A vast, white expanse. Too familiar to me by this point.

I heard a sigh. “I guess you want me to explain now, hm?”

I turned towards it and saw Styx. She looked...tired. Ragged. As if she had been working nonstop and I interrupted her, but there was nothing for her to be working on that I could see.

“Yes, please,” I replied. I sat down, waiting for the explanation.

“I’m quitting the game.”

...the explanation was shorter than I expected.

“What?” I tilted my head.

“Exactly as I said.” She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I made a mistake choosing you. I should have chosen someone more...” She trailed off.

I raised an eyebrow. “More what? Hateful?”

“Hateful...I suppose that term works.” She sighed again. “After seeing how you acted, I thought you would have been perfect for my piece.”

“How I acted?” I was even more incredulous by this point.

She nodded. “Whenever you were angry, you held it back, only letting it out through annoyed comments. I only once saw you actually fight back.”

I winced. I knew exactly what she was referring to…

It wasn’t a long story. One day, walking home from school, I had seen some guy arguing with someone who I assumed was his girlfriend. He looked like a stereotypical ‘punk’ - long black hair, sunglasses, black leather jacket, and blue jeans that were sagging at least three inches. His girlfriend was about a head shorter than him, and likely a couple years younger. She didn’t look too out of the ordinary, aside from a bruise on her cheek. I had no idea what caused the bruise until she said something he apparently didn’t like, and he smacked her - presumably not for the first time.

I stopped walking and watched from a short distance. The guy seemed to realize he was doing this too publicly, and he tried to urge her to come inside a house with him. She refused, and he started getting forceful, practically pulling her in. I had a feeling I knew where this was going, so I quickly stepped over to the door and put my arm in the way before he could close it. He got distracted from his girlfriend and turned to me, not looking too happy, and I glared back.

Now, this is not a case of me becoming a hero who saves the day. He punched me in the nose, kicked me in the groin, shoved me backwards, and told me that if I ever got in his way again, he’d pull a knife on me. My response was to get up and walk right back to where I was standing, partially blocking the door.

He seemed confused, then just shoved me backwards and tried to close the door. I got my foot in the way, blocking him, and when he opened the door, I was standing there again. By now, he was just plain angry, and he followed through on his earlier threat, pulling a knife out from his pocket.

I glanced at the knife, yet for some reason, I wasn’t scared. I looked at it as if it was plastic and harmless, then looked back at him. He didn’t do anything at first, then when he realized I wasn’t leaving, he stabbed.

He got me in the shoulder before pulling it back out, glaring at me silently, thinking he’d made his point. But despite the blood leaking out of my shoulder, I didn’t even flinch. I felt the pain, yet I had no urge to react.

He looked at his knife, then back at me. He punched me with his other fist. I didn’t react. He shoved me. I didn’t even budge. Finally, he gave up and tried to stab me in the stomach.

I grabbed his arm, twisted it, took the knife, and elbowed him in the face. He staggered backwards, and I got a quick look at the inside of his house. The house itself was nothing special, but what caught my attention was one thing missing: the girl.

I noticed a back door that was left wide open, and I reached the obvious conclusion that she had run away. Deciding to do the same, I slammed the front door with me on the outside and ran off, pocketing the knife as I went.

From that day on, I took a completely different route to and from school - half an hour longer, but worth it. I never saw that guy or his girlfriend again, and I threw the knife in the neighbor’s trash as I went by. I managed to convince my family that my injuries were from getting hit by a drunk driver (blaming the knife wound on a ‘sharp hood ornament’), and after a few weeks, all that was left of them was a scar on my shoulder that was easily hidden by my shirts.

That was two years before Styx showed up.

“For once, you showed just how determined you could be when provoked,” Styx continued. “That’s what I was looking for...but I didn’t realize it’d be so hard to evoke that feeling of anger from you.”

I shrugged a bit. “Being in a world of colourful ponies and friendship may have helped me calm down a fair bit.”

“Haven’t you realized this world isn’t as sunshine and puppies as you thought?”

“Yeah, but that took me a while. The Dusk of Ice and Fire was the first time I ever really fought anypony, and that was a couple weeks after I arrived.” I shifted a bit to get into a more comfortable sitting position. “Besides, I usually have a more calm form of anger. Tranquil Fury, as TVTropes calls it.”

She looked confused. “TVTropes…?”

“Internet thing. Anyway, that’s usually how I take care of my problems; a well-placed glare and some graphic threats usually gets me where I need to go. I didn’t really start having to use violence until I came here, and even now I hate having to kill.”

She sighed. “Fine, then. I should have done more research. But I didn’t bring you here to discuss your past.”

I nodded. “Right. You’re forfeiting the chess game...so what happens to me?”

She stood up. “That’s where this other pony you’ve been communicating with comes in. She’ll be taking over as your new pseudo-goddess.”

“Pseudo-goddess?” I raised an eyebrow. “So she’s not a full god?”

“No. She doesn’t have the powers of a full god, hence why she didn’t participate in this game earlier. But I’m allowing her to take over for me since I’m quitting.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, lady!” I stood up as well. “Who is she?”

Styx didn’t answer at first, looking off to the side. Finally, she sighed; something she had been doing a lot of recently. “I think it’d be better for her to introduce herself. But she’s not quite ready.”

I facehoofed. “Oh, for the love of...”

“Just be patient.” She turned to look at me again. “Give it...a week, at most. Then she’ll be ready to finally reveal herself to you.” She smiled. “I think the two of you will get along fine, though.”

“How so?” I tilted my head.

“Oh, you’ll see...”

With that vague response, she faded away, along with the rest of the void.

Author's Notes:

Because I'm afraid someone's gonna ask: no, that thing with the guy and the knife has never happened to me, though I wrote it based off what I would do (or what I hope I would do and what I hope would happen) if it did.