My wife smiled...Madela smiled bloomed in Oldred's silence (could silence even be heard?). It stretched wider and wider, defying the boundaries of anatomy until the skin at the corners of her lips began to surrender with a soft, wet tear. Her jaw unhinged, revealing a set of teeth that were far too perfect.
Madela: "Oops, it seems I got a little carried away~" she said with a cheerful lilt, as if her torn flesh were a minor inconvenience. With a casual motion, she took the wax plate from her head, tilted it, and daubed the hot, molten wax onto her gaping wounds as if applying lipstick. The injuries hissed and sealed shut instantly.
Madela: "And it's not just here," she continued, opening and closing her lips a few times to smooth the strange wax layer. "I've searched every Library of Histories in every branch of reality." She replaced the wax plate atop her head.
Madela: "Nothing. Zilch. Not a single result. Sure, there were a few with similar names. A Polgha here, a Polgha there. But they were all just nameless casualties of war, cosmic dust with no significant connection to you. I highly doubt people like that could influence you to the point of becoming the central theme written in red ink across your entire life story~"
She leaned forward, across the table. Her face was now just an inch from Oldred's steel mask. The heat from the candle on her head was a palpable presence on his skin.
Madela: "You're not the type to be swayed by a background character, are you?~"
Madela tilted her head, her floating hair shifting like a curtain of darkness.
Madela: "Usually, as long as it doesn't disrupt the grand flow of destiny, I'd let it be. It's not my job to intervene in something that doesn't shatter the foundations of a world. Direct intervention would violate my principles. But, that was then... Now this curiosity, Mr. Blind Dog... it has won the cold war within my soul."
Madela: "Oldred."
Her tone shifted. The playfulness vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp intensity. Her gaze (if she had eyes) felt like it could pierce steel and bone.
Madela: "Be my eyes. Be my hands in the mortal world. In return, I will release you from the bonds of your destiny. You will transcend finality and receive a true second chance in the next branch of reality that is born... with no current of fate to hold dominion over you. A truly blank page."
Only silence hung between them. Cold. Still. The offer was suspended in the air, so heavy it felt as if it could crack the table between them.
Madela: "Release me from my status as this eternal Warden," she whispered, her voice now filled with a desperate longing. "Let me feel what it is to live, through you. Give me suspense, fear, and the uncertainty of a fate I cannot read. I am so weary of knowing the end of every story."
Would Oldred take this chance? An escape from the hell he had lived his entire life. Rans Augumm had fallen, so what was left to fight for? Logic said nothing. But the whisper of the devil inside him said otherwise.
'Rans Augumm is a worldview. Rans Augumm is eternal as long as we still believe. Believe in it in our hearts, act in its name.'
The thought slithered back, the hoarse voice of The Dog echoing in his mind. On one side, the promise of total freedom, a rebirth. On the other, purpose, the one horrific purpose that had ever given him meaning. At the crossroads between becoming a new man or remaining a monster with a cause, Oldred was silent, trapped in the heaviest stillness of his life.
Silence. Within that silence, the only sound was the war drum in Oldred's chest. His heart beat so hard he could feel the vibration against his ribs. To fight for an Empire that was already ash in another world was impossible, a task for a madman. But for someone like him, the line between logic and madness had long been erased.
"Fight… fight… fight…"
Faint voices began to creep into his mind, echoes of his bloody past.
"...for us, the sons and daughters born of gunpowder and steel! Pursue the future to frame the past in a meaningful, eternal memory!"
Oldred lifted his heavy head, his single, weary eye staring straight at Madela. For him, there were only two paths left: surrender and cease to be anything, or continue to fight and walk deeper into a new hell. And he… he didn't know how to stop.
Oldred: "I will… I accept."
The words came out hoarsely, as heavy as a tombstone. Madela was slightly taken aback, her head tilting. "Hmm?", before her smile widened again, this time in triumph.
Madela: "Oh? I thought, for someone who never believed in the existence of a 'God' during his life… you would need a bit more persuading."
As she finished speaking, the library around them melted away. The marble floor and towering bookshelves dissolved into a vast, tranquil ocean of pitch-black water. They now stood on a surface that reflected an endless darkness, under a starless sky.
Madela: "Very well. I shall give you my eye, and then, we shall be even." Her slender arm rose toward Oldred.
Madela: "Here, give me that thing… give me your face."
With a slow, ceremonial movement, Oldred raised both hands. He unfastened the clasps at the back of his head and removed the steel mask. He then handed it to Madela. The symbol of his identity, the face of his victims' nightmares before their end, was now in the hands of the Goddess.
Madela: "Huhu~"
She chuckled softly before opening her mouth wide. From the dark chasm of her throat, she spat out a pulsating black orb. It wasn't a solid eye, but a writhing glob of liquid darkness. The eye floated for a moment in the air before slithering like a snake into the eye-slit of the steel mask, vanishing without a trace. Instantly, from the inside of the mask, needle-sharp steel thorns grew with a slow, metallic scrape, ready to torture anyone who dared to wear it. Madela then handed the mask back.
Oldred held it, observing the bed of nails that now lined its interior. His leather-gloved hand trembled slightly. The whispers returned, this time so clear, so painful.
"Uzha… Uzha… Uzha…"
And with a stifled roar—
**"SKRRYYSSSH!"**
Oldred slammed his own face into the mask with all his might.
Oldred: "**AGHHH!!**"
A hoarse, brutal scream of agony tore through the silence of the black ocean. The thorns sank deep, shredding skin and piercing the flesh of his face. Opposite him, Madela's hand clenched into a fist, her (nonexistent) eyes shut tight as if she too felt every puncture, every centimeter of suffering.
Madela: "Yes… YASS!! I feel it! EVERYTHING! Your pain… your rage… your hatred! Oh my, we… WE ARE TRULY ONE NOW, OLDRED!!" she cried out in ecstasy, her voice trembling with a sensation she had never known.
Ignoring her, Oldred continued to push his face deeper, deeper, and deeper into the mask, until it was fully seated, becoming one with his skull. With heavy, pain-wracked breaths, he raised his head and looked forward. The world had returned. The black ocean was gone, replaced by the silent library. Madela was nowhere to be seen.
Her voice now came not from outside, but from within his head. Intimate, and permanent.
Madela: "*Khuuu~*… that was far better than I ever imagined. Ahem. Oldred… return to the place where you entered this world. Go back to that wardrobe. There, you will find the path to the next branch of reality~"
***
Oldred walked, and walked. Each step felt weak and slow, as if he were wading against a current at the bottom of the sea. It wasn't the pain in his face that slowed him—that was merely physical, something he could ignore. This was something deeper, a sharp, stabbing pain in his head, as if Madela's new eye was burning his brain from the inside out.
He opened the door, returning to the endless staircase, and began to climb. Slowly, but surely.
"You will burn in hell… Dog…" a hateful voice whispered.
"Serve with us, and you shall be purified, Oldred," promised another, fanatic and tempting.
His steps became more dazed. Memories and hallucinations overlapped. He gripped the cold railing to support himself.
"Promise me, Uzha. We'll live to see the end of this war! And watch me dance!" The voice of a woman long turned to ash.
"Why… why must someone like you exist…?" The whimper of another.
The voices tormenting him grew louder, a chorus from his personal hell. He didn't know how long he had been walking, but suddenly, one soft whisper cut through all the noise.
"Th-thank goodness… I know this isn't you… I'm relieved, this isn't your fault… for that, I will always be with you, Uzha."
Oldred stopped. His breath caught in his throat. He found himself at the top, standing right in front of the large wardrobe door where he had first entered this dimension. The air around him felt damp and smelled of salt, as if the ram-skulled figure had just been standing here, watching him.
He pushed the wardrobe door open and stepped out. No more impossible library. No rain, no thunder. Just a bright bedroom, bathed in the light of the afternoon sun. The sound of birds chirping came from the open window, accompanied by the bustle of people working outside. A world that was alive.
The red-haired mannequins were still there, but now they stood in a circular formation, as if guarding someone. On the bed sat a girl with dark red hair. Polgha. She was writing diligently in a small book.
Polgha: "Oops! Uzha? You startled me," she said with a sweet, surprised tone, noticing Oldred's presence before quickly hiding her book under the pillow.
Oldred took a few steps toward her, his legs feeling as if they were made of lead. Before he could reach the bed, his legs gave out. He fell to his knees before Polgha with a soft thud.
Polgha: "Uzha?! Hey, is something wrong?" Her cheerful tone turned to concern. She slid off the bed and knelt in front of him.
Polgha then gently held Oldred's mask, her warm fingers a stark contrast to the cold steel.
Polgha: "Hey, it's okay. Everything's alright now. Did something happen? Heloooo, Uzha De Antonio? Are you in there?"
She waited for an answer, but all she got was silence.
Polgha: "Hmm, you…" she sighed, as if she understood.
Polgha then hugged Oldred tightly, burying the monster's face in her shoulder. A hug filled with warmth and unconditional acceptance. After a moment, she released him and looked at his mask, then gently tried to pull it off.
Oldred: "...."
He raised his hands. His mind was screaming, wanting to return the hug, wanting to feel the only warmth in his frozen world.
But… his body did not obey.
**"GRRRK!"**
His arms, one of flesh and one of steel, shot out and seized Polgha's neck with horrific strength. His mind screamed, thrashed, but he was merely a prisoner within his own frame.
Oldred: "...."
Polgha: "?!" Her eyes widened, not with fear, but with profound confusion.
Polgha: "Uzha… but, why?… Wh-why?" she whispered, her voice choked.
Oldred: "....."
The Blind Dog: "...."
**"KRAK!!"**
The sound of snapping bone was sharp in the quiet room. The grip released. Oldred could only look down, watching Polgha lie limp on the mattress, her head lolling at an unnatural angle, her beautiful eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
And yet, her lips moved. Somehow, she spoke.
Polgha: "Th-thank goodness… I know this isn't you… I'm relieved, this isn't your fault… for that, I will always be with you, Uzha."
Her gaze was empty, lifeless. Before Oldred could process the horror, Polgha's face began to melt like wax. Her body dissolved, the fabric of her clothes and her skin becoming a single pool of dark red liquid that soaked into the white sheets.
Oldred remained kneeling in silence, watching his only light melt into nothing. He then felt cold touches. The red-haired mannequins were now moving, embracing him from behind and from all sides, their cold plastic arms covering his vision. The world went dark.
Oldred: "Polgha… where are you?" he whispered into the suffocating blackness.
Oldred: "....."
Oldred: "I…."
Oldred: "I did it… again…."
A calm, familiar voice whispered directly into his soul, the voice of The Dog, now one with him.
The Dog: "Your body is forged of steel, my soul burns with gunpowder. I am the fire. We burn whatever we touch, and that is our sin. The sins that have become this hell can only be redeemed by fire and ash… We did it. We killed… only for her. Only she… was the purest thing in this world."