Part Five: And no injustice shall on my hands be.

When this shit is all over, I'm going to leave this goddamn city. Move to Geffen. Geffen's the only other town besides Prontera that Miki's been to. She must've been four or five, and I took her to the top of the Geffen Tower. She blew spit bubbles, raspberries on my neck, giggling at the wind, the height, the sun. She was getting heavy, I noticed back then.

Sounds. But all I see is black, the nothingness. My eyelids are heavy, it hurts to open them. I squint in the night, my head pounding from the aftereffects of Leno's toxins. I hear my own breathing, I sounded... old. I feel my head sway left and right, like a drunk's own head, although I'm intoxicated with venoms and not alcohol.

I see figures. Black shadows. We're outdoors, the night wind, slighty wet and flavored with dew, tickles my skin. Blurred squares and rectangles register as tombstones and tables in my vision. It takes all my remaining strength to steady my rocking head.

Four more guards. Shit shit shit shit shit. Chains around me, their cold links biting into my skin like metal mosquitoes. I'm chained to a chair, heavy wood, oak or something like that. I see Rubalkubara, that fat muderer. He's playing with something on the table. He's looking at me. He holds the assasin's head up by her hair, and her one eye turned into a stake, piercing my conscience.

"You murdered Alisa, fool. You have brought on yourself the wrath of the Father," Rubalkubara said.

Idiot. "You sent her to kill my daughter and me," I said, wondering why I was defending myself. "She deserved it, asshole."

"SHE DESERVED NOTHING!" I must've said something to tick him off. He threw the head on the graveyard floor, it tumbled and bounced off tombstones. He came close to me, magnificent and royal in his black velvet robes. He stood a foot away from where I was chained. "She was a servant of the Lord! She was fulfilling her purpose, and you, a sinner, cut her head off!"

He continued in this manner, with dramatic gestures of his hands. I deserved to go to hell, I deserved to burn and be Satan's slave, to have my eyes popped out of my head because the Bible demanded an eye for an eye. At least, that's what Rubalkubara was saying.

Then he leaned in to my face. His eyes were inches from mine.

"Your soul is damned, sinner," he said in a low whisper, a pathetic attempt to scare me. His breath grazed my face.

Great, I thought. But I said, "I'm hungry."

With all my strength and resolve, I lunged forward with my upper body. His head was so close to mine, it didn't take long for me to open my mouth and close it over his long, crooked nose. He tried to pull back, screaming, but the weight of me, the chains and the chair made it hard for him.

I was biting his goddamn nose.

I tried to stand up, the best I could while chained to a chair, when I saw the four other guards run to save the priest. He wasn't a warrior, this priest, instead of jabbing me at my exposed belly, he was flailing his arms like a chicken. He once tried to pull my head from his, but since I wouldn't release any pressure on my jaw, he must've felt like he was pulling his nose from his face.

The guards came and started whacking at me with their maces. No way in hell would I release Rubalkubara's nose. He was crying already, asking his God for mercy. Mercy. There is no God here, priest, just you, me, and my mouth over that lump of bleeding flesh on your head.

The chair's back blocked a lot of the maces coming at me. I was standing hunchbacked, using the chair as a shield from the guards' swings. A few hits got through, but the one that counted was the one that landed behind my neck, the tip of my spine.

I had to release Rubalkubara. He staggered backward, holding his hands over his face, crying, screaming. He ordered the guards to finish me. I lunged once again for him. Forget everyone else.

My head caught him in his belly and we tumbled on the graveyard's floor. I bit into his robe and rolled, dragging him with me as I turned left, right, just so that the monks won't have a clear shot. If they swung their maces, they could hit the priest, if not, there was always the chair.

The rolling seemed to loosen my chains. Damn, I won't die after all. Well, at least not without a fight. I continued rolling. My right arm...

Rubalkubara slipped out of his robes and he forced himself up, faced covered in blood. His deformed nose now off-center. I laughed. Great. A naked preacher and four maces on their way to beat the living hell out of you. The stuff of nightmares.

One monk came at me and swung down hard with his mace. He must've been only twenty, by the look in his surprised eyes when my right hand wormed itself free from the chains and caught the mace in mid-swing.

I just had to smile.

It's like the tables turned. My lips were bleeding from biting off some of Rubalkubara's nose, and I went berserk, the mace in my possesion slowly turned red as it was, in my hands, as lethal as a nail to the wrist.

The mace was dented after crushing four skulls. I was worn out, but I managed to beat the guards senseless. During the battle, Rubalkubara ran towards the Sancturium, using the graveyard entrance that connects the cemetery to the church.

I followed, broke the lock on the door, walked right through. No more guards, I noticed. The entrance led to a long, shadowy hallway, and I could see Rubalkubara in the end of it. But he wasn't alone.

He held in front of him, and I couldn't believe it, a child.

Rubalkubara held the boy, who's back was facing him, on his shoulders. "Be nice to my boy, sinner," he told me, "Don't teach him your Satanic ways."

There was something wrong. The boy, around twelve years of age, had eyes the color of eggwhites left out for a week. His skin was gray, and his bones showed through. He was naked, the only clothing he had were strips of leather on his arms. And his hands... his hands... were missing. Where the palms should be stood a metal triangle, sharp at the edge. What the hell is this?

Rubalkubara spun the boy around to face him, and the priest knelt in front of the child. "Now, my son.. see that man?" Rubalkubara said, his hands still resting on the boy's shoulders. "He's Satan's servant. Send him back to hell, my beautiful boy."

They locked lips. I felt frozen where I stood, my eyes the witness for this sick display of perversion.

Rubalkubara broke the kiss. "Yes, Father," the boy said, his voice so innocent, an unassuming crystal child's voice, unfit for his gray demeanor. Rubalkubara turned, and ran away, into the far end of the hallway, leaving the boy and myself in the dim corridor.

"What are you?" I ask, gripping the dented mace in my hand tight.

"I am hate, sinner," he said in his haunting boy voice, not moving from where Rubalkubara left him.

"I am pain.

I am sorrow.

I am injustice."

He graced me with a smile. Injustice is smiling at me.