|Location: Wasteland, center.|
-NUK-
A sharp, uncontrollable clench gripped my chest, each breath stabbing like shards of glass as pain radiated through me. My vision blurred, doubling the world before my eyes, making it impossible to focus on anything solid or real. Yet, through the haze, I saw her—a woman moving deliberately toward me. Her slow, deliberate steps echoed unnervingly in the stillness around us. And then, that grin. A grotesque, chilling smile that crawled beneath my skin, sending icy shivers racing down my spine and pooling coldness in my legs.
"Once upon a time," she began, her voice soft but filled with an eerie certainty, "there was this kid. That kid was me."
A cold spark ignited anger and confusion inside me. "What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice rough and shaky. Once upon a time? Was she mocking me? Dismissing my pain? Did I look so fragile to her that she could toy with my memories like a cruel storyteller? My hand clenched into a fist, digging into the rough earth beneath me. Without thinking, I grabbed a rock and hurled it at her. It sailed through the air, but she moved with unnatural ease, dodging effortlessly as if she knew exactly where it would go.
She didn't miss a beat. "She was loved by her mother, cherished by a sister she admired... and flanked by a brother loathed by everyone."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. How could she know? The rawness of that truth clawed at my heart, stirring up emotions I had buried deep—pain, shame, and a bitter regret that burned like acid in my veins.
"You!" I spat, my voice trembling with fury and disbelief.
The woman continued, her tone like a haunting lullaby I couldn't escape. "One day, the brother had had enough of the world around him."
The familiarity of the story twisted inside me, each word reopening wounds I thought had healed. The past surged forward like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me in memories I desperately tried to suppress.
"He ran away."
Suddenly, my breath hitched, coming in sharp, painful gasps as my chest tightened unbearably. The world tilted, and the air around me seemed to crackle with the ghosts of the past. Then, like a cruel echo from a nightmare, it hit me—the memory I had fought so hard to forget, clawing its way back with relentless force.
[They don't want me. You should have just left me!] The fierce argument with my mother played in my mind like a broken record, each word a dagger twisting deeper into my soul. The weight of my mistake, the heavy shroud of guilt, pressed down on me, suffocating and relentless.
"Stop!" I screamed, voice raw and desperate, begging the nightmare to end. But when I looked up, my eyes locked onto her face—Dia's face. It was like staring into a mirror reflecting my mother's very expression, the same cold, piercing look that had haunted my childhood.
Weakness enveloped me, an unbearable heaviness settling in my chest. I felt exposed, fragile—like a child lost in a storm with no safe harbor.
"Running through the forest barefoot, his feet bleeding," she continued, voice steady and unyielding.
Clenching my fists over my chest, trying to contain the tempest of guilt and pain raging inside me, I ignored the screams my body sent out in protest. I lunged forward, grabbing her shirt and slamming her down onto the cold, unforgiving ground. My voice broke as I yelled, desperation and anger mingling in a harsh cry, "I said stop! How do you know any of this?"
Denial clawed at me fiercely, swirling into regret, which then bled into a deep, aching sadness. Anger bubbled just beneath the surface, a tempest struggling to break free. I fought desperately to hold my emotions in check, to keep them from spilling over—but it was like trying to dam a raging river with bare hands. The flood was inevitable.
"Whoa, getting impatient, are we?" Her voice was light, teasing, yet laced with something darker. She smiled—a slow, unsettling curve of her lips. Despite the tension thickening the air around us, I could hear her faint giggle, barely contained but unmistakably there. Then, as if to mock my frustration, she reached out and rested her hand gently on my shoulder, giving it a casual, almost patronizing pat. "How about you sit down and just listen?"
Before I could react, the earth beneath me seemed to pulse with a strange life. Thick, wooden vines burst from the ground like serpents, wrapping around me with terrifying speed. They coiled tightly behind my back, pulling me away from her as if I were a helpless puppet. Panic surged through me as the vines wound around my legs and torso, locking me in place.
"Kack!" The wood creaked and groaned as it squeezed tighter, cutting off all feeling from my legs. The cold rigidity of the vines pressed mercilessly against my skin, numbing my senses.
She straightened up, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. "Phew! Those will hold you."
"Freak!" I spat the word with venom, bitterness burning in my eyes as I ground my teeth.
"That's rich, coming from you—the village's bastard." She rolled her eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh as if I'd just insulted her personally. Yet, a mischievous giggle slipped past her lips. "A good title, if I may say."
Without warning, she grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. I wanted to shove her away, but the vines held me fast, making resistance useless. She smirked, savoring the moment after her insult.
"Y-you can't say that with that face," I stammered, voice trembling despite my anger.
"Ouch! You make it sound like I'm using someone else's body." She slapped my cheek sharply and released my hair. Her eyes narrowed in mock disappointment, but then she sighed, as if indulging a childish game. Clapping her hands together, she said, "Okay, where were we? Ah, yes—the barefoot part."
"You!" I growled, tugging violently against the wooden bonds, desperate to break free.
Why was she still rambling on? Did she truly believe I'd accept her claim of being my sister? What was her purpose in all this? And where was Dia? My mind raced with questions, but found no answers.
"The ground he stepped on was stained with his blood—the very blood his beloved mother followed. And there, at last, stood a boy reaching a sacred place. A place where the Tree of Life once grew." Her voice took on a reverent tone, as if narrating a legend.
Sacred ground? The words sounded absurd, like a fairy tale meant to manipulate. I tried to steady my breathing, to drown out the growing storm inside me. She probably picked up this story somewhere, twisting fiction to fit her twisted game.
"You probably just heard that from the tribe. I don't know who you are, but enough of this nonsense—let's fight!" My heart thundered in my chest, pounding so loudly I feared it would betray my doubts. No, she wasn't my sister. Dia had to be somewhere safe right now. I had to escape this place—and find her. With Zero by my side, I could still make it out alive.
Despite my defiance, she didn't lash out or retaliate. Instead, she continued her twisted story, her voice softening as if recounting a bittersweet memory. "His mother held him close, whispering, 'Child, don't mind them. I love you and your sisters—that's what truly matters.' Ugh! I almost choked up hearing that."
Her words hung in the air, striking me like a sudden blow. The line—the way she said it—it was hauntingly familiar. It echoed the very words my mother had once spoken to me. "That line… just now… how?" I managed to choke out, disbelief tightening my throat.
Could she really be Dia? No, it was impossible. She couldn't be. Someone like this—with such madness—couldn't possibly be my sister.
But then, her smirk deepened, and she began to trail her fingers over the wooden vines that bound me. Her gaze softened, almost tender, before she resumed speaking.
"The mother hugged her son so lovingly, so tenderly. So sweet," she whispered mockingly.
Then, as if snapped from a dream, her demeanor darkened abruptly. The lightness vanished, replaced by a violent storm. Her carefree smile twisted into something cruel and bitter. With a sudden, brutal motion, she crushed the vines in one hand, splintering them to pieces. Rage exploded from her like wildfire as she tore through the remaining bindings.
"Like hell that's sweet!" she spat, venom dripping from her words. "That bitch died right after. When a massive apostle appeared out of nowhere—she died pathetically. She should have been nothing but a breeding mare for those scavengers, so her blood wouldn't have tainted this place."
"What are you talking about?!" I gasped, horror and disbelief freezing my voice.
Her eyes gleamed with madness as she sneered. "What? Shocked to hear your little sister trash talk your mother? That woman spread her legs for anyone who came along. Crazy, isn't it?" She began scratching at her arms with jagged nails, drawing blood as if to punish herself—or maybe to show her torment.
I couldn't care what she said about mother. Not anymore. To deny the truth now would be foolish. This woman—this broken, violent person—could very well be my sister.
"W-why?" I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. How did everything fall apart like this? What had happened to my sister to twist her into this? If this was truly Dia, then maybe—just maybe—I could save her from this madness.
"Why?" she echoed, eyes wild and gleaming with manic fire. "Because I know the truth. I know what this world really is. I know what that thing called a mother is. Even you—I know what you are." She leaned close, her laugh sharp and unhinged. "He told me everything."
"I was there brother. I followed you. I saw it all." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "I saw that apostle tear that leg spreader in half—the irony, she was spread wide open. Ha! After fighting it for a while…"
"Di-a? No!" I stammered, my voice cracking with desperate denial. "Impossible."
"What's impossible," she snarled, "is that after everything I saw, your first instinct—your cowardice—was to run away. Again!" Her teeth grated together, a harsh, rattling sound that echoed through the silent forest around us. "I was left alone. Again! But you could call it a blessing—I met him. But I couldn't follow him. Not truly. Because I was born through her, and that disgusting blood flows in me."
"Shut up! What right do you have to say that about her? Our mother sacrificed so much!" I tried to push back, but she was faster. In one swift movement, she pinned me down, silencing me.
"And what about you?" she sneered. "You made her bait." Those words struck me deeper than any blow.
She began to mumble bitterly, recounting every detail of her hatred for our mother, her voice raw and jagged. Despite her ragged appearance and the madness in her eyes, I felt no pity. All I felt was a crushing wave of regret and anger—anger that she had forgotten the sacrifices mother made, anger that I had believed her, and anger at myself for holding onto denial, for hoping against hope that this wasn't truly my sister.
But I couldn't listen to her any longer. The venom in her words twisted something deep inside me, and anger surged up, boiling over.
"You!" I shouted, my voice raw and trembling with fury. "How can you talk like that? Do you even know how much your mother suffered? How did she fight just to save us?"
She turned abruptly, eyes wide and blazing with contempt. "Who cares?!" she snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. "Do I look like I give a damn?"
I froze. The person I once called my sister—the only family I had left—was gone. Replaced by this bitter, broken stranger. The truth slammed into me like a stone wall, harsh and unyielding. Despite the vast gap in our power, I couldn't hold back what I felt. "You should have never been born."
Her smile twisted, cruel and dark. "Finally, you understand me," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "I should have been the chosen one. If only she had decided to abort me."
Her words shattered me. Beneath the anger, I felt a deep, aching sadness swell uncontrollably. Tears burned my eyes and spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. "All those years… was it all an act? Is this how you really feel about your family?"
She sneered, eyes cold and unrepentant. "Are you stupid? Of course!"
I lowered my head, the weight of hopelessness crushing me. The light I'd clung to—the hope that family still meant something—felt like it had flickered out. Then, with a sudden shift, her voice cut through the silence. "Brother, what do you think of this marking on my body?"
"What are you talking about?" I snapped, frustration mounting. "Do you think I care?"
She smirked, unbothered. "After that leg spreader dealt a heavy wound to the guardian, the guardian clung desperately to this very tree. I was just a child then—innocent and curious. I approached it, and the guardian couldn't stop me, not even once. That stupid bastard never even let me touch it before." Her calmness was unsettling—shifting so quickly from fury to cold detachment.
Her words confirmed it—she had been here, even before the tragedy. "What are you saying? You're making less and less sense."
She ignored me. "At least the leg spreader managed to wound it." Her voice was flat, almost cruel. I couldn't believe she wouldn't even speak my mother's name. How far had she fallen?
She pressed on. "So, back to what I was saying. He appeared and dealt the final blow. My eyes were opened. He helped me access the data within the tree. Because of that, I learned secrets no ordinary person should ever know."
"You're mad," I muttered, shaking my head. "I don't understand any of this, and I don't want to. Whether you're my sister or not, I'll kill you!"
She snapped, voice loud and fierce. "Shut up! How dare you raise your voice to me? I am a person who has received the grace of God. I have witnessed the forgotten world. And the truth he desperately tried to bury."
She turned away, her hands trailing reverently along the enormous roots of the ancient tree.
I couldn't take it anymore. My mind screamed for escape.
Her attention fixed entirely on the tree, I seized my chance. Using my ability, I destabilized the ground beneath me, loosening the soil and snapping the weakened vines that held me captive. Thanks to the damage from earlier, it took only a small burst of stamina to break free.
With my sister—this madwoman—still distracted, I gathered every ounce of strength and fury within me. I struck the earth with both hands, unleashing a violent tremor. The ground shattered, sending a storm of razor-sharp shards hurtling toward her like claws. With precise control, I guided the shards from opposite sides, slicing clean through her neck.
Her severed head rolled to the ground, golden blood spilling in a radiant pool.
Exhausted, my body sagged, ready to breathe a sigh of relief—until a chilling scream cut through the air.
"Kyah!! My head! My sacred head!"
I turned sharply, eyes wide in shock. There, on the forest floor, lay her head—still screaming, still alive—bathed in the most brilliant golden blood I'd ever seen.
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