His Devilship CHHHAAANNN~

Heal |F+|

"Hang in there!" she calls, coating my face in blue glows.

As if that's enough to curry a favor with me.

Well, at least better than bullets.

Oh, there's apparently a hole in my forehead? One of the previous bullets? Strange.

How did I even function with a hole in my head?

It's closing up, though. So all good, I guess.

Except that I'm blind in my left eye.

Surely this can heal. If my regeneration can heal and restore a brand-new heart in minutes, then that mustn't be that big of an ordeal?

Right? Right.

Even stranger than all, blinding myself somehow calmed me.

Did I develop masochistic tendencies by chance? It's painful, yet it's peaceful all the same.

What now, do I just walk with a peg up my butthole so I can feel constant pain?

"Umm… I'm almost out of mana…" she mutters.

Oh, is that why the moron didn't attack me? Smart girl. There's no way I'd have contained myself if she went through with it.

One more blue projectile and I'm projecting her face on the walls.

I watch her with my unblinded eye, making sure she doesn't run off and absorb the red orb. Something within me tells me the orb is the crux of my vitality, and without it, I'll wither. 

Yet what I see on her face is… concern? 

In quiet distress, her brows tense, and her lips quite quiver whilst her glassy eyes reflect the waning crucibles of blue magic still milling between her fingers, slipping and shifting, flitting and flickering, ghosting.

It's sincere. Sincere worry. Why? This is troublesome.

I wouldn't want to attack a woman. I wouldn't want to attack a child. I wouldn't want to attack a good-hearted person. I wouldn't want to attack someone who has the capacity to care…

It's just like with animals. It doesn't feel bad eating a cow because cows look fucking edible. But with dogs? Hell no. That just feels wrong. Unpalatable. I'd rather eat shit than dog stew.

Now, if the dog were a companion with whom I've spent time and forged memories, then that's no longer a stew but a shit to die for, even.

Attachment is a scary thing.

A thing is, dogs can't stab your back, while an intelligent being can use you and then throw you away the moment they get a chance. Attachment is not reciprocal.

Animals pursue emotions and instincts, some humans do too, most do. However, the truly intelligent ones pursue benefits. For one cannot rely on compassion and understanding. The sword and the pen, on the other hand, will always have one's back. They are always loyal. They are always understanding.

Gunter's hate was piercing, yet it didn't pierce. No matter how much the elf or the goblin hated me, no matter what emotions of me they had, and no matter what dreams they had for their future—

They're dead. Filthy, scorned upon, and mutilated. Why?

Because their sword wasn't sharp enough! Because the arrows weren't piercing enough!

Because the dreams and the emotions they had carried no weight behind them!

Because they dared stand against me! Someone stronger than them!

And did I not murder them, her friends?

Yes, the worry is sincere indeed. But it's not worry for me, or for her friends, for that matter.

Instead, she's worried about herself. That must be it.

A reasonable one, huh. So her cries weren't for the tragic death of her companions, but rather the fear of death and regret.

Come to think of it, while I was strangling the elf, instead of continuing to send bullets at me, she ran straight for the orb.

Very bright, especially for someone her age. Most kids her age wouldn't handle such stress so well.

She witnessed a bloodbath, a demon, and experienced immense physical pain.

And yet she stands.

Someone exceptional, I can tell.

Not yet, but there's a dormant potential lying within this weakling. Perhaps with time.

Oh. I blink, with my left eye, looking at her snotty face. I can see once more.

I stand, and as I do, she flinches.

"Don't fret," I say calmly.

I wave a hand in lazy reassurance. Easing my gaze. Smiling lightly.

"I was out of myself. I have no intention to kill you." Lies slip past without a hitch.

She looks at me with a questioning and yet even moreso terrified face. Yes, I don't believe what I said either, but it's nice to start a conversation without threats for once. Hah, a breath of fresh air.

"I do believe there is a slight misunderstanding between us, and that we are no enemies." I extend my hand in a greeting gesture. "The fault is fate wholly, and the circumstances were beyond us."

She stares at it, petrified. That's perfectly fine.

My smile only deepens, and my eyes ease further.

My ridiculous outfit, the purple magical girl robe coupled with brownish creases, only helps assert that no, I'm not a maniacal lunatic. That I'm not crazy, just insane.

The kid finally takes my hand, shaking. And I shake it, firmly grabbing hers.

"What is your name?" I ask her gently.

It takes her time to process a single simple question. "Umm…"

"Mari… Marisella."

"Wow." I clasp our hands with my other hand. "Such a beautiful name, Marisella. May I call you Mari? I like long names; they're my favorite. But it's quite hard to get off the tongue each time if you know what I mean."

She nods her head, albeit slowly.

"Very good." I make sure to talk calmly and gently with pauses in between, to alleviate some stress. "What does the name mean, I wonder."

I crease my brows as if in deep thought.

From a prey frozen in terror, I attempt to force her to a controlled social interaction, out of passive fear and into active engagement.

"Umm… it means 'star of the sea'. It's from Latin…"

"That is indeed a wondrous name!" I grab onto her shoulders, my eyes lit. Yet quickly let go.

"You see, Mari, I don't have many memories… I just awakened inside this building, and the very next thing I know, my life is in mortal danger…"

I lower my gaze, curling my lips downward. "I don't know much about the world, but I do know that somewhere, sometime in the past, I was once a human. I lived as a human. Once…"

"Yet the memories are gone… and I can't even control myself properly…" Tears fall. I brush them, avoiding her gaze entirely. 

Acting was a necessary skill for a street rat, for a beggar crawling the streets. As such, I can easily shed tears or blood with no remorse or concern. It's ingrained in me. 

My lips quiver. I bite into them, blood flowing. Swiping my eyes across the stone walls, I scrutinize them.

They seem to be part of the once prominent estate, old and deep, muted in browns and golds.

There's a sense of clandestine warmth but also, moreso, a sense of gothic creepiness.

As though in the shadows lie monsters.

"I-I…" I slump to the floor, my knees hitting the floor with a clack. "To think that I'd become a murderer!"

I shakily raise my palms, watching the blood on my black claws trickle down my fingers.

Raising my chin, I watch the domed ceiling too high above. As though pondering life. My crimes, my fate, and my sins. In reality, I'm just fucking around.

The room is almost circular, slightly squarish. It's large in size and width, the lights bathing through the dark curtains of small diamond windows above. The light is soft, atmospheric, low. The warmth spotlights the moss on the walls like a weak lamp or an extinguishing candle.

Finally, of course, at the center is a pedestal, or an altar of sorts, wherein hovers a crimson orb. 

My thoughts break as the girl extends her hand to me.

"I think I know what's happening," she says, her blue eyes resolute.

Huh? The hell? Is this the same scrawny, scared, and pitiful figure I know?

"I'll help you regain your memories and guide you through this hell," she says.

I did want to seem vulnerable, but that was to have an open discussion.

To garner information, basically. This, this I didn't expect.

"So the millennial war has begun…" she whispers.

I stand on my own, regaining my composure.

I smile.

Mari, huh.

Am I pathetic for not wanting to kill her?

Am I pathetic for wanting to kill her?

"I do want to hear…" I say, my fists tightening. "To pay back to whoever did this to me."

She nods, pointing at me. "Very well. But before I tell you, you've asked for my name, haven't you? I wonder what yours is. Or do you not remember?"

Ha, look at this kid.

My name? It's—

My name…

What was my name? Chandra? No, that's the name bestowed to me by the bastards.

I had a name. A name my friends and family referred to me as.

I have a name.

"Chu…"

"Chu?" she asks, bewildered. "What a weird name."

"No, not that. Let me think…"

***, I wish I never fucked that filthy bitch! Is this all you could get for today?! That's not even enough for booze—

You want to sell your organs? What a weird kid. I don't know people who harvest around here. Though ***, you do have sleek looks now that I look. There might just be a demand for your body—

You— You didn't kill the old man, did you, ***? They'll be up your ass in days! They will kill you! They will kill your sister too! No, by her looks, it's worse! They'll either fuck her to death or enslave her! Why did you not think of the others?

"I do remember!" I shout. Fuck, didn't mean to.

"My name is—"

"Chan!"

I say proudly, brushing my nose.

Mari stares at me blankly, her lips pursing before twisting, wrinkling her nose like she tasted foul.

Do I really look that ridiculous? Does purple really not fit me at all?

"Umm…" she mutters, extending her hand once more. "Let's cooperate, Chan. Let's be friends. But let's have an equal grounding. Since I've promised that I won't lie to you, I ask that you promise me that you won't ever spontaneously kill me."

What am I, a madman? Hmph!

I grab her hand, forcing a smile. "I promise, Mari."

Around us form lights. They speak to me.

That I've successfully changed my fate.

This very day, I was meant to kill everyone, not just the two, but I abstained.

I can now see your future, Mari. I can clearly feel it.

Although it looks bleak, and cloudy, and dark—

Beyond the obscurities and obstruction—

Light.

There's light.

Blazing, bright, kind.

A future, where there's no me.