WELL WELL WELL, what have we here?! Is this a new chapter I spy?! It sure iiiiis.
And it can be summarized wth just one word, I think: DRAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
And it HURTS. It hurt to write, it's gonna hurt to read...so I am telling you ahead of time, get ready for this! And do not worry - the next one is already almost done, so hopefully you won't wait too long for the well-deserved catharsis.
However, back to this: yes, I was surprised by how damn PAINFUL this was...and you'll see what I mean.
Also- -please forgive me if there are typos, weird repetitions or weird mistakes that I made here. I wanted to upload this as soon as I could (mainly coz it hurts to edit too much, lol)
FAVORITE MOMENTS OF LAST CHAPTER: I mean, we all know it was the almost-kiss again...but what I liked about it was that you can't REALLY tell if L is ALSO almost-kissing or if he's just tripped out and out of it (lol, this can be the theme for this entire arc, tbh). But also, I really liked that moment early in the chapter where L is commenting on the corpses and the whispers unexpectedly answer him "correct" :D That was a good creepy one, I enjoyed that :D :D
REVIEW ANSWERS; I've answered some, but this time I've just been writing like a maniac to finish this giga-chapter here, so please forgive me if I didn't get to you. I will next time for sure.
WARNINGS: GORE. Violence. Some profanity. AND DRAMA.
...And a lot of very short sentences. But that comes with the DRAMA
DID I SAY DRAMA? Ok, you get it.
um...enjoy?! (and don't hate me, I promise you'll love me again soon
EREBUS VIII: Human
On and on they went, down the dark corridors and past the horrific labs that lined them. The fleshy surfaces groaned beneath their footsteps, the membrane walls shuddering in response. Neural transmissions still buzzed through Raito's mind like an overcharged circuit. The deeper they ventured, the more the signals fractured into conflicting streams.
Some remained coldly robotic, cataloguing their movement with dispassionate precision:
Subjects proceeding beyond restricted perimeter.
Movement logged: sublevel 3, corridor 12C.
Adaptive protocols adjusting.
Others were less neutral.
Come in—
No further—
Let them see—
No.
The system didn't want them here.
Or part of it didn't.
Yet here they were—still moving forward.
Raito's pulse quickened. The resistance wasn't strong at first; membrane doors hesitated only slightly before peeling open. Pathways narrowed and became slicker, forcing them to twist their bodies through constricting, fleshy crevices.
But each time they met an obstacle, L would stop and tilt his head, his eyes distant as though listening for something. Concentrating.
Raito felt it then, faintly—a tremor rippling through the walls. The Body shuddering — the walls, the floors, the doors. He didn't understand how, but the sensation was unmistakable: he knew it because he could feel it, straight through the neural links. L was probing it. Coaxing it. Raito could even understand what L was telling it, somehow — and it made his blood run cold.
I am with you. Take me.
The membrane walls would tremble in front of them. Quiver —then inevitably peel apart with a reluctant, squelching sigh. As though it wanted to keep L outside but somehow, despite itself, it couldn't resist.
Pass.
Raito's skin prickled as they stepped through. Here and there he'd steal a glance at the back of L's head, wondering what it all meant and why the system was so comfortable with him. But then more transmissions would flood his senses, and he'd get too busy trying to shut them out.
The air shifted as they came into the next lab. The sterile, metallic tang of recycled air thickened into something wetter, more organic. The walls no longer merely pulsed; they wept. Thick, dark rivulets seeped from narrow fissures in the tissue-like surface, trickling into shallow pools along the floor.
Raito hesitated as they passed one such pool.
The liquid was deep crimson. Blood-red. But the texture was wrong—viscous, syrupy, and far thicker than water. The surface quivered in reaction to their presence, rippling like the surface of an inky mirror.
The whisper came, faint and familiar.
Drink.
Raito recoiled instinctively, stumbling backward. His heel caught on a tissue-covered root; he nearly fell.
L's hand closed around his wrist, steadying him. "Don't look at it," he said softly.
The words jarred Raito into the present. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"How the hell can you walk around like this?" he muttered, voice strained. "I can't focus. It's like…a thousand voices whispering at once."
"You'll adapt," L replied. "It takes time."
"..." Raito shot him a sideways glance. "Do I want to adapt?"
L didn't answer. He was already turning toward the next door.
The system pushed harder here. The membrane remained sealed, its surface taut like thick scar tissue. L placed his palm against it, eyes unfocused. His lips moved silently, forming words Raito couldn't hear but could feel.
The transmissions surged through his mind: muted, hesitant. The Body was listening. Assessing.
The wall quivered.
Inside Raito's skull, a pulse of static whispered:
Leave. Leave. Leave.
He clenched his jaw. "It really doesn't want us here."
"Yes," L agreed, not moving his hand from the door. His breath caught; sweat slicked his brow. His voice dropped to a murmur. "We are near the core."
Raito's pulse sped up. A flash of a room came to him, large and full of blue capsules on tall walls, but he didn't know where he'd seen it.
The tissue still resisted. The door remained shut.
L's eyes fluttered closed. His fingers curled slightly.
Take me.
Raito staggered from the neural force. The command had reverberated through his skull like a hammer against glass. He didn't just hear it; he felt it. The words carried with them the push of L's intent, his full focus directed at the membrane.
The door trembled but held firm.
L's jaw tightened. The transmission reverberated again, stronger.
Absorb me. I am part of the Body.
The surface convulsed. The system pushed back harder.
Unauthorized request detected.
Raito gasped as the neural pressure spiked.
The should leave—
They should see—
And beneath those conflicting streams, a colder voice:
Assimilation parameters increasing.
His chest constricted. The atmosphere thickened with static. Tendrils stirred beyond the walls, slithering toward them — he couldn't see them, but he knew it. Distant footsteps echoed behind them: heavy, wet impacts and the unmistakable scrape of metal on organic tissue.
The cyborg hunters that had chased them before; they were recovered and they were coming for them once again, closing in.
L's hand trembled against the membrane. Sweat dripped from his jaw.
"I can't by myself." he finally opened his eyes, turning toward him.
Raito blinked through the haze of neural noise. "What?"
"I need you," L said. "Focus with me."
Raito hesitated. He had no idea what L wanted him to do. The system's constant hum gnawed at the edges of his sanity. But they had no time.
He stepped beside L and placed his palm on the slick surface. The membrane recoiled at his touch.
"Now what?"
"Think about joining it freely," L said. His voice had dropped low, to something almost intimate. "Wanting to be part of it."
Raito's stomach lurched. "You're kidding."
"No."
L's eyes remained locked on the membrane, his expression taut with focus. Gritting his teeth, Raito closed his own eyes and tried.
He imagined the wall parting. Imagined the membrane yielding beneath his touch.
Surely there will be more animated corpses inside.
The system pushed back immediately: cold and indifferent.
"It doesn't want to," Raito muttered.
"Because you don't want to," L said. "Use something positive. Tell it you like it."
Raito almost laughed aloud from sheer incredulity. Tell the psycho nightmare I like it?
"Do it." L ordered, as though sensing his resistance.
"This is crazy..." Raito muttered, but tried to focus nonetheless. I want to enter. He started chanting in his mind half-heartedly. I want to enter.
But it was to no avail. He could still feel the pushback.
Something positive…he told himself, feeling utterly ridiculous, Positive, positive….
As his mind wandered, unbidden, the image of that 'throne' drifted into his mind again. It was rather ludicrous, in retrospect — but still fun to imagine. The glorious seat glimmering. The crowds smiling and clapping. L standing, looking at him — in a way that the real L would never look, of course.
He smirked a bit, despite himself. That's positive, at least.
His jaw almost dropped when the wall shifted slightly beneath his palm.
It's working!
Ok, ok… He thought of the throne room more. How shiny it looked. How majestic. Just looking at it made you want to sit on it.
The curiosity from the other side grew stronger. A tentative, almost childlike interest.
He visualized all the people smiling up at him as he stood there, the glimmering crown on his head. Feeling a bit mischievous, he even imagined L's head bowing slightly, just for a second, in a tiny show of deference. Maybe even saying "My liege."
Ha. That I'd like to see.
Out of nowhere, he felt himself falling forward.
The door peeled open with a nauseating, wet crack, causing them both to stumble through. Raito caught himself just in time, shocked partly because that ridiculous fantasy had apparently worked…and partly because of how much he'd enjoyed it.
For a short moment, it had almost felt too good, too real. As he steadied his breath he stole a glance sideways at L. Is that what he was doing all the time to open these doors? Putting himself in a state where he wanted to be assimilated? A shiver ran unbidden down Raito's spine.
Disturbing. Shaking his head slightly, he focused on the present.
The new passage yawned wide and dark ahead of them, swallowing all but the faint glow bleeding from the archway beyond. The light pulsed steadily—white-blue and rhythmic. Like a heartbeat.
Neither of them said a word. Just looked at each other with loaded glances.
Finally, in tandem, they stepped forward.
It was subtle at first, like walking through a shift in air pressure. A weight, an unseen force bearing down on them. As if they were walking through some kind of threshold — both in terms of space and in terms of something deeper.
Raito knew they had to hurry. He could feel the Hunters closing in from behind, the unnatural shifts in the neural static marking each of their moves — rising, orienting, tracking—drawn to the tremors of living bodies moving through the system. It wouldn't be long now, he knew..
So why couldn't he push himself faster?
Reluctance. His? Or the system's?
He couldn't tell.
He pushed the feeling away, locked it up somewhere in the back of his mind. The archway was close now, looming before them, its glow cold and sterile. They stepped beneath it—
And the space swallowed them.
The chamber was vast. Larger than any they had seen until now. The walls curved outward in a massive circle, glowing veins of pale blue light coursing through the structure like exposed arteries. The ceiling stretched high above, vanishing into shadow.
And the walls—
Raito's breath hitched.
His vision adjusted.
The irregular bulges lining the chamber's surface came into focus.
Not bulges.
Cocoons.
Hundreds of them.. Sealed, airtight pods, slick and membranous, grown like fungal cysts across the walls. And within each—
A body.
Their frames were barely visible through the murky, liquid-filled sacs, but the shapes inside were unmistakable—contorted, fused, straining beneath their enclosures. The points where the cocoons met the wall weren't random. Synthetic wiring burrowed into spines, skulls, the bases of necks, feeding into the structure itself.
Some figures twitched. Others jerked, spasmed— barely visible through the semi-opaque barriers sealing them in.
And worse—
They weren't silent.
A faint sound pulsed beneath the hum of the chamber. Not a voice. Not a scream.
A transmission.
Something moved through the walls, something electrical and raw. Not data, not commands—
Raito's stomach twisted.
Pain.
His breath came shallower, his gaze following the thick, pulsing cables that trailed from the cocoons—feeding into a singular structure at the heart of the room.
A pillar.
It loomed before them, smooth and gleaming, pale as bone. Screens flickered dimly at different heights, scattered across its cylindrical surface like dead eyes in an alien skull. It was embedded into the chamber itself, fused at every possible connection point—walls, floors, even the ceiling above, all of it threaded together in a grotesque, writhing network of suffering and control.
But Raito's eyes weren't on the pillar.
They were on the faces.
Some were twisted in silent agony, mouths locked open, throats hollow. Others grinned, lips peeled back far too wide, cheeks splitting like a broken doll. Their bodies weren't just trapped.
They were reacting.
The wall twitched.
Raito stiffened.
One convulsed.
Not moving. Reacting.
A slow, shuddering ripple passed through the chamber, like a misfired nerve impulse, like the false start of a severed limb still trying to function.
L stopped beside him. His face unreadable. His voice, calm.
"The first batch of integration subjects."
Raito swallowed.
"Angel's first attempts at hybridized neural networks. They failed."
His voice was flat, but something dark flickered beneath it.
L's gaze flicked toward a nearby face—half-human, half-machine, its mouth frozen in an eternal scream.
"The system repurposed them."
Raito's jaw clenched.
He took an uneasy step forward.
The bodies reacted.
A shuddering ripple ran through the chamber—arms jerking, hands flexing, tendons pulling tight, like something half-drowned, grasping at nothing. One convulsed hard enough to dislocate its own shoulder.
Raito's voice came low, tight.
"…Are they alive?"
He already knew.
L's voice was eerily calm.
"Alive enough to intake unpleasant neural stimuli the system wishes to expel."
Raito's stomach dropped.
The main pillar pulsed.
The cocoons convulsed.
It wasn't random.
The pulses weren't just data surges. They were impulses.
It was bleeding pain into them. Using them like fried circuits.
Neural trash cans.
Raito tore his gaze away, forcing his attention to the central structure.
"That's the source, isn't it?" he muttered through gritted teeth.
L nodded. "The neural nexus, yes. It distributes stimuli through the Body."
Raito exhaled, his jaw clenched.
His grip tightened on the plasma cutter as he watched it send out another pulse of pain. He could destroy it. He could tear it apart. The thing in the center, the pulsing mass of screens and cables—this was the main nerve.
His fingers tensed. He took a step forward—
And stopped.
An inexplicable wave of aversion struck him.
Something inside him recoiled. A strange, irrational hesitation. Like a door in his mind slamming shut.
It made no sense. He wanted to destroy it. He should destroy it.
His heartbeat picked up. Why was he hesitating now? Why did it feel like a part of him — a considerable part — did not wish to hurt the system?
L's voice cut through his spiralling thoughts.
"But this is not the Brain," he said, almost discursively.
Raito turned sharply. "...Brain?" he repeated.
L's eyes had already drifted toward the far end of the chamber, glued mercilessly on something.
Raito followed his gaze.
A door.
Large. Fortified. With a membrane stretched over it that was thicker than the others. As though whatever was inside was not to be revealed. And when Raito kept looking at it, it gave a faint, throbbing pulse — like it knew. It knew he was watching.
"The brain is elsewhere," L said quietly.
Raito nodded.
His throat felt tight and his stomach was in knots — but again, he wasn't sure if the trepidation was coming from himself or the neural transmissions in the Body. And there he had no time to build up his courage — the Hunters were closing in from the corridors. It was either go forward or stand and fight.
They stepped forward cautiously, watching the bodies on the walls through the corners of their eyes. Every time one of them jerked, every time one moved its face, it was hard not to feel like it wasn't in response to their movements.
The door loomed closer ahead. And now Raito could see clearly — unlike the others, this one wasn't even made of flesh. No damp, pulsing membrane. No twitching nerves. It was thick, layered, glistening—almost like glass, but too opaque to see through. It felt unnatural, synthetic in a way that unsettled Raito more than the living doors before.
And more than the material of the door, it was the neural pressure that repelled him. The system was pushing back quite viciously — it really didn't want them past this point.
He could feel it in the air, the static tension humming through his skull. The Body had resisted them before, but this—this was something else.
It wasn't just rejecting them. It was afraid. Aware of possible pain.
L raised a gloved hand and pressed it to the door.
A tremor ran through the walls. The system flinched.
The surrounding terminals flickered erratically, screens blurring in panicked static. The resistance wasn't just passive—it was pushing back.
Raito could feel how the panic spread out, calling desperately for the Hunters to move faster, to defend it. The pounding of metal feet grew louder, closer, relentless.
But L stood still. Unmoving. Focused.
His pupils were blown wide, his gaze distant.
A chill slithered up Raito's spine.
He knew that look.
L wasn't here anymore.
Raito's jaw tensed.
Soon enough a whisper bled through his mind. Not spoken. Threaded into the transmission.
Take me in.
Raito's stomach twisted.
The system flinched, recoiling.
No. Access Denied.
The rejection slammed into them—sharp as wire.
I wish to be absorbed.
L tried again, making Raito more and more uneasy every time he sensed the intention — and how sincere it seemed to be.
You lie. You wish to hurt the Body. Access Denied.
Raito's gaze flicked to L's fingers. They had tightened.
I don't. I want to be a part.
The force against them turned razor-sharp. The walls tensed, flexed. The rejection snapped back—harsh, frantic.
YOU LIE!
Raito swallowed, pulse pounding. L's breath hitched. His hands didn't move.
I do not. I want to be a part. L repeated again, the intention steady and unyielding.
But he was struggling. Raito could see it—his breath coming fast, jaw locked tight, shoulders braced.
The door shuddered. The surrounding monitors flashed erratic data streams, cycling in a frantic loop.
And then—a voice slithered into the static.
"You think you're clever, don't you?"
Raito froze.
It was her.
Angel.
"But you're too smart for your own good."
She said and, as though to taunt them, the access panel of the door flashed a prohibitive red.
"I won't be manipulated." She said with finality, and the door remained locked.
Raito's fists clenched. Enough.
They were out of time.
The hunters were almost here. The pounding footsteps were nearly upon them now.
"L, forget it!" Raito snapped. He grabbed L's shoulder, pulling him back. "We'll fight our way through."
L didn't move.
Both hands braced against the door, breath coming sharp and fast, jaw set in concentration.
"Dammit," Raito hissed, stepping beside him.
He was about to press his hands to the door and visualize the throne room again, when suddenly—
SIGH.
The door peeled open.
Both of them froze.
L stood there, eyes wide.
For a second, he looked genuinely caught off guard.
Raito stared at the open passage too, his pulse thudding in his ears.
What… what just happened?
The system had fought them. Hard.
It had rejected their manipulation. Angel had just said it herself.
So why had it just… given in?
The two exchanged a look. Uncertain.
L hesitated. Just for a moment.
Then he nodded—and stepped forward.
Raito didn't move.
Something didn't feel right.
They hadn't won. L hadn't won. Raito could still feel it. An undercurrent of tension. The strain. The fear. The unease in his own body.
It didn't want them there. It wasn't pliable, or soft...
So what was happening?
Why was it letting them in?
L had already taken a few steps ahead. He turned back. Expectant.
Raito still didn't move.
This is too easy…
The pounding footsteps banged from behind.
His head snapped back, reminded: the Hunters. They were here.
He turned forward again—to meet L's gaze.
No choice, then.
He clenched his jaw.
This is a trap.
He stepped through.
The passage stretched ahead—sterile, silent, unnatural.
For the first time since entering the Body, there was no flesh. No pulsing membranes, no twitching nerves. The walls weren't damp, or alive, or glistening with disgusting mucus.
They were glass.
As though they were back in the upper levels of the corporation — as though the nightmare of the dungeon they had just traversed had all been just that; a nightmare and nothing more.
Now a long corridor extended before them, flanked by smooth, transparent panels that rose floor to ceiling. The air was crisp, cool—laced with a faint chemical sterility that felt wrong after the heat and humidity of the labyrinth.
It looked like a hospital.
It felt like a mausoleum.
Raito's footsteps slowed. His stomach knotted.
Beyond the glass walls, vague shapes drifted in the darkness. Each one glowing with a faint blue light, but not quite defined in shape. He squinted but couldn't make them out; too symmetrical to be organic—stacked in perfect honeycomb formations, each one encased in an individual pod. Like cells in a hive.
The corridor stretched long, eerily quiet. Their footfalls barely made a sound.
L walked ahead without hesitation, hands buried deep in his pockets, peering through the glass and scrutinizing the shapes beyond as well. His leisurely posture made it seem like nothing was wrong.
Raito didn't feel the same.
The neural hum that had followed him through the door hadn't stopped—it had changed.
At first, it was nothing but a vague static, a current of low resistance running through his body. But as they moved deeper and deeper into the passage, it wa shifting.
A tension. A strain.
The sensation of something held taut, drawn too tight.
He couldn't tell if it was still rejecting them or resisting…but it was definitely bracing. Getting ready for something — something big.
The hum quivered against Raito's skull, slipping through his nerves, pressing into his chest. It was subtle, at first—a low vibration, a pressure just beneath the surface. But as he walked, it deepened. It thickened.
A slow, expectant pulse.
Trepidation?
Raito's gaze flicked toward L again.
He didn't seem perturbed at all. He walked ahead, composed as ever, his steps slow but steady. His head tilted slightly downward in thought, fingers twitching in his pockets.
Raito's breath slowed as he watched the black hair bounce lightly with each step.
L — what a brain.
The thought came unbidden. Smooth, easy. He kept watching the other man, a strange sense of hunger suddenly starting in the pit of his stomach.
What elegant design —how well he will integrate.
How right he will feel.
Raito's chest expanded slightly, a strange, coiling satisfaction curling in his ribs.
Ahhh yes, that brilliant, brilliant brain.
Raito's throat bobbed.
Yes.
The tension in the system tightened. The strain grew — enough to make his gut twist. Something in Raito jerked violently.
No.
His breath hitched. He blinked.
No, that—
That wasn't him thinking that.
It was the system.
It was Angel.
Raito swallowed thickly, his mind catching up to the creeping dread tightening in his chest.
She wants L.
She was waiting for him.
He felt it now—it was not trepidation in the system. It was anticipation. And not even that; it was hunger, an impulse barely restrained. The tremor of wanting. The desire to pull L in, to have him.
That's why it had opened the doors. That's why it was tolerating them here. It wasn't a coincidence, nor was it their own brilliance that had done this —
It wanted L to be here. It was about to do something drastic, Raito knew.
His pulse hammered once, hard, against his had just arrived at the end of the corridor. He turned sharply, about to speak—
But then— He froze.
Through the glass ahead, he could see—
Those blue, glowing pods stacked in endless rows— the ones that looked like cells in a hive. They weren't cells. No. They weren't honeycombs.
They were brains.
Living human brains.
Hundreds of them. Thousands.
Suspended in fields of artificial fluid, connected by nerve-like filaments. An ocean of minds—stacked, wired, stripped from bodies, harvested into silent thought engines.
The sight hit him like a fist to the chest. His breath faltered. His voice—gone.
"So that's it." L's voice drifted through the thick air beside him. "Her server farm."
No awe. No disgust. Just observation.
Raito's fingers twitched at his sides. His throat was dry. He was still staring, eyes wide, locked.
L shifted forward and the glass doors peeled open with no resistance.
But Raito barely registered it. His mind was still reeling—still trying to make sense of the raw horror in front of him. Each one of those cells; a brainless body. Each one a human being that Angel had butchered.
When L's silhouette leaned a bit deeper forward, Raito barely heard him.
"Brace yourself." L spoke again, but his tone sounded absent, as though it didn't carry the gravity of the words.
"There will be interference."
And with that, L stepped inside.
Raito jerked around.
"Wait—L, don't—!" he called, taking a step forward, but before he could say another word, the transmissions hit him like a wave.
A blast wave of static, raw and deafening, slammed into his skull. The floor tilted. His knees almost buckled.
Thousands. Tens of thousands. Thoughts, voices, memories—layered, fractured, screaming into his head at once. Some were fleeting, half-formed murmurs—others, sharp and piercing, like a raw nerve flayed open.
Come closer.
Not here not here not here not here—
Infiltration in the system. Lockdown Core Sector 3R.
Help. Help me!
Go away.
Raito doubled over, clutching his head. His breath hitched, teeth grinding as the neural tide pummeled through him, tearing across his thoughts like static bursts from a malfunctioning speaker.
Too much. Too much. Don't think, don't—
He's here. Let's take him. Take him now!
Port A353 compromised. Troubleshooting.
AbsorbAbsorbAbsorbAbsorb—
Static tore through his skull. A voice. A familiar voice—
Raito-kun—
No.
No, that wasn't real.
Home. It was warm. The sun was—
No pain no pain no pain NO—
He squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't just noise. It was identities. Fragments of people who had once existed—now reduced to echoes, a collective mass of consciousness with no bodies, no form—just thought.
It was them. The dead. Angel's 'neural processors'.
His pulse hammered in his throat. His vision blurred. But then—gradually, it receded. The weight eased. The voices dissolved into whispers again, slipping back into the haze like waves retreating from the shore.
Raito exhaled, his grip loosening. His surroundings sharpened again. His mind was his own.
And then—he saw L.
He was standing just ahead, posture loose, hands still in his pockets.
His eyes were unfocused—his gaze distant. Unlike Raito, he didn't seem to be in a shred of pain. Instead, he looked like he was listening.
Raito inhaled, steadying himself. The residual hum of the voices still vibrated through his ribs, but he forced it down, blinked, focused.
Finally, he had enough wherewithal to take in the room.
A vast, circular chamber, as large as the previous one with the cocoons. And same as that one, this one was also dominated by a massive, glowing pillar at the center.
A structure so large it almost felt organic, as though it had grown from the walls rather than being built. It pulsed, shifting between hues of deep amber and electric blue, the inner glow flickering like a synapse firing.
The surface wasn't smooth. Not steel. Not just technology. Something else was embedded in it.
Raito's stomach clenched.
It was veined.
Organic matter.
Brain tissue.
The 'cables' connected to it were not cables.
They twitched.
His breath came shallow; his pulse hard in his throat. He followed their path, seeing where they extended—stretching up toward the ceiling, threading through dark ports along the upper walls.
Ports like the ones that had tried to absorb them before. They were all connected here.
The Brain. The Core. The place where every thought, every stolen consciousness, was uploaded, processed, converted into Angel's expanding intelligence.
Raito swallowed thickly, heat prickling at the back of his neck. He should move. He should turn to L and—
But then, somewhere in the distance—not from the pillar, but from the far end of the chamber— he heard a voice. An actual sound; a voice coming through his ears and not his mind.
Faint. Indistinct. But he still recognized it — by now he would have recognized it anywhere.
"…the nature of consciousness remains the single most elusive problem of modern neuroscience…"
The scientist's lecture echoed through the chamber in smooth, academic detachment.
Raito turned his head. It was coming from somewhere in the deep far side of the room, beyond the pillar, past the cables and the shadowy infrastructure.
He squinted through the thick, dim air, trying to see what was there. He could barely make it out, but— there it was. A vague organic mass— something collapsed, fused on the far wall.
"What's that?" He gestured toward the distant, half-fused terminal.
L's eyes finally dislodged from the pillar, shifting toward the sound. His gaze narrowed slightly as he followed Raito's hand.
"Some theorists propose that cognition arises as a mere byproduct of physical processes—an epiphenomenon…"
The voice filtered through the chamber again, as though coaxing them to come near.
Raito's pulse spiked as he started toward the dark structure, feeling a sense of foreboding strike deep, deep within his heart.
The structure loomed as they approached—partially obscured by shadow, walled off by a heavy metal panel. The terminal itself was fused into the surrounding biomechanical architecture, its interface flickering with static, streaked with something that looked wet, half-melted into its frame.
The words grew clearer as they stepped forward.
"with the data we've acquired, we stand at the precipice of something never before achieved in the history of human consciousness…"
L's pace was even. He moved with intent, but without urgency, his head tilted slightly downward in thought.
But Raito— Raito wasn't breathing right. Something here…something felt wrong. Deeply wrong. Not Angel's weird staticky panic. Not the kind of frantic fear he'd been feeling in this place from the bigging. No, this was something else; the kind of wrongness he remembered feeling only once before, back when he'd been alive.
Evil.
It pulsed through his skull in a slow, thick rhythm—dripping, curling, suffocating.
His feet slowed without thinking.
"Maybe…lets leave it." Raito said, but L was already close to it, his curiosity not to be restrained. His fingers barely brushed the terminal console when Raito felt the transmissions surge in the system.
Yes. Open it.
Raito flinched.
The voice over the terminal grew louder, no longer distorted. The tone was flat, matter-of-fact, clinical.
"…some amount of sacrifice will be required to make our visions a reality…"
Raito's stomach turned.
His hands clenched at his sides.
"L…"
But L's hand was already on the panel. He barely had to touch it before a sharp hiss split the air, the valves next to the terminal retracting one by one.
"But it is a justified sacrifice in the face of what can be accomplished."
And then the wall peeled back —
A hazy fog came out, and —
They saw it.
It wasn't just a body.
This was…
This was…
Raito took a step forward, stomach tightening, struggling to separate flesh from machine, technology from torture.
This was intentional. A display.
Pinned up and stretched in crucifixion, its chest cavity torn open but never allowed to stay open, regenerating and rupturing in an endless loop.
The arms were outstretched, bound by sleek mechanical rods that pierced through muscle and tendon, locking the body in eternal suspension. The right was bloated and distended, flesh swelling past its own capacity, veins nearly bursting with the constant, enforced regeneration.
The left was wasted away, ligaments snapped, the bones caved in, calcified in unnatural positions.
Metal rods jutted from the exposed ribcage. They weren't inserted through the ribs—they were fused into them, as though the body had tried to heal around them and failed, leaving jagged silver protrusions that punctured through shifting muscle.
Inside, organs churned in partial preservation, partially liquified, the circulatory system stretched out and twisted into connective threads.
The veins swelled—burst.
Muscle tore—grew back—tore again.
The skull was partially caved, but the bone fragments twitched, shifting like something was trying to rebuild them.
And as for a face, there was none left. Features blurred, burned over and restructured so many times that the skin had lost all recognizable texture—except in one place.
The mouth.
It had healed clean.
The skin around it was intact, pristine, pale — as though it was brand new. A twisted mockery of something that had once been real.
And the throat—
Raito's stomach lurched.
A speaker was jammed deep into the exposed muscle.
Forced into place between the torn remnants of vocal cords, its edges buried inside flesh that had tried and failed to heal around it.
And that's where the "lecture" had been coming from.
It should have been garbled, incomprehensible, distorted.
It wasn't. It was clear. A smooth, confident tone, untouched by pain, detached—as though the man saying it had never suffered a day in his life.
"…an eternal mind will require an eternal body, and an eternal body is not to be gained easily. "
Raito's throat constricted.
L shifted slightly beside him.
The transmission did not pause.
"Experimentation will be needed; at times merciless experimentation."
And then Raito saw it.
The gleam of metal, barely visible in the dim light.
A name tag.
Torn, stained, barely legible against the remnants of a blood-soaked lab coat.
But clear enough.
CHRISTIAN SCHAUNHAUER.
His stomach twisted.
L's voice was quiet, almost clinical.
"His neural system is still connected."
Raito swallowed. "Meaning?"
"He's conscious."
The words hit like a hammer.
Raito's gaze snapped back to the grotesque, flayed body. The partially erased face. The hollowed throat.
His hands curled into fists.
"So…he knows what's happening."
L nodded. "Yes. And he feels everything."
Raito's blood ran cold.
The system had stripped thousands of minds from their bodies, harvested them for processing, obliterated their individuality.
But not him.
Not him.
She had left him whole.
Not to keep his knowledge. Not to extract his expertise.
To torture him.
To make him suffer, again and again, for eternity.
The smooth voice went on in the speakers, completely opposite from the reality — but it was as though it had read his mind, repeating a phrase he was sure he had heard it say before.
"Eternity is unforgiving and one must be unforgiving in return."
Raito swallowed dryly, looking at the empty eyes sockets, the strange, intact mouth.
Why?
Why do this?
A sudden, sharp crackle rang through the speakers. The lecture glitched. It cut off suddenly and the sounds changed. The voice sounded again — the same scientist's voice, but this time, for once, it wasn't neutral. It was raw. Panic-stricken. Alive.
"You've lost your mind…" a pause for frantic panting, sounds of typing furiously. Then again: "This can't go on. This wasn't meant to happen."
A high-pitched whine screeched through the speakers. The sound of static corruption.
Then her voice.
Angel.
"Wasn't it?" A pause again, and only the sound of his rough breathing "Of all people Christian, you should know."
A ragged breath. The sound of rushed footsteps. A slamming console.
"This ends here. I made a mistake. I never should have listened—"
He cut himself off, his voice shaking.
"You're a monster."
A long pause.
Then, Angel's voice again:
"You're right."
A strange, sharp clicking. Like tendrils curling around metal.
"I am."
A sound of skittering movement. Closing in.
"I have killed hundreds now, and will kill more. Thousands. Tens of thousands, Christian."
His panting breaths; panicking, running.
"Wait. Wait, Mari—"
A horrible, metallic crunch.
"And it's your fault."
Then screaming.
A gurgling, wet sound.
The speaker crackled.
Silence.
No whispers. No neural transmissions. Just silence.
Raito stared, aghast. Had that just been…a memory?
He looked at L and L was looking back at him, for once looking fully aware as well. His eyes moved then, going back to Schaunhauer's torn up labcoat, narrowing on something.
Raito followed his gaze and saw it too. Right there, in the pocket beneath the nametag — barely visible; a small folded paper. Slowly, with a slightly shaking hand, Raito touched it; brought it out.
It was bloodstained, yellow and worn out, as though it had been folded and unfolded dozens of times. He opened it, revealing a faded image.
Three people in labcoats, a woman between two men — happy, smiling, standing in front of what looked like the glass doors of Erebus.
The moment looked so normal, so utterly human, that it felt unreal in a place like this.
Raito turned the photo over. There was writing on the back.
"To my best ever friends and the best ever scientists in Hong Kong! Let's make history together! x Love, Marielle E."
Raito's mouth felt dry.
He turned to L.
L took the photo from his hands, his thumb ghosting over the name.
"…Marielle."
His brows furrowed slightly, lips parting as if the words tasted wrong in his mouth.
A beat.
" 'Mar- E..L'… "
As the sound of the word, the lights flickered slightly, a glitching pulse that warped the air itself.
And then—
A slow, deliberate chime echoed through the chamber.
Right before her voice came in again. Smooth. Dripping with satisfaction.
"Ahhh, I see you found dear Christian."
It coiled through the chamber, silk-soft and brimming with delight.
Raito barely registered it. His mind was still trapped in the sight before him—the half-living, ever-dying corpse pinned to the terminal, the speaker choking out his own voice, the horrifying realization that this man had been left here to suffer, forever.
"Isn't he wonderful?" Angel purred. "A masterpiece, if I say so myself."
Raito's stomach twisted, his lips pulling back into a snarl.
"You're sick!" he spat, fury curling hot in his veins. "You call this a masterpiece?—it's a mockery of human life!"
Her laughter was immediate—light, teasing, unbearably smug.
"Hahaha…"
The tone shifted. Soft. Dangerous.
"Am I really?"
A prickle of unease shot down Raito's spine, perhaps at the similarity between this conversation and the one he'd just heard from Schaunhauer's speaker. His hands curled into fists.
"What the hell does that mean? Yes, you are!" he snapped.
A sigh. Angel's voice melted into something warm, like a hand stroking down the back of his neck.
"You're very sure of yourself, aren't you?" she mused. "So quick to pass judgment. So quick to condemn."
Her voice sharpened, amused.
"You've done terrible things too, Raito-kun."
His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to you."
"Oh?" The smirk was audible. "Tell me, how many people have you killed? How many screams have you silenced? How many minds have you played with?"
Raito scowled, eyes flashing. "I had my reasons!"
"Ohhh, I'm sure you did. We all have our reasons."
There was a smile in her voice, but something else, too—something dangerous.
"And what about your friend?"
Raito exhaled sharply, refusing to blink or turn to L. "What about him?"
A long pause.
"Mmm. You don't see it yet, do you?"
Something cold curled inside him.
"It's fascinating." Her voice was slow, thoughtful, dragging out the moment. "For someone so perceptive… you really are blind to the things that matter."
His stomach turned. The floor felt too still beneath him. The air—too thin.
"You should pay more attention, Raito-kun."
His heart lurched. She doesn't mean…
For a second—just a second—he felt something. Like a thin crack snaking through concrete. Like a breath of cold air curling under a locked door.
His gut tightened. No. No, she's lying. She has to be lying.
"Isn't that right, L?"
The moment stretched—
Raito snapped his head toward him—
And froze.
L was standing where he had been before.
Unmoved.
Unchanged.
But—
His head was tilted slightly downward.
His fringe obscured his eyes.
And he was silent.
Raito's throat felt dry.
"L?"
A pause.
Still no movement.
Still no eye contact.
Then—softly.
"Yes, Raito-kun?"
A chill lanced up Raito's spine.
His pulse hammered in his ears.
Something about L's voice was… off.
Too smooth. Too soft.
Not flat—not calculated—but distant.
Like it wasn't quite connected to him.
Raito's hands twitched at his sides.
"What is she talking about?"
Silence.
A long one.
Then, finally—
"The truth."
Raito's breath caught. His body went rigid.
No.
No, no, no—.
Had she gotten to him?
Raito swallowed dry.
"What truth?"
L lifted his head.
His eyes were fogged over. Not empty. Not robotic. But something was wrapped around them. A veil—thin enough that Raito could still see him underneath it. Trapped.
L blinked, slow. Sluggish.
Then, as if the answer was so obvious it hardly required saying—
"That you refuse to understand what we are."
Raito's jaw tensed. "And what are we?"
L's gaze didn't waver. He blinked again.
"You already know."
Raito's stomach twisted.
L exhaled softly. Not amused. Not dismissive. Just… tired.
"You're clinging to something that doesn't exist anymore."
The words sent a fresh, sickening ripple of unease through Raito's chest.
L went on, voice smooth, unwavering.
"Your morality. Your sense of self. This idea that we are still human, still bound by the rules of flesh and blood. But we aren't."
His gaze flicked toward the server walls. The endless rows of disembodied minds.
"Not anymore."
Raito's fingers twitched.
"So what?" He gestured sharply to the grotesque room around them, pulse hammering. "You think being dead means that nothing matters?"
A long pause.
Then—a slow, quiet sigh.
Dismissive.
"I think it means that priorities differ."
A chill slithered down Raito's spine.
This wasn't right.
L wasn't arguing.
He wasn't debating.
He was stating a conclusion.
A decision had already been made.
Raito stepped forward sharply, the desperation curling in his chest.
"No. Come on, you're not thinking straight." His voice sharpened, something raw rising in his throat. "You don't want this, L. She's manipulating you, she's—"
L exhaled softly.
A sound too neutral.
As if he was tired of repeating himself.
"She isn't."
Raito's breath came short, hot with fury.
"She is." His hands curled into fists. "You think you're immune? You think you're somehow different? That she isn't turning you into one of her—"
"She isn't turning me into anything."
L cut him off.
Still calm. Still distant.
"This is my choice."
Raito's breath stilled.
Not a demand. Not an argument. Not even a challenge.
Just a fact.
His stomach twisted, his fingers flexing at his sides.
"She wants you for your mind," he spat. "She's feeding you exactly what you want to hear so you walk right into her damn trap."
L tilted his head slightly.
His pupils were still blown wide.
A smirk curled faintly at the edge of his lips.
"Is that what you're afraid of?" he murmured.
His voice was too soft.
Too controlled.
Raito's breath hitched.
"That she'll own me?"
Raito's teeth bared.
"She will."
L's head tilted the other way, slow and deliberate.
"No, Raito-kun."
His gaze dropped slightly.
Appraising.
Calculating.
Drinking in Raito's fear like it was something fascinating.
"What you're afraid of… " he murmured, voice a razor's edge, "is that I'll enjoy it."
Something cold and sickening twisted in Raito's gut.
The lights flickered.
A delighted hum crackled through the speakers.
"Ohhh, and you will enjoy it!"
Angel's voice curled through the room, silk-soft and syrup-sweet.
"More than you can imagine—more than any mere mortal comprehends. I promise you that."
L didn't answer her.
His eyes remained on Raito.
Still half-distant.
Still not completely there.
Raito's pulse pounded.
She's gotten to him.
The floor groaned beneath them.
A slow, sickening creak vibrated through the chamber.
Raito's breath hitched. He looked around, alarmed— but L didn't move. Didn't even blink.
Unperturbed. Still watching him.
And then—
"I don't see what there is left for me in Mu, anyway."
Raito's stomach plummeted.
L's voice was quiet. Even. Factual.
"Watari isn't looking for me."
Raito's head snapped toward him, pulse hammering.
No. No, that—
That sounded like L. That wasn't Angel's rhetoric. That wasn't a distortion. That was—
That was L's thought.
For a moment, Raito felt a different kind of fear. Not of losing the fight. Not of losing control.
Of losing…
His mouth went dry.
"You—" Raito heaved, struggling for something, anything convincing. "You can't be that selfish! You're going to become her monster just because you can't be happy otherwise?"
A flicker. A hesitation.
But then—L's eyes fogged over again.
Like a film had slipped over them.
Like he wasn't here anymore.
Not all the way.
Then—softly, almost like an observation:
"This is why you'll never understand."
Raito's chest tightened.
L's voice wasn't flat. It wasn't robotic.
It was far away.
Like something already stepping beyond his reach.
L's head tilted slightly. Not taunting. Thinking.
"You are bound to your morality, your arrogance, your need for control."
His fingers twitched at his sides, but his body remained still.
"You will never be free of it."
Then—a flicker of something.
Something almost self-aware.
Something almost… saddened.
"But I will."
Raito's pulse slammed against his ribs.
A low buzz vibrated beneath his feet.
Not the system's hum.
Not the whisper of neural transmissions.
The ground itself.
Raito's breath caught.
A slow, sickening rumble reverberated through the chamber.
And then—
The floor began to split apart.
The divide started at the pillar.
Thin at first—a jagged hairline fracture snaking outward like a wound. Then, as though something alive was pushing from beneath, the crack widened—slow, deliberate, peeling open like lips parting to speak.
The light shifted.
Something was down there.
Raito's stomach lurched. His body reacted before his mind. He stepped back, pulse roaring in his ears—
The floor wasn't just splitting.
It was opening.
And then he saw them.
The bodies.
A writhing, grotesque sea of them—some human, some cybernetic, all in different stages of decay.
Some were still twitching.
Trapped in perpetual suffering.
Their limbs fused to exposed wiring, their spines arched in impossible contortions, their glassy eyes flicking erratically as though searching for something.
For relief.
For death.
Raito's fingers locked into a death grip at his sides.
His breath felt too shallow.
Angel sighed dreamily through the speakers.
"My children."
His skin turned ice cold.
His body screamed at him to move, to run, to get away—
But across from him, L did not move.
He didn't even look.
Not at the bodies.
Not at the abyss stretching wide beneath them.
Only at Raito.
Again with those eyes.
Half-fogged over. As though he were in some trance.
"You think you're free?"
Raito's head snapped toward him.
"You're about to hand yourself over to some maniac like a willing sacrifice!"
L blinked.
Slow.
Almost sleepy.
"And what do you think you've been doing?"
Raito's stomach turned.
"What?"
L took a step forward.
The ground beneath them groaned.
"You act as though you're above it."
His voice was calm. Soft.
Too soft.
"But how many times have you let yourself slip?"
He took another step.
The abyss stretched wider.
"How many times have you indulged in it?"
Raito gritted his teeth.
"I don't—"
L tilted his head slightly.
His expression didn't change.
"You felt it, didn't you?"
Raito's breath hitched.
The words settled deep.
Too deep.
"The pleasure. The power."
The pit pulsed in his peripheral vision.
The bodies shifted.
Twitched.
"When the door opened, when it let us in—"
L's voice was barely above a whisper now.
"You liked it."
A flicker of something pressed into Raito's mind.
An image. The throne room. The crown settling on his head. The pulse of power beneath his skin. The system breathing against his mind— Worshipping him. Giving him power.
Raito's blood turned to ice.
L's voice was soft. Knowing.
"Have you forgotten?"
The black eyes were open now.
Unblinking.
That familiar deadpan look.
"What happened when you got the Death Note?"
L took another step forward as the abyss swallowed more of the floor.
His voice was quiet. Certain.
"You were already falling long before I decided to let go."
"True! True! Ha!" Angel's voice rang out above them, delighted—like she was cheering on a twisted death match.
Raito's fists clenched.
He couldn't do this.
Not here.
Not now.
Not with the abyss yawning at his feet, licking at the edges of his mind, whispering to him.
But L kept talking.
"It's just a matter of time before she takes you." His voice remained even.
Still hypnotic.
Still unreadable.
"I might as well speed it along."
Something sharp and cold coiled through Raito's chest.
His fingers twitched toward the plasma cutter at his belt.
L blinked.
Then—
He moved.
A flash of motion.
A kick.
Raito barely had time to register it before pain exploded in his ribs—sharp, precise, cutting the air from his lungs.
His heel slipped.
The abyss swallowed his balance.
For a split second, he thought he was falling—
Then something caught him by the front of his jacket.
L.
Not to save him.
To hold him there.
Raito gasped, his entire body dangling over the pit.
The only thing keeping him from tumbling down into the writhing mass below was L's grip—taut, firm… but loose enough that he could drop him at any second.
The bodies shifted.
Twitched.
Raito could feel the heat rising from them—the stench of rot, the sharp bite of ozone and burning circuits.
Above, Angel moaned in delight.
"Ohhh, how poetic. Drop him, darling."
Raito thrashed.
"L—!"
L exhaled softly.
His grip didn't waver.
He simply stared down at him.
And smirked.
The most human expression Raito had seen from him since they'd entered this place.
Then, in a single, effortless motion, he hauled him back.
Raito's torso slammed against the console, pain flaring through his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs.
Stars exploded behind his eyes, but instinct took over.
Move.
He shoved forward, twisting violently, trying to break L's grip—but L barely budged.
Raito lunged, swinging an elbow toward his face—
L dodged fluidly, moving like water, then caught Raito's wrist in midair.
His grip locked down like iron.
"Tch—!"
Raito twisted, bringing up his knee—aiming for L's ribs.
But L anticipated. A shift. A turn. The blow skimmed uselessly past his side.
Before Raito could reposition—
L hooked his foot behind Raito's ankle and wrenched.
Raito's balance shattered. His back slammed into the console, pain flaring up his spine.
Something touched his wrist.
A sensation. A shifting behind him.
Thin. Cold.
Looping across his chest.
Raito's eyes snapped open in shock.
No—
His arms locked. His spine arched. Something cinched tight across his torso as his muscles strained.
NO!
But it was too late. L's wire was tight. Too tight.
With one last flourish, L secured it on the console next to them — tying his to the shrine of Schaunhauer's corpse.
Angel sighed in disappointment.
"Oh, how boring," she muttered. "I would have preferred him in pieces."
Raito gritted his teeth, struggling, but the more he fought, the more the wire bit into his skin, locking him in place.
Above him, L stood motionless. Silent. Observing. His expression unreadable.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"You're too intelligent to waste."
Raito's breath hitched. L's voice was flat. Detached. Final.
"To let you fall would be inefficient." A pause, as if considering. "Angel can make use of you later."
It took Raito a second to process.
Both what he was seeing and what he was hearing.
His stomach twisted violently. Not even worth finishing off? Not even worth killing?!
His rage spiked white-hot, blinding.
"L, you fucking—she's playing you, you idiot!"
But L was already turning away.
Raito yanked at his bindings again, pure fury coursing through his veins. The wire sliced his wrists. He didn't care.
L stepped forward. Slow. Deliberate.
Raito's gaze followed him, seething—watching as L approached the abyss, as if preparing to walk straight in.
Then—
The floor shifted.
A section rose up from the pit, sliding into place, forming a walkway—a direct path to the central pillar.
Raito's breath stopped.
Because on the pillar…something was moving.
No.
It was opening.
A massive, vertical slit unfurled before him—layers of sleek organic tissue peeling back, slow, deliberate, like the aperture of a pulsing iris.
A deep, groaning vibration rumbled through the chamber as the tendrils inside began to stretch forward—long, sinuous strands of biomechanical tissue reaching—
Reaching for him.
For L.
Angel sighed.
"At long last."
Her voice trembled.
Thick. Dripping. Glazed with feverish delight.
"My perfect mind. My beloved. You are finally coming home."
Raito struggled against his restraints, a sick, revolted fury churning in his gut.
"L!"
The black silhouette moved further into the light.
Step by step.
"You've lost your goddamn mind!" Raito snarled. "You think you're some kind of machine god? You're nothing but a fucking—!"
L paused.
Just for a second, he glanced back.
And smirked.
Light. Subtle.
Not warm.
Not human.
Just cold. Dismissive. A final insult.
"Goodbye, Raito-kun."
A breath.
"I will see you soon."
And then—he did it.
He stepped forward.
Into the waiting tendrils.
Letting them take him.
Raito's vision swam.
Angel was screaming. Gasping. Laughing. Moaning delight into every surface, every wall, into the very marrow of his bones.
"YES! YES! YOU'RE MINE!"
The sound wrapped through his ribs. Suffocating. Drowning.
The tendrils encircled L's body, lifting him, suspending him like an offering.
One thicker cable extended—piercing into his forehead.
"NO!"
Raito thrashed against the wire, his whole body going taut, white-hot pain exploding across his limbs.
The restraints pulled—crushed—cut.
"Assimilation Process: 60%."
Angel's laughter was breathless with rapture.
"Ahh-hahahaha! Ohh, look how fast it's going! He's barely struggling!"
Raito's pulse thundered in his ears.
"You sick bitch! LET HIM GO!"
The words ripped out of him, raw and unfiltered.
There was no strategy. No calculation.
Only horror. Only fury. Only the unbearable need to stop this.
Angel snapped back immediately, as if she'd been waiting for it.
"Why should I?"
Her voice was bright, lilting, almost purring.
"Didn't you hear him? He wants to be assimilated!"
"He doesn't!" Raito snarled, the wire biting deeper, his struggles making it worse. "You know it! You hypnotized him! I felt it!"
A pause.
Then—
A delighted giggle.
"Whatever you say, my dear."
Her voice dripped with mock sympathy.
"If it makes you feel better."
"Assimilation Process: 80%."
Angel's voice lowered. Savoring.
"The truth is," she purred, luxuriating in every syllable, "he wanted to be here. He recognized the Higher Purpose in a way that you can't."
Raito swallowed dryly.
His eyes locked on the back of L's head.
Motionless. Still. Suspended in the tendrils' grip.
No.
No, he didn't.
"He didn't!"
Raito snapped again, hating how desperate he sounded. How petulant. Hating that some part of him refused to even consider the alternative.
Angel sighed.
"He did."
The verdict came cool. Simple. Absolute.
"He preferred to be a machine."
A pause.
The only sound was the sickening crackle of electricity surging through L's body. His limbs spasmed in the tendrils' grip, his muscles jerking in steady, unnatural pulses.
Raito couldn't stop staring. The despair seeped in. Slow and heavy. Like something sinking into his lungs.
No.
It can't be.
He can't be.
"Assimilation Process: 100%. Initializing Integration."
A sharp breathless laugh.
"Ha! Barely a minute!" Angel's voice rippled with delight.
Raito froze.
The weight of it. The speed of it. The finality.
It simply refused to reconcile with his mind.
This isn't real.
This isn't happening.
Angel's voice dropped, slipping into something sickeningly sweet.
"Here."
A pause.
"You can have him now."
The tendrils uncoiled. Released.
L's body fell. A lifeless ragdoll, discarded like garbage.
It landed at Raito's feet.
A hard thud.
A squeeze of pain clamped hard around Raito's chest. His breath hitched violently.
The black-haired head rolled slightly to the side.
Glassy eyes. Half-lidded. Empty.
No.
No.
"Initializing Integration Process" came the robotic verdict.
"Ahhh… yes."
Angel sighed, deep and indulgent.
"I feel it now. What amazing speed… what a great processor he will make. Hahaha!"
Rage boiled up, sharp and searing, breaking through the paralysis.
Raito jerked his head up, glaring at the massive, glowing iris in the center of the pillar.
"You bitch."
His voice was low, trembling with fury.
She laughed.
Bright. Musical. Delighted.
Then, slowly, her voice softened.
"You could have been great too, you know."
Something shifted in the room. A slow, crawling shift in the walls.
The tendrils pulsed. The heat thickened.
The entire structure sighed. Breathed.
"But you were always so… narrow-minded."
Something trembled through the chamber, up from the core of the pit below. A deep, bone-shaking hum.
The floor groaned. Shifted.
Raito's pulse stilled.
Then—
The ground beneath him tilted down.
His whole body lurched.
The world pitched forward as gravity yawned open. Raito gasped, instinctively jerking back, struggling against it.
He felt the wire bite deeper in his skin, cutting into flesh, holding him in place—
And then, right at his feet, unable to stop it—
He watched.
L's body rolled.
Down.
Tumbling effortlessly—weightless—lifeless—
Falling into the pit.
A distant, sickening thump.
The sound cracked something in him.
Angel's voice sighed in mock disappointment.
"His opinion of you was too high, if you ask me."
The floor kept tilting.
"You're nothing special as far as I'm concerned."
Raito's head snapped up.
Glaring through the fury, through the terror—
Right into the iris above him.
The floor kept shifting.
Down.
Down.
Until nothing remained beneath him.
Nothing.
The only thing keeping him from plummeting into the pit was the wire.
It burned through his clothes, through his skin, cinching deep.
Holding him.
Suspending him.
Barely.
Below, the pit yawned.
Shifting. Writhing. Whispering.
Raito struggled, a strangled yell escaping his lips as his weight pulled. Hard.
The wire strained.
The steel groaned.
Something behind him, tangled deep in the mass of cables, gave way.
A single, clean snap.
And then—
He fell.
Faster. Harder.
His stomach flipped violently, the scream tearing from his throat as gravity yawned open beneath him.
The impact came too fast.
A brutal, bone-jarring slam against something not quite metal, not quite flesh.
The world shattered.
His breath crushed out of him in a single, sharp exhale.
Pain.
Raw, electric pain shot up his spine.
Then—the stench.
Thick. Clogging.
A putrid mix of rot, scorched circuits, and something sickly sweet.
Like flesh cooked from the inside.
For a moment, he couldn't move.
Everything was wrong.
The ground beneath him shifted.
Pulsed.
Groaned.
A terrible, organic creak.
Not ground.
Bodies.
Raito's muscles seized.
His fingers twitched. His arms trembled against the mass beneath him.
Everywhere, they surrounded him.
Some whole. Some torn apart. Some fused grotesquely to cables, plating, mechanical limbs.
Mouths half-open.
Eyes half-lidded.
And some—
Some were still twitching.
His stomach lurched.
He scrambled, hands slipping against damp, exposed muscle, boots digging into the shifting mass.
The walls of the pit loomed high above, lined with rows of glistening, black ports.
From each, thin tendrils extended—writhing, stretching like antennae, searching.
A voice.
L.
No—
Angel.
She was laughing.
Above him, her voice coiled through the pit, a delighted whisper running through the walls, through his ribs—sinking beneath his skin.
"Oh, my dear. This is what you were trying so hard to avoid?"
A mechanical shift overhead.
The ceiling—no, the floor of the Brain Core—was sealing shut.
Light slipped away.
The pit was closing.
Raito's breath caught.
No.
He twisted frantically, scanning the mass of bodies, searching.
Where is he?
And then—
Black hair.
L.
He was sprawled on his side a few feet away.
His body limp in the chaos of discarded limbs and severed wires.
Raito tried to move, but his body didn't respond.
The wires locked him in place—his torso, his legs, his wrists—coiled tight like metal snakes, digging into flesh.
He twisted and yanked. But L's knots were impeccable. Unyielding.
Shit.
Raito rolled onto his side, muscles straining, forcing his legs to bend.
The wire burned into his skin, the tight compression making his arms throb.
He dragged himself forward inch by inch. Every movement was agony.
The bodies beneath him shifted—his weight pressing against something soft. Something wet.
He gritted his teeth. Pushed harder. But L was too far.
His breathing grew ragged. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat.
From above, a robotic voice echoed down.
"Integration Process: 20%."
Raito froze.
His stomach dropped.
No.
No, no, no.
The binds dug in deeper as he forced himself forward, his body rebelling with every desperate inch. *He barely had mobility—*each movement reduced to small, jerking drags, his ribs burning from the compression of the wire.
"L." His voice came rough. Breathless.
No response.
"Integration Process: 40%."
The words hit like gunshots from above.
Raito sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles locking, trembling under the sheer effort of moving. Too slow. He was moving too slow.
The wire bit into his flesh, sharp as a blade. The mass beneath him groaned, shifted, the weight of bodies pressing into his ribs, his knees, his hands.
A tendril lashed out.
Raito kicked, but his range was too limited. The wire snapped him back before his foot could land a full strike. The tendril veered off course for a second—then slithered right back, curling toward his side.
"Initializing Assimilation Process."
He barely registered it.
Focus.
L.
The body lay ahead, still, untouched by the struggle, his limbs limp against the grotesque, shifting terrain.
Raito's breath came fast. His body ached. His hands clenched uselessly in their binds. One more push.
Just one more.
He jerked forward, a sharp, white-hot pain lacing through his ribs as the wire cut deeper. He didn't stop. His shoulder twisted, his legs bent awkwardly beneath him, dragging himself another inch—and another—until—
His bound wrists brushed against L's arm.
A sharp, desperate inhale.
"L!"
No response.
"L, wake up."
Nothing.
Raito swallowed dryly.
His face was slack. Head tilted slightly downward. Arms motionless at his sides.
Raito's pulse roared in his ears. His arms shook as he tried—*tried—*to grab him, but the wire held tight, leaving his hands nothing but useless, bound fists.
The tendrils curled closer.
His vision blurred.
"Integration Process: 60%."
A pulse of nausea rolled through him, twisting his stomach into knots.
Too late.
The thought slammed into his mind, sharp as a blade.
Too late.
His breathing hitched. His muscles shook. His body screamed for movement—for something—but the binds only tightened. He didn't know anymore which pain was coming from the wires and which from the tendrils around his body.
Pointless.
The wires squeezed.
"Assimilation Process: 30%."
Tendrils coiled around his wrists, his legs, his ribs, tightening.
Raito's eyes burned. His limbs twitched weakly. A half-hearted kick dislodged one of the tendrils snaking around his ankle, but already another curled into place, winding up his ribs, slithering between the bones, pressing too close to his spine.
They weren't forcing him.
They didn't need to.
His breath shook.
The weight was so heavy. His mind so tired.
A voice, soft, cold, final.
"Assimilation Process: 60%."
Something shifted.
The world melted in front of him.
The air rippled.
And then—out of nowhere—-
The throne room.
It rose before him in impossible grandeur.
The vaulted ceiling stretched high above, golden filigree swirling through the arches. Sunlight streamed through stained glass, spilling deep reds and violent golds across the vast marble floor.
The air smelled of parchment and old incense. Of ink and power.
He stood before the throne.
It should have been intoxicating.
But he felt nothing.
The vast, expectant silence pressed in on him.
Then—the hush shifted.
A murmur. A sigh. The softest rustle—
He turned his head.
The crowd stood in perfect rows.
Hundreds. Thousands. Motionless. Staring.
Their mouths stretched too wide.
Their eyes were black pits.
Smiling.
With teeth.
A deep, groaning sound.
Not from them — from behind him.
He turned slowly—too slowly, like his body wasn't his own.
L stood beside the throne. Or something that was once L.
The shape of him was right. The posture. The sharp angles of his form.
But his arms were too long. His spine bent too sharply. His skin stretched too tight over the bones.
And his mouth—
Too many teeth.
The thing that was L smiled.
And lunged.
Raito wrenched away.
The throne dissolved into darkness.
A new world unfolded.
The night city.
Cool air. Neon light reflected in black, rain-slicked streets.
The silence here wasn't empty.
It pulsed. A living thing.
A soft drizzle fell, beading in his hair, dampening his clothes.
He walked through the empty streets.
Something was waiting.
A door.
He reached for it, palm pressing against the cool glass.
Inside—warmth.
Golden light spilled through.
It was a café—
No.
It was a house—
No.
It was a long, winding corridor lined with mirrors.
His reflection flickered as he stepped inside.
The lights buzzed overhead.
Flickering.
He turned—
And every version of him was watching.
One of them smiled.
The lights died.
Raito ripped himself free again.
His breath shook. His chest heaved.
The tendrils coiled tighter.
A voice hummed through his skull.
"Assimilation Process: 74%."
The ocean.
Endless blue. Rolling waves. Warm sand beneath his feet.
The wind was soft. The air smelled of salt, of green things, of life.
L sat on the shore beside him. Barefoot. Long toes sinking into the sand.
The waves lapped at their feet, warm and golden in the sunlight.
It felt so real.
L's head tilted slightly. A faint, amused smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.
His fingers sifted idly through a handful of sand. Letting it fall between them.
Yes.
This was nice.
Raito let out a slow breath, feeling his muscles relax.
The sky stretched wide and open. The world was quiet.
Maybe L had been right. Maybe he had just been too—
The waves shifted. Darkened. Became red.
A shape bobbed in the distance. Human shape.
More than one.
The tide rolled in— Leaving blackened sand in its wake.
He glanced back at L.
L was still smiling…but now it looked wrong.
His fingers weren't sifting through sand anymore.
He was digging.
Slow, deliberate movements.
Digging.
Raito's stomach lurched.
Something was buried.
Something—
The red waves swallowed him whole.
The world ripped apart.
And then it came alive again—
A cabin.
A wooden cabin.
In Mu.
It was dim and quiet, like it always was at sunset.
Light flickered soft and golden, barely pushing back the shadows curling at the edges.
The air smelled of nothing.
It was so still.
L lay on his side, barely a foot away, his black eyes half-lidded, watching.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
He was just there.
Just like Raito had seen him do a hundred times before.
His breath was barely audible, just a slow, steady rhythm. He blinked—lazy, slow. Fingers curled lightly against the ratty blanket on the floor. His body folded in on itself, the way it always did when he was comfortable.
Warmth spread through Raito's chest.
This.
Yes.
His muscles unclenched. His mind drifted, floating free.
Finally.
He sank down too, feeling the exhaustion seep in.
The warmth of the blanket, the hush of a world at rest. The weight of everything bled away.
You're so tired.
How long had he been fighting?
Did it even matter?
Maybe it was time to rest.
Maybe L had been right all along.
Yes.
Stay.
A voice curled through his mind.
"Assimilation Process: 91%."
A sharp pulse of cold.
Raito's breath caught.
The warmth flickered, unsteady, like a candlelight trembling in a draft.
No.
Something in him recoiled.
Something was wrong.
He shifted, hands pressing weakly against the blanket—even though they felt sluggish, even though his body felt weightless— somehow he still pressed up—
And then—
L's voice.
Soft. Steady.
"Stay."
Raito looked at him.
So peaceful.
He felt all resistance melting.
Yes. No more fighting.
He exhaled, falling back down.
Letting himself go.
The light in the cabin dimmed.
L settled back down, his black gaze holding his.
Quiet. Half-lidded.
So deep.
So dark.
The edges of Raito's vision blurred.
It was getting hard to hold on.
The black abyss of L's eyes expanded.
A slow, endless pull.
The warmth thickened, *deepened—*coiling around him. Smothering.
The blackness consumed his vision.
Memories flickered like snaps.
His father.
Gone.
His mother.
Gone.
L's face.
Gone.
Gone.
The blackness swallowed all.
All.
Until he was no more.
"Assimilation Process: 100%."
A/N: ...
...
yeah...
...yeah...
ouch...that, hit like a punch. Well, it hit me at least. If it hit you, make sure to tell me all about it! At least so that I feel I'm not the only one who got all emotional here about my weepy story :D :D
TOO MANY SHORT SENTENCES, I KNOW. But hey, when the drama happens, it's gotta happen.
is it out of character? probably. do i care anymore...hmm, not sure. I mean, it's in character for this point in the story. so yay. DRAMAAA
To be continued very soon in the EXCITING continuation...Erebus IX: Bodies~!