《A World of Monsters》Chapter 52

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The white-clad man blankly gazed at the endless waters spreading all around him. The vast but monotonous waters no longer overwhelmed him with an inescapable sense of dread. Rather, the waters now signified desolation. The numerous near-deaths had lost their novelty while the continuous escapes from monsters had lost its exhilaration. What had once left him trembling was now almost a routine.

His bitter gaze silently observed the sunset reflecting off the spry waters but the image that had seemed beautiful once upon a time, now just seemed hollow and repetitive. ‘Another day ends.’ The bald man sat down at the nearby bench with a helpless sigh before his jaws tensed.

It had now been 6 years since Kiran had begun this journey of self-reflection and 4 years since he had boarded this ship. ‘I hate this ship.’ His gaze returned to the deck only to find sailors running about as they checked up on things that kept the ship running.

‘Such a pitiful life.’ Kiran couldn't help but pity the sailors whose lives and Levels revolved around the ever-expansive seas. ‘Who am I to pity them though? My existence revolves around something just as fruitless.’ He chuckled but the sound of it carried more bitterness than mirth. After all, he had yet to increase his [Reflection]. In the past 6 years, or perhaps even more, his [Reflection] had not increased one bit. Even his Class now refused to Level up beyond Level 24. This had allowed his Skill and Spells to rise up to match his Class Level but what use was it if they'd remain that way?

Or so it seemed. Unless, of course, he increased his [Reflection] and raised his Class to Tier 2. ‘But that is not going to happen, is it?’ He chuckled but the sound of it grew increasingly bitter and the unbound waters just seem to compound the hollowness in his heart.

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He paused for a moment to think about anything that he could do to increase his Level. A topic he thought a lot about these days. However, he scoffed. ‘The only thing increasing these days is my [Karma]. Just what nonsense is that?’ He had been doing nothing but travelling on a ship through the forsaken waters. Yet, his [Karma] had increased more in the last 4 years than it had throughout the rest of his life. Just what sort of joke was that?

Tired of the calm waters that heralded death, he turned around and marched towards the cell of his Chambermaid. And even though she was not his, he wanted her to be. He had half the mind to claim her as his own but that was all but impossible. He didn’t have the coin to buy her off. He was an ascetic after all. He never had much need for coin. Yet now, for the first time in his life, he saw the importance of the coin.

The white-clad man arrived at his Chambermaid's cell and his dark gaze fell on the naked woman slumped on the platform. Unconsciously, his tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked his chapped lips.

The woman’s black hair laid sprawled on the ground as her head hung down from the edge. Her hands drew meaningless circles on the floor and in the process, exposed her breast. Her legs were spread apart, leaving her crotch exposed for all to see.

It was such an unwomanly attitude that if any other person had encountered it, they would have stopped in surprise. However, Kiran was not any other person. He had been with this woman for about 4 years now. He had used her, abused her and healed her, only to repeat the process all over again. His lost eyes bored into her exposed crotch and he swallowed as his own reacted at the sight.

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“It’s you again.” The woman's raspy voice that had once made Kiran’s skin crawl, made his own crotch react now. “The fake healer that dances to Adharma.”

The man scoffed as he grabbed the woman by her face and his fingers dug into her cheeks. “What do you know about Dharma and Adharma? You? A thing that's not even a mortal? Who's nothing but a tool to be used? You talk of Adharma?”

The woman laughed with her face still clutched in the man’s palm but she made no move to resist. Her body laid there, as if without life, while her face laughed. It was as if her body had died but her resentment hadn't allowed her soul to be released.

“This thing. This hole. This tool. All of this I am.” The naked woman bared her teeth and her eyes burned in loathing. Yet, her body remained lifeless and twitched not for even a moment. “What are you though? You may be many things but a healer you are not!”

Kiran threw the woman’s head back and it collided with the platform with a resounding thud but the woman only laughed. Her grated voice echoed around the cell unpleasantly and Kiran felt his blood grow hot as his heart raced. He grabbed the woman by the hair and pulled her up to his face. Yet the laughing woman winced not as her haunting laughter continued to echo.

The white-clad man bit down on the woman’s lower lip, the one that had once been thick and luscious, to draw blood. He pinched her nipple and twisted until it bled. Yet, the woman merely laughed. “You fool! Do you think this hurts me?! Do you think it’s only you that makes me bleed?! You think you are special?!” The woman spat a glob of spit and it landed on Kiran’s face with a resounding splat. “You. Are. Not.”

Those words, three mere words, they made his heart heavier and his eyes colder than ever before. She was his. He had decided it in his heart. Yet, he wasn't special to her? She dared to tell him that he wasn't the one that made her feel the most? Kiran slammed the woman against the wall so hard that her teeth trembled and then he dropped his clothes to bite the woman’s neck, or rather he chomped down on her neck until he tasted blood.

Yet the uncaring woman laughed, her eyes wide and crazed.

“SOON! It would be SOON!” Her raspy voice roared and Kiran felt her throat vibrate in his mouth. “You will come before me and I will laugh at your FACE! You will try to hurt me and I will laugh at your FACE! You will use me and I will still laugh at your FACE!”

The woman continued to laugh and the man continued to abuse.

-X-

Within a desolate desert, inside a dilapidated shop, on a simple chair, a youth seemingly slept.

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