The old bastard wouldn't stop moving. Annoying!
First, he tried to remove the hand covering his mouth. Then, seeing it was useless, he started flailing his whole body wildly while screaming as loudly as possible.
"HMM!!!!"
"..."
"HMm— mmHHH!"
Thomas slammed the geezer's head against the wall!
Thud!
Keeping his mouth shut was a real pain.
Revealing his identity was without a doubt a strategic mistake for Thomas, but... it was so tempting, so fun. He'd given in to temptation — now he was paying the price.
'Pff!'
No matter how dramatic the scene — Thomas was having fun.Why make things more complicated?Was it because his situation had already reached such a level of absurdity that even more chaos didn't really change anything?Or just arrogance?
"HMm! UUUHMPFUF!!!"
But whatever — here, Thomas had won. Not spectacularly. But it was his victory. He could be proud of it. Because he'd earned it.
'Will this bastard stop moving?! Fuck!'
"Yé thubi yo balta yomi," said a calm voice behind him.
Turning his head, Thomas saw the cell guard. Just behind him.
Ba-thum! Ba-thum!
"He says that guy's usually calm… Beat him a little, he'll shut up," Floyd explained.
Thomas nodded.
"Tell him: Yé bito apo ty—a. Then do what you have to do with the old man. That should settle it."
"..."
Taking a breath, Thomas grabbed his weapon before speaking.
"Yé bito apo ty—a."
The guard nodded and returned to his post.
'Fuck yes! That's the power of language!'
Having Floyd made things a lot easier.
But he quickly got serious again… His mental state was highly unstable. Borderline insanity. What he was about to do — it wasn't something he wanted to do.
The pleasure he'd felt vanished as quickly as it had come.
'My revenge… Is it disproportionate?'
"..."
He sighed and shook his head.
'No choice, I'm already here anyway…'
He let go of the old man's head. Before the man could react, Thomas gripped his shikomizue tightly and struck with all his might. Once in the stomach, once on each hand.
"Ku—uff! Kuuff!!"
This wasn't fun… Thomas might have enjoyed it earlier… But he wasn't a monster. He didn't forgive the old man. But… he understood his situation…
For Thomas, the best defense against despair was humor. This old man, surely, laughed because others were worse off. One created. The other laughed — two defenses against the same horror.
Thomas had his reasons. Justifying doesn't mean — moral. And he knew it.
That's why, if he was going to be a monster — might as well go all the way. That's what Thomas thought in that moment.
So he kept hitting him. His mouth was bloody.
That wrinkled bastard must not speak.
With tears in his eyes, Thomas continued after swallowing hard.
The man's skin cracked, leaving a pool of blood.
He had to own up to the mistake of revealing his identity. Now, to keep him from talking — he had to traumatize him. He wouldn't dare raise his voice — ever again.
'Should I stop?'
"..."
He kept spitting blood.
'No, I have to look like a lunatic without limits to him.'
Now he wasn't even hitting. He used his shikomizue to press into painful spots. Just to hear him scream.
Thomas forced a smile. Then tried to laugh, to spice up his act.
"Blub! bah!...bah!"
"Ka–Ka! hehehehe!"
But only a twisted, hollow laugh came out.
His breathing was ragged. Faster. Even more. It got shorter and shorter.
"Heh! keh! ah! ah! aaah!"
"..."
'Why am I here?'
"..."
'Fuck! Shit! This is insane!'
"..."
'W–what the hell am I doing?!'
"..."
'What is this place, fuck.'
"..."
'I'm insane! Really!'
"..."
'They're all crazy — a nest of lunatics!'
"..."
'And I'm one of them, fuck!'
"..."
"FUCK!"
The old man wasn't moving. In fact, he'd been dead for a while. Thomas just wasn't really looking. He imagined him moving, trembling, spitting blood, even screaming. In truth, he had died on the second round of blows… Thomas had misjudged his own strength — lost in his thoughts.
Two deaths. For him, his birth had been about a week ago — or so it felt.He had killed two people in one week. And he was about to sacrifice even more.
He didn't want to.
But he had to.
He was going to do it out of pragmatism. Simply because it was his only way out.
A hand landed on his shoulder, waking him from his daze.
Isn't it quiet?
He turned his body.
The guard shook his head and closed his eyes. Not a single word.
Even in the other cells, it was quiet.
Thomas swallowed.
His eyes scanned the scene.
Emotions are poison.
So he would wear this mask until he left this place.
Cold, distant, cruel — valuing efficiency over morality.
Everyone looked at him in a silence that spoke a thousand words. But Thomas didn't hear them.
What was the point?
Surviving in a nest of lunatics? Easy — just play the maddest one.
Now, the game is over.
'The child won't cause trouble, right? She's gonna die no matter what I do anyway.'
Without even looking at the cell guard, he walked toward the little girl.
'I can't save her.'
With a cold, emotionless voice:
"I choose you as Ilgraa's chosen for the sacrifice."
'I can't save anyone. Not even myself.'
'Why isn't she reacting? React!'
He looked at the trembling child.
'She was technically older than him… Strange… I was born with a fully developed brain.'
'My language — where did it come from? Who am I?'
'Was I someone before?'
'I can't save her. But I can look away.'
He swallowed before going to stand in front of a young man.
'I've once again failed to erase my emotions…'
'Why?!'
From his recent victory, to the acceptance of his mistake, to the brutalization of the old man, to his decision to abandon emotion — all of it was disillusionment.
Yeah, it's fucking pathetic.
He unchained the guy. If he'd been clean and healthy, maybe he could've been handsome. But he was just ugly. Nothing particularly endearing. That's what Thomas was looking for. Someone basic, nothing special — since he couldn't let go of his own dignity. He had to pick someone ordinary.
He shackled him. Without a word. Didn't even look him in the eyes. He was ashamed. He was the authority, yet he felt like a detainee. A captive of himself.
He had been playing tough just minutes ago and yet — here he was.
The cell guard was cleaning up his mess.
He sighed before leaving the cell with the guy. The hallways were the same, but everything looked sharper — more vivid. Higher contrast, more saturation.
"Floyd."
'No answer…'
"Yes?"
'Ah, I thought too fast.'
"We're heading to the washing area. Do you know where it is?"
"Hm… I think so."
Thomas followed Floyd silently. No more talking. He didn't feel like it. Nobody did. Even the prisoner following him hadn't commented on the strange language he'd used earlier.
To him, Thomas was a threat. He had to stay quiet, or risk the same fate as the old man. To him, Thomas was a terrifying monster.
Eventually, they found the place quickly. The guy went to wash up, and Thomas returned to the cave.
The cave, dimly lit by blue crystals, calmed him slightly. He even took a short pause, watching the water drip.
"Thomas, take one of the crystals."
"What for?"
"It's charged with Ætherin. We can force your first Æthcore awakening with just one."
"I see…"
He picked one up. It wasn't easy.
Ah~ everything's boring.
Getting ready to cross the bridge again, he looked at the spirits floating above the chasm.
"Let's finish this farce."
They walked.