Zabulus was already convinced. Without question, he concluded it himself...
That these people cannot be taken seriously, not after the display of such debauchery. Did they not have dignity? What kind of Nobleman-like king leader person was this... to vomit in front of guests? So sloppy.
Tsk. Tsk, too much disappointment. Way too much... The more time passed, the more he was convinced that it was not worth it to climb up that wall in the first place.
It came to a point where he started missing Onofre's playfulness. Hell, even being in the presence of a hundred cultists would've been way better than this disappointment of a day... To have one's beliefs dashed, expectations abandoned, and disgust taken to a whole new level.
He almost snapped out of consciousness as the seconds passed. Almost.
"...Apologies... I... have aged somewhat and cannot properly welcome guests," Strophon said while trying to collect himself.
Before anyone could respond, he waved his hand, not the royal majestic type, but more in a carefree, unofficial tone, one could expect from an uncivilized king.
And a big wooden door then opened revealing some sort of a luxurious bar or restaurant...
Behind it, were two girls that looked more innocent than Phronta did—they were close to this type of innocence; as if seeing through one's intentions.
"Welcome, Sir Strophon, Kilgore and the others." Both girls greeted while they closed the door.
"Thank you very much." Kilgore expressed his gratitude, a warm and inviting smile, as they sat in the first class chairs.
"The hell is this? Why are we in some run-of-the-mill hooker joint...?" Zabulus muttered to himself, but still noticed the awkwardness that Kilgore had a hold of.
"Kid. I thought they told you already."
"The hell are you talking about?"
"Weren't you listening? Strophon is about to initiate you into the inner wall society, and that this is going to be a big part of it." Kilgore stated.
"Look. You guys are wasting my time. I wasn't even meant to be here, you know? That being said, I also don't care whether or not I get initiated into whatever sick cult you have going around here, so if that's all you have to tell me, take me back to the original place we were in, I need to go meet someone."
They all stared at him as if a mad man. If one were to hear that from him and not know who he was. Then he might as well have been insane, perhaps worse, since he didn't understand how grave his circumstances were.
To the extent that they would've killed him on the spot, had it not been for the fact that he was the first in over a year to join their ranks.
"S-s-sir! Please calm down... " Phronta became flustered, then continued to speak in an awestruck tone, "T-th-this has been your dream, right? Y-you can't just leave the society after e-eating the First of F-forty-Eight! It would be t-total betrayal!! A-and... The White Queen w-would be displeased... T-there will be no turning back! P-please reconsider and j-just go a-along with things f-for a while longer..."
"...Agh." Zabulus felt his mind almost torn. What was this girl's deal? All she did was stutter the whole way around him. From their brief interaction, she hadn't done anything other than stutter.
"We would advise you to reconsider your actions in your first encounter with our people, Azkite. Because what we desire most is equality. Some may hate us for this, and there are more complexities, but the point of this is; once you are accepted here, you will have no ties to the outside world any longer." The two girls said in sync.
"Aren't you a bit too early to speak that far ahead in the process? I never even agreed to do anything yet."
"Who or what you are is enough to be deemed worthy in this sacred place." They replied, "Maybe by entering this room, you would begin to see what it means to be freed."
In that instant, Zabulus clenched his fist as the sight of the view changed. The marble floor which was like a mist had washed away, a breeze began circling within, making everything so tense... Even though they did not have a chance to speak, the air was too depressurized that Zabulus felt as if someone's heartbeat was somehow stuck in his throat, and it was so uncomfortable he wanted to scratch out his esophagus and throw it away.
"Sir, do not resist or we will take no responsibility for you life."
"You're all getting ahead of yourselves, or you're truly getting desperate. I'm not a foreigner to these things, so don't try to indoctrinate me. I'm the last person you want to be doing this shit to, I will kill every single one of you if you don't stop." Zabulus warned. "But, give me one good reason why I should stay or listen."
"You will have everything you need after being accepted by the leader himself, sir. Please do not raise tensions unnecessarily."
"Ah. Is that so?" He paused, "Then maybe I can have a big ball of hair-covered skin hanging over the roof." In a bad fashion of joking, Strophon took it seriously and told them.
"Go on and get him a ball of hair-covered skin."
He regretted giving such an example. He did not think anybody could be this dim in the head, "Are you taking me for a joke? Hell, are you even of a sentient species? Do not mistake me as stupid, because in this dire situation, in which I will not stand down... That's when blood is allowed to flow.."
"Kid," Kilgore said, "Please watch your mouth and know who you are talking to. You may be the first Azkite here. And seeing your potential through whatever display you showed earlier; it'd be a great shame to lose you as an ally here. But trust me, you're lucky... It was only a little more ago that we had that one outbreak where the people of the innermost city walls killed at all."
"Then I fucking dare you to kill me. I'm done here." Turning around, and striding towards the door was the action which gave a sense of 'if I want to commit, I would have', because... Although he was conflicted from the beginning, due to the nature of the pie, he simply had to see how far it extends. However, if this is what he had to put up with... Then it was not worth it.
This was his judgement.
That was his decision.
And now the wait for death comes.
The wind changed in its pace, not going round and round, rather coming to a pause, as if something stuck was trying to force its way through a thin veil... It's as if a power of nature was defying his perception, who would even have considered that these people could have used this kind of control? Surely his intuition was wrong.
"Forgive us, Lord Strophon, we failed to enter the client's mindset correctly." The girls apologized and bowed, then without any notice; they morphed together into a single entity, combined into a different woman, whose body took a luster as if shining a bright gold.
"H-h-hey! Stop f-fighting... We've already made history!! R-really!!! Or..." Phronta seemed distraught at the scene in front. "U-um, S-Sister R-Reiah... Ple-please...."
"Fret not, dear. From all sides, this was his decision, no?" The girl before Zabulus said in a commanding voice.
Both Strophon and Kilgore seemed to have fled the scene. Sounds of someone retching in a distant room could be heard...
"Sir, I give you one more chance to participate, and if you refuse this time, we will not accept your life as something you are merely entitled to by birth," Reiah said as if telling the facts to him. "We all, including yourselves—whether that be today, yesterday, or in the future, share a similar origin of desire, please use these feelings before changing your mind; into your first action, so that when asked to go beyond oneself, the only answer is an eternal yes!"
Her hand waved, and in the wave, like that of a liquid forming out of the mists of the breeze-turned-water, came a visible wind, before Zabulus could react; he already felt that a sharp force punctured his heart. 'Ah... Damn it. She is another monster..' was what he thought. To his surprise, not a second passed before another wave was coming right at his skin, causing the his body to bounce like a rubber band. Like a spasm of death.
Before realizing it, he was in the air being held by his neck, floating slowly as his skin continued tearing with wounds in shockingly unnatural ways. He was under no pressure, no pain, just floating. This was like the ultimate control she had over the pressure of the molecules, and could probably be classified as 'all consuming.'
"A-aah! Please stop hurting our friend!"
Her eyes focused on her younger sister, Phronta. "This is not violence, dear." She responded in a hushed tone. "This is our ultimate kindness, yes?"
To this... Phronta looked back to where Kilgore and Strophon should have been; but they were nowhere to be seen now. Both of them? Nothing, if Zabulus were to describe it.
Her expression became solemn at once. And it showed as if her thoughts were all ruffled inside. To think that she couldn't even try and save somebody from his own death, the disappointment was enough to give a very displeased look.
For a while now... There was an air of uncertainty between Phronta and her sisters.
Perhaps it was because she was powerless, because she was shy, because she was the youngest, or because she was the weakest, or maybe for all four. But in her soul, it was difficult to embrace that she couldn't give a little push. A change that would mean a difference in life. And she was too helpless to even think of trying now...
Being treated as nothing more than a child, that was her day-to-day struggle. Even though that should've been a blessing- She only felt this way.
Slam.
Zabulus immediately impacted with the hard marble pavement, his head hit the ground first. As the time had passed faster than one could possibly conceive. Phronta could not believe what her older sister had done.
Conflicted perhaps because she knew that it was perhaps the right thing to do, but also the wrong thing to do. Because of his abrasive attitude, he was going to have a worse fate than death.
Phronta moved forward a few steps, she placed her arms outward and screamed, "STOOOOOPPP!!!! P-PLEEEEAAAAASSSEEE!!!"
Reiah's head turned like an owl, or perhaps a mother was towards her child, or a teacher towards a student. And she laughed, "Dear, never have such a sad and miserable expression and beg at us. Your cry-face could perhaps be called cute—but not now... " her voice was quiet. "Never ever show me something as disgusting as yourself begging for that dirt-thing down there, okay? Yes?" She ignored her sister's look of disgust directed towards her. "After all, he will be nothing, compared to us- right, my sister in unity!"
'Was it that fucking pie? Was it that god damn... Pie? What was even in that thing? Why is it making me so... damn weak?'
Zabulus' consciousness was fading, as if memories of other people were seeping into his mind, whether he realized it or not. Was this... the fate of being initiated into such a cult? Was he an idiot for even getting himself into this?
'Damn it. All of this madness, just because of a broken wall...'
...
"Oh... dear. I seem to have broken the Azkite somewhat." Reiah commented.
Despite her words, what he saw above were not angels, nor spirits, or stars or moons. He saw the face of death once again. Those endless pits of sorrow in her eyes, the blackness was no longer just void, there were faces within her eyes. A face of each and every soul that met its demise in those everlasting depths.
The last time he had met death, he was told by some apparition; that death didn't just strike, but also devoured him in the most unsightly way. So what more could he call these demonic faces he was seeing if not as the result of being at death's beckon...
This time, death did not say a word. It stared at him with eyes sharper than that of a hawk. It examined his every movement and smiled at his failure. Its expression shifted from one to the other, until settling on an indifferent one. Still, even with a smile, it never reached her eyes.
Soon enough, the pain ceased. His mind was blank and he was siphoned somewhere else.
...
"S-sister... Ah... W-why?..." Phronta tearfully asked.
"...."
"Sniff... Sob... You made a p-promise that we would change ourselves... hic" The girl had almost bit her lower lip off, and ended up spurting quite a bit of blood from it.
"...."
"What happened to changing a-a-all of the rules? T-to fighting for the greater good...? H-he only wanted to return home, Sister... why did you have to be so h-harsh and cruel to him...?" Phronta asked as her voice trembled, she held back her sobs from trying to escape her lips, as if stopping them from releasing themselves any further would cause her sister to hate her.
"..."
"F-Forgive me for crying... I must be shameful to your sight, Sister."
But Reiah seemed unconcerned and unbothered. "Sister, he was an unsightly and disgusting man, please understand this. Do you want him to die in his own filth in the place of his departure?"
"But... But...!"
Siphoning, siphoning.
...
Going...
...
Being taken, finding soul, consciousness, out, to... another... place, another time, and... another... self.
And...
Be more about the environment; its scent, and colors, and presence, in itself.
Like...
It was similar to a forest, yes. But where every leaf, tree branch, stem and the very foundation of the ground itself, were all somehow intertwined with one another. Such an impossibility, to bring life so abundant, with the kind that a real forest should have.
'Breathtaking' was the only appropriate term, as even he himself could not have hoped for such a soul.
'Can I devour this?' he thought, 'No... I have to kill the possessor first.'
That is how it has always been, or, should be? With him being a soul, if any human ever did see him, they could even claim to just see him floating through a transparent path to their eyes, be it transparent air or magic; could one claim to even feel it?
'Where was I sent this time? I wasn't supposed to be forced into this until quite the time had passed. Eh... Perhaps it was for the best that it happened so quickly.'
He was brought here, just in time to see his death by her hand... However, all he could sense was a mix of indifference and uncaring coming from her eyes, which were, 'ah, rather warm than cold-looking', unlike their usual deep-blue shimmering surface.
His soul and hers exchanged a spark like that of thunder within a quick instant, because, surely, he knew at a glance; this was also a monster amongst monsters. This, this, is why, 'this' is where he must kill her.
He almost smiled. The despair makes him joyous for the simple fact that the whole world would go mad if they saw the sight of her right now, being fed upon. How cruel, how futile.
Rather, his nature is to be predatory, simply to eat. Sure, many couldn't have cared less to delve into the details and reasoning, however, after you are fed upon, ask yourself the simple question: why? If the answer wasn't there... Then no matter how one puts it, it becomes useless.
The predator preys upon its prey, just as its natural. However, one cannot continue forever... so it's natural.
"S-sister?" Phronta called out as Reiah's skin tore itself apart, its entrails, bones and innards were blown out onto the walls. "Ah... So it was true... T-that's w-why all the girls feared you... it was inevitable that y-you'd die in such a cruel way... Sister..."
Harrowing. It was... too late. Way, way too late for explanations.
Reiah's skin shifted color, shape, her organs, her femurs and muscles shattered... She... 'looked' just the same as the Azkite in form. His corpse was there, he laid on the ground, dead.
But...
Such a thing as death was too shallow and deep for a creature like himself.
He could never die. He could never rest. A thousand million eyes were gazing upon him with intensity... Yet only one is truly there, inside a room of darkness.
From this point on, his sense of reality and that of any others is on the brink of collapse.
Friend?
Relative?
Inquisitor?
Killer?
King?
Whatever that is? It is just me?
This may sound out of the ordinary, or in fact quite idiotic, to people who view their self as nothing more than a flesh-sack; but to him, killing. devouring their soul was a wonder that always kept him hungry for more. And yet, at the same time, his soul never seemed to fatten up.
He slowly, and utterly agonizingly, moves within the confines of Reiah's soul. Expanding it from inwards, cracking its surface. Penetrating and fracturing its shape.
A soul reduced to pieces, torn and pierced, crumbled and shattered under his control. At this point, there wasn't anything solid in his surroundings, he was free again.
His sight returns, and all he could remember was the last moment of pain before seeing death.
As if a dream, you forget how, and what. As long as there was a piece, or hint, even an infinitesimal piece of his recollection, then... he knows that they'd never defeat him.
To be killed, but never denied by a dreamer... That was his curse.