The undertones of her voice are like grinding on slate. Where the earlier kindly old grandmother went, I have no idea. This hag has a ferocious aura that belies the superficial, cracked surface of her aged appearance. Compared to the light-hearted, simpering townspeople, I have yet to meet anyone who looks as formidable as she does.

“Y-you are mistaken.”

Whether I could be considered a witch or not I do not really understand myself, but openly decanting confidential information does not appeal to me in the slightest. What does this hag even know about me?

“I am a s-simple vagrant.”

Honestly, I really am…

“Young man, you can’t hide such things. All we witches can sense one another. Your aura, in particular, is by far the most oppressive one I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Besides, Those are your… Insides on the ground over there, correct?”

‘Tch’

Stupid witches, and your stupid auras…

“Beats me… I know n-nothing about witches. T-though I hear they are not thought too f-fondly of around here. Hmph…”

As in, if you do not leave this topic alone, you will be hard-pressed if I were to mention it to someone from the Guild of Judgement. I knew this woman was a witch… Wait… Maybe I knew she was a witch because I am a witch…

Huh…

Oh well. Not like it matters, either way, it is just a symptom of a larger problem. I did not choose it, nor do I want others to know I have it. Doctor’s confidentiality, or whatnot. Just leave it be, hag.

“That’s true… The people are afraid of what they know nothing about, and the Gods don’t like the power balance to be disrupted. But you seem to be afraid of neither God nor Human. Just what is it that you fear?”

“…”

I fear where this conversation is headed…

“Don’t worry dear, I wouldn’t dare intrude. We may be of the same kind, but everyone has their own personal battles. Just know… You shan’t be judged here.”

I will keep that in mind, though I never plan on meeting you again. In fact, I do not even remember your name; It is of so little importance to me.

…

On the other hand…

“Oi, Witch… H-how do I use magic?”

I ended up just blurting it out. I know it is troublesome to be connected in any way to this whole witch thing, but there is something that has been bugging me for a while now. If magic is as I expect it is then there are certain things that do not make sense.

“You… You did form a Contract, right?”

“…”

Oh! It is one of those kinds of magics. That explains it… Like hell it does!

“W-what Contract?”

“Hmmm… Very interesting…”

No, not interesting. I asked you a question. Last time I checked, questions beget answers. Even though I can pretty much work it out myself, some of the finer details remain a mystery to me. A mystery that would take far too long to decipher using trial and error.

“I see… Well, let me ask you this in reply. What is magic to you?”

What is magic? Shooting fire and teleportation come to mind, as well as raising the dead, influencing the weather, manipulating the physical plane, it is endless really. Why is she asking such a base question?

Is she testing me? Do I need to be “pure of heart” in order to cast magic? Then it is little wonder. No… That does not seem to be her intention. Something this old witch said is bothering me…

The people are afraid of what they know nothing about…

This phrase indicates that humans have yet to discover or utilize magic. Whether this is through some form of restriction placed on them or simple inability, I cannot say. In which case, that contract she mentioned would be the only way to even learn about magic. Thus, I supposedly have knowledge that only someone who knows of the contract should possess.

Hmmm… I suppose that is somewhat interesting…

The fact that I obtained this forbidden knowledge from an alternate dimension would probably blow this old witch’s mind. Best not to cause any unnecessary damage here.

“Beats me…”

If all else fails, always feign ignorance. Even if they call your bluff, which to be honest, this devious hag could do from a mile away, it makes not a lick of difference. This knowledge is locked tight.

“Well, no matter. The fact is, we mortal races do not originally have the ability to use magic. Therefore, we witches must borrow it from those that do; From the very Gods themselves.”

Hoooh… This is getting interesting.

“You see dear, each God or Goddess possesses their very own unique magical trait. Along with their natural immortality, these abilities are what separates them from the mortal races.”

I can see why those God fellows despise witches so much, considering they are unabashedly pirating their beloved abilities.

“When a God happens to bear a child, a being both mortal and magical is born. Given the holy title of Angels, they also possess the abilities of their parent. Unfortunately, they do not inherit the gift of immortality.”

Oooo. That sucks…

If you knew that when you finally birthed a child, you shall undoubtedly live to see him perish, would you be able to go through with it? It is all well and good to say that the life you lived with them would be worth it. But to lose something so important to you is like losing part of your soul.

I never want to experience that again…

“However, although they do not receive the gift of immortality, they instead obtain the ability to pass along their trait to others. By letting a mortal ingest a part of their being, that mortal can then receive permission to use the magic themselves. This process is what we call the Contract, and it is the only way for mortals to use magic.”

…

“Because most Gods covet their unique powers, it is quite rare that an Angel performs this ceremony. Those that do, are alienated and hunted, and are thus given the title, “Fallen Angels”. It is because of these deviants that we few witches have received the ability to use magic.”

It is also why the mortal races that revere the Gods, those who follow the Code of Ethics if you will so despise witches. They have no idea why they despise them, but they do not care. If it is good for the holy Gods, it is good for them.

The saddest part is that they are not even religious. This is a society built upon propaganda, and the dictators are the Gods, standing on the backs of the powerless mortals. Then again, there is nothing unusual about that, is there? You can sugarcoat it all you like, but in the end, civilized society is just a pyramid scheme. The few on top hold all of the cards.

This is not inherently wrong. Important jobs go to important people. I just wish those important people would use some discretion, or maybe even some humility when making these important decisions.

So are witches good, or bad? This, I cannot say. It is impossible to judge the collective without sufficient data. Those that do, tend to use baseless assumptions, which only makes them seem like unscrupulous pigs in my eyes. I do not appreciate being subjected to tyranny by whim.

Anyways, this subject has revealed something unpleasant about my situation that I would rather not have to deal with. Rather, it explains a lot. For instance, take a look at my specs for a moment. I have my own unique magical ability, yet I also have the said immortality. Rather than calling me a witch, it is far more accurate for me to be classified as a God.

Seems my status has risen once again. It feels sour on my tongue even thinking such a thing, let alone that I cannot currently disprove it. This is all because of the [Black Corona]. How far can the madness possibly extend itself before it is satisfied? I am lost in this melancholy…

‘Sigh’

So in the end, that volatile power is the only magic I am capable of at the moment… I figured as much, but I just could not let it go. I mean, being a glass cannon is certainly main-character-like, but I would prefer something a little more effectual. Oh well, I do not despise lemonade.

“I understand…”

“Do you dear? Well, I didn’t mean to prattle on, you just looked like you could use some answers. In any case, I’ll go finish preparing some breakfast, so don’t worry, and continue on with whatever you like. However, dear... Do try not to leave a mess.”

As she says this, her eyes point to where I was banging my head against the tree. A substantial amount of blood coats the bark.

‘Tch’

Mind your own business, hag. Although, I do want to lay low, so maybe it would be better if I did not leave a trail of human debris everywhere I went. Instead, I should try to work out a new plan of action.

Now that I know that not only can I sense other magic user’s auras, but they can also sense mine, I am kind of in a bind. It is a double-edged blade, so I have to be even more careful.

If I go by what the witch said, my aura is especially potent, so I will definitely draw unwanted attention from sordid types. The whole stealth aspect goes down the drain when it comes to this broken power.

If all the work I put in is for naught the first time I come across a single magic wielder, ugh… The crushing futility hurts just thinking about it. As it stands, there are holes in my plans, so in order to keep the contents from spilling out, I am going to need a viable workaround.

First things first, I need to find out if it is possible to use hypnotism on not only witches but also those Angels and Gods. If it is impossible, I am left with only force as my bottom line. This is inexcusable. I cannot bring about positive results if I am constantly beating down all the little flies who approach me.

I need the security that hypnotism can provide, no doubt about it. Still, I would rather not hypnotize each and everything that gets in my way. Strategem is still paramount for me to achieve any kind of success.

“Unnnngh…”

This sucks… It seems I am going to have to test out hypnotism on that hag. It is kind of ungrateful of me, but I never particularly asked for, or needed her help in the first place, did I? Perhaps she might agree to a demonstration if I were to ask her…

Oh well, it is about time for me to go in for breakfast anyway, so I will try to bring it up casually… No promises though…

The earthy scent of fresh vegetables wafts through the small house as I enter. Since the room is only lit with the light of the fireplace, besides a small lantern hanging above the central table, it gives a feeling of gloom, which I happen to find appealing.

The witch is tending to what looks like some kind of fried meal, though I doubt I could guess the ingredients. I am sure it is some kind of hash or something, but who knows.

“It’s just about ready dear, just have a seat while I dish it out.”

There are three places set around the table, yet no one is present, save this hag and myself. I presume someone will be coming later on. That puts a damper on my plans. Perhaps I should bump up my schedule…? Although… That can wait until after I eat.

In all honesty, I am so hungry that I feel nauseous. Therefore, the potential for a free breakfast is causing me quite the distress. I do not trust this witch, but I should be able to ingest any type of poison with no kind of life-threatening side-effects, so I most likely will not be in any danger.

Besides that, this fried food smell is really enticing. I expected some kind of bland potato dish since this world is somewhat victorian-like, but I guess the food here is better than I thought. The economy in this world is much sturdier than what I remember from history books. Then again, they do have strong leadership.

If politicians back on Earth had superpowers, I am sure they would be able to get more done as well. Even if it ended up as an oligarchy, results are results. If it is good for the people and good for the economy, how can you possibly argue against it?

Anyways, this food is really damn good…

“T-this is quite good.”

“Oh, thank you, dear. Though it’s just something I whipped up.”

No, no, no. I come from the future, you know… Have I mentioned how good this is? There does not even appear to be poison in it!

“Would you like some more, dear?”

“Nnnnnn… I would…”

I finish my first helping but still cannot help it. Is this a gateway drug? Oh well, what is one more plate going to harm?

‘Phew…’

That was the best fried-mystery-vegetables I have ever eaten. Hmmm… I am somehow reminded of when I would cook for my sister. What a pleasant memory. I really give my compliments to this old hag. It was definitely worth what I went through last night.

However… It is time to get down to business. She may have done me a favor, and now I am truly grateful for her help, but I cannot let such things cloud my judgment; Not now…

With my much-needed chance to test whether hypnosis is effective against witches, there is no way I am going to leave it. Not to mention that I wasted valuable time on a second plateful.

I am betting this mysterious third guest will arrive at any moment, so I will have to skip the courtesy and cut to the chase already.

“F-forgive my abruptness…”

“Yes…?”

------------

Much like any other town or city, Fort Wayfield is not absent of its own fair share of problems. For instance, despite the ten meter high walls surrounding its exterior, protecting it from most of the vile Beastkin, the town is occasionally targeted by the rare flying types of Beastkin.

Luckily, atop the walls are defensive artillery, which if employed correctly, usually manage to fend off any assault. Though there are the off times when a stray beastkin makes it through both layers of defenses, the ruckus is eventually taken care of by either rotating the artillery on the walls or by one of the ranged attack vehicles owned by the COG.

These machines run on steam like other vehicles but are equipped with expensive armored-plating and steam-powered Gatling guns. They are a force to be reckoned with, for sure.

Aside from the flying Beastkin, there is also the problem of homelessness. Like one would expect, a walled town tends to place a burden on the amount of residential space available. Thus, when the population increases suddenly, some dispute over housing tends to crop up.

Even if the population were stable, there is always the problem of unemployment. To live requires money, so when one can no longer afford this cost, say they were fired from their job or received significant injury, they are cast from their houses and left to fend with the elements.

Currently, in Fort Wayfield unemployment is at an all-time low, but this does not mean that it is without altogether. Those that do not fit into the job class are often left by the wayside, such as children or elderly.

Even an orphanage has a maximum capacity, so the demand for admittance is in most cases too high to accommodate every child in need. Any child left behind lives a harsh life of begging and scavenging. More often than not, they are unable to manage.

But… Hidden beneath the elegant facade of the townscape, is the harsh reminder of the darker part of humanity. There, some desperate children choose to trade their very bodies, so as to gain some semblance of a chance at survival.

Amongst the back alleys are a few establishments where clients may relieve some of the stress from their long workdays, by engaging in their carnal desires. Just like on Earth, in places like these, one of the fundamental aspects of human nature becomes nothing more than a theater of lies.

Unlike Earth, however, the laws to protect these children from such establishments do not exist, so they fall into the clutches of depravity. They become soiled by the cruelty of humankind.

Luckily, not all of the homeless children choose this route. Those who manage to stand firm against such a moral dilemma, although left to get by on donations and scraps, they are able to retain their dignity, and hopefully make it through these desperate times of trouble.

She is one of them. A child, abandoned by her parents, or perhaps they passed on without her. Nevertheless, she is a meager child of the street. A lonely stray. Despite this irrefutable fact, as this girl dashes through the crowded sidewalks of the early morning rush-hour, it is not a forlorn face that she adorns.

The patched and faded one-piece dress and her long dark hair flutter in the breeze, as she dodges passersby, frantically making her way forward. A look of excitement crosses her lips briefly before once again she displays a stifled look of childish temperance.

The whole scene causes some people to look on in subtle distaste, but this does not bother her. She is used to being looked at with eyes of pity, or scorn. Now she simply ignores such things. They would never understand how she feels anyway, so what does it matter?

No, not today. Not this morning. Not when she is headed to her happy place. The place that lets her get away from the noisy buzz of the busy streets, or the smelly towers of smoke that pollute this annoying town. Far away from the dirty stares of the shallow townspeople.

Crossing the boundary of Fort Wayfield, the great gates that mark the entrance to the town, she passes by the statue-like guards. They pay little attention to a poor vagrant like her, only ever seeming to move when a Beastkin attacks the town. Even then, it is usually settled before they can even be of any assistance.

Past the gate, she runs across the field that lines the sturdy walls, straight into the woods without a trace. Following her memory, she traverses the maze-like forest with ease, taking care to circle around any dangerous creatures that she meets along the way. It takes little more than an hour at the speed she travels, and then finally, she arrives at her happy place.

Morning light trickles down through the trees, causing a beautiful scene, as she gazes at the quaint little house hidden amongst the woods. This is what she likes to think of as her home, although she knows better. Still, of all the places she knows of, this one is where she is the happiest.

Much different from the bleak atmosphere of that forsaken town, this place has a mystical serenity to it. It is humble, true, but it is far more than she has to look forward to back in Fort Wayfield. If anything, this place is a palace compared to huddling in a dirty alleyway.

But life costs money, and to make money, she has to be around the people. Therefore, staying in the city is currently her only option. Though this does not stop her from taking time to visit every so often.

The owner of this house is a kind old woman she calls Grandma Bee. Of course, this is not her actual name. But as her real name is quite lengthy and hard to pronounce, in the end, the girl chose this one.

Grandma Bee lives deep in the woods, so as not to cause trouble with the other townspeople. Being one of what the people refer to as “witches”, if anyone were to find out about it, she would be in severe danger.

But she loves the forest, and with her magic, can even fight off the wild Beastkin that lurk amongst the trees. Though she grows vegetables around back, it is not a large garden. The supply would likely run out if she were to take care of someone such as the girl. Thus, even though she loves Grandma Bee a great deal, the girl opts to stay in Fort Wayfield.

Nobody in the town pays any attention to “just another beggar girl”, but Grandma Bee treats her with respect and a warmth that the lonely girl so craves. In the end, the girl just cannot help but return to this place. This particular morning included.

A billowing cloud of smoke rises from the chimney, symbolizing the fire is ablaze inside the house. The girl again leaks her glowing excitement.

‘Ahem’

Clearing her throat, she manages to suppress her embarrassing, bubbling emotions. Then she attempts her most casual stride towards the door. She almost faintly hears the kindly old woman, warmly conversing with herself, like she so often does. This makes the girl smile involuntarily as she places her hand upon the door’s knob… But she stops…

Now closer to the house, she definitely makes out Grandma Bee’s cheerful ramblings. However, not just to herself. Infrequently, a mumbling, bass-filled voice can be heard as well.

Frozen solid, a bead of sweat drips down her tense forehead. It is unheard of for Grandma Bee to receive guests, apart from the girl, of course. But it is clearly a man’s voice she hears. Who could this man possibly be? The girl’s confusion brings her to a halt.

Much to the contrary of the tension from her current situation, her stomach, apparently unaware of her strife, makes itself known…

‘Guuuuu’

A rumble echoes throughout the surroundings. This causes the girl to blush and place her hands on her stomach in an attempt to hide the sound, only to realize the pointlessness of such an action. Thankfully, feeling a little less nervous, she decides to check on the situation.

Slowly opening the door a crack, she peeks into the dimly lit interior. The girl instantly regrets her decision, for once her eyes manage to adjust to the change in lighting, she catches sight of an abominable thing.

Tremors run rampant throughout her body, causing her hair to erect as if in some sort of defensive gesture, as her limbs become weak like pudding. The very moment she lays eyes on that man, her senses become fraught with primal terror.

The man’s stature is just like that of any other man, if not a little shorter, but the impression he exudes is like that of a mountain in comparison. From his disheveled attire to his wildly strewn, black hair, his pallid, ghost-like skin, to the coal black rings around his eyes, everything about his appearance deeply unsettles her heart.

But it is the eyes… The eyes that are cold and dead, with no emotions being transmitted. Instead, a maddening foreboding swirls in their depths, like a lunar eclipse; A complete lack of light. How can a living being make such an expression?

As the terrifying pressure washes over her, she attempts to cry out in fear, but no sound escapes her lips. Her voice, simply stuck in her throat, as she struggles to even breathe.

What seems like an eternity goes by before she manages to catch her breath. All the while, unable to look away from the sight. When she does regain her footing though, she scans the rest of the room. At that moment, she finally notices the old woman, slumped awkwardly in her chair.

Without the slightest hesitation, the girl yanks open the door and runs over to where the old woman rests.

“Grandma Bee!”

Quickly examining the old woman, the girl then turns to glare at the man.

“What have you done to Grandma Bee!?”

The tiny girl’s voice yelps, as she stands and points angrily at the man, with shaky fingers.

“…”

The man, conversely, says nothing.

------------

I can say nothing, nor can I even think straight…

Just barely have I induced the witch when I am rudely interrupted by our third guest. I had been planning on finishing this before this happened, but the witch enticed me with her evil concoction, and I ended up having seconds. This took up too much of my valuable time in the process.

It is not the abruptness which causes me confusion though. Rather, it is the intruder’s appearance. It is Gwyn, my sister. No, someone who looks just like her. The chance of someone being this identical to Gwyn is astronomically slim, let alone that we are actually crossing paths like this.

From the dirty and ragged appearance, I presume she is some sort of urchin child. Other than that, she looks exactly how I remember her. Just like she did on that day…

My scars are burning. I feel nauseous, and the entire room is spinning. I cannot stay here. I have to leave this place, now!

With dizzy footsteps, I aim for the door. However, before I can reach any kind of safety, the urchin child runs in front of me, holding up her arms as if to block my advance.

Her eyes are winced closed, out of fear, though her face also portrays anger and distress. It is clear that she is worried about the witch, but for right now at least, I need to get away and calm down. You will have to forgive me, urchin child.

“Look!”

Urged on by my voice, the child locks eyes with mine. Now ensnared by the mysterious power, she freezes in place, as the mist flows from my eyes to hers. Having been successfully induced, I quickly toss a command in my desperation.

“Sleep!”

Thus, she limply crumbles to the ground. She did not bump her head, so I am pretty sure she’s ok. Now to escape… Or so I had hoped, but I am held back, once again.

I have to hand it to this scamp, to be able to grab onto my ankle in such a condition. I might shed a tear… No really, bad things will happen if I do not get out of here soon. You are causing me great physical and mental anguish, so please let go.

Gently, so as not to disturb her sleep, I break free of her grasp and finally exit into the yard. The fresh air soothes my nerves, a bit. But I am still a mess, so I lean against a tree and flop heavily to the ground.

‘Phew’

This should be the reason that clown told me about this town’s witch. If I had not come here, I would have never met that child, whoever she is. Unfortunately, just being around her causes me great woe.

‘Ungh!’

Is this guilt…? No… It feels more like some kind of curse cast upon me…

Placing my hand on my face, I trace the scars with my fingers, trying to pour ice on my heart. All of the blood in my body is boiling as if trying to escape and licks of black flame are still consuming my chest.

I cannot seem to calm down. What is this? Has the [Black Corona] finally found a point of weakness? This must be it piling on the pressure in an attempt to wreak havoc. Not a pleasant thought…

‘Thump thump, thump thump!’

I can feel my heart beating loudly all throughout my body, and there is a painful ringing in my ears. It is drowning out all the noises around me, getting louder, and louder, as my heart pumps harder and harder. All the colors are draining from the scenery, bleeding away into a vortex, like cream poured into swirling coffee.

I am steadily losing my grip. Meeting that child has toppled the foundations from under me and paralyzed my ability to keep the [Black Corona] from spilling out into the world.

It is much different than when I siphon off bits of it at a time. It is leaking out on its own. I can already feel my body absorbing huge masses of power.

(I need to evacuate the area, or the town will be in grave danger.)

‘Rrrgh!’

Attempting to steady myself against the tree, it is obvious that my body is already having trouble following orders; Or rather, adjusting its strength, since a large portion of the trunk tears off in my hand.

That is much faster than I was anticipating… Looks like I will have to run if I want to get away in time.

Taking a few small steps I attempt to lightly jog, only to have myself propelled through the forest like a bullet. It is significantly harder to control myself than the time I fought the golem. I really am losing my grip.

Trees speed by me as their colors blend together, while any unlucky enough to get in my way are snapped like twigs. My body just tumbles through the air like a ragdoll, destroying anything it touches.

Streaking through the forest wildly, I finally come to rest after bouncing multiple times, grinding against the ground for several meters. The explosion from the impact causes my ears to buzz loudly, suffocating the surrounding sounds.

There is a large smoldering gouge cut into the ground behind me, and a row of downed trees beyond that. It looks like an airplane crash-landed in the forest. Nevertheless, at least I have stayed away from the town… Although, I definitely lose points for style.

Oh well, now I just have to somehow stop myself from destroying this entire world. My estimates are… Harrowing. But that does not mean it is impossible, right…?

‘Mmmmh…’

My consciousness is becoming hazy, and I can no longer move my body… Am I falling asleep? Could I possibly sleep through this whole problem? If only it would be that easy…

------------

I have come to a bleak sort of place. Grey skies unleash a perpetually drowning rain, with ankle-deep, black water, as far as the eye can see. There are no visible landmarks, so I am unable to get a clear picture of the size. From the looks of it, it is an endless plane. This must be what my heart looks like…

“Rain, huh…?”

It is more like some kind of purgatory. Perhaps I am being judged for my sins? Heh, good luck with that…

Bored with the whole endless rain theme, I pick a direction and begin walking in a straight line. Hopefully, I will find something helpful amidst all the dreary scenery.

Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours. Still, I travel through the freezing rain, finding nothing. At some point, I start running, even using [Corruption], in an attempt to move beyond my limits. Everything is pointless. The rain keeps falling, and the emptiness keeps expanding.

Somehow, the way the [Black Corona] is acting feels more like it did when I was back on Earth. I still sense its looming presence, only it feels less corporeal like it was in Gearia… Or is it Substantial…? Tangible, maybe…?

“I am so boooooooored!”

‘Pwoof’

As if responding to my outburst, the familiar grey smoke bursts forth, symbolizing the coming of that incessant clown.

“{My, My! How kind of you to invite me, Wade. Kyish shyi shyi shyi…}”

‘Tch!’

I did not invite you… I would have rather had...

“Where is she?”

“{Tut tut, Wade. You know how it works in here, each of us attends to our own business…}”

Yeah, I wish you would mind your own business.

“So, why are you here?”

“{Feeling duped, are we? Kyish shyi shyi shyi… I assure you, I was not to blame for that child’s refusal to appear… Let’s just say, I chose to use a wasted opportunity, and manifested in her stead.}”

That is specifically not minding your own business. Does this clown have no pride or morals?

“No thank you.”

“{Kyish shyi shyi shyi… I couldn’t miss this chance to revel in your current predicament, Wade. It would just be wrong of me, you see…}”

That sounds more like it. I should have known it would be for such a depraved reason. How much of a one track mind does this bastard have?

‘Sigh…’

“Anyways, now that you are here, be of some use. Where the hell am I supposed to be going?”

So I can go the opposite of where you tell me…

“{Hmmm? Are you saying you want me to do you a favor?}”

‘Tch’

Like hell! I would rather cut my limbs off and ingest their entirety then owe you a favor.

“Nevermind! I am in enough of a mess as it is, without you pouring oil on the fire.”

I will just have to keep walking until I find something. Really… The one time I actually want to see her, she could at least show her face. I am always putting up with your shit, you know…

I hope nothing happened to her… Wait, what am I talking about? She is just a figment of my imagination… I think…

‘Unnngh…’

“{Are you quite alright, Wade? You appear to be having conflicting thoughts.}”

Like that is anything new…

“{Well… I’ve quite enjoyed our little chat, Wade, but it’s about time I was on my way. I suppose a hint isn’t too much to ask for in return for this delicious meal. It’s the least I could do, you see.}”

“Oh goody…”

“{First, you’ve most likely already guessed that this is a dream realm. However, need I remind you, Wade, your’s is no ordinary sleep. Finally, if you’re thinking of looking for that child, I would suggest otherwise. Although let’s face it, you’d never listen to me anyway, now would you? Kyish shyi shyi shyi…}”

With that, the clown turns to smoke and dissipates. A glinting object appears in its place, landing in the black water below. Hesitantly, I reach into the water to retrieve it, only to be cut upon a sharp edge.

“Ow… Wait, it hurts…?”

Once I manage to find the object, I observe its sleek metallic form. Huh… I would recognize this anywhere… A kitchen knife. But not just any kitchen knife…

Bile begins to rise in my stomach, despite being in a dream.

“I see…”

No wonder I was unable to find her…

“HEY!!”

Suddenly I am assaulted on the left side of my face. Pain shoots through my jaw as I crumple to the ground in a daze. After spitting out the blood that fills my mouth, I look up to see my assailant. None other than my own father, red in the face, stagnant alcohol on his breath.

How nostalgic…

“Did you eat your tongue or something, boy?! I’m talking to you!”

The strike I have been given is not just some weak punch, with my father being an ex-martial arts practitioner. The fact that he has chosen a place so easily visible just shows his lack of common decency. Though I do tend to heal faster than other people. Who knows, maybe that is why he chose such an obvious spot… Just to flaunt it.

The scenery has made a complete transformation, now representing a scene from the life we used to live, full of distasteful memories. The dimly lit living room is scattered with the aftermath of outrageous depravity.

When I attempt to rise from the floor, my arms fail me, causing me to slump back into a pathetic heap. It appears my father struck with such force that it must have rattled my brain in the process.

“Heh, what a pathetic sight. What use is that brain of yours if you’re too stupid to use it? You should just stay down there and watch! Hya ha ha!”

Heinous laughter erupts from his core, as he watches me fail to stand up. I must regain control. I must put a stop to his path of wretched malevolence. He may be more physically capable than me, but I have a secret weapon…

After another heavy kick to my abdomen, he eventually bores of my plight and turns his eyes to the center of the room. There, sprawled limply in a sorry state, is none other than the dim vestiges of the soul light of my world. My sister, Gwyn.

She has valiantly challenged my father’s tyranny towards my Mother, only to be brutally made an example of. Her wounds are such that I have trouble even looking at her form. A grotesque suit of badges that she has received for her valor.

My stomach begins to churn, for the malicious grin on my father’s face is a clear sign of his intentions. Despite trying my hardest, I am still unable to right myself. In all likelihood, I am suffering from the effects of a moderate concussion.

Approaching her helpless form, my father displays an insanity unlike that of what he has ever shown before, wresting my twelve-year-old sister’s clothes from her body. My blood boils, and a dark haze begins to swell from inside my chest.

What the hell does this trash think he is doing?! How dare he pollute my only light with his impure heart. To desecrate my holy place…

All along I have watched from the shadows. I knew of his mind, yet I have held hesitations towards cutting him out of our lives altogether. My mother always tells of his glory days. Nevertheless, his mind slowly turned, until he began taking out his anger upon others. Even his own family were not free of his tyranny. My mother bore most of the brunt, trying her hardest to hold the family together.

My mother loves my father, and my sister loves my mother, so I could do nothing. I simply did my best to make my sister’s life more comfortable. But now I know, this man can no longer be saved…

A cold numbness fills my body, as I finally rise to my feet. The kitchen knife, which I had hidden under my belt earlier, is now held in my right hand. All of my restrictions are now lifted. I will no longer hesitate.

My father has mounted my sister’s body in his maddened state, severing the line which should never have been crossed. My sister has put up as much fight as she can muster in her battered state, but my Father is simply too strong. The pain of the act is displayed vividly upon her tear-streaked face.

I approach deftly, like a shadow flickering across the room, placing myself behind his exposed back. His body is hunched over, engaged in his filthy desires, so I am easily able to reach his vitals. Thanks to this, my task takes but moments to complete.

Reaching my right arm around his shoulder, I perform a lightning-quick slice across the tender areas of his neck. A thick spray of blood erupts from the gouge, coating everything in front of him in a red mist. But by pulling him by the hair, I make sure no blood sullies my sister’s body. Finally, I stab the knife through his right eye socket, straight into his brain.

His death is swift and mostly painless, which is more than he deserves. Despite this, his body continues to spasm, spewing blood all over me. After wiping the area around my eyes, I remove his body from atop my sister and place him on the floor, where a pool begins to form around him.

I feel nothing. In my eyes, my Father has been reduced to nothing more than slaughtered livestock. It is laudable that all of this could have been prevented, had I simply done this sooner. I let him live, despite knowing this would happen. I could have stopped him… Not that it matters now…

My sister is huddled in the fetal position, lifelessly. She is likely in shock; She has been through more than enough. There is little chance she will make it through those injuries, with massive internal bleeding and organ failure. The pain she is going through is more than a sane person can handle.

“W… Wade…”

But she has always been a feisty one…

“I am here…”

Holding her hand in mine, I lower my face so she can hear me more easily. Her body likely no longer works the way she wants it to, but she manages to apply a faint pressure into her grip.

“Is there anything I can do to help you in any way?”

Not likely, but I want to ease her heart at least. If being near her will allow her to be more comfortable, I will stay until the very end.

“K… Ki…”

It takes all of her strength and more to form the words.

“K… Kill me…”

I figured as much…

I do not know what is going through her mind, or why she has asked me to do such a thing. Perhaps just to end her suffering. To end her suffering means to remove my one and only light from this world. To kill my own sister. Can I even do such a thing…?

“As you wish…”

I can… There is not a single thing in this world that I would not do for my sister. Whether it be to destroy myself or to destroy the whole world, I would not falter. For this poor child, who has seen the dark of humankind, and shown me the light, this is the least I can do…

“W… wait…”

Ugh… I… I have some idea of what she will ask next, but I wish she would not… Please spare your brother at least this one thing…

“Before that…” ‘Cough, cough’ “Would you… make love… to me…?”

…

Hah… Considering what she has gone through, it is hard to find a logical explanation for such a question. If she wanted this act to cleanse her of what my father has done, I would understand. Somehow, that does not seem to be the reason. Which only leaves love. This child’s pure, unadulterated love causes me to hesitate…

“I… I cannot love… I am sorry…”

It is as simple as that. I do not feel love… I may play at having emotions so that my sister feels more comfortable around me, but I do not innately experience those emotions. This is especially true for a complex emotion like love…

“Silly… Ngh… I know that… But still…”

“…Alright. I understand”

I would rather not lie to my sister when she is on her deathbed. But if it is not love that she wishes for, then I have no reason to refuse. I feel, perhaps, that she may be too young for such an act. Though her life is soon ending, so the time is only now.

I myself am a virgin, but that does not mean that I am foreign to the subject. I have done research on relationships and procreation, mostly from the books my mother reads. But not once have I felt aroused by another person. I have never even become erect before. This likely stems from the same place as all my other illnesses. Whether it will hinder me now, I do not know…

I cannot move her body too much due to her injuries, so I lean forward and place my lips against her forehead. Incited by my touch, her weakened arms reach towards me, seeking confirmation. I reciprocate by embracing her shoulders and focus now on her pale quivering lips.

Likely, she is frightened by what is to come. Death is an overwhelming concept. Besides, just moments ago, she was taken against her will. I cannot ease her fear of death, but I can at least be as gentle with her as possible. I would never purposely harm my Sister.

Lightly, like a feather, I hover my lips in front of hers. Our breath begins to intertwine, and while her arms weakly caress my back, we finally begin to kiss. My first kiss tastes of iron and salt, but it is stimulating, and engaging, her being her usual feisty self, after all.

Her cheeks begin to flush, and some color comes back into her skin. However, I know this is only false hope. In all likeliness, she might die at any second. I am awash with a chilling numbness, as I perform the steps, doing my best to play the part she is looking for.

In the end, it is like this, huh…?

Even my most important thing in this world is unable to create a connection with me. As I continue to stimulate her body, despite her increasingly aroused state, there is still no reaction on my end.

Her form is beautiful and smooth, her scent is dizzying, her murmured moans, as I grace her skin, are sensual and tantalizing, even her nectar as it flows from her most precious of areas is a flavor I will never forget. But without the emotions to back it up, it simply feels as if I am playing an elaborate musical instrument. Am I even a human being…?

A climax and a release, with her digging her sharp nails deep into my face and chest, as her body is being pushed to the brink of pleasure. Then, once the chemical high begins to die down, it is painfully obvious what her body’s condition has become. There is no longer any time to delay.

Taking my palms, I place them atop her neck, as if I were going to perform the Heimlich-maneuver on her trachea. I wish for her to pass as quickly and painlessly as possible, so instead of reusing the kitchen knife, I will do it this way. Seemingly knowing what is to come, my sister begins to smile.

After raising my upper body momentarily, I apply a massive amount of force upon her neck, fracturing her spine in the process. This is the most humane way to kill her that I can think of at this time. It is fast, and the paralysis should prevent most of the pain. Or at least I am hoping. No matter how I go about it, the fact will not change. I have murdered her.

As I feel her spine break in two with my bare hands, the scenery around me begins to shatter into glass shards, revealing the bleak rainy world from before. Everything is swallowed by the tide, save for the small bit of land beneath my sister’s body.

Taking a step back from the scene, I begin to sort and categorize my slurry of thoughts, making sense of my transgression. The cold, calculative mind I was born with has become fraught with errors and asynchronous anomalies. The shadows start to creep across the barrier, overtaking my heart and transforming my body to more resemble my mind.

I look at the water’s reflection, at the gruesome form that is now displayed there. Bulbous veins have spread like electrical circuitry, flooding my body with black poison. The muscles themselves are deformed and pulsating as if snakes writhe beneath their surface.

Slapping away the hateful image, I return to where she lay, still and lifeless. I remember this scene, her white, immaculate skin accented by red blood. Even in death, and despite the wounds that she bears, her beauty is almost untouched. Then there is me, and my monstrous form…

After wiping away the single tear that has formed beneath her eye, I sit back and watch over her as she rests. I never understood why she smiled back then… Maybe I never will. Suddenly, I am swept by exhaustion, so I lie down next to her. I carefully make sure not to disrupt her slumber.

Why does it always turn out this way? Why am I unable to protect her, no matter what I try? Am I wrong to want to change this cursed fate? Although such complicated questions fester inside me, I eventually fall asleep. Huddled next to my sister’s body, I am accompanied by the pelting of the rain.

When I awoke… The town of Fort Wayfield had been destroyed…