L'Apogée Du Martyr I

As I leave the cavern, a fresh, somewhat cold breeze assaults me, and with it comes a red mist.

The mist is just that—a mist. Not the humid fog inside my dungeon that clings to the skin, but a red nothingness, barely felt on me.

It's quite easy to glimpse through it to the valley too.

There are spare trees, sparse in numbers, yet titanic, their trunks like forts, their roots like snakes from the dinosaur era, fungi sprouting from their everywhere and an underbrush covering their everything.

The barks illuminate purple while the veins shine greenish. The leaves sway, redder than the mists, vibrant and lively, and the round fruits hang, comely, more purple than the barks, vivid, violet.

Above the branches into a dense canopy and above their vastness, sky peeks through. No, not sky, but rather, the stones, and crystals.

Instead of a blue sun or an orb, what radiates the abyss with shine are ginormous crystals sprouting from the ceiling. They are purple, bright purple.

Yet, due to the mist, my vision is clouded in reds mostly, with a purplish undertone.

I step on the grassy mud, the softness chilling my feet, swallowing my steps.

Feels like heaven.

I breathe, closing my eyes.

Peace, peace at last.

I sit on the ground, and relax.

Then I just lay there, sideways, a hand under my chin, lazily observing the scenery.

I scratch my burning ass from under the robe with my other hand, then bring it to my mouth, yawning.

The grass grows straight, of deep blue, swaying with the breeze, the strands shifting in waves.

There are some rocks here and there, pinkish. Some glow, others lay in slumber, dormant. They rise like fangs from the soil.

Also, streams. The waters flow through the valley, still, still, save for the occasional blip-blips, bubbles that fish would typically produce while close to the surface.

The streams themselves raise calming and relaxing burbles as they flow over the rocks.

The trees are titanic, yet sparse.

The roots are serpents, yet unmoving.

The lights are splendid, yet without a sky.

The barks glow colorfully, the world feels muted.

Feels like a dream.

Everything is alive, yet lifeless.

Slipping through my fingers—

Like a distant, faraway dream.

Without a purpose, without a meaning.

A tear streams down my cheeks as my mouth parts.

Then another, another, another,

I feel nothing, as though I was nothing, and all I ever will be is nothing.

The mud swallows me, and I, float in it.

There's only… pain. Constant, sharp.

 I don't want this pain.

There is no grand purpose, no nothing, just pain.

I feel… tired, lonely, abandoned, betrayed.

I have to move forward… but why?

Revenge is just an excuse.

Curiosity is just an excuse.

Power is just an excuse.

But to obtain purpose, I need to be powerful, I need to be vengeful, I need to be curious.

I need to continue deceiving myself.

Only by moving forward can I find the answers for the world.

No.

The answers to myself, for myself.

They can deprive me of my body and mind.

Yet they can never, never ever temper my soul.

My will.

The blue grass sways, hypnotic, endless.

I brush the tears, not mine, of course.

But the tears left from the rain falling from above.

Who could have thought that it would rain underground?

The rain continues to pierce me. I feel every drop, every drizzle.

Then I lean to the left, dodging the acidic bullet raining down on me.

"You thought I'd forget about you?" I ask, lazily glancing above at the floating creature. "I thought I told you to bring your boss. Instead, you ruin my rest. Can you not appreciate the beauty of nature? How can you be fucking blind for a being that is a literal eye."

"I'm in the midst of an existential crisis, alright?" I wave my hand soothingly. "Why not just relax for a moment—"

It blinks, sending another missile.

I sigh, leaning forward into a sitting posture, predicting the course of the laser before it even comes into existence.

Even as a human, I could dodge bullets. This, in comparison, is like a baby swinging a toy at me.

But the attack succeeded.

It didn't fuck up my body, but it sure fucked up my mind.

Veins form on my neck as my eyes twitch.

"You really wanna die, don't you?"

Except…

How am I supposed to kill the fucker when it's flying at an apartment height above me?

I slowly stand, brushing the mud off my robe as I dodge another laser by slightly retracting my shoulder.

It scratches my left breast.

The acid burns through me, the pain being the same as though having a dentist drill through my glands without anesthesia.

"Okay, now I'm totally fucking mad—"

More gazers gather in the air.

Two, three, four…

Five, six…

Seven…?

So he did call for a backup.

What a cavalry.

Hahaha.

Ha…

"Okay, now I'm totally fucked—"

I say before the army of gazers gaze upon me.

I run like a bitch I am.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK—"

The barrage of lasers comes at me like at a lost lone soldier in a losing war.

The ground explodes before and behind me, like in some blockbuster movie.

I keep swinging and spinning left and right and jumping and bending up and down as I move without heeding a single glance backward.

I function purely on my instincts and intuition. The advantages of being a luck path cultivator.

Ironically, the codex that fucks me up sharpens my senses also. Not threefold like it does with pain, but still, better than nothing.

Also, the woman's body, despite being weaker, is more acrobatic, which helps immensely as I maneuver.

And so I keep running aimlessly, my mind rushing, the robe fluttering behind me, shredded by misses.

Shredded?

My robe?

My super-duper sexy, super-puper magical, super-super dopey sexy magical girl robe…?

I smile emptily, parting my lips, my eyes darkened.

"Hahaha…"

What the hell?

"HAHAHAHAHAHA"

I will show them what the hell truly looks like.

I, a personification of benevolence, or well, demonification, will impart the blind fuckers with sight.