Blended mixture of thick blood and potent rust, limbs, and organs, and eyes, and ears, and heads, and brains, and hands, and
Arms&&Legs&&Knees&&Throats&&Bones&&Feet&&Hearts&&Lungs&&Chords&&Spines&&Pancreases&&Intestines&&Stomachs&&Kidneys&&bladders.
Dust, dirt of the earth, crimson blood, clear cerebrospinal fluids, gastric juices, yellow-gold pus, amniotic fluid, grey matter of a brain, urine, fabric, skin.
Mines, mines, mines, mines.
Detonate.
Explode.
Up yo' Lord, there up.
Crisp, crisp,
Smell, Meat, meat.
Nails.
Crisp, crisp, smell, meat, meat.
Teeth.Gums.Tongue.
A hellscape of mechanical and magical weaponry.
There is no death;
There is no mercy;
There is no humanity.
But ... There is meat.
Either animated, or either unanimated.
Meat, meat, meat, and you can only feel so hungry.
Would you take a bite?
Just a single one.
One.
A Barbaric hegemony of violence built on an authoritarian ideological belief of certitude. A clouded filled-sky blotting out the unconceivable remain of a sun until the next cycle, lividity etched in the very atmosphere, The Blue Hour.
Rubble everywhere, empty bullet shells, eternally uncountable carcasses, the patches of dead grass of what remains, explosions, detonations, countless, countless.
Are they thousands?
Hundreds of thousands?
Maybe millions?
Billions? Trillions?
I don't know. Can't tell either.
Gunshots.
BOOM!
Screams, screams, screams! Pleads!
A land where the memory of one is eaten, devoured, to never return. What memories does a dead man hold?
What goals does a dead man hold? What other than a few kilograms of edible meat does he hold, if his organs take the rest of the weight?
An area filled with debris and earth exploded, the screams of soldiers and cattle alike, their pleas for mercy, their corpses strewn across the Land of the Lord.
A blot on the escutcheon. A single purple star that appeared like a dimming and brightening star, as if submerged in water that adorned the heaven's void sky. The Hour of Carnage has started.
The last color of the world disappeared, the lights in the sky gradually turning off, the sky turned into an intricate void of the sublime.
The Playground of Carnage. Some called it The Playroom of Carnage. All the same. It was located at the edge of the world. A location where the normal rules of the world varied, where laws became different from regular laws.
It wasn't a sacred field, it wasn't a barbaric violent one either.
It was simple, as much as it was called. A Playground.
A Playground encompassed whatever the participants wanted to play.
Beyond the edge of the world was nothing. It was simply a waterfall that led to eternity. Nothing below. Normal water that was too blue to be blue ran at the edge of the world, with tints of red from the intertwinement with the Dead Elevated River. And beyond was the sky, oh, the infinite span of the sky.
It was unknown what was beyond the landscape, or what this soil, what this land differed in from others. A land that no religion had taken foot in, no civilization ever thought about thriving in. It was a paradise, but it was hell.
It was a question (?~?]
Seasons differed. Mostly it was either Early summer, or Early winter. Other seasons did not take presence.
Amidst the carnage of human violence, was a figure of a slumped man, one arm missing. It merely stood on the earth, not moving an inch, inanimate, watching the unmoving patch of grass that was half uprooted.
Slowly seeping and dripping was the reddish liquid of a pink chord carelessly seated beside it, coated with a thick and clear sticky liquid, with a few droplets of blood coloring the ridges like an ornamite decoration.
The eyes of a man could truly be as dead as the man staring at the land, armlessly. Both with no arm, and no weapon.
The figure's mere arm, wrapped fully in bandages, the ligaments barely holding itself together, trembled as his strained and crude finger tips caressed his bandage wrapped stomach.
Barely holding back on a thread his sticky blood reddish and thin purple-veined intestines from spilling out.
Letting out a grunt of pain as his hands made contact with the pus leaking, he bared his blood-stained teeth and spat out a thick, black mucus that blocked his throat.
"Fuck" He spat, aimlessly.
His pupils aimlessly shook, saliva leaking from the corner of his lips, yet he made no effort to wipe it off.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
His only eye left, a pupil so dark brown that it appeared black, looked around him with a slightly dazed tilt of his head, as he wondered why he could only see through one direction.
".... Ohhh, no wonder... I lost an eye"
One of his pupils had turned bleach white.
He muttered it as if it did not matter, something to be expected amidst this human cattle butchery with no expectancy of human morality.
Staggering, he leaned forward like a drunkard, before raising his body off the ground, his head low as he held back the throbbing pain that stabbed into the center of his forehead like the carving of a dagger through his cerebrum.
With his disheveled hair strewn across his forehead, he licked the dry blood off of his lips, savoring the taste of rust before gargling and spitting.
His appearance resembled that of the devil with his half charred face, the shrapnel imbued in his liver, a miracle how he was still alive.
Smoke was covering everything, save less for the explosions around him, the rapid movement of soldiers dragging back any injured ones to get them treated urgently, or the trampling of dead soldiers like pavements.
Rifles shot all around him, the shout in foreign languages he had heard so many times, he had damaged his hearing entirely.
".... Haft ... Honald"
The young man who was no more than in his twenties, calling between breaths without turning.
Still, every time he called him, he couldn't stop the ridicule he felt. Every time he called him, he felt that his name resembled 'Donald Duck' from the child show he had watched when he was no older than five.
There was no response to his call, but a man nearby growled, and walked with a bandage to his throat, his head bald. He had one ear, and walked staggeringly beside the young man.
"Honald?"
Instead of responding, the man raised his crooked fingertips, and gripped his front neck in a breaking motion, which was severely bleeding but stopped and had long dried up. He didn't answer again.
The figure that was calling went silent for a moment before raising its middle finger.
"Fucking, Honald. You could have reminded me that you lost your vocal cords, you damned son of a harlot" The figure, or rather the young man let out sneer, as he kicked a nearby head that was uncleanly cut like a torn head, its eyeballs a mere two holes, the connected pink nerve of muscle visible.
However, as if realizing something, the young man let out a mocking laugh.
"Like I would hear you anyways with these two pieces of skin as decoration"
Honald did not reply, but gave out a grunt that was akin to a whistle with his vocal cords damaged.
Machine gun shots echoed in the distance, along with the sound of penetration reaching their ears.
The young man then squatted on the ground, his eyes boring on the blown up soil, as if scanning for something specific, ignoring the countless corpses and fluids on the ground.
The smoke and mist slightly obscured his vision,
Wordlessly, he picked up a nearby weapon with his scarred hand that was missing two fingers, a rifle, before tossing it towards Honald, landing somewhere near him.
Honald walked towards it, and checked how much munition was left. He then checked the functionality of the rifle and with his large hand adjusted the helmet on his head. He pulled the hammer back.
The young man kept flexing his fingers before in turn grabbing a nearby axe that was mostly chipped, somewhat dull, however, he weighed it in his hands, letting out an approved evaluation.
".... Missing fingers really do affect grip. I guess Logic's words were not unfounded after all. "
He sighed tiredly.
"Unfortunately, I really had to experience it myself to believe. My fucking luck."
Standing back up, he slightly carried the large axe with his strained biceps and forearms, and rested the flat side of it to his remaining shoulder.
His gaze shifted to Honald. Without a word, he tiled his head towards a certain direction, motioning with his eyes, and lightly walked forward, with a casual strait.
Honald naturally followed him, the magazine of the rifle changing to a velvet dark violet-blue, as Honald placed a glowing liquid blue-full tube, the rifle's stock on his shoulder.
Murder the White Niggers. Go into their tents and rip the breath from their throats and let there be no counting of the meat stacks until the fields are silent, and make their children in chains and ribs, their women harlots of the horses. They are a corrupt seed an' a abomination upon them earth and ye will not leave a soul alive to breed another one, or a generation to breed another of their Devil-warranted filth!
Bless the devil, curse the devil! Kill the miscreatures of the Lord's fury!
"Miscreatures?"
Kill the curs, a waste of an offscouring dreg!
"Dreg?"
The colonel screamed at the miscreatures until his throat ran raw with the salt of it.
Soldiers on the young man's side and Honald's side marched past them, shooting they guns, meat fallin' everywhere, like tomorrow was today and today was tomorrow.
The young man let out a laugh of audacity, pushing Honald's shoulder, who spat.
Ey, a Devil is what but needs to be unalived in this field, shame on them.
March the horses.
March the charlots of God!
BOOM
MARCH!
Men stabbed on mines underneath the roots and feet and continued running with no fear, as if their death was an inevitable truth to be beheld and to not be forgotten.
Burn in the passion of worldly fire, so to burn in the light of God!
Battered and bruised.
As the young man walked forward with Honald, he suddenly sensed something, before he hurriedly looked at a nearby lightly-disguised trench hidden amidst destroyed rubble.
Without a word, he slapped the back of Honald's head, and ran to the trench, diving in to take cover, and brought the flat edge of the axe over his head.
Honald followed right after without so much of a word, and covered his head with the body of his rifle, as a few glowing threads came out from the glowing magazine, and quickly intertwined forming a crude, half assed barrier.
WIth his scarred and chopped fingers, the young man motioned for Honald to get closer. However, seeing Honald moving in micro movements, the young man cursed under his breath, pulled Honald from his collar towards himself to take cover using the barrier as well.
Soon, soldiers wearing the same dark blue uniform followed right after, doing the same thing as they did.
It was only then when a sudden unhinged and unsteady voice erupted, as if drunk on a heavy liquor, the dazzling liquor of carnage and butchery.
Take ye covers, ye fuck'n mongrels!
The faint sound of buzzing from the sky resounded, as a cross like-black structure flew in the air, circular spheres dropping into land, and detonating it to ash .
The battlefield went silent for a moment, before the air pressure changed for a fraction of a moment. However, a few seconds passed as the sound of something whizzing came to the ears of the soldiers in the trenches.
A Rapid projectile exploded in less than a fraction of a second above the trench as it moved at unknown speed, the shockwave throwing dust in the air, and barriers cracking.
A 487 cm x 897 cm projectile, shot from a Nolo powered Ester, akin to a tank but much different in appearance.
The sound of the projectile moving was heard at a distance, but no impact of explosion was heard, oddly. Many soldiers in the trench held their ears that had begun to bleed crimson much from an understandable liquid, while others tried to steady their emotional spikes and PTSD.
One was even crying for his mother. The young man almost erupted in laughter at the sorry sight of soldiers.
He looked at the sky for a moment, where all the sound had become as void as the black sky with not even a twinkling star.
"Fucking Honald"
Honald didn't even bother asking at this point why he kept getting cursed whenever things didn't go the young man's way.
"Giddy up, enough slack. We got to move before some of the bloody AJKs throw in one of their Lorans into this bloody hole of hell"
However, contrary to his words, the young man double checked if Honald's, who seemed out of it, rifle was working fine, before shoving it into his hands.
He then adjusted Honald's uniform roughly, before pushing him, motioning casually with his eyes to slowly move his head out of the trench, and check for any enemy signals.
He leaned back, searching his pocket habitually for the pack of cigarettes he used to have, before he remembered that he had run out of them.
No, wait, he didn't even take cigarettes with him in the first place. Hadn't he switched to a pipe since coming to this world?
He probably dropped it somewhere along the way. He must have.
"Fuck"
His mood worsened unexpectedly, and he vented out by spitting on the ground.
Nudge, nudge.
Honald nudged the foot of the young man, pointing with his index to above the trench, mouthing a word and swiping his hands in a horizontal motion as if he was sweeping something.
The young man who was irritated at the sudden intrusion of thoughts, spoke with a voice laced with venom.
"Did you also lose yer eyes or something?"
Honald didn't reply, but merely urgently continued with his sweeping hand movements.
"You want to sweep somethin'?"
Honald shook his head, and instead with gestures continued showing to him.
The young man, who was at the end of his patience was about to stand up and check for himself, before a sudden, unexpected thought intruded upon his head.
"They sweeped the field?"
Honald nodded his head.
In response, the young man's eyes widened, giving exaggerated gestures.
"Like, wiped out everything with that projectile? The one that just passed?"
Honald nodded his head.
"You ain't see no soldiers?" The young man asked in disbelief. "God damned bloody hell"
"They ain't got none mercy for us soldiers, filthy bastards" The young man cursed.
Honald didn't answer, but instead pulled the young man's collar, to which he shook with a 'Got it, got it, don't know what's this bastard's deal', and followed right after him.
He gripped his axe, giving one last look to the soldiers around him, before he started crawling along the long trench, holding his axe in preparation for potential combat.
He scanned his surroundings, as he took note of Honald preparing more rounds than usual.
He brushed it off as Honald took extra precautions, and remained vigilant.
A few moments passed, before he heard a whizzing sound of something dropping from the sky into the area he was at moments ago, a cube, instead a battalion of soldiers prepared in an oddly dressed uniform that practically screamed 'foreign enemy'.
The young man, understanding Honald's words right after, moved out of the trench, only to be met with a barrage of soldiers moving out from nearby trenches.
He stood motionless, before nodding his head with a tilt of his head.
"Well, ain't ya a damned liar. The rats were hiding six feet under. Just like me and you, fool"
Honald shrugged his shoulders with an impassive look as if that didn't matter much to him, before the two moved behind rubble of an ancient white-marble temple, just as artillery began to fire.
"Furer!"
KABOOM!
BOOM!
The young man sat for a moment, catching his breath and calculating his next movements, before he heard sudden steps nearby him.
A man no older than twenty and two moved with vigilance as he scanned the area with hawk-like eyes, his red and golden uniform slightly fluttering due to the wind.
His blue eyes warily looked around his surroundings, as if expecting for something to have been hiding in this desolate area.
"Aposulat en fehntrei, tes lamuna estrios "
The man who was called by a nearby comrade, nodded his head with an 'Ey, ey', as he slung the rifle on his shoulder, and turned his back to the area, lightly sprinting to the caller.
BANG.
"Aaaaargh! LAKIOS!"
A shot rang out, and the soldier who was lightly sprinting tripped on the ground, letting out a shrieking shout of pain.
The young man cursed as he punched Honald in the nose, causing him to blank out for a second, bleeding from his nose, planting the stock of the rifle on the ground, the mystical color of the rifle's magazine swirling inwardly.
"The fuck are you doing, Honald? Actually .... you know what? Forget it. Just forget it."
"I'll fuck you over later"
Nearby soldiers suddenly became alert at the sudden shout of pain, and shot that originated from an originally-thought of abandoned area. With rapid steps, they started approaching.
The young man let out a shrug as he stood up, carrying his axe with one hand, looking through the hole of a wall at the approaching enemies.
"I guess changing my way of speaking was not really my thing, now, was it?"
Fucking hey. I wonder how many times I've used the word 'fuck' just today.
The young man took a deep breath, and crouched, waiting for the approaching enemies to enter the rubble building. Honald, held his rifle, and covered his bloody nose that was probably fractured before walking somewhere in the ruins, disappearing into the rubble.
The young man raised an eyebrow, sneering at Honald's idiocy. Sometimes he entertained the thought that one of the mines blowing up accidently blew off Honald's brain out of his skull.
What kind of fool initiates fire at an enemy when they were clearly outnumbered, with more advanced weapons?
He didn't know how to use magic, and even if he did, well, his talent wouldn't allow him. And even if he had talent, what good was an energy-less bastard like him supposed to do with magical talent and amplitude when he didn't have magic in the first place?
Even the rifles the soldiers used, whether allies or enemies, were customized for magical use. Basic infants had a sort of energy form, even if the Pool concentration is on the Honored side in magical terms, or in layman's terms, the low side.
Well, not that he had long to laminate his luck.
The footsteps came sooner than what the young anticipated. As they approached nearer and nearer, the young man tensed his forearms, and suddenly moved his arms in a low-to-high vertical motion, his axe lodging into the first walking soldier's neck three quarters in.
The soldier flailed for a few moments, his eyes bulging, before gun shots poured out from behind him at the entrance. The young man immediately yanked back the bloody weapon, and held the body steady, as to gain enough time to charge.
He pushed the soldier's body towards the other four that were nearby, before he swung the axe in a wide arc, penetrating the chest muscles and shattering the ribs of one of the dying soldiers, seeing the real life effect of the lungs turning into a mingle puddle of flesh.
The soldier collapsed, as blood stained his teeth along with other liquids, his pumping organs falling out of his stomach and open chest, and the body shivering as if in a seizure, blood dripping from his nose, before going limp.
Yet, what adorned the face of the young man was not guilt or disgust, but instead a smile.
"Well, well, let us have a countdown from two!"
The soldiers raised their rifles and shot, one of them successfully shooting the young man's side with their bolt-action rifles with the dark blue stocks.
The young man paused as a flash of hot pain enveloped his side, before pursing his lips, rotating his shoulder, and throwing his axe towards the soldier who shot him, the axe implanting itself on his head, cutting half of it open, and spilling grey brain matter.
The last soldier took a few steps back in fear, and shot, but as the bullet reached the young man's shoulder, the young man pulled out a twelve chambered revolver and shot twice at the soldier.
However, even with the man dead, the bullet penetrated his bicep, causing him to drop his revolver on the ground in immense pain.
He grit his teeth, before diverting his attention to minimize it as much as possible.
".... I forgot to the count down completely"
Immersed in the short game that lacked complete realism, he laminated his forgetfulness these days to do many things.
Physical strength, he trained in this ungodly world to make up for his lack of magical ability.
Thus, weak bodies + good magic was unequal to strong bodies + bad magic.
Actually, unequal to strong bodies + no magic.
Period.
Still, physical strength did not improve memory, it seems.
Must be the effect of not smoking for a while.
From afar, he saw allies shooting troops of the enemy, steadily moving forward. He nodded his head as if interested in their actions, and was about to move forward to assist them with whatever he could, before he blinked twice, nodded his head, and sat down once more on the ground, looking at the view before him.
Its over.
The moral and power ground, which was slowly getting retained by his so called allies which he had no idea why he was allied to other than as being an Order of Commandment from Logic and Molnlol suddenly disappeared completely.
Or so the young man surmised.
After all, an 'Elaborate' had appeared. Unlike normal soldiers, Elaborates handled a higher affinity of Mana that was on the brink of reaching the first Constitution of Eo, called Euclid Mana.
Not only that, but instead of regular rifles that the soldiers used, they used specialized weapons that they selected.
The sky was quickly filled with mirrors that suddenly appeared from nowhere, as a girl no older than fourteen walked through the field, her black hair that were made in an odd drill-like, curly straight haired style.
"It seems just like Elias's hair. Never knew something like her would have a sister until she told me."
Her eyes were shaped like a four pointed star, a contrast between black and white, and a small red multicolored jewel embedded in her forehead with a few multicolored roots stemming from the jewel.
"Still, I wonder what made them fight in opposition? Well, it's none of my business."
The young man hummed a tone, with his feet extended, infested with infected wounds and fungi, watching the view. The thought of where Honald came to mind, but disappeared as fast as it came.
Maybe he went to fix his damaged brain using some mine therapy or something else. Perhaps he'd come as good as new later.
Meanwhile, the girl suddenly squatted on the battlefield, before she made her hand in a thumbs down position, planting her thumbs into the soil.
Her monocromic lips moved.
"X"
So I took a different path. In the distance he awaited me.
"De"
Had no weapon, guessing his hands were just enough for me.
"L"
Was no question, guessing he laughed just at the sight of me.
"U"
She created a circle in the dust using her index finger with her thumb still in position.
"X-De-L-U"
And there he was, his presence was alarming. He approached casually, and we talked about self harming.
The girl removed her hand from the soil, and instead stood before the charging soldiers, who shot at her their rifles frantically, in a barbaric order that held no order under any law, except under the law of chaos.
He told me 'Kid you should not be walking on your own'. He smiled, pat my back and asked 'How far away are you from home'?
I said Maybe thirty minutes, His frequency distorted quick, I seen it in his image.
She shook her hands clean from the blood-soaked black color using a handkerchief, her colorless expression, leaving an expressionless face.
Her eyes held the depth of the sun, and the shallowness of the moon, as if looking at the weaponry like a child's building blocks.
I should've run.
The young man saw something bright and colorful glinting and overflowing with so many colors, before blinking his eyes, and opening them wide again.
"Well, well, well, look at what we have here. Just look." The man remarked sarcastically, yet filled to the brim with fear, gritting his teeth at the irrefutability of it all.
Just look.
The field that was filled with his 'allies' had been wiped clean with only endless holes that bore the diameter of a crater of a meteor in an extremely precise cut.
Not blood, not organs, nothing.
It was just a plethora of endless holes that cleaned the earth of allies, weapons, artillery, everything.
"That is Elias's sister for you"
The man sat there in a daze at the place where the soldiers had once been, as if trying to process what happened.
So it was all pointless.
My injuries, my hopes, my effort, my blood, my tears, all of it!
Everything!
In the end what was the point of all I did?
Nothing changed. Nothing. N-o-t-h-i-n-g.
Haha, was it to please my country?
Hm, 'my country'? Since when was this country 'my' anyways?
I was just dragged here after a random death on earth that I knew was coming sooner or later. I died there willingly, so why am I fighting so hard?
Why?
Do I want to live?
"Useless, huh"
For what? For the sake of living? No, nothing is making sense. Why am I even doing this? It's not like I was forced against my will.
I could've ran, escaped to somewhere peaceful, gotten married to a virtuous wife, had good and kind children, and started a farm.
But I didn't want that. No, I still don't want to do that.
And I never found out who 'Helio' was in the end.
I was unable to fulfill Elias's job for me.
What was I able to do?
My vision was blurry but I couldn't feel anything other than my only hand that gripped my head.
My head hurts. It hurts so much.
I opened my eyes once more, seeing the bloody and disgusting battlefield before me. Titannus in my ears.
I looked at my blood hand with missing fingers, and scratched so much that it resembled something grotesque that was far from being a human.
Ah, you know what it resembled?
A beast.
Yes, a beast.
I couldn't hold it anymore, and vomited whatever I held in my stomach.
Is this really me? Is this really what I ended up as?
A soldier who committed havoc with commitment for the nation, that didn't even know what his sacrifice meant?
He was nothing but a normal citizen back on earth.
So why?
Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhwywhy?
..... Why?
I want to die.
No, no, I don't want to die. I am scared of dying again.
I want to live. Live.
Live, live, live.
Live,live,live,live,live,live,LIVE!
Drip, drip, drip.
Tears fell from my eyes to the ground.
They were lost in thought as soldiers approached me and pointed their rifles at me.
Ah, so it's over.
However, oddly so, I didn't feel hatred for those pointing their rifles at me. All I heard was laughter, laughter, oh, the laughter is too loud.
Who is laughing in this situation? Are the soldiers laughing at me? Well laugh what you want you sons of bitches, what else can you do but shoot your rifles, rape, and laugh?
Why haven't you shot yet? To make fun of a bastard like me?
Me of all things?
My unfocused pupils moved towards the soldiers, looking for the bastard that was laughing. However, seeing all of them wearing annoyed and expressionless expressions, I realized that none of them was laughing.
Then ... just who ?-
Wait.
I caressed my lower lip, only to realize it was in an upward crescent-like curve.
Oh.
So it was me laughing all along.
I was the one laughing.
Laughter slipped my lips uncontrollably, as I felt the tears dry on the edge of my eyes.
"Plecabius arunia"
One of the soldiers pointed with a disapproved expression, as he shook his head. The rest of the soldiers didn't answer, but they seemed to have agreed that I lost my mind.
And who could blame them?
Even I had thought I lost my mind at this point.
However, instead of responding, I looked away from them to a far away figure who was walking away with a small military coat fitting for her age, not sparing me a glance.
Fucking feministic bitch. Are teenagers in this world also bitches?
Well, whatever.
I raised my axe, and walked towards them, strolling leisurely. I found it odd that they haven't shot at me yet, but now that I think about it, one of the soldiers looks a bit more ... royal? Like he recognized me from somewhere?
Oh, he probably thought I was Logic's pet or so. Fuck her.
You think a ransom or an exchange will work?
"Elio"
The man pointed to my weapon, and then pointed to the ground, before asking the rest of the soldiers to raise their rifles at me.
Hm ... I don't like that. So let's not throw it away, ok?
I am but a mere soldier with much less experience than you. But maybe more physical strength.
Without leaving them a moment for reaction, I shifted my hand gripping the axe to near the head, before I swung it horizontally, to which the commander dodged with a yelp of surprise.
Tak-tak-tak-tak.
Bullet holes riddled my body, but I didn't stop moving, taking the surprised man by another surprise as I ducked, and chopped at my knee vertically.
It was only when I felt the hard feeling of something moving with some resistance from my axe did I realize that I had successfully cut into his knee.
The man let out a bloody scream, before I raised the axe horizontally at his screaming mouth. A then when all my strength brought it horizontally down in his so circular lip...s and oh, oh my.
The axe lodged around half way through to his skull, horizontally cut from between his lips. But the bastard is looking at me with cloudy eyes. I don't like them.
I pushed the axe further, but it was to no avail.
The soldiers were currently reloading their rifles, and were about to shoot once more, when I heard a sudden shot behind me. It was then that I threw my axe to the hidden perpetrator, but heard no response.
I thought I had missed the shot.
The shot penetrated the top of my back, and I felt an indescribable amount of pain, making me scream as I scrambled to reach out for my back.
It was only when I saw the figure who the axe flew to dead on the ground with the axe diagonally into his neck.
The figure held a handgun in its hand, yet the emotionless eyes of the figure were filled with impassiveness and empathy.
".... Honald?" I muttered subconsciously, before I erupted in laughter filled with ridicule.
So he betrayed me in the end. To be honest, I couldn't see it coming, but that was a mistake on my part, anyways. I mean, was my bullying enough to warrant a death note?
Still, his timing is incredibly weird, I am sure he had better chances to kill me, didn't he?
So, why did he try to kill me, anyways?
I felt that the only way was to ask Honald, but they do say dead men tell no tales.
Hm .... how inconspicious.
I should've lodged it in his brain, so that I could've perhaps fixed it for him. Maybe he would have given me a thank you message before he died?
Well, it's too late anyways.
The soldiers who reloaded their rifles pointed their barrels at me.
But something odd happened.
The corner of my vision oddly elongated, causing me startled to look at my side for a moment.
Perhaps it was imagination before death, I hallucinated somenthing weird.
But despite so, the moment I looked at the barrells pointed at me, the side of my vision elongated once more, but this time, I felt an unusual sudden urge to look at the sky.
My eyes which had never experienced with fear from the barrels of the men trembled slightly, as I scanned the sky, my eyes rapidly scanning the sky
But it felt strange. Time felt oddly slow.
All I could focus on was the singular star in the sky that did not resemble a star at all. A violet, circular dot-like star that did not resemble any star I've seen here or on earth.
It kept on pulsing like it was submerged into an ocean in the sky, its light rippling as if waves were crashing into it.
However, there was nothing unusual.
But no.
Something about the star was unnerving me.
I fear a chill of fear down my back as I realized that there wasn't only one star in the sky.
No, there were hundreds of thousands of other faint white dots that suddenly seemed to appear before me.
I felt my heartbeat spiking, as I felt a weird creeped in my mind, as I raised my arms pointing at the sky.
What is that?
No, that's not important. I need to get out of here quickly.
NOW.
However, contrary to the feeling of urgency I felt, my body was entirely frozen from shock.
I cursed, as I tried to move my body, but it was as if all my nerves had gotten burnt out.
And the stars.
I turned my eyes towards them.
Only I could see them.
And there weren't hundreds of thousands. They were infinite.
Uncountable
It was only when I kept staring at the stars that they also started dimming, and flickering, my brain unable to perceive what was going on.
I narrowed my eyes.
A hallucination? No, this was much more than a mere hallucination.
I felt my vision getting sucked into the stars in the sky, and going back to earth, as if my brain was unable to perceive the phenomenon under any perception.
My brain split in pain.
"Shit!-"
I felt myself getting suck-
BANG.
A furry of bings and bangs turned the youths head into a multitude of uncountable holes, meat and brain matter.
In the end, the thing the young man had ironically took disgust in the most, the meat of the battlefield-
Is what he ultimately ended in.
-+-
=
=+=
=?=
Oh, but I wish that was the end of it.
It's because I really didn't die.
But, yes, I actually did die. It seems contradictory, but believe me, its not.
And no, I didn't transmigrate.
And no, I didn't reincarnate.
And no, I didn't go back in time either.
And no, I didn't enjoy my life.
My life … no, what is life?
What is death?
I actually am unable to tell at this point. Can someone tell me?
[A young man was crossing his feet, gently shaking them as he opened a book, reading it]
[The book had the title: A French Macaron is not an Italian Macaron: How to make Macarons the correct way. A tutorial for ambitious beginners]
[The author … is the man reading it himself]
[Hm? The man said, as he noticed the readers gaze on him]
[He paused his lightly shaking of his legs for a moment, and placed his cup of coffee on the rectangular table before him]
[The man's eyelashes fluttered, as he took off his circular glasses, breathed a bit of his mist onto the glass, or crystal, it was unclear, and wiped it clear with the fabric of his shirt]
[Ah hello there, readers, The man said]
[Have you successfully finished the prologue?, he muttered with a small smile]
[He intertwined his fingers, and blinked, as if remembering something, before his expression brightened]
[Ah, please take a seat. It was a mistake on my part. If you don't mind, I will prepare some coffee for you!, He remarked with utter courtesy, and was about to call the w@i24398stress before he turned back to you, eyebrows up in insistence as if surprised at your refusal]
[Are you sure? No coffee? Tea? Nothing?]
[The man nodded his head in understanding, before licking his dry lips and taking a shallow breath]
[Excellent then, he said as he showed his hand to a nearby seat for you to sit at]
[Once again I must apologize for the delay in asking you for a drink. You see, it has truly been a while since I've had a guest like you. Most are … The man's pupils went to the ceiling for a moment as if pondering over the correct term to use, before nodding his head. Peculiar, in the least.]
[You must be confused about this place, and what you've seen in the prologue, no? Then let me get the point. You must be thoroughly annoyed by its superfluous longevity, I imagine.]
[The man snapped his fingers]
[Excellent, it's just as I've guessed, guest. So let me cut the chase. One, we are currently in the future, or rather a library. Ah, a library in the future. Hm, what's that? That wasn't your question?]
[... Oh, oh, ok. Go on. Hm … Ok, I understand now. So in essence, you're asking who I am, correct? Did I miss anything]
[Well, that is a very subjective question from a subjective viewpoint, but if you mean from terms of names, you can call me a past name I used to have, or …]
[Noel]
[Yes, let us go with Noel. So who am I? Well, that is a hard question to answer, since there is a lot to say, but let's just say, the young man in the prologue fighting a losing war was me. Is that enough?]
[The young man, with the same smile, rubbed his peculiar eyes that held something that was not supposed to be seen in anything that existed.]
[Go on your path. He reproached. He tapped twice on the table, leaning his elbow]
[This is too far into the story for you. You will reach this point after a long while, but heed me. The man stared right into the reader's eyes, as if speaking to the rest of the readers]
[This story is a long one, he said after a long moment of silence]
[It will not be one of boredom, but it will be a story filled with stories. If you seek something short, this is not for you, The man remarked as if shooing the reader away]
[But if you seek the story of a man who has not risen, but fallen, fallen so much that the risen has fallen and the fallen has risen, then this is for you]
[A shark's fin could be seen moving across the carpets, as if the ground was made of water]
[Now, now, don't feel afraid, will you?, The man remarked. He stroked the tip of the fin with his hands, before it disappeared below the ground as he noticed the readers confusion and skepticism at his words]
[I-, [Hey, Al, what the fucking earth are you doing inside the library?! What are you, an intellect or some shit? You know Vonella has been waiting for you for like, like the past thirty five minutes, haven't you? How much longer do you have before you leave?] The irritated voice of a woman in her late twenties erupted from somewhere. The reader was about to turn his head towards the voice, but he paused when he saw the young man staring at the direction of the voice expressionlessly]
[Well, times up. Giddy up, little laddie.]
[The man revealed two eyes, one that was a dark hazel, so dark it appeared like an endless swirl of black, and another white, white from blindness, but despite that it did not appear ugly. In opposition, it appeared to create a great balance.
[The man put on his glasses, and put on a loop earring that held a blue gem floating in the centre.]
[Suddenly, his black pupil split to two horizontal pupils, before he looked back into the reader with a slight tilt of his head, revealing a door tattoo with an unfamiliarly nostalgic symbol that resembled a half infinite symbol]
[The man stood up, and brushing his black hair strands that were on his forehead]
[Have a good day, he said]
[The moment the reader looked into the two pupils did reality crack into two, and space dilate, turning to an inadequate concept of liminality]
[Hundreds of environments appeared in the vision of the reader, twisted turned, visions, locations, environments, seeing everything before its eyes]
[The rabbit in Alice in wonderland was inverted, The Tower of Babel, pools, yellow rooms, houses, grasslands, destroyed locations, the ocean, space, anomolies, entities, all of it, all of it]
It is a long story, but a short story.
This story is mainly about a single character.
Noel.
But also many characters.