Kiss of Death (30)

In Sector 11, Jarod was sitting alone at the reception desk. On the table was a cup of black coffee nearly finished, and he was sitting with his head resting comfortably on the back of his hand while holding a newspaper in his other hand, reading it intently. Meanwhile, on the 7th floor, Sirius was walking through the corridor with slow and silent steps. He was wearing black iron clawed gloves on both hands. Sirius reached out his hand to the wall and dragged one of the claws on the wall, creating a light screeching sound.

"Hush, little heart, don't beat too loud... The night is deep, there's no more crowd... Close your eyes, the dark won't bite... Unless you breathe, or show me fright," sang Sirius in a soft, calm voice, and he hummed the melody in a gentle whisper that came from his delicate lips.

Sirius entered the elevator and descended all the way down to the reception floor where his victim awaited his arrival.

At the reception desk, Jarod took a last sip from his black coffee when he realized it was finished. He then pushed the cup away and yawned in exhaustion.

"Has nothing happened recently?... What time is it, anyway?" Jarod thought to himself as he flipped through the newspaper. Then he looked behind him at the wooden wall clock to see that the time had become 21:16 PM.

"It's not even that late, but I'm struggling to keep my eyes open... The real me must've spent a lot of energy today," Jarod thought to himself as he yawned again and covered his mouth.

In the elevator, Sirius stood in place, looking at his reflection in the shiny elevator door in silence.

"Sleep in stillness, soft and slow... The floorboards creak where shadows go..." Sirius whispered in a calm tone and slow melody that made the skin crawl as he continued his song. Then he heard the elevator ding, indicating it had arrived at its stop.

The elevator doors opened and Sirius stepped out, beginning to walk toward Jarod's desk. That's when Jarod noticed the boy approaching.

"Hmm? Who's this boy? What's wrong with him?" Jarod thought to himself in confusion, placing the newspaper on the table. For some reason, he didn't see the black iron claws Sirius was wearing.

"The Star is watching, sharp and bright... It sings in me... it guides the night," Sirius whispered, having stopped in front of Jarod's desk, looking down with his hair shading his eyes. But Jarod could still see his faint, strange smile.

"Young man, it's late. You better go to sleep now... Hm? Young man, are you okay?" Jarod asked in confusion and tension as he stood up. That's when he finally noticed the claws Sirius was wearing.

"Hm? What are you wearing, boy? It looks dangerous. You better take it off—you might hurt yourself," Jarod said in a worried and puzzled tone. Then he reached his hand out to Sirius' to pull it closer and see what he was wearing.

Then, in a faint and fast moment, Jarod's world—or rather his perspective of the world—flipped. He felt an extreme lightness as if he had left his body. Or rather, that's exactly what happened. As he flipped, Jarod saw his body still standing before Sirius, while the boy had his back turned to it. But the body had no head and collapsed to the floor.

He quickly realized that it was his head that was flying. Jarod's head fell to the ground, and he looked at Sirius, who finally turned toward him and began walking toward him.

"Hush, little heart, it's time to keep... Your final breath... and go to sleep," Sirius whispered the final words of his song with a melody that ended the night with a murder as he walked toward Jarod's severed head on the floor.

Jarod was still conscious because everything had happened too fast for his mind to process, but he realized he was dead. His eyes filled with tears, streaming down intensely. He couldn't speak since he had been separated from his vocal cords—otherwise, he would have let out a scream of terror. He couldn't think because his brain began to die slowly. He couldn't breathe because he was separated from his lungs.

Sirius stood before Jarod's head and looked down at it while what remained of Jarod's awareness couldn't even move his eyes to see the eyes of his killer. Then Jarod's consciousness fully disconnected, and his body began to gradually decay into black ash, like the remains of a burnt paper dissolving into the air.

"A copy then... The real version must've realized that one of its copies disappeared. Since one of the copies is monitoring the surveillance hall, it will surely inform the original version that I am the killer... No matter. This is just a trap to lure the bigger prey..." Sirius thought to himself, then raised his hand near his face to look at the black claws. Unfortunately, they were not covered in blood since the victim was only a copy.

"You'll have to wait longer, Canicolos. Gluttony isn't just about hunger. It's about the patience to enjoy every drop and every bite until you forget who's devouring whom," Sirius whispered to his weapon Canicolos, then looked at one of the cameras in the room's corner and smiled.

"...Another victim for you, Mother."

———————

In Sector 10, Noah walked briskly, eyes fixed on his phone, following the location Derek had sent him.

"Good thing I was already in Sector 10 when he called. I can catch him off guard before he does anything…" Noah thought anxiously, increasing his pace.

Flashes of old memories raced through his mind—times when Derek tortured him: ripping his fingernails off with clamps, crushing his fingers with a finger-smashing device, whipping him for hours, stabbing him with a pencil, and when bored, dragging a blade just beneath his ear.

"No—focus. It's only been an hour. Let's hope for the best, Enel hasn't gone through too much… though that's unlikely." Noah shook his head to refocus, and that's when he spotted an abandoned shack ahead—its location matched the one Derek sent him.

"This is it," Noah thought, moving closer. He noticed a nearby window, took a quick peek—but from this angle, he couldn't see anything.

Noah went to the front door and slowly opened it with hesitation. Moonlight poured into the room, revealing the sight before him—and he wished it hadn't.

Enel was hanging unconscious, tied with a rope from the ceiling. He was shirtless, his entire body covered in wounds and bruises from relentless whipping. His fingernails were gone, blood-soaked, his fingers crushed into a mix of bone dust and meat. Both ears bled, his chest slowly oozed blood from scalpel cuts, and his shoulders were torn and mangled with long gashes and saw-wire lacerations. His mouth bled too, with pliers having ripped out his teeth.

Noah froze in shock and horror. He stepped closer to Enel in trembling, hesitant steps, reaching out with a shaking hand.

"E-Enel… Enel? Enel?! What happened? Are you alive? Enel? Please—E-Enel? S-Say something, anything, even if you're dead—just say something! Enel!" Noah's voice trembled with fear and panic, and he began biting his fingers nervously.

He reached out to touch Enel, to pull him out of this hell—when Derek suddenly appeared behind him, holding a wooden chair, and smashed it on Noah's head, knocking him out instantly. His plan to ambush Derek had failed.

Noah collapsed to the floor, eyes rolled back, completely motionless like a corpse, as Derek stood over him holding the broken remains of the chair.

"What idiot would fall for this? Doesn't he realize I can track him through his phone?" Derek said mockingly, then tossed the chair remains aside.

"Well then… let's begin."

———————

In Sector 1, Neriah continued moving stealthily across the sanctuary grounds, avoiding the guards. He hid among the brush while a few patrolling guards searched for him.

"Fifteen minutes left before Loki's Dice wears off. If I push past the time, fate will punish me. Get the hell out of here already. If Enel is dead, I'm blaming you all," Neriah thought, gritting his teeth in tension.

It wasn't long before the guards left the area he was hiding in. Neriah finally emerged from the thicket, brushing leaves and dust off his clothes.

He began jogging lightly to avoid making noise. At a corner, he peeked out to scout the surroundings. The area was swarming with guards, and cameras were mounted at every angle.

"Shit. There's not even an exit, let alone an entrance." Neriah considered making a run for it—dodging and confusing the guards—but then noticed something.

On the rooftop of a building ahead stood a figure. From that distance, all he could see was that the silhouette had horns.

"Who is that? The devil?" Neriah wondered, puzzled. The figure stepped forward—and leapt off the rooftop.

"Shit—!" Neriah gasped, instinctively stepping forward—only to freeze as the shadow vanished mid-air like a puff of black smoke.

"What the—?" he muttered, stunned, before a flashlight cut through the darkness behind him.

"Hey! What are you doing here?!" a guard shouted angrily, alerting others to his position.

"Shit."

———————

In Sector 10, inside the shack, Noah slowly opened his eyes as consciousness returned. He was hanging from the ceiling, bound by rope around his ankles. In front of him stood Derek, wearing rough gloves and heating a metal rod in the flames.

Derek noticed Noah waking and turned to him.

"Good morning. Took your sweet time waking up, sleepyhead," Derek said with a cheerful smile.

"Go kill yourself," Noah said coldly, unexpectedly calm—catching Derek off guard.

"Didn't expect that response… Anyway, did you see your friend? A masterpiece, isn't he? I only had an hour to shine, but I think I nailed it," Derek said excitedly, tossing the rod back into the fire to heat it more.

"You've lost your mind—if you ever had one to begin with. You do realize you'll be found out eventually, right?" Noah said calmly. But inside, he was terrified. His body trembled, but all he could do was pretend. He was powerless—but if pretending and acting were all he had, then he'd find a flaw in Derek through performance alone.

"You know, if it weren't for your friends, you'd still be happy right now—probably with one of those two sluts, living your best life," Derek said casually, leaning on the wall.

"How pathetic. A moment ago, you blamed me for everything, and now it's them? You're contradicting yourself," Noah replied sarcastically, trying to provoke him.

"Better to be a contradiction than a delusional fool. Isn't that right, you delusional actor?" Derek replied, flipping Noah's words back at him.

"W-What do you mean?" Noah asked nervously.

"Lying, faking, pretending, acting, masking, disguising, cheating, imagining, hiding, deceiving—it's what we humans do daily. It's routine. Life wouldn't taste as bitter without it. But don't you practice this more than most? As if it were your religion?" Derek said, turning to a water bucket near the flames.

"What's up with him today…? He's acting different," Noah thought, worried.

"You look lost. That means your lies, your fake mask—it's cracking. Your holy faith of pretense is weaker than you think… Surely you've wondered before, delusional actor—every smile, every goal, every memory sewed together just to hide the truth: You don't even know who you are. You've been acting for so long, you think the mask is your face," Derek said quietly, picking up the bucket and walking toward Enel.

"W-What are you trying to do?" Noah asked anxiously as Derek neared Enel.

"…But even when the sky darkens and sunlight is smothered by black clouds, there is always one spot where light pierces through. The light of salvation…" Derek said, standing before Enel.

"The light of salvation is faith in our god—His majesty, The Betelgeuse—and in His gospel: The Litany of the Psalm!" Derek's eyes glowed with a burning red hue, descending into madness.

"The Betelgeuse? The litany of the Psalm? What kind of nonsense is this?" Noah thought, unsettled by Derek's strange behavior.

"We are not human. We are the Broken Choir beneath the Veil. Children of fractured silence—turn your gaze inward. In blindness, truth writhes like snakes in the void. Gathered in shadows beneath bleeding stars, listen— The breath of 'Betelgeuse,' the Pulsating Red, whispers madness. Abandoned souls—embrace the hollow flame that devours flesh and mind alike, for the body is but a fleeting scream melting into eternal abyss. To those who seek salvation in boundless dark: know this—faith is becoming the storm that shatters reality.

O faithful, heed the whispers behind the veil—unseen, unheard, but never gone, always devouring. The infinite path unravels for those who surrender. We are not human.

We are the echo in the crack," Derek declared, voice rising as his pupils dilated with crimson madness.

"He's completely gone mad," Noah thought, struggling to free his hands—but the knot was tight and skillfully tied.

"Shit… oh, right!" Noah suddenly remembered something. A small, hot flame appeared in his palm—it was weak, but enough to slowly burn through the rope.

"How could I forget about the thermekinesis skill?" Noah thought to himself, finally seeing a thread of hope. A slight sense of relief began to form—only to vanish the moment Derek poured a bucket of water on Enel, shocking him awake in panic and terror, then tossed the bucket aside.

Enel woke up gasping, as if he had drowned for a moment, died, and come back to life. The first thing his eyes fell upon was the bastard who tortured him—Derek.

"N-No! No more! Please! No! No! Leave me! I don't want this! No! No! NO!!!" Enel screamed, eyes full of tears, his entire body trembling violently to break free. He was so overwhelmed with fear he didn't even notice Noah's presence.

"W-Why did you wake him up?!" Noah asked in panic and confusion.

"Our dear Gospel teaches us that, during your education, you heretics must be conscious," Derek said, smiling sadistically at Noah.

"It is a mercy from our Almighty God that the last thing you hear are words of truth and reality. After all, we are not human. We are the Broken Choir, and the Gospel alone gathers us under the shadow of our God!"

"We… are not human? Impossible!" Noah thought, wide-eyed, recalling the book titled "Boring Book"—only to remember its real title revealed in the intro: "We Are Not Human." There's no way this was a coincidence.

Derek then removed his shirt, revealing the same tree tattoo Noah had seen earlier in the locker room—a tree with a twisted trunk and branches full of sharp, broken leaves inked across his left arm.

"This! This is the Thorned Psalm! The sacred symbol of our faith as believers in His Majesty, The Betelgeuse! Each leaf represents a noble soul sacrificed for the birth of our revered God! It is a symbol of magnificence and suffering—a never-ending loop of repetition! Beauty is pain, and pain is the womb of beauty!" Derek spread his arms wide, smiling toward the ceiling in narcissistic ecstasy. Then he turned, grabbed the iron rod, and approached Enel.

"No!! Please… stay away! Please… please," Enel begged, breaking down into sobs. His voice was hoarse from screaming so much that his throat was damaged, and his tears had dried into meaningless streaks—he had cried so much he no longer had tears left to shed.

"This is your punishment for not accepting our God's mercy and his supreme scripture. This mark will distinguish you from others in hell, so all will know your sin—the reason for your place in hell. This is the doctrine of our God, and the Psalmic Gospel," Derek said, aiming the rod at Enel's chest. Enel tried to scream, but every ounce of strength in his body had already been drained.

"What a ridiculous religion," Noah said coldly and mockingly—successfully grabbing the attention of the zealot before him.

"What did you just say?" Derek asked, turning toward Noah, standing in front of him, asking again to make sure.

"Your gospel? Shove it straight to hell. How about saving yourself and following me instead? The Pages of Rebellion have room for everyone," Noah said with smug defiance, grinning.

"Blasphemer!" Derek roared, thrusting the burning rod at Noah. But just then, the rope tying Noah finally tore—burned by the flame in his hand—and he narrowly dodged the strike. It did graze part of his chest, however, burning through his shirt and skin and leaving an unbearable sting.

"Aghh!" Noah clenched his teeth in pain but ignored it. He lunged at Derek, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms.

"Argh! You heretic! How dare you stop me?! May divine judgment befall you for interfering with our sacred law!" Derek screamed, trying to escape—but the difference in strength was clear.

"To hell with you and your god! You're right. I am a blasphemer. But I believe in one god—myself. I am the master of my fate and the god of my existence. And in my gospel, my blasphemous book—you won't live to be in the next chapter!" Noah said, letting go of one of Derek's arms just to drive a punch under his jaw so hard that Derek's head bounced off the ground, his mouth frozen in agony.

Noah didn't give Derek a moment to react. He unleashed blow after blow.

The first punch shattered Derek's nose—blood flooding his mouth like rotten red paint.

The next dislocated his jaw, twisting it sharply to the left with an audible crack and swelling soon followed. Another blow split his lip wide open, blood spilling freely, exposing his front teeth. Noah's fist then slipped and hit Derek's throat, as if rage itself had lost its aim—so he punched again, breaking more teeth, loosening the rest, until blood pooled and streamed from the corners of Derek's lips.

A final punch crushed into his eye socket—the eyelid swelled shut, and the eye beneath vanished into darkness.

Noah kept punching, each blow splattering blood on his own face and clothes. The beating became a ritual of fury, breaking Derek's face so badly it became unrecognizable. His body jerked limply with every hit, long since unconscious—one strike had sent him into a half-dead state.

Then Noah slammed his forehead into Derek's skull, rupturing something inside—this violence wasn't just for him. It was for every victim of this deranged religion and its crooked scripture.

Noah stood up slowly. His hands were soaked in blood. Even his knuckles were torn and bleeding from how hard he'd been punching.

"…I won't kill you. Not out of mercy—but because this is your punishment. I won't be the one to take your soul. I'll make someone else take it. And after this—I'm coming for your beloved god… and I'll send him to hell to join you."