Within the depths of the Seraphis Kingdom Underground Market, Aizawa and Leo were hunched behind an unassuming market stand, one that also sold unassuming products. Or, at least, human limbs were unassuming down here amidst the other horrifying things they've encountered. Aizawa slowly drew a breath as he gazed at the stand across from them, which belonged to Alonzo Cecilé.
The duo had told Alonzo they were leaving the market, but they took a detour and went the other way around. This was all a secret ruse to deter suspicion from the folk around them.
The man with curly black hair remained still, leaning leisurely on the side of his market stall with a calm, almost unassuming expression. In his left hand, he clenched a leather book, while in the right, he had a sum of gold coins from his accumulated purchases.
Soon enough, a figure, draped in a dark-colored robe, walked over to the market with their hands from view. Their cloak bellowed behind them as they came to a halt in front of the market stall. Alonzo's eyes flickered with interest as he began to spark conversation with this individual, asking them about the weather on the surface, the current prices of food and leisure items, alongside other tidbits anyone would hear.
Aizawa remained silent the entire time, his gaze fixated on the robed individual. Their conversation seemed to stretch for eons, but, eventually, he received his drug and was sent on his way. It was at this moment when Aizawa leapt from the shadows and lunged at the cloaked figure. The unknown figure stumbled back from this sudden interruption, falling onto his rear.
From underneath their hood, Aizawa spotted a pair of dazzling crimson eyes.
"What are you doing, you mug?" A young, female voice called out from underneath the cloak.
It was at this moment when Aizawa's face flushed a deep red, much like the woman's eyes. The surrounding people in the market all turned to look at him, their expressions furrowing and contorting in both curiosity and concern for the woman. Who knew the people who bought the most unorthodox and uncanny of items would have a tint of empathy in their hearts.
Aizawa stepped back a few feet, raising his arms in defense. "I apologize."
"You must be drunk or something, do you have an ounce of decency in your body?" she gave Aizawa another sharp glance as she stood to her feet, wiping the dust off of her dark-colored cloak.
Before Aizawa could answer honestly, he caught sight of something peculiar. The woman's left eye flickered a yellow color, and her unnaturally silky and smooth cheeks shriveled up a little like fruit that had been left in the sun too long. The skin around her eyes slowly sunk inwards, and her bright, blonde locks gradually shortened and turned an ashen gray color.
Her right eye suddenly fell from its socket, landing on the ground and turning into dust as if it had never existed. The spot where the eye once stood was swiftly blanketed by wrinkled skin. Her slim, prudent body grew a noticeable amount of muscle, also growing a few inches in height. What revolted Aizawa the most was the changes in her lower regions, the reproductive organs quickly changing.
Aizawa watched in horror and grotesque curiosity as her body changed, taking the form of an older man with one functioning, yellow eye.
Isaiah Walls!
Aizawa tried to take a step forward, but his body remained rooted in place. At this moment, Isaiah lifted his right hand, twisting his fingers in a myriad of cryptic and unorthodox positions. Aizawa's body suddenly began to move on its own. He took a step back, falling backwards and collapsing into a market stall, sending a flurry of glass jars into the air and shattering on top of him.
He watched, his face as pale as the snow outside as his right hand reached out, grabbing a noticeably jagged and large piece of shattered glass. His hand clenched around the glass, sending fresh rivets of pain cursing through him as it cut deeply into his skin, dark, crimson blood seeping through his fingertips and down his forearm.
Aizawa abruptly bit his tongue, suppressing the urge to cry out in pain. But the violent scene didn't end there. Isaiah moved his hands again, causing Aizawa's other hand to reach out to a jar of black, wet, and writhing creatures inside a broken jar. He only regretted what they were the moment he took a hold of one of them. They were leeches!
The cluster of leeches writhed in his palm as he slowly brought his palm to his lips, which he had slammed shut in silent, defiant protest of the vulgar deeds he was being forced to commit.
Isaiah's lips curled up further as he twisted his hands again, forcibly prying Aizawa's mouth open. The dark-haired man gagged involuntarily as the leeches crawled into his mouth, their sucker-like mouths roping around his tongue, roof, and sides of his mouth. Before Isaiah could conduct any further actions, a swift punch from Leo disorientated him.
Aizawa suddenly felt his limbs regress from their state of numbness, but the blistering pain in his right hand was a constant thorn in his side. The first thing he did was dive his left hand into his mouth, prying the leeches off of his tongue and inside of his mouth, before squishing the worm-like creatures beneath his boots.
Leo landed a swift kick to Isaiah's jaw, yanking his head back in a sharp recoil. While his opponent was disoriented momentarily, Leo grabbed one of the jars which was still partially intact, before raising his arms in an act to smash it over Isaiah's head. The older man recovered his state of balance in time to move backwards and conduct another gesture.
Leo's body suddenly felt as if it had been struck by lightning, turning cold and stiff. His heart sank to his toes as the arms above his head quickly betrayed him, dropping the glass jar onto his head, which was filled to the brim with...spiders.
The arachnids quickly scattered across the market, causing Leo to close his eyes tightly and turn pale. Taking notice of this, Isaiah swiftly snapped his fingers. Shortly after this, a cluster of spiders turned around, their small, pebble-like eyes turning a shape of light purple. They all swiftly crawled over to Leo, making their way up his body and directly into his mouth.
Leo felt the spiders moving inside him, their small legs like tiny needles on the soft, sensitive skin of his mouth and throat. Isaiah clenched his fist, causing the small spiders to begin doing something. The spiders inside his mouth quickly crawled to the top of his throat, raising their abdomens and unleashing tiny trails of silk.
Slowly but surely, Leo felt the air gradually leave his body as the spiders weaved a network of silky cords and web-work to the extent of completely blocking airflow. His pale face bordered on white as his eyes rolled back in his head, his body giving erratic and puppet-like ministrations as he collapsed to the ground, lifeless and slumped.
Shortly after, the torrent of black arachnids spilled from his mouth, crawling away into the depths of the market. As they moved, the ongoing crowd parted to make way for them. Some watched in pale disgust, while others seemed enraptured by the display. Aizawa swiftly turned his head to look at Isaiah, but the man in the dark cloak had already disappeared.
He suddenly caught sight of something on the ground. It looked like a small silver card. But, for the most part, his attention was focused on the horrors that he had seen Leo endure. He rushed over to Leo, prying open his mouth, which had now been sealed shut by the spider silk. Moving with haste and refrained disgust, he tore through the silky threads obscuring his airways.
After validating that the man could now breathe properly, he immediately pressed both of his hands above his heart, before repeatedly pressing down in one second intervals.
"Come on, damn it," Aizawa mumbled under his breath, his teeth gritting as he continued his operation on Leo's unconscious body. The red-haired bartender suddenly coughed hoarsely, his body shooting upwards as he clenched his throat with trembling hands. His pale face gradually returned to its regular red state.
"Get them off of me! I hate spiders!" He cried out, his hands immediately and rapidly trailing across his body itching at the non-existent spiders that crawled throughout his skin and body.
It was only the sharp slap to his face that roused him from his distressed state.
"There's no spiders, calm down," he ushered, his voice low and collected, a contrast to the sharpness he had just given him.
Once he knew that the man could operate on his own, his gaze shifted to the silver card sitting on the ground. The surface of the card was shiny and metallic, but, in the faint light, Aizawa saw a figure embedded on the card.
She had brightly-colored hair, deep crimson eyes, and a plump face. A name was listed under the portrait.
Belle Ramsey.
...
The nurse led me to the second floor of the building, opening the door with the label OX-2269.
"In case you're lost, just remember that your room number is also on your badge," the nurse politely reminded me as she stood aside, allowing me entry into the space. The room was lit by a few lanterns strung on the ceiling by cords that were bolted to the walls.
The color of the walls was a pale white, much like the other spaces in the medical facility. The floor was actually made of a soft carpet-like material, except it was a little coarse.
Two beds were situated on either end of the room. One was a little smaller than mine, which I guessed was the bed that belonged to Damien. My bed was a little larger than his. Both of the beds were covered in a light blue fabric, and a side table, accompanied by another lantern, complemented the beds.
A small bookshelf was situated in the other corner, alongside a brightly-colored rug and numerous children's toys. For the most part, the toys were all in horrible condition, either having been ripped to shreds, covered head-to-toe in stains, or so neglected they accumulated a fair amount of dust.
"Don't touch my toys," Damien, who was sitting on his bed reading a book, looked up at me and growled in a deep voice, trying his hardest to sound menacing.
"I don't...play with toys," I sighed, walking over to my bed and sitting down. Next to my bed was a small window that allowed me a view of the botanical garden, which was shielded with a glass dome to protect it from the winter cold. While the surrounding environment was dreary, the dew-covered glass reflected lush, green plants and blooming flowers.
"I see you're already interested in the garden. It's not everyday one gets a peek at that," the nurse said with a smile, standing in the doorway.
I turned back to the nurse, offering her a small smile. "I-it's nice; I never expected something like that to be here."
Her calm smile remained on her face as she walked over to the window, placing a palm on the fogged-up glass from her breath.
"It belongs to the owner of the hospital, and the founder of the Pollinators."