"Hey, you little punk. What’s with that stare? Never seen a girl enjoying being a girl?" A slum dweller jeered, his crooked teeth showing as he poked his dirty fingers toward Cassius, trying to act tough, trying to draw laughter out of the others.
"Leave the kid alone, maybe he—wait! Look at the crest!!!" Another one spoke up, but his words weren’t laced with arrogance, only with raw, trembling fear.
The first man froze mid-motion, his mocking grin cracking. His eyes trailed downward, following where the other pointed.
The boy bore the crest of a falcon. He was a Lancaster.
The realization struck like lightning, and the mere thought sent a shiver down his spine so deep it reached his marrow. His throat clenched. His body shook as though his soul itself wanted to flee.
"Ah... boy... we’re just pla—"
The words never finished. His head slipped from his shoulders as if it had been there one moment and erased the next. The severed head fell with a hollow weight, rolling across the splintered wooden floorboards.
The entire warehouse froze. Everyone’s eyes locked on the tumbling head, then on the body still upright, still twitching, before it collapsed.
Yet, the strangest, most dreadful part wasn’t the boy who stood there with indifferent eyes, nor the lifeless corpse of their comrade.
No blood spilled. The wound was clean, too clean, as if flesh, veins, and bone had never existed to begin with. It was as if the man had never been human at all.
Their breaths quickened. Their bodies stiffened. A hazy fog pressed down on their minds, filling their thoughts with static. Then, without realizing when it began, confusion slithered in.
Whose corpse was that?
"Who... who is this guy? Where did this body even come from? Whose sick plan was this? Do you really think it’s a joke?" one slum dweller stammered, his voice breaking as he tried to remember, to anchor something real.
Another blinked rapidly, his lips quivering. "Do any of you know him? He is wearing rags similar to us."
They looked at each other, wild eyes searching, desperate for recognition. But none came. It was as if their fellow dweller had never existed, his very being scrubbed away from the world.
One of them clenched his teeth, trying to break through the fog. "Forget that—ignore it! Deal with the kid—"
Before he could finish, two more heads hit the ground, bouncing and rolling, followed closely by their bodies collapsing in eerie synchronization.
The room grew colder. The hairs on their skin prickled.
They shuddered, all of them. Their stomachs twisted in dread and disorientation. The bodies piled, yet not one of them could recall the faces, the names, or the existence of the fallen.
How did these corpses appear here?
Why couldn’t they remember?
The questions clawed at them, yet the more they thought, the heavier the fog pressed down. Their own memories betrayed them. Their own reality betrayed them.
And in the middle of that spiraling confusion, the boy moved.
There had been a hundred slum dwellers in the warehouse. Their breaths, their jeers, their stench had filled the place just moments ago.
The heads fell one by one, then in clusters, then in dozens. The air rang with dull, rhythmic thuds. A grotesque percussion of erasure.
By the time the fog lifted—
The boy, the falcon crest upon his chest, stood alone.
Only headless corpses, drained and hollow, littered the warehouse floor. Their bodies sprawled unnaturally, but no blood seeped from their severed heads.
Outside, the scene was no different. Carnage stretched across the night, silent and absolute. Cassius had not left a single soul behind.
...No. That wasn’t entirely true.
There was one survivor.
The same man who had unintentionally guided him here. Perhaps it was mere pity that spared him, or perhaps the faintest glimmer of gratitude. Whatever the reason, Cassius had not erased that man’s existence. He let him live.
The voice was barely a whisper, fragile as candlelight flickering against a storm. The voice was of Celeste drowning in her pain, her body laid on the cold wooden floor.
He sat on his knees, trembling, staring at his shivering hands.
Her name escaped his lips, so weak, so broken, that it was almost unrecognizable.
And in that moment, Celeste felt her chest tighten.
Through the viscous white substance bubbling across her skin, coating her body in a suffocating, humiliating layer, her heart still moved at the sight of him.
Her body screamed in agony, her limbs heavy as stone, yet she forced herself upward. Inch by inch, she raised her body and staggered forward, her heart yearning for him. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms, to assure him he wasn’t alone in his despair.
But just before her trembling hands could reach him, she froze.
His eyes... those deep amethyst eyes, wet with grief, caught her reflection.
What she saw there was unbearable.
Filthy. Soiled. Covered in a sticky, revolting substance that clung to her like the touch of a nightmare.
The bile rose without mercy, spilling from her mouth in a violent surge. It splattered across the cold stone floor... white, sticky, foul. The sight, the smell, the taste, it all crushed her.
Her entire being screamed with disgust at herself.
’How... how could I even think of touching him ? With this filthy body of mine... I would taint him. I would drag him down into my filth. I would stain him forever...’
Her thoughts spiraled, self-hatred ripping at her already fragile heart.
But while Celeste wrestled with the torment of her body and dignity, Cassius was fighting an entirely different storm inside his soul.
’I... I did it again.’
His eyes widened, his breath shallow and ragged.
’I killed again. I lost control again. I let myself turn into that again... that monster...!’
His trembling hands clawed at his scalp, nails digging into skin, ripping strands of hair free. His body shook, his breath hitched, and his mind screamed.
’Why? Why can’t I stop this?! Why can’t I control myself?!’
His thoughts echoed, merciless.
’I told myself this time was different... that it was necessary. That it was the right thing to do. But why... why does it still feel wrong? Why does the guilt still crush me?’
His grip on his hair tightened until it felt like he would tear his scalp apart.
’They deserved it. They deserved it. And yet... this won’t be the last time. I’ll hurt others. I’ll hurt more people. Because that’s what I am... a monster. A beast in human skin who doesn’t deserve to live. Someone who should be killed. Someone who should stay dead.’
Hot tears welled in his eyes and spilled freely down his cheeks, staining the blood already smeared across his face.
’Mom... Dad... I’m sorry. Your son is weak. Pathetic. I tried... I really tried to live differently. I even became a pacifist. But no matter how much I try... no matter how much I hope... I do it again and again and again. I kill. I destroy. I ruin everything I touch...’
His body convulsed with sobs, his voice cracking into broken cries.
’What if... what if next time it’s you? What if I had killed Celeste? What if the monster inside me turns on everyone close to me? I can’t control it. I can’t control myself.’
He forced himself to stop.
The cries caught in his throat, his body shuddered, but he didn’t let himself collapse completely.
Because there was someone else present. Someone whose pain was deeper, rawer, and more consuming than his own. Someone who needed strength in this moment more than he needed release.
She was there, right in front of him, her body trembling, her voice broken, her soul drowning in shame.
Her sobbing, her dry heaves, her bile staining the floor—all of it screamed her torment. She was clawing herself apart from the inside out.
And when Cassius looked into her eyes, what he saw nearly shattered him all over again.
Dead eyes. Eyes emptied of hope, stripped bare of light, suffocated by despair.
Eyes that mirrored his own helpless reflection.
And for Cassius, that was enough.
Those eyes became his anchor.
Those eyes became his reason to stand.
If he could not save himself, then he would save her. If he could not stop the monster within, then he would become her shield against her own darkness.
He refused to let her drown in the same despair that consumed him.
He stood up, staggering he made his way toward Celeste and pushed his hand forward. "Celeste take my hand. Let’s get out of here."
His voice was utterly ignored. Not just because Celeste didn’t hear him, drowned in his despair. But also because she wanted to rot there. At that place.
She didn’t have the courage to show her face to her family.
"I hope you don’t mind," Cassius muttered as he gently embraced her.
And that was her breaking point.
The moment he embraced her... She broke and the dam of grief around her bursted open.
For several long hours the two friends just stayed there... Like statue. Just sharing each other’s warmth.