The Peak Of All Joy
Lucien felt a feeling synonymous with joy that transcended all pulsate around his entire body.
Didn’t I just kill someone?
Lucien had fed himself too many lies during his mental breakdown that he had effectively altered his memories of the past.
"Demon! Come back here," the soldiers called out from far behind.
"What’s that? I didn’t do anything," Lucien mumbled to himself, slowly shifting his gaze to the group of soldiers desperately trying to catch up with him.
"Oh, that’s right. They’re blaming me for murder, and I don’t recall killing anyone."
"Don’t be a fool. How does someone even manage to delude themselves to this extent?" A soldier shouted, catching Lucien’s attention.
Lucien’s eyes weren’t normal—they had an odd feel to them. It was like a field of distinct emotions forced into a battle where only one could emerge.
He was in a state of self-discovery, unable to fathom any emotion he was currently feeling.
Anger? Despair? No, it felt like an uncontrollable cry.
His face twisted, but his eyes remained unchanged. His lips distorted into an odd shape, tears poured out from his eyes, and his fists clenched automatically.
’What the actual hell is my body doing? It doesn’t feel like Wrath is doing this.’
Before he could even think, his body had launched itself forward. It was as though it had a mind of its own.
A different consciousness, yet it felt familiar.
"Don’t blame me for what I didn’t do!" He grabbed the face of one of the soldiers and blasted through it like it was made of butter.
The remaining soldiers fell back and retreated, stumbling in fear as they ran like frightened dogs.
Lucien locked eyes with every single one of them, massacring them. Their screams were like music to his ears, and their warm blood like wine at an occasion.
’Ok! Slow down here. If I’m the one killing them, why don’t I feel the same anger my face is exhibiting?’ Lucien thought, watching his own hands cut through everybody who stood before him.
He didn’t let those who surrendered run away.
He let them run and shot them in the back as they staggered in fear.
The most frightening of all for Lucien’s actual consciousness was the fact that the Lucien fighting the soldiers was able to summon Wrath’s powers at will without needing the transformation he’d been undergoing each time he needed it.
’What’s going on here?’
"Stop talking, you insignificant creature. You’ve let yourself get reduced to a pathetic mass of human organs."
That wasn’t Lucien talking; it was something else far more sinister than what he thought.
Can my body now interact with me? What is all of this?
[It’s Wrath, boy. That emotion you’ve been experiencing has been Wrath all along. This is just a manifestation of it]
Wrath’s voice pierced through Lucien’s thick consciousness.
’How exactly do you know this much when this is the first time it’s showing itself?’
Lucien’s body, or rather, the manifestation of deep-rooted anger, was going on a killing spree, laughing at every dead body dropping to the ground as though it was a type of game.
The killing continued, leaving Lucien helpless. With nowhere to go, Wrath was the only one he was capable of conversing with.
Following Lucien’s question was an endless laughter that echoed all around Lucien.
’Ah, that ripple from the first time I talked to you. It’s bursting my eardrums.’
[But you see, you don’t have eardrums. You’re just the product of self-preservation.]
Lucien was obviously confused, but the undeniable hellscape that his body had created was hard to disregard.
Countless lives were lost; some were probably fathers with their families waiting for them.
But he killed them all with no hesitation.
[The 2 of us simply can’t coexist when we have nothing in common. Now that your anger, which is the only thing we share, is actively engaging in battle, even my words will prove detrimental to your health.]
[While I wouldn’t want that to happen, torturing you till you’re about to die is just as amusing as watching you die.]
Lucien didn’t respond, his entire self invested in what his body was doing. He chuckled slightly before responding to Wrath.
’As you said, I don’t have eardrums. I can’t feel pain in this state because my body is being piloted by something else.’
’I have no reason to be frightened by your empty claims.’
Tsk
Wrath was visibly annoyed but didn’t reply to Lucien. Both of them watched in silence as Lucien’s body continued its activities, until something changed.
There was a sudden halt in motion, and his body fell to the ground.
Lucien’s vision blurred, his eyelids closed, and then gradually reopened. He raised his arms, twisted his wrists, and continuously opened and closed his palms after raising himself from the ground.
"I’m back?" He looked around him, but there wasn’t a single living being in sight.
Lucien stood up and approached the lifeless bodies. With each step, his feet sank into the growing pool of blood beneath him, sending out splashes that made his stomach churn.
"My appetite is definitely taking a hit after this." He approached the dead bodies, and on instinct, he stole their supply boxes.
The contents varied, but their purposes were essentially the same—to keep the soldiers nourished till they could get real food.
"Whatever this might be, I learned to not waste food a long time ago." He filled his palm with a few supplements and chewed them.
They didn’t taste good.
They actually tasted bitter, but the thought of collapsing mid-fight was too frightening to let himself ignore free food regardless of how it tasted.
Lucien dug up some sand from the ground and covered them up in a thin layer of it.
"Even though this isn’t the best burial, it’s still something."
In both of his lives, he lost his family faster than he could have ever imagined, but the memory of his second father stuck more than any other memory.
The thought of seeing young fathers lose their lives was sickening, and that was the only thing Lucien hated the most.