(Main Character Will Always Be In First Person)

*

Patrick Marshton was a drunkard, everbody in Narfolt knew it. He had a wife and two children, and while his wife was the breadwinner, he was neglectful of her. His only redeeming factor was that he was not abusive, and he could be said to be loud and loving to his children.

Patrick rarely had enough money to drink to his heart's content and often got kicked out of taverns or inns for it. The last time he got kicked out had been the night before from The Garland.

As he walked towards another tavern tonight to drink again, after asking his wife for some coins which led to a small argument, he saw a young man in front of him. The young man had black hair and eyes, particularly noticeable because of his beautiful features.

Then Patrick blacked out.

*

I carried Patrick to the Narfolt graveyard. I had scouted the town during the day and spied on Him for a few hours.

It was easy to sneak him into the graveyard, setting him down in a secluded corner. My tools were already left there, a butcher knife, ropes, and some seeds.

I stripped Patrick and tied him down in a half-sitting manner, able to see his own body. I took out a parchment and pen, and then began sketching him as he was. I finished the sketch in five minutes, and he woke up in the next few.

He looked around groggily, confusion visible in his eyes. He woke up with a start when he saw me, and I smiled at him, "Hello, Mr Patrick. How are you feeling?"

"W-who are you? Is this about my debts in the taverns? I swear. Tell me who sent you and I'll pay them tonight itself!"

His voice rose higher and higher as he tried to move but saw himself tied up, along with his eerie surroundings.

I replied, "No, Mr Patrick. This is not about that. How would you feel about becoming an immortalized piece of art?"

He looked at me as if I was crazy, "What the hell are you saying!? Let me loose now or I swear I'll scream so loud everybody in Narfolt will come running!"

I looked at him with glee, "That is highly recommended, Mr Patrick."

I had already sealed off the area with my aura.

I picked up the butcher knife, one I had bought today with the preparations for tonight. I took off my clothes except for my pants and wore simple gloves.

I asked, "Mr Patrick, do you love your family? Do you love little Emily and Askren?"

His eyes bulged, "You fucker! If you touch even a single piece of hair on them!"

'His demeanour completely changed, interesting.'

While he was yelling, I brought down the butcher knife, cleaving his right foot off. I never took my eyes off his face. I watched closely as his nature switched from bloodthirst and anger to agony and then horror.

"Arghhhh!"

He screamed even louder than when I mentioned his family.

"Arghh! What the fuck do you want! Tell me! Please don't kill me.."

He began to sob and breathe heavily with wide eyes as he looked at me, his eyes tearful.

"Of course, I can let you go."

His eyes lit up, and I continued, "But you have to choose someone from your family that will take your place."

He turned angry again and spat, "Fuck you and your mom!"

I brought down the butcher's knife on his left foot, eliciting another painful cry. It was intriguing seeing his changes in attitude, constantly jumping between fear and anger.

"If we keep going, you will soon become completely useless even if you live."

He was breathing heavily, saliva dripping down from his mouth, eyes bloodshot, "W-wait, please...let me think." he began to sob, looking guilty.

'He has already decided. Now to come to terms with it.'

I began swinging the cleaver in the air in a playful manner, and then he looked up in terror, "No! No! I choose my wife, don't do anything more!"

I decided to experiment a little more, "But would you be able to raise your children? You do not even have any source of income, especially now that you will be disabled?"

His sweat-covered throat gulped audibly, "I...I will be able to figure something out. I can wear prosthetics, I'll work hard." he looked guilt-ridden.

I smiled, "I was merely asking, and no, I can't really let you go. I just wanted to see your emotions."

He looked confused, the light in his eyes slowly fading. He looked pale, presumably from his blood loss. I brought out a small blue sphere from my coat and turned it gaseous, then sent it towards him. He regained colour in his face, bewildered.

"You-You're one of those! What have I ever done to you? Why are you doing this to me?"

I replied, "You were simply unlucky, or should I say lucky? You will be the first art created by me after all. You should take pride in that."

I crouched down and began to butcher his legs, cutting them horizontally but only halfway. I made another deep cut every few centimetres. His scream made his throat hoarse, on the verge of ruining his vocal cords.

I took a packet of flower seeds, "Do you know which flower these seeds belong to, Mr Patrick?"

He answered, but not exactly the answer I was looking for, so I continued, "They are the first-ever documented and named flower in the record books. They are quite common and hence the reason they were the first. I am sure you must have heard of them. They are called the Harmless Milfoil and are found pretty much everywhere. You must have seen them, right?"

I looked at Patrick, his mouth starting to foam. I planted the seed inside his flesh, starting from the opening where his foot used to be, and then I moved upward. I planted a few seeds in the cuts I made before.

When I was done, I still had quite a few seeds left. I cut open the abdomen and put the seeds inside. I took out another blue sphere and healed up Patrick. He seemed to have given up all hope, sitting mutely.

I smiled, "Now, let's begin the true creation of art, Mr Patrick."

He looked at me like I was the devil. He should not have, as I was the furthest thing from one. Demons and devils destroyed, I created.

I sent my mana towards the stump on his leg, then stimulated the seeds and sent life into them. The seeds grew in all directions, even growing forcefully into his flesh because of the mana.

I moved up his leg, and Patrick regained his liveliness and began to scream again, this time coughing up blood and ruining his voice.

The flowers bloomed from the cuts and even came out from his anus. His penis began to straighten and then exploded into a beautiful bloom of a flower.

Patrick started to convulse at this point, frothing at the mouth with his eyes turned to the back of his head.

The seeds from his abdomen grew out towards all parts of his body, ultimately reaching his head. The Harmless Milfoil bloomed out of all his crevices including his eye socket, ears, and nose. When it looked like his corpse was about to explode, I stopped injecting mana.

I took a step back and admired the sight for a few minutes, I took in the scent and the emotions, the rage, hope, selfishness, fear, all of it.

I took out another parchment and began drawing. I took special care this time and only managed to finish in thirty minutes.

I filled out two parchments tonight.

I was happy and satisfied. I came to know of a few shortcomings I had, and I would improve them indefinitely.

I looked up at the moon, the clouds floating and hiding the moon from time to time. The sky was beautiful.

I transmuted the ground and buried Patrick deep in it, taking only a few seconds. I cleaned up my naked torso and wore my clothes, then proceeded to transmute the gloves, the ropes, and the knife into dust.

I exited the graveyard.

*

In the Marshton household, Mrs Marshton was sitting in the living room, waiting for her husband to come back. She muttered, "I swear this will be the last time. Doesn't he know that coins don't fall from the sky?"

She heard footsteps coming from their room. Their daughter, Emily, walked out while rubbing her eyes,

"Mommy, is daddy not back yet?"

Mrs Marshton picked Emily up and put her on her lap, "Daddy must be busy tonight. He will come back soon." she said while patting her head.

Emily sulked, "I want to sleep with daddy!"

"Of course, you will, dear. In the meantime, do you want to hear stories?"

Emily brightened up and nodded, "Yes! The one with the frog and the Princess!"

Mrs Marshton cleared her throat and began the story.

The storytelling session lasted a long time.

****