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Epic 36: The Invasion Part 4


"He knows nothing; and he thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career."

George Bernard Shaw


Switching POV: Byakko

"... It's time." Byakko remarked as he draped a blood-red mask shaped like a human heart over his face. "SIR GAELION! GET READY TO DROP!"

"Are you sure?" Gaelion remarked. "The city itself is being set upon by Ishmael's forces, and the barrier around the castle is still present."

"So ram it through." Byakko remarked. "If Ishmael can't do it, then surely, it falls unto you. Plus, a magical carrier can only hold for so long as the mage's MP is remaining. Mana is finite, but not our strength."

"So brute force then?" The [Bahamut Emperor] pointed out.

"Fly fast enough to ensure that no one sees it coming." Byakko replied.

"... Then all of you, grab onto something."

As Byakko grabbed onto Gaelion's [Unicorn]-like horn on its forehead, the [Bahamut Emperor] then flies down through the clouds, now exposing themselves through the smog and blaze below them.

"Cremate, [Uriel]." Byakko heard Ishmael's booming voice, the towering [Seraphim] now manifesting a giant golden broadsword in its lower right hand, its blade licked with azure-blue flames, sweeping and raking across Melromarc's streets and buildings, leaving behind patches of molten earth it the swing's wake. Upon spotting another patch of people running, he points its golden Desert Eagle-styled pistol, [Ramiel], and fires a crimson bolt of lightning, leaving an ashen spot where they once stood.

The light-sword-wielding [Angels], the flame-blade-wielding [Archangels], the [Principalities] carrying [Tomes] wide as tower shields and thick as logs on their winged backs, the heavily-armored [Powers], the shieldbearing [Virtues], the [Dominions] wielding ringed staves, the [Thrones] sitting on their winged platforms rigged with machine guns fashioned after [MG42]s, and the multi-headed [Cherubims] screaming and roaring out chants and incantations alike, firing multiple spells at once. All of the forces of heaven were delivering judgement upon the people of Melromarc, some begging for mercy, some fleeing, but failing, and the rest running towards them, either mistaking them as divine interventions in their favor, or simply begging for a quick release of their suffering.

The whole world around them has gone mad, just as Byakko wanted it. Just as his previous masters wanted it.

Yes. This was the way. This was what he was created for. This was what the world deserved for wronging his master 17 times throughout the time memorial.

"TWENTY SECOND UNTIL CONTACT!" Galieon roared out as he flew through the rain of friendly fire, his powerful wingbeats scattering both debris and people alike like ash.

He never had any intentions stopping. He and his master made their bed, so it's time for to lie on them...

"CONTACT!"

... With the same being done for the rest of this wretched world.

*CRASH*

First, the barrier of light was broken through with ease, just as a stone would shatter through a window pane. Then, Galieon's whole body rammed through the castle's stone walls with Garou pointing one thing before the breach was complete.

"... Where are we supposed to land-"

*KABOOM*

Literally everyone goes flying off of the [Bahamut Emperor]'s back upon the breach, Byakko himself included.

Finding himself hurling midair just like everyone else who were on Galieon's back, Byakko twists his whole body to make sure that his feet were pointed towards the ground. He spots an [Archer] peeking out behind a corner of a wall, nocking back an arrow, and aiming it towards him.

The arrow is loosened, the point speeds towards him. Byakko simply stops the arrow with its open palm, impaling it thorough, while his feet were hurling forth towards the hapless [Royal Guard], performing a perfect dropkick-landing onto his head, and skidding across the castle floor.

As the others were still airborne post-breach, Byakko takes it upon himself to deal with the bowmen division of the [Royal Guards], half of them drawing their daggers to hold off the butler as the others tried to fire their bows close-range, but all that did was provide Byakko with two covers for the oncoming arrows.

"FUCKING SHIT! JUST DIE!" One of the arrow-ridden [Royal Guard] screeched out as he raised his blade over his head while Byakko grapple-charged him and his fellow [Royal Guard], the latter which got shot through the neck.

"After you."

Byakko then whips out his new weapon, a [Hammer]/[Wand] hybrid weapon, the [Claw Hammer], made from 100% [Adamantium], too heavy for any mere human to even lift, but for a [Perfected Homunculus], it was child's play. The normally-carpenter's tool then smashes through the [Royal Guard]'s scapula with an underhand swing, shattering the entire bone, causing his right arm to go completely limp, dropping his blade before he himself was turned back forward, now his face riddled into a pincushion for his colleagues' arrows aimed at the [Perfected Homunculus].

The arrow-ridden corpse was then tossed aside as the rest of the bowmen abandoned their bows and began engaging Byakko close-quarters.

Their helmets and armor were caved into their bodies as his [Claw Hammer] punched into them, with one having his left eye gouged out by the dual-pronged claw of the tool before his head was cracked open, spilling out its gray matter and leaving him and the others for dead.

"Welp, that's that." Byakko remarked as he looked around for any survivors. "Now, where the others..."

He vaults down from the railing, landing at the bottommost area of the entrance hall, riddled with debris and corpses alike, his party friendlies and surviving castle [Royal Guards] scrambling out of the mess before both sides engaged in their own melee, while everyone else, both [Royal Guard] and [Uniter] alike, their corpses were splattered all over the pavement like a Bob Ross painting recreated through nothing but grease spots.

"... Why did my master had such fascination with that man, I will never know." He grumbled to himself as he kicked up a still-intact [Kar98k] and slinging it over his shoulder. "To anyone's that are remotely alive, please kill the other opposition lest they do it unto you-"

"SOMEONE STUPID GET IN MY WAY!"

Byakko nonchalantly bows under Rio's flying body, ducking under as she herself crashed against the bloodstained walls.

"Ow..." Rio groaned out as Byakko looked her way. "... THAT FREAKIN' HURT, YOU OLD FART!"

"Old fart?" Byakko remarked as an arrow of light passed by his masked face, ripping a tear on its cheek before the arrow was parried by Rio's [No More Heroes].

He then looks where the arrow came from, an old, bespectacled man in papal garments wielding an amalgam of the [Legendary Sword], [Legendary Spear], and [Legendary Bow], radiating in a black and red aura around him.

"... Oh right, the accessory." Byakko sardonically remarked. "You've aged like milk, Balmus."

"I care not who you are." The Pope's voice boomed from his aura. "But take heed, I will punish you like that wench behind you."

"And should I care, why?" Byakko remarked. "Why should I care that you of all people, stole my previous master's custom [Scroll] with the passive skill, [Avenger] written in it?"

"Such power is not worthy for the likes of that vermin." The Pope remarked as his weapon shifted into its [Sword] form from its previous [Bow] form. "NOW DIE! [PHOENIX BLADE]!"

"[Variable Form], activate." Byakko remarked as red vein-like lights shone all over his body. "Physical output exertion, 3%."

Both sides disappeared in a blur, only to reappear in a clash with their weapons, sparks and embers flung around everywhere.

"[COUNTER]!"

"Impact absorption tolerance, 4%."

The [Sword] then shifts into a [Spear], emitting a shockwave that blasted back Byakko's attack, only for the latter's body to absorb all of it within his body, nulling the [Counter]'s shockwave entirely.

"By the way, this is a real [Counter]." Byakko remarked as he placed his palm out forth. "Magical output, 5%. [Reprisal]."

The absorbed shockwave from the Pope's [Counter] is then regurgitated out from the [Perfected Homunculus]'s outstretched hand, sending Balmus flying across the room and knocking him through a pile of his own follower's corpses, then burying himself under more rubble upon impact knocking some stonework loose.

"A moment of reprieve." Byakko remarked as he walked towards Rio, who's struggling to get back up. "Rio Murasame, are you well?"

"I think my back is in three places from that landing..." She grunted out.

"You are well then." Byakko remarked as he outstretched his hand over her. "[Greater Heal]."

The green light then shines on Rio's body, first mending her scars and bruises, then forcing her bones to realign back to normal, as evident by her body contorting itself while crunching and snapping sounds were being heard from her back, all the while Rio herself was screaming like a lunatic from the process of her body forcing itself back to normal.

"OWW! WHAT THE HELL!?" Rio screeched out.

"I never said that it wouldn't cause pain." Byakko deadpanned. "You can walk now."

Rio grunted incoherently as she slowly limped up back to her feet like a newborn deer.

"... So what caused that old fart to get so jacked beforehand?" Rio remarked. "Before you guys arrived, I was doing fine against the Pope, but after Galieon over there busted in with the rest of ya and sent the rest of the Bible-thumpers six feet under, he suddenly spiked in power and little ol' me got pwned like a noob, even with [Red Zone] reaching maximum threshold! You seemed to know what's what, with what you seem to know something's name, so spill it!"

"That's the passive [Avenger]." Byakko filled in. "It's a passive skill that allows the holder to gain in power for each fallen party member. And us TPKing most of Balmus's party during our entry might've worked to our disadvantage."

"Great..." Rio bemoaned. "... And now he's the only one left."

She then pointed her thumb at Fubuki, whose [Staff] weapon's hand was now gripped around a churchgoers's neck, siphoning all of the blood out of his body before the other hand formed a blade out of the collected blood and slashed through the mummified body in two.

"... Well, that complicates things." Byakko remarked. "Also, I suggest you duck."

"Wait, what-"

The pile of bodies and boulders alike then explode, with Byakko forcing Rio to the ground before one of the loose rocks hit her head. Out of the pile was the Pope, now his robes all torn up, his flesh exposed beneath his torn skin, and holding onto the amalgam weapon for supporting his broken leg, tossing aside his broken glasses as his papal cap fell from his head. Even with his body destroyed beyond all possibility, the Pope still stood defiantly against to those who he deemed and "demons".

"... You know, I would've checked and done the deed. But I had you to take care of." Byakko remarked.

"Oh, so this is my fault!?" Rio gawked out.

"By technicality, yes."

"SILENCE!" The Pope's voice boomed, causing all of them to flinch. "I WAS GOING TO SAVE THIS FOR YOUR MASTER, BUT CLEARLY, I WAS TOO LENIENT WITH MY PUNISHMENT! IT'S TIME TO DIE, VERMIN!"

Above the ruined castle, an array of magical circles formed up in a row, radiating all of the mana from the Pope's broken body.

"I HEREBY STAKE MY LIFE UPON THIS FINAL ATTACK!" Pope Balmus roared out. "OH GOD ALMIGHTY AND MY FOLLOWERS BEYOND THE VEIL! GRANT ME THE STRENGTH TO MUSTER RIGHTFUL PUNISHMENT UPON THESE INFIDELS! LET MY RIGHTEOUSNESS TRIUMPH UPON THESE FOUL CREATURES FROM THE BEYOND! LET THIS LAND OF GOD BE PRESERVED AT MY OWN LIFE!"

"This is quite dire." Byakko remarked. "He's now preparing to unleash an [Avenger]-powered [Judgement] attack. Should that make contact, all of us, including the Pope, along the rest of this kingdom within the surrounding 3-mile radius, will be wiped off the map."

"THEN HOW ARE YOU SO FUCKING CALM!?" Rio pointed out. "IF YOU HAVE A PLAN, THEN DO IT-"

"Mr. Ishmael, if you may."

The [Seraphim] then floats across the burning city, towards the magical array above the castle.

"You dare invoke the name of God?" Ishmael's soft yet echoing voice boomed out. "This is not the land of God. This is an empty lot."

From his lower-left hand, the [Seraphim] then manifests a golden [Staff] styled after a Japanese [Shakujō], with each ring hanging from its end carrying a single church bell.

"Corral, [Cassiel]." Ishmael declared as the [Seraphim] shook his [Staff], ringing the bells hung from the rings, the banging and clanging of the bells sounded and resonated throughout entire kingdom of Melromarc.

"NOW PERISH, [JUDGEMENT-"

"[Silence Zone]."

Before the ray of light can fall from the heavens, all sound dies upon one, final, sound of the bell being rung from [Cassiel].

The Pope's incantation was muzzled, interrupting the process of the [Judgement] spell, nulling it entirely.

Sound itself, throughout the entirety of the broken kingdom, was dead.

Rio tried to speak, but not a peep was heard from mouth.

Fortunately, Byakko already knew how to communicate without sound. Mainly, sign language.

"(Rio, you are fine.)" Byakko signed out with his hands. "(Can you understand me?)"

She hesitates for a moment before communicating back to Byakko.

"(Oh, so we're doing sign language?)" Rio responded.

"(You are adept in sign language too?)" Byakko replied.

"(Yeah. Granny was deaf. Had to do it, or else.)" Rio answered back. "(My family are a bunch of assholes.)"

"(Save that for later.)" Byakko replied back as he pointed to the mute, panicking Pope. "(I gotta go smack a bitch.)"

"(Knock em dead. Literally.)" Rio replied before giving a thumbs up and then falling onto her back in a plop.

As Byakko walked towards the Pope, now completely in panic in a new world of utter silence, where not even falling gravel and twigs stepped underfoot made a single sound, the masked [Perfected Homunculus] menacingly walked up to the panicking Pope, all of his inflated bravado, now left empty like a deflated balloon, crawling back pathetically as Byakko drew out his 100% [Adamantium] [Claw Hammer] from his new three-piece suit.

"(You said that you staked your very life for our destruction, correct?)" Byakko signed out, confusing the flailing Pope, now his life burnt out for nothing. "(With that said, with your life at stake, I will turn your head into a salisbury steak.)"

He then raised his [Claw Hammer] over his human-heart-shaped head.

"Hi-five, brain." Byakko half-sarcastically, half-proudly thought as he tensed his arm holding onto the [Claw Hammer]. "I am the god of lame-ass puns."

And Byakko began indulging in his own one-man, silent splatterhouse film.

The [Claw Hammer] kept digging into the Pope's skull, first breaking through his skin and skull, then mashing the delicate gray matter stuffed within, splattering blood and translucent fluid alike all over his suit and human-heart mask. Even after the entire upper half of his head was reduced to mash, Byakko kept smashing in his [Claw Hammer] into whatever was left of his head, and Byakko himself was starting to enjoy himself in the silent movie scene of carnage that he was participating in.

The sounds of the splats?

*SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT*

... They were made in his head, akin to the sounds of mashing potatoes.

"Byakko!" Rio's voice sounded out.

The butler snaps back into reality, now holding onto a headless corpse of the Pope with his left hand, his [Claw Hammer] on the other, now all stained in blood on its chromed, [Adamantium] finish.

The head itself, like Byakko promised, was now completely reduced to a hamburger mash.

"... Oh. [Silence Zone] is off?" Byakko pointed out.

"Dude, that was fucked up, even for me." Rio remarked. "I have blades for a reason. They leave less of a mess."

"I clearly fail to see the point." Byakko curtly remarked. "It still kills people, right?"

"Remind me not to make you mad on your bad day." Garou remarked, failing to take into account that this was what counted for Byakko as a good day, but he will not tell.

"Not me, I'm fine at not pissing people off, unlike you." Fubuki deadpanned as her hand-[Staff] stabbed into the headless body and began collecting blood from it as it began to amass itself into a floating orb of blood grasped onto the hand on the other end of the [Staff].

"Wow." Garou remarked. "[Blutsauger] don't fuck around."

"Yeah, but I like my [Panzerritter] better." Fubuki remarked as she outstretched her armored left hand. "Just punch things, and just that, not 'immediately touch every living thing and then suck up all of their blood'-OMIGOD, GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

The [Blutsauger] then begin moving on its own in Fubuki's grasp like a leashed animal trying to run loose, chasing after Garou and Rio while dragging the poor fox-girl behind.

"DOWN! DOWN! BAD BOY!" Fubuki cried out as her body was dragged across the floor by the runaway [Staff]. "EVERYONE GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

While all of that was happening, Byakko took it upon himself to heal the rest of the party that made their dramatic entrance, along with the few remaining [Uniters] that survived the encounter.

"Owowowow..." L'Arc grimaced. "Not the legs, not the legs..."

"Your fault for not landing properly." Byakko remarked. "Some seasoned [Hero] you are."

"Hey, I'm experienced, not suicidal!" L'Arc barked back. "I don't go killing my party members on accident!"

"War is death. Mourn later." Byakko remarked as L'Arc's legs snapped themselves back into place, causing the latter to grimace in pain. "Just be glad that you're alive. It's better than being dead. And if you're going to bitch about every person dead, you really don't deserve to hold a weapon."

"... Your creator never really had sensitivity in mind when creating you, didn't he?" L'Arc deadpanned.

"Better to be blunt then saccharine." Byakko remarked as he pulled Theresa out of the rubbled buried under legs. "Hate me later, for now, I'm not the one trying to kill you. As soon as we're done and over with this nonsense, the better it is for all of us."

"... For once, I agree." L'Arc grimaced. "... This world is still divided in a time of crisis, as if they're begging to be destroyed."

"In hindsight, with the slave population and all the xenophobia running amok, it is truly a terrible world when it considers those to be a good thing." Byakko remarked as he healed Theresa with [Greater Heal], the sounds of her bones being forcibly realigned back into place causing L'Arc to get a little squeamish. "I'm aware that not all of the people are willing consigned to the whole idea of cultural mindedness, but I am programmed to kill everyone on this continent, so I might as well justify my function, lest I deviate."

"Wait, what?" L'Arc remarked. "Programmed?"

"We'll talk later." Byakko stated as he went on to pull up and heal Glass, but not with [Greater Heal], but rather, with a his own blood, which had the eerily-similar coloration to that of a [Mana Potion].

Glass drinks Byakko's [Mana Potion]-like blood, ignoring the fact that she's drinking someone else's blood to recover.

"... Please do not look at me like that." Byakko remarked. "I am aware of Miss Glass's [Phantom] physiology. And my creator was a magic-user as well, so having a mobile [Mana Potion] seemed like the logical step forward to avoid clutter."

"You don't say." L'Arc deadpanned before he looked at the Hakuko remnants. "... You guys need help?"

"Nonsense, I am still spry enough to-" Khronos remarked as he tried to free himself from the pile of rubble that he was trapped under, only to fail."... Argh, okay, fine, but I owe you nothing, otherworlder."

"... Can anybody in this godforsaken world not be an asshole for five seconds!?" L'Arc pointed out as he walked towards the white tiger-nobleman.

"Sadly, no." Atlas remarked as she dusted off her dress. "The war beforehand made it worse, at least, according to mother."

"Come on, dad." Fohl remarked as he tagged along with L'Arc. "There's a bigger asshole waiting in here, or it should, but I think he's gone."

"WHAT!?" Khronos then frees himself from the pile of rubble in an outburst of rage, now being able to walk despite the damages to his back. "WE MUST FIND THAT RAT BEFORE HE ESCAPES!"

"No questions here, in all accounts." L'Arc deadpanned. "... On the bright side, at least he's right about owing us nothing."

"Follow me." Byakko remarked after he bandaged Malva's leg and carried her on his back in a piggyback. "I think I know where he's headed."

He then looks back, only to find Garou, Fubuki, and Rio too preoccupied with their own troubles of Fubuki's out of control weapon.

"... I think they have their own issues to deal with." Byakko pointed out as the others gathered around him. "Shall we?"

"Uh, can I have that?" The [Uniter] remarked as he raised his gloved hand while pointing at the rifle slung around Byakko's shoulder. "Mine broke mid-fight."

Byakko tosses him the [Kar98k] along with a spare stripper clip of ammo that he'd managed to scrounge up from the dead bodies of his fellow [Uniters].

"You might want to start running." Byakko pointed behind the [Uniter], at the scene of Rio and Garou being chased by the [Blutsauger] dragging Fubuki behind, now joining the chased. "Galieon? You wish to join?"

"Nay." The [Bahamut Emperor] remarked. "Someone's gotta watch, including those four-wait no, now five. ... I'm better off here."

"Go figure." L'Arc rolled his eyes as the other [Uniters] joined the chase sequence straight out of a poorly-written comedy.

With that said, the remaining able-bodied members of the raiding party all head in Byakko's direction. As all of them run down the ruined hallways of the castle, torn and burnt tapestries and shattered potted plants, Byakko then suddenly stops before brushing his hand against a certain part of the wall.

"What are you doing?" L'Arc asked.

"Need to confirm something." Byakko replied. "Miss Atlas, can you sense something beyond this wall?"

"All I can see is that there's only a strong magical signature beyond that wall." Atlas remarked, her eyes still shut. "... The wall that your hand is brushing against is pure magic. An illusory construct."

"Thank you for sharing." Byakko replied right before he'd immediately punches through the wall with his [Claw Hammer], shattering the illusion like glass and revealing a secret passage beneath.

"... Your [Claw Hammer] has [Anti-Magic] properties?" Glass pointed out. "Why didn't you tell us!? You know that thing is my weakness!"

"You never asked." Byakko remarked as he walked down the passage leading underground. "... I'm not stopping you from doing so."

"Anything else we need to know about your [Claw Hammer]?" L'Arc remarked.

"100% [Adamantium] in construction, can shatter through anything magic-related, claw part can also serve as a parrying function or simply pry nails off of boards as it was intended, and I am literally the only person capable of wielding it, the exclusion including the hypothetical [Hammer Hero] and [Wand Hero], assuming if they can one-hand bench-press up to .56 tons daily." Byakko remarked as he and the others walked further down. "If anyone wishes to dispute me, shut up and watch me do my work-"

The [Perfected Homunculus] butler then dodges a [Fireball] being blasted through the door before him, now reduced to a flaming wreckage.

"... Well, not a moment too soon."

Byakko the kicked down the door's remains, in which then they all walk into an isolated chamber with a stone podium at the end of the room. On the podium was the king himself, now wielding a cane-like weapon in his hands.

"Took you long enough." Aultcray remarked. "I take it that the faker on your back is trying to play herself as my sister?"

"Brother, please stop this-"

"SILENCE!" Aultcray's voice boomed. "WHOEVER YOU ARE, YOU ARE COMPLICIT TO MY KINGDOM'S DEMISE JUST AS THE REST OF YOU!"

The mana from the cane then begins emitting a suffocating aura of sheer power. The room begins to rise in ambient temperature, as the cane continued to amass even more power from around itself, forming into a giant fireball at its orbed tip.

"NOW PARISH!" Aultcray roared out as he raised his cane towards them. "[VIERTE FIREBALL]!"

A massive orb of fire sped towards them, with Byakko batting back the projectile elsewhere, mainly, up.

The [Vierte Fireball] then explodes, bringing down a few rain of rubble from above.

"So much for the fabled 'Sage King'. You've aged like milk, just like that Pope." Byakko remarked as he twirled his [Claw Hammer]. "It's time that you've expired, old man."

The king lets out a roar as he fired more [Fireballs] in a cluster. Byakko simply weaves through all of them as the rest were parried by L'Arc and Glass. He jumps into the air, swings down his [Claw Hammer] unto the podium, smashing it into rubble, forcing the king to ground level, and as the King fired an [Icicle Arrow] towards the [Perfected Homunculus], the latter simply tilts his head out of the way, but now, the projectile nicks the side of his mask, revealing his albino human features of his right side of his face underneath the torn cloth.

"... Y-YOU!" Aultcray remarked as he pointed at Byakko's face, somehow recognizing him. "Bu-BUT I THOUGHT YOU WERE-"

"That was my favorite mask." Byakko menacingly remarked as he approached Aultcray as he ripped off the rest of his torn ski mask. "... Physical exertion output, 6%."

OST Now Playing: The Wicked (Yakuza Kiwami)

He disappears in a blur, only to suddenly appear before the King and swings his [Claw Hammer] down from above his head.

"[IRON AURA]!"

The blow was blocked by the cane, but the sheer weight of the impact was felt throughout the room's tremor, forcing most of everyone to take a knee.

King Aultcray Melromarc XXXII

Burning for you (You're the one).

"... I won't be outdone by a mere fake." Byakko declared as he pressed down upon the King's cane. "Mark my words, you only lived because I allowed it up to this point."

A blast of wind then knocks Byakko away from him, creating distance between the two, allowing the butler regroups with the raiding party.

"Time to dispose the expired goods." He remarked as he brushed his hair up with his hand before shooting a sharp glare at the King, starting the fight.

Switching POV: Motoyasu

".. Wh-Where am I now?" Motoyasu remarked, looking around his new surroundings before looking at himself, still in his child form, much to his consternation.

He found himself on a velvet-colored plush seat with plastic armrests. Around him were numerous empty seats just like the one he's sitting on, leaving him the only one in this cavernous-looking chamber. The air around him felt cold, like the whole place had its AC turned on at maximum coolant for a long time. Before him, a red and gold curtain was draped down, hanging over something behind the stage.

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage. And then is heard no more. It is a tale. Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Futaba's voice echoed throughout the theater halls, right before the spotlight snapped to life and shone upon him, performing a curtsy with his preschooler's uniform. "Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5."

"Got that shit hammered into my brain throughout my theatre class in high school." Nan's voice sardonically remarked from the back of Futaba's head. "... Then again, so did Jimmy Neutron. God bless Phil LaMarr."

"You are so fucking extra..." Motoyasu cringed. "... What I am doing here?"

"Like I said, I saw yours, so I'll so you mine." Futaba remarked as he walked down the stage, the spotlight following him. "But I'm not the kind of person who'd subject someone to the same shit over and over again, so might as well put some real effort this time."

"Oh sure, like you give two shits about effort..." Motoyasu rolled his eyes.

"Ahem." Futaba coughed. "... Now normally, I would keep this between just the two (or three, counting third mouth here)..."

"Sup."

"... But, considering that I have been holding in my own... grievances from the rest of my party and my [Summons]..." Futaba sighed out. "... I'd thought I'd get it off my chest."

Futaba snaps her fingers, and from the back, the doors opened to reveal numerous monsters coming in with popcorn and fountain drinks in their hands (or whatever that served as them, as for the case of the monster with a literal octopus for a whole head) as all of them took their seats around Motoyasu's.

By the time the monsters stopped coming in from the door behind, the whole theater was packed to the brim with monsters, ranging from the conventional [Trolls] wearing their bone and fur garments to the ever diminutive [Balloons], one of which jumped into Motoyasu's own bag of popcorn like a fox in winter snow.

Motoyasu tried to fish it out, only for it to let out a hostile hiss and snapping its teeth at his hand upon reaching into it. He had to keep reminding himself that he was in a 12-year old's body right now, and the least worst thing when surrounded by monsters without his weapons was a chipped nail.

"Everyone, QUIET!" Futaba cried out, bringing all of the monsters around Motoyasu into order as she walked to the podium . "... Thank you. Now, we shall begin our presentation. Please keep all noises and disruptions at an utmost minimum, and mind the others as you would to yourselves. Thank you, and now, enjoy."

The alarm blares as the certain opens, the dimness of the theatre becomes pitch-black as a white projector screen was revealed before the audience.

The screen then shone with a bright pale light upon it, the whirring of the projector sounding off behind them as the screen then began counting down from 5.

Then 4.

Then 3.

Then 2.

Then 1.

Then a blink. Followed up by a chorus of brass and drums, the projections showing "Nan Mystery Science Theater 3000: Presents".

After the words disappear from the screen, all that showed was a blank. An empty space that looked like this: [].

"... The fuck?" Motoyasu remarked before the projection showed "Act 1: Start".

A score from a piano was sounded out, the projection depicting a monochrome crayon drawing of four people. One tall male, one tall female, and two short males.

"I was but a clueless boy born in South Korea." Futaba's voice narrated the silent movie as the piano continued to play from nowhere. "I had a mother, a father, and a younger brother. I was but a normal boy, had friends, caused mischief, and everything seemed alright for the most part."

The next picture then showed the same four people next to a building with airplanes flying around.

"Little did I know, we were moving away from South Korea, my family leaving for reasons that my 5-year old brain couldn't even comprehend." Futaba's voice stated. "I had to leave the very home I was in behind before I can truly understand it. I was uprooted from my home soil before I could even understand the concept of understanding. I left without any significant memories but my family and two McDonalds toy cars I had with me. By the time I came to America?"

The next picture showed a crude drawing of a coffin in the place of one of the shorter males.

"... I came as a metaphorical corpse." Futaba remarked. "I was dead inside, and all I could do to fit in was simply copy what the others did."

"Act 2: Amalgamation" was then shown on the screen.

The style of the art was then shifted, from an amateur's crayon drawing to a more Showa-era manga artstyle akin to that of Akira or the original Dragonball, the shifted style now depicting Nan's family in a more detailed manner, with two short males now being distinguished with one being taller than the other. The taller one, however, had blank irises, contrast to the more detailed ones to the rest of the family's

"Just how old-school are you?" Motoyasu remarked. "I wouldn't be surprised if you watched the original Gundam at this point!"

"I was now living with my relatives who were already living in the United States." Futaba remarked. "They were nice enough, even though my uncle was a heavy smoker, and my three older cousins were... actually, dunno what they were like. We didn't talk much."

The screen then shows the two brothers sitting in front of a screen, with scenes of three heroic-looking robots fighting against evil-looking robots with various animal heads for torsos.

"My very first exposure to anime, and the first dosage to my lifelong addiction to Sunrise's giant robots of all kinds. Madou King Granzort." Futaba explained. "Pirated and fansubbed in Korean, for sure, but for a while, it filled the corpse with some levity, and from it, I sort of learned what fun and fascination felt like."

Then it cuts to the next scene, now at a dojo, with the older male sibling at a dojo with others in gi-like uniforms.

"I went to school, but rarely made any friends, but my one true memories began to take shape during my time learning taekwondo." Futaba narrated. "I felt like I was in touch with my old roots and felt like a badass at the same time. It was a dream come true, and all the tearful begging was worth it. That is, until..."

The next cut, however, was significantly less pleasant. The older male sibling, in a baseball uniform, up the batter's plate, and then the next panel depicting the batter receiving a fastball to the face, completely caving in his nose.

"... I quit after one season." Futaba remarked in a sober tone. "... I will not go any further in detail other than the fact that my parents forced me to quit taekwondo in favor of baseball."

The next cut then depicts "Act 3: Pilgrimage". Now the artstyle shifts again, now into a more conventional Heisei-era anime artstyle, a mixture of Code Geass and Sword Art Online.

The older sibling was slowly resembling Nan himself, only a bit younger. He was now walking through the concrete halls of what it appeared to be a school building, with other kids in his age, with a vacant expression, not recognizing their presence around him, averting their gazes when directed upon him.

"... How is your current emo state a downgrade compared to that broodfest of a face you got over there?" Motoyasu pointed out. "For god's sake! You make Ren look sociable in comparison!"

"Oh please, everyone is sociable compared to me." Futaba remarked as the cut continued to depict him cutting open a frog's corpse with ecstatic glee while everyone else was creeped out by his display. "... As you can see, I was a bit... odd. I never came understand people and how they worked at all. I was the literal cuckoo bird in the social nest I found myself in. Some nameless power dumped me there like an unwanted child."

The next sequence of cuts showed Nan being isolated the others, standing alone around occupied tables with each carrying their own cliques. Then it showed Nan standing alone on a stone stage with everyone below ignoring him. And then the third cut shows Nan ignored by an adult male.

"I tried joining the cliques, but they turned me away. I tried to start my own, but no one came. I tried talking to my old man for help, but he just shut me up and told me off that I was fat, and that I wasn't perfect enough for people." Futaba's voice began to crack. "... That last one, fucked me over, hard. For the record, I was only slightly overweight, but my old man kept body-shaming me up until high school, and hell, I'm pretty sure that he hasn't even stopped, at all! FUCK YOU OLD MAN! SORRY IF I COULDN'T LIVE UP TO YOUR FUCKING STANDARDS! I'M FUCKING 190 WHEN YOU THINK I SHOULD BE 170! MAYBE IT'S YOUR FAULT FOR HATING FAT PEOPLE, AND MOVING TO FUCKING AMERICA OF ALL PLACES! WORLD CAPITAL OF DIABETES, AMIRITE!?"

Enraged, Futaba then wrestles the podium off of the stage before smashing the whole thing into splinters with a pipe wrench pulled from his rear-mouth like a crazed maniac.

"... Jesus Christ." Motoyasu remarked in utter shock as Futaba wailed away at the wrecked podium with his bludgeon. "... I thought I had it bad after my parents divorced."

Futaba finishes off the podium with repeated stomps onto its remains. After finishing it off, Futaba tosses the wrench aside in a strained huff and a feral glint in his eyes.

"... You know, I really, really, didn't care for my old man." Futaba remarked with a slightly crazed grin. "... But no matter how much I tried to distance myself from him, his words and quasi-conservative views burned into me, and I now have to live with it for the rest of my life. I can no longer distinguish what's right and what's wrong with people nowadays. Was my old man considered good in the name of keeping my family together in a country that does more harm than good to us, especially after 2016? Or can I declare him evil, for essentially destroying my sense of self, leaving nothing but a hollow hole in my soul after his incessant attempts to stuff god and virtue over pragmatism and rationalism into my guts while shaming me every single day, because I COULDN'T LIVE UP TO HIS STANDARDS!?"

Futaba's tiny, balled-up fist smashed through a segment of the stage, revealing an empty void from the cracks behind, tossing the pipe wrench into the gap, not a sound of metal landing on the surface being heard.

"... And I thought, things, couldn't, get, worse." Futaba's voice trembled. "... Clearly, I was asking for too much."

The next cut on the screen then shows Nan sitting on a cement floor surrounded by cream-brown colored buildings, reading a book called The New Jim Crow, picking away at the pages with his one hand holding onto a pen.

"That was me, for about 4 years straight." Futaba pointed out. "Minding my own business, doing what was given to me, laying low, and not getting involved with other people for the sake of both parties, i.e., me and other people that aren't me."

"It was the perfect agreement, I left people alone, and people left me be." Nan's voice interjected as the project cut to him walking on the streets of a modest commercial area. "It made perfect sense, I didn't need other people to get by through life, rather, I can simply get by by taking care of myself, and in turn, I don't owe anything to anyone."

"Things started making sense. I sort of began to understand people as transactional beings." Futaba remarked. "My life started making sense, and that's all it mattered."

"... Then why don't you look happy?" Motoyasu pointed out at Nan's vacant expression as he crossed the street. "What's the point of living life when there's no satisfaction?"

"Unlike you, with your borderline-self-destructive obsession sticking into things that don't belong to you, I cared not for my feelings." Futaba remarked. "After all, if I don't care about other people, why should I care what other people care about me?"

The next cut then shows Nan being taken away by police at night, the blue and red siren lights blinding the audience.

"... Turns out, there was something that forced to make me care." Futaba remarked. "Wednesday, 6:30 PM, police knocked onto my door, and told me that I was a suspect of 'unlawful possession of a firearm', despite my family not carrying so much as a Glock in the house. Fuck, I live in California, and we're not exactly Texas, ya know."

"... Gunphobia for days." Nan's voice remarked from Futaba's head. "Not all Americans are the same, you know."

"Could've fooled me..." Motoyasu grimaced.

"... Point being." Futaba remarked in a strained voice, trying not to cave from the clearly-traumatic memories. "... I was put away under false charges. A 3 month sentence in a 'correctional facility'."

The building shown in the next cut looked like a repurposed school building. Surrounded by rows of wire fence, and the only thing standing between Nan and the building were two police guards that seemed too overqualified for their current positions due to their excess of equipment on them.

"... 3 months." Futaba remarked in a strained voice. "... Even though they still found no evidence of me bringing a gun to a school, and even through I told them I don't have any social media accounts, like Facebook or Twitter-"

"Wait, you don't?" Motoyasu remarked.

"In context, I didn't get my smartphone until I was in 10th grade while everyone else had their first in middle school." Nan's voice remarked. "... I was a bit behind the times compared to everyone else."

"That explains why you namedropped DnD so casually, and why you're so old-school..." Motoyasu rolled his eyes.

"Funny thing about that?" Futaba remarked, now on the verge of a hyperventilation episode. "Because I was so old-school and I don't have a Twitter account, the investigation took way long then they anticipated, but despite the clear lack of evidence, I was still confined to that hellhole, and during one of my visits with my parents, they told me that my lawyer is doing his best to reduce my sentence, and hopefully... prove that I am innocent."

The next cut, however, was anything but hopeful.

It showed Nan collapsed onto the floor on a puddle of his own blood, with a pencil stabbed into his stomach, the blood trickling from the yellow handle, before dripping off of the pink tip of the eraser.

"... What the fuck, YOU GOT SHANKED!?" Motoyasu recoiled back, the rest of the audience gasping in horror and shock.

Futaba says nothing, only for him to lift his top up, revealing a massive scar over his stomach, the stitch running down from the bottom of his navel to the upper fringes of his crotch.

"... The pencil snapped inside of my stomach upon breach." Futaba chuckled out, tears now seeping from his eyes. "... The surgeons had to fish it out of my intestines, and in the process, they snipped off 15 centimeters of it just to make sure that I don't get any permanent damages. ... Or at least, that's... what they told me, after I woke up on a hospital bed."

"The lawyers managed to prove my innocence, so I was released after 30 days within my 3 months." Nan's voice remarked. "... But the son of a bitch that framed me, GOT AWAY!"

Futaba then collapses to his knees, breaking down in tears of sorrow and frustration, as his hair lashes out his surroundings, forcing everyone to get out of the way lest they get cut up into tiny bits like their seats, Motoyasu included.

"... Oh and I forgot to mention, we're going by A Nightmare on Elm Street rules here." Futaba remarked as his yokai-hair stirred wildly around himself like tendrils. "Die here, you die for realsies, like them."

Futaba's finger pointed to a mutilated [Hellhound], two [Werelions], and several [Trolls], all splattered into mincemeat across the walls of the theater.

"In my defense, I'm his emotions, not the actual person..." Futaba sighed out. "... You know what, that was a pretty weak defense."

"Going off-topic aside, here's the next cut."

The next cut shows "Chapter 4: Resurrection". The cut after the title then shifts to an utterly-bizzare artstyle, now rendered in a realistic-looking ink sketches, but the lines shaping the drawings were heavy, thick, granule-like, and distorted.

From the twisting images, Motoyasu was able to make out an image of a person with a blanket draped over its head, sitting listlessly on top of a bed, looking out at a window with its blinds shut.

"... I... never left my room for three months months straight." Futaba stated has his voice continued to crack. "... I had my taste of death, and... well, I broke."

The projection cuts to another, only for it to be the same image.

"... I just... simply ignored my own family." Futaba remarked. "The word 'trust'... meant nothing anymore. ... I... feared for my life. ... I... now knew... what death almost felt like..."

The next cut shows the exact same image.

"... Humanity itself... is death."

Another same cut.

"... I... almost died that time."

Another cut, still the same.

"The fear? ... It was disgusting."

Another.

"'Yes', I thought. ... It was disgusting."

Motoyasu's brain then begin noticing the differences between each similar-looking cuts.

They were closing in onto the figure on top of the bed.

"... So disgusting... I wanted to purge myself of it."

The cut draws ever closer.

"First... myself. The feelings... of the disgust... at my own weakness... they needed to be purged."

The next cut showed nothing but the figure, still curled up in the air as the bed and room around it disappeared into the black void.

Then came a rapid sequence of cuts, almost like a flipbook-animation, showing the figure slowly place its feet down back to a standing position.

"... What came next... I simply abandoned my past and future... and forgot about the present."

The figure's face turns to the audience, revealing a blank-white face with a pair of dots size of pinpricks for eyes, and a sloppily-drawn crescent for a smile.

"... After all, that's how people cope, right?" Futaba remarked, his smile now complete purged of all emotions. "... Oh, if only things were that easy, the world would've been a much better place."

The next cut then showed the lone stick figure walking in the blank white void, its shadow cast behind him now being an amalgamation of writhing shadows that looked anything but human.

"... No matter how much I pretended to forget, the pain never left." Futaba remarked. "... No matter how much the scar faded, it was still there and it ached."

The next cut simply showed three, crudely-drawn stick figures in an extremely-detailed background reminiscent of a living room.

"The thing was? All of that happened... the false arrest, the sentence, and even the surrounding circumstances behind all that?" Futaba pointed out. "... It got worse."

The next cut... wasn't even a cut. Only the following words.

"Green Card Application: Suspended"

"... Honestly, I sort of knew that I was living a lie in the US, thinking myself as one of them, able to vote and make a difference in the democratic politics, regardless if my efforts meant anything or not, due to... well, 2016." Futaba half-giggled, half-cackled. "... Confirming it, just made a little bit more sense."

The cuts kept coming, now rapid-fire in shot after shot, showing another array of flipbook animation of a crudely-drawn stick figure walking down the empty white void, going somewhere, yet nowhere.

"I didn't matter. So why should the others?" Futaba remarked. "If my pain meant nothing, not even at least nominally, and just simply disposable to the eyes of society, naturally, I wanted to escape. Problem was, I had a heart made of paper, and the 30 days with less-than-ideal people was the proverbial shredder that my heart was unkindly ran through."

The next cut then returned back to the bedroom, now the figure sitting upon the bed, now staring into a small screen of its smartphone.

"Three months, I never looked away. Three months, I gave up on pursuing my dreams in the creative industry. Three months, I simply looked from afar as I tried to piece back the normality of my life." Futaba remarked. "... It took me those same three months that my efforts of trying to go back, amounted to nothing. The people can accept me, but I'll never accept anyone, not even myself."

The next cut drew in closer on the smartphone's glow.

"So, I went through my hikkamori phase, ate nothing but instant noodles, and the mere presence of human beings, down to my family, started to make me feel physically ill." Futaba spat out in disgust. "I wanted to like them, since, after all, no man's an island, but after my 30 days leading up to my hospitalization? I began to notice that I was the cuckoo bird of the nest. I was born in the wrong place, yet my family treated me the same as my baby brother, who's more normal compared to me. He had friends, passing grades, and a working sense of empathy. Me? I'm damaged goods."

The next cut then shows Naofumi and Raphtalia's faces in Nan's smartphone, facing down a two-headed [Orthus] in a cave.

"... No friggin' way." Motoyasu remarked as his eyes widened upon seeing familiar image, slowly connecting the dots together. "... You were watching all of us before you came here!?"

Futaba then lets out a deranged cackle upon Motoyasu figuring out what's going on.

"In my world, The Rising of the Shield Hero is nothing more than a work of fiction." Futaba stated. "A multi-media franchise starting from one of the many webnovels spawned from an endless slurry of generic iseaki garbage pile that managed to stand out of the rest."

"What I'm saying is, you're all garbage." Nan's voice caustically remarked. "You're all just blots of ink on a sheet of paper, copied, pasted, published, and delivered ad infinitum. I know all the beats of the story, from beginning to end, and upon arriving here, I thought I had a chance to make a difference, and oh boy! ... It didn't matter how many people I've killed, but damn! I've gone nowhere despite going everywhere! Not even raining corpses and hellfire from the skies above won't make you change shit! But then again, guess the same can be said for society as a whole, like what Persona 5 taught me."

"... If you knew... THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US!?" Motoyasu roared out, enraged by Nan's secrecy.

"Because I cannot, for the life of me, trust any of you." Futaba replied bluntly. "If any of you knew what I knew, then what kind of shit would've they've done to pull to milk any information out of me? It's like the whole 'Golden Goose' scenario. Them knowing, will change nothing. People will still be enslaved, bigotry will run rampant commonplace, and the [Waves] will still be there, because fuck you, all of you, and the rest of you, you're all scum that are gonna try and shank me down the line, and as far as I'm concerned, I honestly cannot distinguish people from nonexistence. Like my host's impulses said earlier, you're all garbage."

"SO IS THAT WHY YOU KILLED PEOPLE!?" Motoyasu protested. "THEY WERE FAKE IN YOUR WORLD, SO THEY DESERVED TO DIE!?"

"Says someone who thought this world ran like an MMO." Futaba deadpanned. "News flash, Miles Glorious, the whole world is real, with real people, it's just that I didn't care, nor can afford to. And before you go and quote Gon from HunterXHunter, about me having compassion for my allies and not extending that same compassion to the people I've killed, alone... let me be real with you for a second."

With the snap of his finger, all of the audience were then confined to their seats, the hair from Futaba constricting their arms, legs, and bodies, keeping them locked into their seats, and picking out a [Lesser Mind Flayer] and a [Soul Eater] from their seats.

"... Do you really think people of this world even have compassion?" Futaba remarked as he caressed Motoyasu's chin, the latter snapping his teeth at his fingers. "Do you really think they care about you, others, and their fellow beings as long as they're the ones still alive, breathing, and not enslaved? As far as I'm concerned, I'm killing them before they can kill me, because even way before I started to butcher people of this world en masse, all they saw in me were another potential meatshield for their shitty lives like the rest of you guppies. Hell, even if was not inserted into this shithole of an isekai, the rest of these mongrels would still be about killing, raping, burning, looting, kidnapping, and enslaving everything that has a pulse and still be able to sleep at night as long as they're not the ones being directly inflicted. Back in my world, I didn't have a single figment of power, so I accepted my place there as another potential deportee, for at least in South Korea, I can somewhat accept my place as a nobody there, and gradually become a part of the faceless masses drugged on mass media and propaganda. Here? It's different. I'm no longer powerless. I actually have sway to this world. I can destroy all evil that my papier-mâche called my heart bleeds and pains over. I can finally bring unto them of what's coming for them. I can finally choose for myself and no one else, the apex übermensch. The sole island surround in an endless sea of shit that you and everyone else wade through."

The [Soul Eater] and the [Lesser Mind Flayer] were then violently shoved into steel, disc-like canisters as the next cut showed Nan walking into a door.

"You know that little story about the race between the two horses, one racehorse whose speed was unmatched, and a workhorse whose stamina was unmatched back at the [Catacombs], and how it ended with neither horse reaching the finish line because they were both devoured by wolves before they can get there?" Futaba gleefully recalled as his hair tendrils replaced the film reels with the two canisters as the final cut showed Nan alongside with the rest of them at the underground chambers that they were summoned in. "That's my life, it fucked me up without my consent, without letting me get the final word, but hey, take my word for it with a grain of salt. After all, I had my own share of it back in my world. Now, it's this world's turn. Being chewed apart by [Waves], in my opinion, seems a little too slow and not painful enough."

The replaced film projection then showed the two monsters, and as the reels begin turning above the projector, the two images begin moving closer towards each other.

"If life's so hard, then why don't you kill yourself?" Motoyasu pointed out.

"Like I said, I have a heart made of paper." Futaba remarked. "Like paper, I fold before anyone else could do it for me. Simply put, back then, I was too much of a pansy to do it myself, which is where you come in."

"... Me?" Motoyasu remarked. "Are you trying to invoke 'suicide by cop'?"

"Well, I needed someone I can trust, or someone simply dumb enough to try and kill me." Futaba gleefully remarked. "Thanks to you, I've managed to unlock the final sin of the [Cursed Series]... known as [Suicide]."

The two monsters shown up on the projection begin overlapping with each other, with one cut showing the [Lesser Mind Flayer], and the other showing a [Soul Eater], with one being shown after the other in gradually-faster sequence.

"You brought upon the 'physical death', now all I need now, is a 'spiritual death'." Futaba remarked as he pulled down his collar, revealing the number 18 inked across his right collarbone. "It has been decided, my id and superego have been deemed both worthless, ergo, [Futaba Kuchika], the superego, and the [Futakuchi-Onna], the id, are now to be sacrificed in order to fulfill the 'spiritual death' in order to complete [Suicide]!"

"Good job, kiddo." Nan's voice remarked mockingly as the projection behind him begins to roll by so fast that the two monsters shown begin to blur in together. "I'll take it from here."

"... Why? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?" Motoyasu cried out.

"... Says the person who suggested that I should kill myself a few moments back. And for the first and only time of my life, I listened to what you had to say, and for the first time in your life, you were right on that mark." Futaba remarked. "If people despise me for my actions against people who are just as despicable as me, then yes, I deserve to die, but like I said, your suggestion was my first and only time I will ever listen to someone. You never specified how I should go about it, so... I filled in the blanks myself, and well, thought I kill two birds with one stone."

"Wait, two?" Motoyasu and a few other monsters in the audience remarked out loud.

The projection sheet then ripped open, revealing a grotesque creature that can only be described as a quadpedal mass of limbs, tentacles, teeth, and exposed organs. The creature itself was massive, taking up an entire third of the whole theater, its jagged digits studded on its bony and pale-looking forepaws that were reminiscent of human hands, its torso, however, was chubby and flabby, the bulbous and gelatin-like flesh bobbing in its placid skin stretched out like water balloons, the disproportionately-large main body wobbling around its sticks and twigs that it called limbs, and its head, at first, it was a blank, darkly-colored cone-like tip, that is, until it opened itself like flower petals, revealing a tubular mouth with brain halves for lips, and rows and rows of human teeth lined throughout its jugular's innards.

The creature itself wasn't even close to eldritch. It was simply ugly. Something that only a damaged mind and soul can only conceive.

... Only someone like Nan can ever come up with something grotesque as this.

"The first is that I need to pay up my debts to activate [Suicide], so I thought a self-enforced psychic-assisted suicide juuuust to be on the safe side." Futaba remarked as the creature itself began devouring the audience, starting with the flame-wreathed [Salamander]. "Granted, I have you bound, but if my 30 days in the slammer taught me anything, anyone can come up with anything, or else how are they supposed slip contraband into the building in the first place?"

"THEN WHY IS THAT THING DEVOURING YOUR MONSTERS INSTEAD!?" Motoyasu pointed out as the thing then continued to gorge itself unto the other creatures tied to the chairs.

"... Umm, second reason." Futaba nervously chuckled out as his eyes shifted to the side suspiciously. "Turns out making a contract with an eldritch god of hedonism has a bit of a... steep cost. In fact, just marking my id and ego for death isn't enough to sate the fat bastard, so... I kinda have pay a bit... more."

A [Troll]'s severed head flies past over their own before landing next to their feet.

"... What the hell kind of buy-up scheme did you fall for?" Motoyasu remarked. "Even I'm not that dumb!"

"In my defense, I lost about a majority of my brain cells back at the 'facility'. I think I lost a bit more after I got shanked." Futaba remarked. "Also, this is my first time dabbling into H.P. Lovecraft's [Kitab al-Azif], and... I kinda needed to play it safe, make sure to keep the blast zone to a minimum."

"... What." Motoyasu deadpanned.

"One is sentient ball of fire, and the majority of them will make people go insane at their mere presence at a healthy radius of..." Futaba throughout out loud before trailing off. "... I swear, I used to be good with numbers."

"Eh, happens to the best of us." Nan's voice casually remarked upon seeing a [Harpy] get devoured with several other monsters adjacent to her seat, her screeches and pleas being drowned out by the slobbers and chewing of the monster.

"... So even you didn't see it coming!?" Motoyasu pointed out. "EVEN I'M SAVVY ENOUGH TO KNOW IF I'M BEING SCAMMED!"

"After the fact?" Futaba smugly deadpanned, causing Motoyasu to choke in awkward silence. "... Nailed it."

"THAT DOESN'T MATTER NOW!" Motoyasu retorted. "YOU'RE PLAYING WITH FIRE!"

Futaba simply bears back a malicious smile.

"... And I intend to burn in it." Futaba gleefully replied. "Nan has a point. If I die, then Nan's no longer my problem."

"Yeah, even we're sick of him." Nan's id remarked from the back of Futaba's head. "At least he's giving us a way out, and after dealing with his near-death experience back home? That is easily the best thing to ever happen to us, so we're jumping ship, even if it means voluntarily jumping into a monster's mouth."

"And why are you wasting your time talking to me?" Motoyasu pointed out. "If you want to die, why not go jump in first?"

"... I think a little explanation is required." Futaba remarked as the grotesque monster kept snatching [Undead Locusts] from their nets and chewing through their exoskeletons, secreting opaque-beige juices between its teeth.

Suddenly, his body goes completely limp, the hair then beginning to hold the main body up like a puppet on strings, the head contorting itself, forcing Futaba to face her left and the mouth behind his head growing in size, shifting itself to its right. Only Futaba's right eye remained open, now black and red in a cat-eye fashion.

"... You know, my innocence and little psychological torture-tour back home weren't the real issue in the matter of a bigger picture. I could've just graduated straight out of some random, no-name community college, fucked off to some cheap-ass apartment room with a 9-5 blue-collar job with my checks paid under the counter and let my life run itself as normal. Nobody told me to come and save this dumbass world. But I stayed regardless, in hopes that there might be a chance to turn my life around, maybe be proven wrong about my prior opinion about humanity. Walked out of your company of faggots and whores, gathering my own allies, destroyed the slave trade economy beyond repair, billions of willing participants within said economy dead, and you know why I still think that isn't enough? Because the last time I checked, this whole world and beyond were still irrevocably fucked. Hence, my epiphany. I can't solve this, at all. Not me, not with or just the others, and certainly, not the world itself. Those idiots that call themselves [Heroes] and so-called Gods who run this fucking pop stand of a creation have buried their heads in the sand and stood for nothing but for their self-aggrandization. My party still tethered by their morals and beliefs that caused the dry rot of this world like loyalty and birthrights. So I spent the last year trying to find a real solution to permanently solve this issue. And I found it. Now, if you really wanna make the world a better place, I suggest you open your fucking ears, because I'm about to tell it to you." Both Futaba and Nan's voice spoke together in perfect unison. "If God is the comedian, the audience being all of creation, too afraid to laugh at the joke known as the universe, then I am the fucking punchline. Who knows, the audience might laugh for once. Or scream collectively as their lives are devoured by the coming inferno. Which brings me to the second reason."

"... The fuck are you saying!?" Motoyasu asked. "YOU'RE TALKING NONSENSE!"

"... I will create a God in my place." Futaba and Nan's voices replied matter-of-factly. "Not just any God that will subjugate and rule over the populace, but a perfect God. Gods of various religions like Judea-Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, and god-knows-how-many-others, only create in order to compensate for their imperfections, ergo, a perfect God will destroy everything, and leave nothing behind. Why would a perfect God create a universe at all? Personally, we only admire the idea of perfection because we fear what it brings, and I'm no different, but unlike other people, I'm even more afraid what happens if the admiration becomes degradation."

"... You're not stopping just here?" Motoyasu pointed out.

"Point is, I can't fix stupid, so might as well get rid of em." Both voices remarked in unison. "By the way, do you know who sent all of us here?"

Motoyasu, regardless of him now talking to a gibbering lunatic, beyond all sanity, knew in the back of his mind, that Nan of all people held the knowledge of this whole world that was considered to him as "fiction". So with great reluctance, he uttered the following.

"... Who?"

"Your mom."

Before he can press for more answers, the grotesque monster devours Futaba and Nan's mouth whole, the id and superego of Nan Hon-Jah now destroyed-

POV DESTROYED

... With only Motoyasu and the thing before him remaining in the now-ruined and bloodied theater.

[Dream Eater]

Here lies yours.

"... Wait." Motoyasu remarked to himself. "WHAT ABOUT MY WEAPON-"

*CRASH*

Motoyasu jumps out of the way from the [Dream Eater]'s hand that tried to swat him like a fly, narrowly missing him as the physically-12 year old rolled down the stairs, his back hitting against the toppled projector.

"Oww..." Motoyasu grunted out as he got back up, the [Dream Eater] scrambling itself back forth with its fat body. "... Oh right, I'm a sacrifice too."

The [Dream Eater], upon facing itself toward Motoyasu, lunges its whole body towards Motoyasu, causing the latter to dash out of the way to avoid being gored.

"Come on, think, think!" Motoyasu panicked. "This is all a dream, but what he said about the rules... DAMMIT! THIS IS NO TIME TO THINK! JUST GOTTA RUN-"

The [Dream Eater], in spite of its bulk, lashed out its scrawny hands out towards Motoyasu, trying to swat him flat as it worms itself across the seats scraping against its gelatinous belly and skin, hissing and frothing in its starfish-and-human-like mouth, trying its damnedest to grab him and stuff him whole.

"... Too fat to move, huh?" Motoyasu grinned nervously as he ran for it, finding an opening to exploit against this [Dream Eater]. "... Hate to do this, but running is my only option!"

Motoyasu then begins running towards the doors behind the seats, narrowly missing the [Dream Eater]'s deceptively-fast swings from its arms, forcing him to ditch his shirt upon almost being grabbed by the back of his collar.

"Ha, sucker! You can't catch me-" Motoyasu taunted as he reached his hands towards the exit doors, only for him to find himself facing down on an endless, pitch-black void beyond the doors. "... Are you KIDDING ME!?"

The [Dream Eater] then corners him between its bulbous form and emptiness beyond the exit, steadily approaching him as it dragged itself across the rows of seats graining against its flab.

"... Fuck this."

Motoyasu then jumps into the void before the [Dream Eater] can snatch him, sending him plummeting further down this rabbit hole that Nan trapped him in.

Better to trust a madman in a time of madness, for death is failure.

"I don't care if me, the others, or even that bastard Naofumi is fake to you, Nan." Motoyasu thought to himself as he was careening further and further into the black. "It's all real to me, and I'm not letting you have your way anymore!"

Motoyasu then lets out an echoing scream of determination and rage, holding tight onto his sanity as he plummeted further and further, seeing nothing but black.


To Be Continued...


Author's Notes: Okay, this really sucks. College is eating up my time way more than anticipated with essays and midterms, planning around my writing hangups have been way harder than it should've been, and while writing this chapter and making my self-insert's background kinda caused me to unearth my own PTSD stemmed from my experiences with the Police, the legal system, my own near-shank experience, and my surgery about a year back (which was a year after I got released and my family started falling apart). I swear to god, I caught myself breaking into cold sweat every time I try and write this chapter.

So yeah, IRL, I'm a bit of an antisocial freak who never developed human sense of norms and conventions. I'm functional, but that's about it. I don't have Twitter or Facebook, I barely keep contact with people of my peers, and even to this day, I have a stupidly low opinion of humanity, and while it's gradually improving, I still think of them as wasted potential of intellect, so if some characters act a bit too dumb compared to the canon, my defense, I've seen people do dumber shit back at high school, and in real life outside of it. When Futaba says I'm "damaged goods", that wasn't an exaggeration. And to those who want to see Nan dead, congrats, settle with his soul getting grayed out with a side of a middle finger of a "your mom" joke.

And speaking of "Futaba Kuchiki", the reason why he takes a form of a preschooler is to symbolize my emotional maturity, which that I'm emotionally immature. Worst part is, I am painfully aware of that fact, which just fed to my inner insecurity preventing me from actually connecting with other people.

For the record, I was torturing myself while writing this, and I initially planned for this chapter to be the final part, but, as you can see, circumstances changed.

Also, in hindsight, I think I watched way too much Renegade Cut and Second Thought, which just fed into my inner misanthrope even more, so there's some influence for my writing and worldview. Not gonna stop watching it, though, since where else am I supposed to watch without getting paid subscription? I'm not made of money, and I cannot get a job unless it pays me under the table.

... Well, got that out of my chest, so at least the worst is over, for all of us, but not entirely over yet. I still have one more part to deal with this, and let the records show, I'm writing this for myself. So to all the people that left and despise this story of mine, here are my words to you.

... If you don't like it, say nothing. Your silence is enough of an indication. With that said, see you in 2021, or not.

I need a vacation.