The Power of Creation – Chapter 111

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You would burn him to the ground. Hot, burning hatred. Death. Destruction, Rage. You shiver from the cold.


The fire burning in you suddenly disappears as if it was a lie. You aren’t hot at all. You are ice cold. This isn’t some kind of metaphor for something you did. The coolness is from some kind of external factor. A icy dread crept over your body, dampening your fiery spirit in nonexistence. It smothers you completely, causing you to do nothing but shiver. It feels like death itself has gripped your heart in its icy embrace, its fingers tendrilling around your very soul.

You feel fear. Not anger. Not hatred. Not resentment. Bone-chilling, murderous, deathly, fear. You are confused. So are a lot of people in the room of that inn. They are looking around in confusion at this cold icy feeling that overwhelmed the room. That’s when your eyes finally began to focus on the epicenter of this maelstrom.

“A-ariel?” you mutter.

Her face is covered in shadows. You can’t read any expression in it. Her eyes can’t be pierced from the blackness. The guy who had grabbed her butt seems a little less wary compared to many of the others in the room. Instead, he tries to laugh it off, using his size to comfort himself.

“Hahaha… as I was saying, why don’t we-“

“Whhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat the fuck… do you… think… you’re doing?” The voice came from Ariel’s lips, but she sounds nothing like a princess.

Rather, she sounds like a Yakuza, some muscled punk ready to beat down a store clerk in a shitty web novel.

“Hey, don’t talk like that, bitch?”

“Bitch!” An eye pierces through the shadows, just one eye, staring at the big man with a glare of pure hatred. “Yes… hero’s bitch! You’d touch… this body… that belongs to hero’s hand only!”

“Hah? You’re hardly in a position to talk!” He gestures to other guys all around her. “Come on, let’s teach this bitch a lesson. We’ll give her “hero” what’s left of her in the morning!”

A surprisingly large amount of men seem on bored as they all start surrounding Ariel. However, you don’t make your move. You felt the thing they couldn’t feel.

“Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.” Ariel throws back her head and laughs, her eyes completely unfocused, as if she doesn’t have any bearings on reality at all.

“She’s- she’s already lost it!” One man mutters.

“Fine…” Ariel’s laughter ceases all of a sudden and she looks down at nothing in particular.

“F-fine?” The man asks cautiously, bringing a knife up cautiously as if he is afraid to pull it on her.

“You… may touch me.” Ariel responds dryly as you shake. “You just have to do one thing for me first.”

“Eh… then what’s that?”

“Die…” the words come out as a deathly whisper, and then Ariel leaps forward.

“Scary! Scary!” you cut off the vision instantly. “It’s too scary!”

The thing you saw… that coldness, that death… you aren’t afraid for Ariel. You are a little afraid of Ariel. Screams started to fill the night, not giving you any respite. No, you didn’t leave the audio on. You could hear them from here, over a half of kilometer away. The screams and cries sometimes sounded human, other times sounded my like the noises of a pig being slaughtered.

As they broke through the night, you begin to walk towards the inn. You can’t stop yourself. She is… Ariel… right? Screams…. Cries… the inn is finally in view. The door bursts open and you jump in surprise, you’re nerves taught. A man fell out, landing on the ground.

“Oh, Pun! Save me! Save me, Gods, Save me!” He screams, trying to crawl away.

His body suddenly is dragged back into the door, his fingers desperately clawing at the ground as it gives way to the force. The door slams shut behind them. A second later, blood splattered out from the bottom crack of the door. More screams. Blood hits the window, although that was all you can see in the apparent darkness.

The death rattles finally seem to end, and once again the night is eerily quite. There, the inn stood, no indication of anything but a little red in the edges where red shouldn’t be. You walk up to the door, forcing every ounce of willpower you have left to open it.

As light spreads across the room, you could see the forms of what once were bodies. The walls, floor, and ceiling are painted red. Guts, intestine, blood… it is everywhere. There was only one spot free from blood, a single circle in the middle of the room. There stood a woman whose back was to you. There wasn’t a single drop of blood on her clothing, but in her hand was the severed head of the bartender.

You accidently trigger the doorbell, alerting her to your presence. Her head turns, a single eye meeting yours.

“You saw…”

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