After the summary I was so excited to finally start writing again, and I feel like my writing became mega edgy. Uh, warning for gore... to anyone who had gotten all the way to chapter 176 and can't read gory scenes.

Armour: None

Weapon: None

Acc(0/12):

Health: (50/400)

He could feel the clammy air seeping under his skin.

Seeping into his pores, into his eyes, beneath his fingernails and down his throat. It was the air of restlessness - of breathless razors and overwhelming frustration which festered against his innermost parts and made him jitter in the silence and leap at every noise. There was a whirring in his ear - a high pitched whine that burrowed slowly into his brain and ate every rational thought he had. The eyes of every inanimate thing in the room were staring at him; frozen and silent, yet gnashing their teeth in raging single-minded malice. Danger. Danger. He could feel terror shaking his very bones.

*bang-bang-bang-bang*

What was this miasma?! What was this terrible feeling that rotted away at his nerves and made every cell in his body scream?! The Guide hadn't the foggiest idea, and fought with all his might against the visceral urge to simply flee. He sucked deep breaths and tried to calm his heart. With bloodied hands, he stepped away from the kitchen table and collapsed in a nearby chair, his eyes shut tightly as he fought for his bearings. He felt a few tears leak down from the corners of his eyes, and angrily wiped them away - leaving red streaks across his face. He berated himself.

Get a grip! What's wrong with you?

When did this begin? What had happened to him? The Guide didn't know. He did his best to calm his mind and to soothe his nerves, but it was to no avail. Only hours ago, he was in control of himself, calmly attempting rudimentary surgery on his poor patient, but now... now there was a quiet looming presence in the room with him. A deep pit of hatred. A desperate sort of venom that gnawed at his fingertips and rumbled through the floor. The silence put him on a knife's edge; but when the windowpanes were clobbered, or the shadows of faces appeared through the drawn curtains, The Guide could feel his heart slam into his sternum with such furiosity he was halfway afraid it'd burst.

(You don't understand! He'll kill us all! We need to kill him first! Please!)

(Guide, Let us in or I'll kill you! I'll turn you inside out!)

He winced at the noise and silently cursed the women pounding on his windows. It'd been three hours and they still did not give up. They shrieked and hammered themselves against the walls. They begged and pleaded, they bribed and they threatened. They were so intent on killing The Injured Man, there wasn't a thing they didn't promise to do to him or for him if he would only open the door.

*bang-bang-bang*

Yet until now, The Guide felt no obligation to listen to them. He was the professional here. There was no way he'd be swayed by anyone to kill one of his patients. Such an idea was so far removed from him, so monstrous - he was deign to dwell upon it. He was a nurse by trade - the best in his workplace. He helped everyone that was put in his care, despite who they were, despite what they'd done. This was the philosophy of The Capitol's Head Physician (embarrassingly, he revered her as a bit of an idol), and it was his philosophy as well. He saved the lives of the people around him. It was as clear cut and as simple as that...

But... but what the fuck...

But The Injured Man might be injured, but he certainly wasn't a man.

What is he? Is he even a person?

The Guide blinked his eyes open and gulped a breath of air before daring to look at the mess he'd made. Until moments ago, the man splayed out and bisected over the kitchen table was behaving like any other patient (save his rather impressive tenacity to cling to life). The Guide's first-time attempt at surgery had gone far better than he'd expected, and - despite not anticipating The Injured Man to survive it - was more than pleased when it seemed like he'd pull through. He was halfway through picking the final bits of shattered rib out of The Man's intestines when suddenly his innards came to life.

*slop...plup...*

And it wasn't a mild shifting -which alone was already tremendously strange. No, they thrashed! They thrashed with a vengeance. Blood began to bubble up and overflow, flooding out from the depths of the body as if a dam had broken. The very flesh shuddered and squirmed - growing and knitting itself together. Veins and blood vessels sprouted like the roots of trees all along the creature's innards, and those gray lungs began a guttural gasp for air. One of that Creature's dead eyes flitted open, and...

And The Guide panicked.

He wanted to run.

He wanted to hide.

Because, deep in his bones, somehow, strangely, he knew... this thing hated him.

...

"haaaah... h-haaah"

A death rattle tore itself from The Creature's throat. And, it must be a creature! For it certainly wasn't a man! A man's flesh did not writhe and multiply like this! A man's arteries didn't flail around, pumping its lifeblood out like water from hoses. A man's heart couldn't start and stop on whim, nor his eyes slowly form beneath fluttering eyelids, nor his teeth visibly emerge from his gums...

And his fucking detached nose didn't twitch and breathe three feet away in its fucking bowl!

"H-hhhhhh-gggguu-"

It shuddered as its lungs re-inflated to draw precious breath, then - with a tearing noise - one of the misplaced ribs punctured a hole into the delicate organ; it collapsed with a whine. As the entire chest deflated, The Creature convulsed - its mouth gaping open far beyond the range of a normal jaw and the lips pulling back to display bared gums. The bloody hole where its nose should have been began to leak fluids into its exposed teeth, and all its limbs contorted at angles they ought not to. The Creature's pale eyes fluttered open... one pupil was still fragmented, the other had become whole and affixed directly upon him. That singular eye was blown wide in rage and leaked tears as it watched his every move.

It said no words, but what remained of its face was twisted in inconsolable wrath.

Its teeth were bared and bloodied.

And its brow was dark and furrowed.

Its fingers twitched towards him, and the miasma hit him again. Stronger then ever:

It wants to kill me!

A woman outside shrieked as she pounded against the window. The Guide nearly jumped out of his skin.

*Bang-Bang-Bang*

(You can't let him heal! Please! Kill him! Hurry! You need to kill him! I'm begging you!)

"I-I..."

He sucked in another haggard breath.

Was he crazy? Had he simply lost it? Surely he wasn't seriously considering killing his own patient. He was a medical professional. His mantra was to 'do no harm'. A Medical Professional didn't kill people. He was just trying to help. He always tried to help...

(Guide you idiot! Open the door! Open the door and I'll do it for you! If he heals, you'll die!)

But, but wasn't he also far, far out of his depth? The thing splayed across the kitchen table was no human. It was an unknown. Was it an alien? Was it some magical construct? An escaped experiment? A demon from the depths? He didn't know - but what he did know was that he shouldn't be dealing with it. After all - the two women were still screaming and pounding their fists against the windows... their voices growing increasingly terrified, increasingly pleading. Was it possible they had a good reason for wanting The Creature dead? Maybe he had 'rescued' a monste-

*Creeaaak...snap*

The exposed ribs which bordered The Creature's exposed chest cavity creaked and shuddered with a terrific groaning as they slowly attempted to close over the wound. The muscles and the organs likewise began to squirm and writhe like a pit of snakes, wrestling and adjusting over one another as they fought to their appropriate places. It was healing. This thing was healing before his very eyes! The bones were shuffled back to their spots - welding together where they had broken. Organs unruptured themselves and slithered wetly across each other to fasten into their places. The Guide watched it all with a sort of dread. This thing wanted him dead and it had survived a fucking vivisection! If he wanted to kill it, could he even manage to? If he stabbed it in the heart, would it's heart simply reform? If he stuck his knife in its brain, would that even slow it down?!

Run away. (But that's your patient.)

...

You need to run. (That's unseemly of a nurse.)

...

The Guide froze. He vacillated. He hesitated.

He's wish he hadn't.

Because The Creature stretched. It breathed. It twisted and reached and - with uncanny strength, seized him about the wrist with a crushing grip. The Guide yelped and leapt away, but instead of dislodging The Creature dug its fingers into his arm until it's softened nails cracked and raised from their beds. The singular pale eye burned with a fevered light. The teeth clenched in an unpleasant grimace. The Guide thrashed and hollered as the grip tightened and he felt his bones being compressed. He could feel his breath ripping in his lungs. He felt his heart pounding in his throat. All semblance of professionalism flew out the window as The Guide shrieked and began striking at The Creature with his fist. Had his knife-hand not been immobilized, he most certainly would have used the blade.

"Ahhh! Shit- what are you doing! Let me Go! Let me-"

*Snap*

"Ahhhh! Please! let me go! Why a-"

*Snap-snap*

"Ahhhh!"

He was weeping now, the pain driving him halfway wild as the bones and his wrist were snapped and crushed against one another. The Creature was strong. It was so strong, it felt entirely unmovable! His blows seemed entirely inconsequential. The violence he levied against it seemed merely nominal. The Guide's hands were trembling and he continued to thrash about, clinging to his shattered wrist and sobbing like a child. The air was suffocating; thick, like cotton in his lungs. It filled his chest with adrenaline and panic. It was fight or flight, and he could manage neither. In a final bid for freedom, fixed his eyes towards the door and lunged.

...

*thud*

But his efforts were for naught.

The grip was immovable. It would not dislodge.

His shoes slipped against the wooden floor; the whiplash sent him crashing face-first to the ground.

*Crunch*

His vision went blank.

His skull rang with the impact.

He tasted blood as it flushed down his nasal passages and onto the floor.

And another 'thud' as something rolled off the table and collapsed down onto his back. He felt the points of ribs poking against his spine. He heard the squelch of inners sliding against one another. A set of fingers wrapped around his throat and a monotonous voice gasped from behind his ear, strained and breathy and speaking to him as if its source was flush against his eardrums. There was a certain madness in it when it said his name... a blood-red madness that seeped from its every pore.

"Guide... why did you come back?"

He choked out a response, sobbing and begging and apologizing as his windpipe was slowly crushed in that weighty grip.

"I-I'm S-sorry! P-please- gack."

...

A long moment of silence. (His vision was tunneling.)

Then a sigh. A mirthless, incredulous chuckle. A mocking sob. A sneering croak. With every word The Creature spoke, blood dribbled from its marred face and soaked down into The Guide's collar. He could hear the click of its teeth between every syllable.

"You're sorry? Guide, you've crushed me then earnestly carved me open... Yet you dare beg for your life? You dare say you're Sorry?"

He couldn't even gag a response. He hadn't the breath to explain the medical procedure, nor the composure to relay his good intentions. For the grip around his throat was crushing, causing him to scrabble weakly at the ground and fight to maintain his consciousness. His vision was ebbing between fog and numbing darkness which encroached upon his mind and threatened to consume it. His limbs were all shaking. His lungs were aching and straining. From the corner of his eye, he saw the two pink-haired women staring sorrowfully at him through the windowpanes.

The Creature's voice became a guttural hiss. The Guide could only understand with great difficulty.

"You're not sorry. You never are. Did you expect I'd die at your hand a second time? Did you image I'd forgotten what you've done to me?"

He was fading. He was gaping and thrashing and fading to black. Hell, he... he was dying. He was dying, and he didn't even know why!

"I fought with all my might. I did what I was told. I was loyal follower. I was a faithful dog. Yet once again-..."

He couldn't see anymore. His vision had gone black. His hearing likewise faded into the cloying darkness until he could no longer hear his own shrieking. The Guide failed to catch The Creature's remaining words, not that he necessarily cared anymore. He was dying. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. His limbs were going slack and cold. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Sadness and rage at the great injustice being done to him. Had his intentions not been pure? Yet his good was being repaid in evil.

All I wanted was to help... I only wanted to help... Why is this happening? What did I do-

His stomach flipped as he was lurched upright, dragged by his throat until he knelt half-dead in The Creature's grip. Now came the wave of nausea - the convulsive churning of his stomach, contracting in such an erratic rhythm he wanted nothing more than to vomit. There... there was a burning in his back. A... a pain that broke through the cold numbness. Something... a fist? Was pressing into his spine. It pressed and it pressed and pain bloomed from those knuckles - pain that only abated with the quickly fading flush of adrenaline. The Guide felt it! He felt it in the worst way possible! His innards were being torn. His stomach acid was leaking free! An torrent of it, of vile liquid escaping and dribbling down on to the floor.

"Guide..."

Lips against his shoulder, they mouthed something - but The Guide was too busy screaming to hear it. He was dying! He was dying! And he cursed The Creature with his final thoughts. He knew not what he said. Knew not what he wailed and sobbed. But it must have done something - because in a single harrowing instant, he heard himself being torn asunder.

The Creature's fist traversed his form, ripping through his very core and emerging, bloodied, beneath his ribcage.

And as he toppled into the black void, The Creature spoke over him, its single pale eye as dead and as cold as ice.

"... you'll never deceive me again."

They felt sick as they watched him.

Watched him fall and fall and fall until he plunged into the pool of utter depravity.

For had he not once been an innocent child? Naïve to the complexities of the world? Had he not once spent his days wondering at the flowers of the field and the garden of grass and the great blue sky which stretched across the firmament? He didn't talk to them very much, but neither did he harbor malice towards them. They were simply guests in the home he was so proud of. Of the buildings he slaved over for hours on end, of his little herb garden he often fretted over and cast downcast looks when he'd discovered they'd eaten from it. He was dense as a rock, yes. A stupid man who clung to The Guide and looked to him for his every need. A man who wielded enormous strength an ability, yet hadn't two brain cells to rub together...

Yet such a thing was not evil.

A bit unfortunate, perhaps, but not evil.

...

But now he was evil.

Now he had fallen, dragged into the depths by chains of his own grief.

He was drowning in the dregs of the deep pit of hate, and would drag anyone he encountered to drown there with him.

So the two of them had screamed and pounded on the windows. They begged and pleaded, the threatened and blustered... but it was to no avail. The Guide, the third Guide simply would not heed their call.

So now he was dead.

Laying there on the floor, his guts leaking out the hole in his back. His slack face was twisted in terror. His eyes were bulging and bloodshot. His limbs were rigid and gnarled like the roots of a tree. His tongue... it'd been torn out and tossed aside - a scrap of bloody meat staining the silken carpet.

And his murderer - the very same Monster Knight they had known for so very long - was on the ground beside him, clinging desperately to his corpse and sobbing gently into the crook of his neck.

...

Depravity.

A Tragedy. It was a powerful thing. Loss was a consuming void, and The Monster Knight had been eaten whole. That full grown infant had too-soon been thrown into tragedy, and with none to help him, he had drowned. For who dared approach such a dangerous man with anything but a sword? Who dared offer comfort to the one who so sorely needed it, but would rebuff a helping hand with a fist through the gut?

...

What vile creature.

Vile, yet The Party Girl didn't hate him.

She didn't hate him because many years ago she too had been where he now lay, clinging, sobbing into the cold bodies of her parents. Parents she had slain by her own hand at the king's behest. Parents she had cut from this world to display her allegiance. And oh... oh how she hated herself in that moment. She had slain them in a fit of rage, but how she missed them afterwards. The pain was so deep she still remembered it. The pain was so deep, all she longed for was a sleep like death.

And perhaps she was being presumptuous in thinking it... but perhaps he wanted that too.

...

...

So for his own sake, and for the sake of all others... and most certainly for her own - she would take him to languish in Draedon's cells.

Where he could would be made to sleep amongst the frothing chemicals and the numbing flesh circuits.

MK: *hugging G3's dead body and crying* omg who could have done this to you?!

PG & Stylist: ...

So MK killed the WoF which drops the Blessing of the Third Sage. It pretty much in-game causes the character to respawn with 50% Hp (I think) so I just had the effect on MK to be that he heals faster after dying. When he first got killed by faze, it took him a week to get better. Now, he is still pretty fked up, but is strong enough to kill Guide - which isn't crazy strength anyways - but yeah. heal faster.

Special thanks to McMake.

Co-writer was here. Dont tell Nano.