This bug pisses me off so much. The reason it didn't die last time is that thing would go into this cocoon. It's too high up to hit, though!
The thing was suspended in the air, surrounding it was what used to be a prison. Held together by flesh tendrils, hopes, and dreams. Looking past it, the devastation was much worse; the creature exploded in a web of flesh, and the building was unrecognizable as a prison.
At least Arata still had his sword, right? I couldn't even reach the cocoon with a throwing javelin. The hell is a sword gonna do? He was stopped as human toe nails scraped at his arm, from the tendril that landed right next to him.
They were gross, yellow, and grimy. Even if this wasn't enough to kill him, whatever infection it left would probably do him in, as this was a world without modern medicine. Dashing back, he begins to think about death again.
Thinking about how it feels to die was the catalyst for his first time using magic. Until he notices that from the tendrils emerge the same wolf-sized bugs.
The mass of creatures is unending. But something was different about them, no longer as centipedes as humans, they had faces, and their legs were made of human fingers. Shit- I need to run. The bugs, their legs, they creep me out. I think I'm going to be sick. They look just as petrified by their own form-
Arata realizes these things no longer had the will to fight, even if the cocoon wanted to prioritize self-preservation, these bugs did not. From a sight that made him fearful, it now just felt sad. These creatures weren't too dissimilar from him. He had killed them over and over again just as they had done to him. With that strange pang of sadness, he can grasp it.
Looking at a creature like this. There's a certain cold sweat I feel. Does it remind me of something? No, the cold isn't in my head. The temperature warps yet again as Arata aims. In the palm of his hand is a sphere.
The mass grows orange and bright as it begins to char the skin on his hand. He needs to get rid of it before the pain gets to him. Arata's eyes shift upwards at the cocoon, throwing the bolt of fire. The creature begins to flail around, trying to drop itself. The being struggles to rip apart the thing's own tentacles to free itself from the current state of being stagnated in the air. Yet the collision was made.
A splatter of crimson blood flew across the space, part of it smacking Arata right in the face, quite unpleasantly, as the corpse of the creature came crashing to the floor. The cocoon split open. All the bugs begin to melt, and the tendrils fall apart as severed human appendages fall to the floor. Arata's hands still clenched, he couldn't rest easy just yet.
Yeah fucking right… after having killed you once, you really think I'm not checking to make sure you're really dead, you shitty bug! Arata slowly makes his way forward, and the tip of his sword scratches across the floor.
He was a bit upset after a couple of deaths. Sword in hand, he walked up to the cocoon. Peering over into it, he saw something, a human, with gray hair and stitches extending from his mouth through half his face. It was familiar, the human face the bug wore above its mouth. He was sleeping, his skin shriveled up, and he was covered in a slimy mess of liquid. Down his eyes dripped tears as though he knew his fate.
No, he's mourning… something else, he doesn't fear death, he must've feared living in that form. I will try to make it as quick as possible so he will not suffer. I hope he can find peace in the afterlife if there is one.
A tendril reached out as a human hand on the end held onto Arata's neck like a vice grip, until blood was about to spurt. I should've- this bug, it'll kill me to live, even if it's dirty.
The creature was trying to kill him, Arata's skin turning white as he looked down at the pathetic specimen. That shallow attempt wasn't enough as Arata hoists his sword up and directly through the man's brain. Blood splatters everywhere, with the hand growing limp. Arata collapses forward onto the body in exhaustion, having finally put down the boss as his vision fades.
Was it enough this time? What is Ravenna going to say to me?
"Exhausted? Tired. Want rest? Hungry. Want out? You've been getting roughed up out there. But all that matters is you won, right?" Ravenna is standing over him, while Arata is face down on the floor. Arata wanted to respond, but he couldn't help but smile.
Ravenna, reaching her hand down, offers to help him up in silence.
Arata stands up, as when he clenched his hand, he felt a paper in it. He looks down as the sheet reads: "The tragedy of the guard," which confused Arata as he asked Ravenna, "What is this? Did you start writing weird poetry?"
"No, it's proof you killed that thing, that's the power of a theater. How'd you think we'd achieve our goal? Maybe it was a calamity that could never be killed… Until now! The theater turns anything you kill into a script, meaning that it's written out of the story of this world. That bug will never appear again, and something new will come into the story to fill those gaps eventually." Ravenna explains proudly, as though this were a show-and-tell.
"Sorry, but doesn't that mean there's a chance my work just comes undone as something that equally sucks fills that void? There's even a possibility that makes things worse-" Arata tries to explain before being interrupted.
"Shut up." Ravenna looks at Arata with disappointment as though he were the one who ruined the conversation. She seemed to think Arata would've been very impressed by the theater's power.
The tragedy of two-faced judgment
Written by:
Act XX
X Int. Decida's penitentiary guard office - night
Rookie (Male 22) sets down a pot of coffee for his superior (Male 31), opening up conversation.
Rookie
Hey man, where's Arnold? There's supposed to be someone watching him at all times around the prisoners…
The rookie sets down the coffee pot, pouring the other guard a cup while the man looks through the records.
Rookie (Cont)
He's getting a bit violent with the inmates, especially around 16667.
The superior grabs the cup, taking a swig with a sigh.
Superior
I'd advise you to give poor Arnold a break. He's hurtin' from that man. Did ya wanna know the story?
Rookie
It would seem a bit rude to pry into Arnold's life if that man did do something to him, but I can't deny my curiosity.
The superior pulls out some files, "Inmate 16667 was arrested in 7521 for domestic abuse, arson and murder. Jeremy Collier killed his wife and two stepdaughters during an episode of madness."
Superior
Notice how Arnold stopped wearing his wedding ring. Sometimes the world's a small place in the shittiest way imaginable.
Same scene, later
Sirens begin to blare as the rookie and his superior are alerted to an explosion in the prison.
Rookie
You've got to feel at least a bit like Arnold is acting unreasonable. We took an oath to the Deicida, the code needs to be follow-
A roar sounds throughout the prison as sirens begin to blare, signaling what chaos is about to ensue.
Superior
Quick! Get your javelin and go! What the hell is happening this late-
Abruptly, the men are devoured as their visions fade.
X Int. The embrace - night
Wrongs will be righted, justice is in numbers. Pass on through the flames.
Rookie
It's cold. Hello, is anyone there? Anyone who can hear me? I can't see a thing!
A cold blows through the skin of the rookie as he feels his feet finally touch the floor, alongside the feet of many others. Countless others who begin to wail.
Rookie
Is this hell? I can feel their legs; they are my legs as well now. Help! Mom! I'm sorry for how I hurt you! Let me repent!