Blood began to spurt in uncomfortable amounts from the wound in his shoulder where Tanizaki had stabbed him, causing Chuuya to tense, before finally dropping to his knees. His right hand lifted to clench down tightly over the wound.

His ribs, in turn, sent sharp pains of protest through his abdomen; an unfortunate result in his sudden change of position.

Why couldn't anything ever be easy?

"Stay the hell away from me," Chuuya demanded through gritted blood-speckled teeth. Meanwhile, his eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to figure out where the next attack wouldbe coming from.

It was only the faint creaking of a floorboard and the subtle shift in the air to his right that alerted him of the next attack.

Removing his bloodied hand from his ruined shoulder, Chuuya grabbed the invisible fist aimed for his head just before it made contact.

He squeezed.

Bones crunched and splintered into bits in his hand, as the scream of the perpetrator reverberated through the room. However, with the shock coursing through their body, it didn't take long until they'd crumpled to the ground themselves; unconscious and utterly silent.

He fucking hated this.

Chuuya's vision swam before his eyes, as blood continued to pour from the wound in his shoulder. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold on much longer like this. Especially with more people, whom he had yet to neutralize.

If only these assholes weren't Dazai's friends or forcibly brainwashed or whatever the fuck else was going on. It really would have made his life so much easier if this situation were only more black and white.

But it wasn't and he wasn't about to kill Dazai's friends, so he forced himselfto carefully tune into his surroundings. He had to make sure that he did this right without any killing or getting himself even more injured than he already was.

So he waited for the subtlest shift in the air, the faintest sound of footsteps on the old floorboards, or whatever the fuck else he managed to catch.

Anything that could give him a focused location.

And then, there it was.

Creak.

It'd come from the floorboard just five paces in front of him.

It took less than a second for Chuuya to raise his arm and send the assailant careening into the far wall before they subsequently fell into unconsciousness.

With the copious amounts of blood loss Chuuya was currently experiencing, the action had taken a lot of focus to execute properly and make sure the person only fell into unconsciousness rather than death.

It's why he didn't realize the knife until it was already partially plunged into his back.

Letting out a gasp of pain to try and bury the scream that longed to erupt from his chest, he forced the weight of gravity to stop both the knife and its user from continuing the action, before flinging both of them backward.

As the knife was pulled from his flesh, the scream that he'd been previously trying to hide finally left him in an anguished cry, as blood began to cascade from the wound, just like the one on his shoulder.

And fuck. Why the hell had he taken that out? He shouldn't have done that. He knew better than that.

With that thought, Chuuya crumpled to the floor, his whole body screaming in pain.

After having thrown the final perpetrator, Tanizaki, against the far wall, reality had finally returned to its original state.

Surrounding him, he could see the bodies of all of Dazai's friends whose minds had been twisted by Dostoevsky, the bastard who sat there watching everything with a look on his face akin to amusement.

Chuuya longed to reach out and crush Dostoevsky with his ability. However, with how unstable everything was at the moment with The Book, Dostoevsky'sowndangerous ability, and Dazai missing, he was worried about what such an action could lead to.

There werejusttoo many unknown variablestosimplytake Dostoevsky out like that. Besides, he still wasn't totally sure how Dostoevsky's ability worked anyway. So even if he did reach out to Dostoevsky with his power would that be equivalent to direct touch since the force came from him? Would it still end up resulting in his death?

He didn't know.

He was entirely out of his depth.

So instead, he'djusthave to stall until he figured things out or Dazai returned with a plan.

Thinking of Dazai…

"What the fuck did you do with Dazai?"

At that, Dostoevsky just laughed, before finally rising to his feet and making his way over the gravity manipulator.

"Chuuya,Ididn't do anything to Dazai. He just decided to leave you like everyone always does. It hurts, doesn't it? Always coming in second? I saw him running off with Kunikida earlier actually, while you were fighting for your life. So, I suppose he just decided to get out of here while he still has the chance and leave with the man who replaced you."

"You're lying," Chuuya protested, but to his chagrin, he finally noticed for the first time that among all of Dazai's friends, Kunikida was indeed missing.

"He's done it before," Dostoevsky pointed out.

In a show of defiance, Chuuya tried to force himself back to his feet before crumpling over in pain again with a grimace.

"Fuck you! I know you're lying, you asshole because he wouldn't do that to me again. Not now. Not like this. Notagain."

"So defiant," Dostoevsky tilted his head in consideration from where he now stood towering over Chuuya, "but it's all so obviously a façade. Youjustdon't want to let people see how scared of everything you are. So you bury that fear with anger, bravado, anddefiance.You're so terrified of being seen as weak that even now with your broken ribs, numerous stab wounds, and everything else, you're still fighting back. It's honestlykind ofsad if I'm beingcompletely honest. You don't think you deserve to be weak or scared orsad,because why should you be allowed to feel those emotions with all that you've done to others? So, of course, you hide it. You hide it and bury those emotions until all anyone else can see is some unfeeling monster, who's hellbent on revenge, because that's what youhave tobe. A monstersculpted by the cruel hands of society. A monsterwho needs totear apart those who have wronged you. A monster who needs totear apart the world. A monsterwho needs totear aparteverything."

"Oh fuck you, asshole, and your pompous fuck-ass speeches! I mean, it sounds more like you're talking about yourself than me anyway. Therapy's an option, y'know? Rather than mass murder and mind control?"

Dostoevsky merely shrugged, "what does it truly matter? Soon this will all be over and the world will know true peace. Not whatever this is. I mean, think about the state of the world, Chuuya, and ask yourself why you're fightingme? I'm trying to turn humanity into a beautiful thing. I mean, as people we were given the human trait of empathy. Scientifically, we know that we, as humans, are all capable of using it or at least pretending to. Yet, instead, we all just fight and we kill and we destroy."

Fyodor's eyes bore down into his own.

"We condemn people born with abilities they never chose to have, because the presence of the unknown is seen as a threat to bevanquishedand eradicated rather than accepted and nourished. We deny the poor the food and water that they need to survive because they don't have enough of the human construct that is currency, even though we as a society have proven that there's enough food and water for all of us to live contented lives. We bomb innocent children in the Middle East and justify it through the dehumanization of saying that they would've just been future terrorists anyway. We know that climate change is scientifically proven to be getting worse and worse, but of course that's the common person's fault for using a plastic straw, not the billionaires who are responsible for over half of the damage with their private jets and endless fossil fuel usage. We make the young and innocent fight the ruling class's stupid blood-filled wars, bringing them back forever changed and scarred by what they see, rather than negotiating and working things out peacefully. We look at two people in a same-sex relationship who love each other and decide they must be punished for something that would otherwise be seen as sweet and pure, had they only been a man and a woman. We see a person born in the wrong body find themself as the person they were always meant to be, whether they be a man, woman, nonbinary, or anything else, and tell them that they're an abomination for the crime of being true to themselves. We force people's quality of life to revolve around how muchspecial paperthey can collect. We let the world burn and ultimately, do nothing to stop it."

"Humanity is an abomination," Fyodor continued, "and I plan to fix it. I will rid the worldof allof its cruelty and give us a paradise where we will all stand on equal footing; accepted and free. Of course, to be on equal ground, I will, unfortunately, have to get rid of abilities due to the presence of power it can give one over another, but it is a minuscule price to pay for paradise. I will construct a world where everyone, no matter their circumstances,gets the opportunity tolive a fulfilling life. It'll be a world so far from what we currently experience in this late-stage fascist capitalistic hellscape that is suffocating our world of today. I am trying to save the world, Chuuya. I am trying to save it from the devilish state of humanity. I will give us a world built upon goodness and truth. I will give us a world built upon peace and integrity. I'm trying to save the world from itself, Chuuya. Why can't you and Dazai see that?"

"Motherfucker,of course,I agree with all that shit and think that humanity's a steaming pile of shit. I'm sure Dazai does too, but it doesn't mean youget toplay God. That kind of power is dangerous, especially in the wrong hands. One wrong sentence or phrase and perhaps you've condemned us all to an even worse hellscape than this one. I mean even if you do get the world you want, what would be the side effects of rewriting history? What you're thinking of doing is drastic. And sure, maybe everything turns out fine and perfect like you want it to, but what happens, if the world you think you're building ends up being even worse than the onethat youalready know?"

"Perhaps you're right," Dostoevsky mockingly pretended to ponder, "maybe mybrave new worldcould go wrong, but I can always tweak things until I get it right, and Iwillget it right."

"Okay, well, look asshole, I know the world is fucked up. Again, I agree with everything you said about that but forcing people into subjugation under your will and whatyou thinkis the right way to do things is hypocritical. You can still help people, but stripping free will from everyone and forcing them into things only capable of what your own will wants is tyranny. You'd be no better than one of those capitalist dictators in this world you claim to hate. And look, again, I do agree with you. I, again, do agree with all those things you said earlier being incredibly fucked up, but you can still help humanity without stripping away everyone's free will. You can help people, by bringing justice to those who make the world that way. You can get rid of those dictators and bitchass motherfuckers. You can do whatever you want with them. I don't care. But what you plan to do is collective punishment, in planning to take away everyone's free will. And look, you can't employ collective punishment just because certain individuals do incredibly fucked up things. That's just not right. It'd make you just as bad as the oppressor."

"I amnotthe oppressor here!" Dostoevsky yelled, finally losing his composure, "over and over again the world has takeneverythingfrom me! A good family, a good life,my brother,and now I am just trying to fix it all. I amtryingto save everyone so that no one willeverhave to experience that kind of pain again! It'snotcollective punishment. It's only what's necessary."

"Fine then," Chuuya snapped, "don't listen to me and become the thing you claimed to hate. AGodruling over everyone else. Forcing his will upon the world."

"You know… I was going to wait for Dazai to come backfirstbefore I killed you, but perhaps I should just do it now. I suppose itwon't be as satisfying as doing it in front of him, but it's no matter. I'll still have my revenge either way. Besides, I've had enough of your idiotic thoughts for a lifetime."

Instinctively, Chuuya began to scramble backward, a trail of blood following him, as he dragged his weakening body across the floor. One touch from Dostoevsky and it would all be over. It couldn't end like this. Not now. Fuck. Where in the hell was Dazai?

Dostoevsky, eyes cool and lit up with a predatory glint, took his time, as he slowly followed the gravity manipulator, allowing him the illusion of a potential getaway that deep down they both knew he would never truly be able to accomplish without help.

So, when that help finally did arrive, Chuuya had never felt more relieved in his entire life.

The sound of two sets of footsteps briskly entering the room had both Chuuya and Dostoevsky turning their heads to look at the commotion, as Kunikida and Dazai burst inside.

Upon entering, it didn't take long for Dazai's eyes to meet his own, before widening in horror at the state of his body.

Dostoevsky, upon the return of Dazai and Kunikida, did luckily halt his lethal ascent toward Chuuya, in favor of turning his attention to Dazai.

Still, that didn't mean Dostoevsky had forgotten him entirely. He still carried a purpose for that bastard, one Chuuya refused to give him for as long as he could.

"Ah Dazai," Dostoevsky smiled, "you're just in time."