"I AM GOD'S MIND. THE FORGOTTEN THOUGHT. THE UNRELIABLE CATALOGUE!"
"REALITY IS A SHARED DELUSION!"
The third statue spoke as a streak of silver energy was absorbed by it.
The statue looked unsettling, him as a gaunt, multi-faced thing, his skull split open to reveal a labyrinth of veins where a brain should have been.
By now, Mr. Valen was used to the oddity that was this realm (as much as one could anyway).
Additionally, he did not feel as much pain this time, so he resolved to look around, but apart from the towering gate he saw nothing.
'Whoa,' he thought as he felt himself plunge into the absolute darkness below him, his vision blurring heavily.
-------
"Oh my!" Mr. Valen thought as he awakened, his form shooting up, his breath hitching in his throat as he assessed his surroundings.
He noted that the world seemed different, more vibrant, as though his perception had been given a massive upgrade.
The first person he saw with this upgraded perception was Carla holding his iron rod in her grasp, one which she swiftly dropped.
"V-Valen," she stuttered, her eyes still heavy, revealing the fact that she had also awakened not too long ago, possibly a few seconds before him even.
"I feel like you lack originality," Mr. Valen spoke as he scratched his head, frowning at how uncomfortable he felt in his own skin.
Turning to the side, he noticed that the demon had disappeared, most likely having disintegrated after having its energy absorbed by both him and Carla.
He rose, noting the heavy, soggy feeling of his hoodie, the damp, scaly feeling of his jeans, and the stickiness of the inside of his shoes.
Carla also seemed to be facing the same problem; her skin looked irritated and pale in some places.
The contours of her form were visible, as her scrubs (now bordering on see-through) clung to her.
Mr. Valen's eyes briefly traced her black lingerie before he locked eyes with her and noticed her look of utter disgust.
Sighing at this, he shook his head, "I must take my leave. I believe I've missed the orientation... and I was looking forward to it."
Carla remained quiet at his words, but Mr. Valen did not mind; rather, he commanded, "Leave. You are free to do as you wish, but you cannot speak of me to others, nor plot with others to harm me. But most of all, you cannot experience an orgasm unless I allow it. You are still a predator, after all."
"What?!" Carla stuttered, her eyes shooting open, her brows furrowed, but as the mark on her chest pulsed, she found her body moving to leave without her consent.
Watching Carla zoom into the forest was refreshing for Mr. Valen, his eyes narrowed as he thought, 'Finally, some freedom.'
The shadowy humanoid had materialized beside him, its hands behind its back as it nodded like some wise old man agreeing with him.
Looking around, Mr. Valen noted that the forest was beginning to lighten, but make no mistake, the light still felt wrong, dim, sickly.
The air was cold, and the scent of wet earth and pine was thick, almost masking the bloody smell of the previous night's battle. But the broken branches, scattered earth, and gouged trees spoke of a different story.
With Carla gone, he moved quickly in the direction of the road, or what he remembered to be the direction of the road, but after climbing a tall tree, he discovered that he had headed in a completely different direction.
The shadowy humanoid simply observed him from the ground, the expression in its void-like eyes unreadable.
Now with a direction in mind, it didn't take long to find the road, but at that moment he heard noise and paused at the treeline.
'Cops?' Mr. Valen thought as he noted Leo's wrecked bus, which was now the center of attention.
Parked haphazardly at odd angles were two patrol cars and an unmarked sedan, their red and blue lights causing his pupils to dilate as to better observe.
He noted figures in uniforms and plain clothes moving around the vehicle, taking pictures, and examining the skid marks that led into the woods.
One officer, a woman with short hair, was staring directly at the treeline, her hand resting on her holster.
She seemed bored, so with nothing pressing to do, her eyes swept back and forth, and for a moment, they passed over the shadow where Mr. Valen stood.
At that moment, her gaze stopped, her eyes narrowing to slits as she tried to make out his form.
At her gaze, Mr. Valen didn't flinch, didn't breathe, he simply willed his body to be still, to be another part of the shadowy gloom.
Then, he moved, wind blowing as he pulled back into the dimness, his form breaking into a sprint away from the scene.
The sharp-eyed officer frowned at this, squinting into the suddenly empty woods, then shook her head and turned back to the wreck.
Meanwhile, Mr. Valen continued to run, his breath light as he zigzagged through the trees.
He ran parallel to the road for about half a mile before emerging further down where the curves of the road hid him from the official scene.
Letting out a single, heavy breath, he brushed the worst of the dirt and leaves from his hoodie, a futile gesture given its sodden state, and stepped onto the main road.
'Time to fish for empathy,' he thought, letting out yet another breath.
He then began walking, and walking, flagging down any vehicle he saw, but they all blew past him on the road, most likely mistaking him for a crazy person given his appearance.
He knew not how long he had walked when an ancient, boxy sedan, the color of faded black, chugged to a stop beside him.
The window rolled down to reveal a kindly-faced old man and his wife, who peered at him with a mixture of concern and gentle suspicion, their brows furrowed slightly.
"Son, you look like you've had a rough night," the old man said, his voice raspy.
"Get in, get in," the woman added, leaning over. "You'll catch your death out here in those wet things."
Mr. Valen, slightly surprised by the welcome, slid into the backseat, the interior smelling faintly of peppermint and old medicine.
"I thank you," he said nonetheless, his voice flat as he observed. "If I may ask, what is your name, sir?"
"Name's Smith haha," the driver chuckled, pulling back onto the road. "You speak like one of them nobles' kids, haha, this here is my darling Marge. You heading into the city?"
"Yes please," Mr. Valen replied, watching the woods fly by through the window, "I have school."
"Ah, a student!" Marge chirped, turning in her seat to look at him. "You're a long way from campus. And... well, you look a bit... troubled."
Smith nodded sagely at those words, his eyes meeting Mr. Valen's in the rearview mirror. "We see a lot of kids on this road. Good kids. Smart kids. They get mixed up with the wrong crowd, you know? Start experimenting."
'What is that supposed to mean, and why do their faces look like that? Is that worry, concern? No, one can't worry about someone they don't know... Right,' Mr. Valen thought, his expression unchanging as he observed.
Meanwhile, Marge patted his shoulder. "Whatever you're taking, son, it's not worth it. Look what it's done to you. Out all night in the woods, clothes a mess. That's the path to ruin."
'Oh, she thinks I'm taking drugs, that explains their distress, empathy... I love empathy,' Mr. Valen stared back, his expression unreadable.
He did not try to correct them, them; hell, he didn't even care, he just continued to listen, happy that they'd come up with their own narrative instead of asking him questions.
"Life is a gift," Smith continued, oblivious to the cosmic irony of his passenger. "Don't waste it chasing phantoms."
"Phantoms," Mr. Valen repeated, the word tasting strange in his mouth. He then looked to the side where the shadowy humanoid sat, staring at him. "I shall bear that in mind."