman. It sat barely a metre to his left, clad in what looked like clothes, though in what also could have been absolutely nothing at the same time. "And what are you?" 

It shrugged. "That's not something you need to know." 

"Where am I?" he asked again.

"The Echelon," it muttered. "It's simply space, temporarily inhabited by me and all your fellow contestants as part of the tournament. Happy?" 

"W-what am I supposed to do?" 

The spaceman shrugged again. "You made this choice, Quinn Verner." 

He did. He'd made a real, tangible choice with the options he'd been given—a wrong choice, perhaps? Quinn didn't like the look of the arena, the emptiness of it all. There was something inherently wrong with it, and something even more so in that they'd soon be occupied by spectators, each reveling in their own strength. 

"This was the trade-off you chose," the creature said. Quinn turned to glare at it, though it'd vanished. "Despite my grievances on the matter, I am looking forward to your first and potentially last duel, Quinn Verner. Try to be entertaining!" 

Desperately, he glanced around trying to look for the spaceman, but he'd vanished entirely. Now, all that remained was unbridled, unceasing silence within this so-called Echelon. It was a strange, incorrect silence, especially considering the malevolent presence within him. Almost as if to sit beside him on the very seat the spaceman had previously inhabited, there was a secondary individual within Quinn that he could sense; a separate soul. 

A dead soul. 

Unlike his own, it had passed, or perhaps been unable to continue. It was there, but it also wasn't at the same time. Despite apparently having died, Quinn could still sense Sukuna's influence on his body, even after the minor contact the two of them had shared. He'd inhabited his body for a fraction of an instance, leaving Quinn in control, all while Sukuna…ceased. 

"His components," he muttered, focusing on himself, "were left behind…because of the finger itself?" Despite having himself removed from Quinn, he could still sense Sukuna's essence. It was all there, festering, yet existing. "Was that what the choice had been? Pick the essence or the remaining two-weeks?" 

As if to answer his question, a person appeared to his side. Part of him hoped the spaceman returned to explain things to him, though his hopes and dreams were naturally of little importance to such a being. Rather than some grand show or bizarre twist of events, another person blinked into existence to his side. 

"Uh," Quinn hummed, surprised by their sudden appearance, "hello?" 

She glanced around for a moment, eyed Quinn, and sighed. "That…was faster than I anticipated." 

Quinn cocked his head. "What…are you doing here? How are you here?" 

For a moment he wondered whether or not he hadn't been the only one to have broken the spaceman's little game, but then it dawned upon him. Like smashing a hammer to a nail, another person fizzled into existence across from him, and then another, and then hundreds more as people began filling the arena. 

Just then, like the final nail in the coffin, the spaceman appeared directly in front of him, a smile across its face. "Did I forget to mention?" Before it continued, the spaceman vanished and appeared on four enormous holograms directly in the centre of the arena, casting his voice to the entirety of its audience. "Welcome! Welcome! You set out to gather strength exactly one month ago! Are you ready?!" 

What?

 Thinking back, the spaceman's strangely smooth tone of voice seemed to whisper into his ear: Or…you keep the finger and return to the First Round. They were its own words, the same words they'd spoken to Quinn himself…just moments ago?

No, of course that wasn't the case. He was dealing more than just a being or an entity—this was, in every sense of the word, God. It didn't matter in what way it was put, what argument or rationale was used in disputing it; it was a fact, an absolute. 

I chose the finger over the two remaining weeks, he thought, eyeing the spaceman as he addressed the crowd, and I'd do it again! 

It was and always would be the correct choice to make in the position he'd been in. While not something that had crossed his mind originally, it was something that made sense. In a world he was already familiar with, having already grasped its fundamentals, why would he not attempt to take advantage of his knowledge and abuse it? 

That's right….which means I have my Axis and Sukuna's Shrine now, right?

A near-impenetrable barrier that deflected harm and near unstoppable slashes that tore apart anything they came into contact with. 

Quinn smiled.

On paper, that meant only one thing. 

I've become an unstoppable force.

Content, comfortable, and pleased with his decision, Quinn awaited patiently for the spaceman to announce the first round. While doing so, he focused on what he could only assume to be Sukuna's very own innate technique, Shrine. It was there, presently doing nothing, but nevertheless there. 

Glancing around, he noted the unique appearance of certain contestants. Some had relatively normal features, others had strange yet oddly familiar spiked hair, while others had unique weapons and, overall, strange appearances. 

Looking at them, seeing them, it only served to further Quinn's presence among them all. Other than his sword and potentially the uniform he was wearing, there was nothing overly special about him—but what about his abilities?

They'd know immediately, he told himself, or they'll recognise Shrine, at the very least. 

It wasn't strictly an issue, but then one of the strongest tools at his disposal was a passive weapon. A verbal agreement, a pact between himself and his soul; the revealing of his abilities. A simple, yet elegant tool available under specific conditions. 

Chuckling, Quinn dug deep within himself towards a set of familiar chains. 

With his power, I suppose it's fitting that I make use of binding vows!

As he did, as he looked within at Shrine itself, Quinn felt something glare back at him. It wasn't Sukuna, he'd established his disappearance moments prior; but something was there.

The binding vow worked…I renamed it, but…what is it?

This was not Shrine. 

It had never been Shrine, and yet, engraved onto his person, was just that—Shrine. Sukuna's innate technique had been placed upon his body, upon his soul; and yet it wasn't there. Perhaps in the form of a shallow, empty husk, but then that wasn't whole; complete. Shrine had been engraved, but it also remained empty, at least until…something took its place.

Yuji's shrine was different due to the nature of innate techniques in different people…is that what this is?

It was different. Quinn didn't necessarily know how, but there were discrepancies—and glaring ones, at that—that couldn't be ignored. 

Namely…there is no shrine!

Unlike Sukina's inner domain, consisting of skull's and death, his own was…still. It was a sanctum to be worshipped, yet one occupied by a volatile, dangerous essence. It was silent, but it was also incredibly loud at the same time. 

Shaking his head, Quinn ignored his thoughts and settled on the binding vows, renaming the extension techniques appropriately. It wasn't necessary and they'd likely only pay off once or twice, but it was fitting considering the sudden shift and existence. 

If it's not shrine at all, then what difference does it really make?

As if to reaffirm his focus, the spaceman began announcing the first round. 

"Emilia Fischer!" 

The creature called out, shouting someone's name—and as he did, a figure popped up on the north-side of the arena. He couldn't see them directly, but up on the holograms, Quinn could make out the appearance of a brown-haired girl, a single red-eye shining ominously. 

Is that a…

"Vean Ghaler!

Glancing up at the hologram, a strangely familiar figure appeared on the south-side of the arena, a hardened look to them. It was someone he knew little, yet a face he recognised immediately as though it were one he'd seen every day for the past two-weeks. 

That's…him—from the void two…no, a month ago?