The Truth

Noah blinked.

His glazed-over eyes cleared, his body swayed slightly as if he had just woken up from a nap and had no idea where the hell he was.

A single thought ran through my head.

Oh, fuck.

He was back.

The real Noah. The one who wasn't a feral, flesh-eating edgelord.

The boy stared at the scene in front of him—at the piles of armor and bones, at the horrified assassins, at the silence that had taken over the room like a funeral.

Then, in the softest, most stupidly confused voice, he said:

"Uh… what happened?"

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I felt like screaming.

No, actually, I felt like throwing myself off a cliff.

How the hell was I supposed to explain to this dumbass that he just went feral and melted people down to their skeletons?!

This wasn't just a "Hey, you blacked out and punched a guy" situation.

No.