L'Opéra De Géhenne II

32: Is this all you were ever meant to be?

1. No

2. Yes

3. —

Huh?

What a weird question. What in the fuck does 'what you were meant to be' even mean?

I was a person who wanted to break things from the very beginning. If I were capable of anything else then wouldn't I have chosen it already?

My entire existence has led up to this moment.

This is fate. My destiny.

I was conditioned for this from the way society turned me into something I despise.

I'm merely programmed to self-destruct.

I'm merely fulfilling that purpose.

I merely follow my code.

Besides if I were to say no then that'd mean I had to believe in something beyond.

But what? I see no future for myself.

I hate people and the world.

Every time I sought I reached dust.

What else could I possibly be?

But an inevitable consequence of everything that made me.

A byproduct.

I was shaped by factors outside my control from the very moment I was born.

Parents and the lack thereof—

Environment. Upbringing. Genetics.

The societal structures that dictated my beliefs—

My access to information and my emotions and whatnot.

I would have become someone entirely else were I born someone else in another time and in another place with a different set of inputs and yet I was not and so I became an outcome that has always been predetermined in a life where a choice is but an illusion.

I could have sought help but I never did.

I could have chosen to change but I never did.

I could have rejected destruction but I never did.

Transformation is a lie.

Personal growth is a lie.

Some people grow merely because they were given water while others rot left in the dirt.

There is no true self but only a role that was meant to be played.

I laugh at the idea of wanting to become whatever you want.

Did I choose to be born into a world that shaped my thoughts?

Did I choose to feel hatred or resentment or emptiness?

Did I choose to end up here and end myself?

No.

I did not.

I was always meant to be.

I was always meant to be here.

Yes.

This is all I was ever meant to be.

I was always meant to first live.

I was always meant to die then.

Living is an exercise in futility.

Nothing to change.

Nothing to reject.

Nothing.

Whether this world is a string of codes run by a programmer.

Whether this world is an artificial simulation run by noodle aliens.

Whether this world is a product of the imagination of some sociopathic sadist.

Nothing but The End.

I am not even killing myself as there was no self in me to begin with.

I am not negating myself but rather accepting the reality as it is.

I am accepting the lack of reality thereof and embrace null.

33: What faction do you believe most resembles you?

1. Righteous

2. Demonic

3. Neutral

There is the last question.

There is only cause and effect.

There is only systems of control.

There is no such thing as neutral.

There is no such thing as demonic.

There is no such thing as righteous.

People who justify their own actions.

At least it has a different set of answers.

Is this the last question? I feel as though.

I will go with neutral since I'm bisexual.

I glance at the sunset peering through the window.

Suddenly I'm not in the mood of killing myself anymore.

Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after? Should I perhaps apply to college?

I love drawing. Never had a talent for it. But why do I care what others think?

There is this childhood dream of mine to create the best comic book in existence.

Not any superman type shit. Not where the heroes win, or the villains do, really. No.

Instead…

A story where there's hope…

For both the depraved and the deprived…

A good story… with a fulfilling ending…

Perhaps that passion of mine is my fate… my destiny…

To erase myself into another world altogether and forevermore…

Congratulations! You have a 100% alignment with the Demonic Faction!

Hmm? What the fuck—

Blood. My nose bleeds.

I grab at it. What's happe—

"AARGHHHHHHHHHHH—"

My head! The head! Head hurts—

You've been chosen as a High Demon to rule over The Abyss!

Race |Human |F|| has been promoted to |High Demon |B||!

For the perfect results in the survey, you've been chosen as one of the Dungeon Masters to rule over the dungeons!

Race |High Demon |B|| has been promoted to |Dungeon Mas—

Error!!! Error!!! Error!!!

The words protrude my skull.

My brain lags as my veins burn.

Something is tearing me as though through and through throughout.

In and out and up and down and down and up and out and in and out.

I grip my ears as my vision blurs red and burns me within and without.

My forehead collides with the dashboard as the impact rattles the minivan.

I bang and again and another slam and bang before the entire dashboard croaks.

A fracture forms both on the console and my head as my skull meets plastic and metal.

The seat belt chokes me as I wrench my upper body left and right thrashing and jerk sideways.

Then I slam my head against the driver-side window as the glass spiderwebs and unknown memories assault me.

"Boss!" A young man calls, his head tiny under the ginormous afro. He stands tight, and salutes, his hands pressing shakingly against his tuxedo suit.

His skin is as dark as a human can get, his eyes sharp yet lost.

"It's done!" he shouts confidently, yet his body betrays him.

Across the long table, a hand under his chin, a mysterious man with messy hair and unbalanced glasses, nods in acknowledgment.

He looks airheaded, almost out of this world, yet there is a glint of unreachable malice within there, his eyes.

"Leave," he commands with a glance. His face remains expressionless, blank, his eyes empty, unreadable.

"Boss… I wanted to talk one on one—"

"You should leave, Gin," the mysterious man says calmly yet threateningly. A last chance. As though otherwise, the long decorative sword behind him would spill blood. "There is nothing to discuss."

"Is it really fine? Everything we're doing? You weren't such a person, Boss. You weren't. You've changed," the underling says, his eyes narrow, smiling sadly. "You have an objective in mind, right? I know that… But still. Selling an innocent child to a politician just so that you can later threaten him—"

The mysterious man strikes the table, his eyes wide, very wide… wrathful. At what? At his underlining? To the humans? In the world?

At himself?

"You're excused."

The underling lowers his head, turning back and leaving the room.

Silence.

The room abrim with rich decoration and lavishes… and paintings and drinks… and vases and luster… velvet carpets and high ceilings and expensive cologne…

Yet silence.

The man turns on his chair, glancing at the panoramic window with lazy eyes.

His eyes are dead, empty, reflecting the full city brimming with life.

"If it's not me, someone else will take my place…" he whispers, his lips barely parted.

"If it's not me, the world will be ruled over by demons…" he whispers, his expression calm.

"If it's me… I can do it…" he whispers, spare tears falling, washing over regret.

"I can become a devil…"

He says, his mouth half agape. 

"I can bear all the dark this world has to offer."

"I can overcome anything."

"My goals lie far beyond."

He smiles, his eyes hazy.

"I can become The Devil."

"This will prove that I've lived—

You've been chosen as a Familiar to serve The Lord of Devils!

Race |Dungeon Master |A|| has been changed to |Vampire Queen |S||!

The mechanical and monotone voices brush against my mind like an autumn breeze.

Sounds feminine and gentle yet lonely and disappointed all the same.

Chapter 0. Walpurgis Night — Phase 1

Best of luck, Player…

This pain! Just kill me already!

The rearview mirror gets the full brunt of my forehead as the plastic snaps off the base and flies into the backseat.

The head slams into everything within reach be that the steering wheel or the window or the glove compartment.

As my fingers shudder twitchingly I jerk back and slam the back of my head against the seat's headrest then back at the steering wheel as it honks.

To die.

…

…I open my eyes.

A cold fog. Two people.

The one with the amber hair looks at me with her curious sapphire eyes. Her face is round while them her eyes are downturned. A dark tunic covers her body whilst the leggings criss cross her legs. I'm reminded of that one kid everyone used to ask for homework and exam answers.

She's relatively short just like the girl standing beside her.

Yet the other girl despite clearly being her sister from almost the same color of eyes has an opposite vibe.

For starters—her chest is massive. Clearly the winner of the genetic lottery.

For seconds—she looks like a high-school bully that would skip the classes to fuck with the upperclassmen. Her smile looks mischievous as if screaming proudly 'I wear Gucci and Chanel. Bitch. What about you?'

For thirds—clearly fucking stupid.

Sometimes you can tell just by looking at the person's eyes.

Straight and even raven hair falls just below her chin.

She wears a magical girl robe and a pointy hat.

She points at me delicately.

"She's hot. Wow."