altimit | (Catch all) Ominous October Threads

[ It's easy to lose himself in the mindless violence of a game and the necessity of the moment. He can't allow Sinclair to be hurt, knowing what the consequences are now... But Michel covers his mouth as he looks down at the bodies, his expression perturbed, edging towards illness.

It feels too real now. He didn't want to know what something like this feels like. He wants to wash the sensation of it from his hands. ]

Nothing good is waiting for you here. Go back to the gate with me, and tell me what happened.

[ If Sinclair plows ahead, as he expects he will, Michel will follow. But he wants — no, he needs to make one last appeal, before they're truly in over their heads. ]

... Don't try to talk me out of this.

[ He's panting now, sick with regret and fury. But if all those people were the ones helping Kromer, then he didn't care anymore. He'd tear them all apart, bash their heads against the ground until ----.

Like plump little promegenates, he'd scatter their insides until -----.]

My family. They were already buried and she wouldn't leave them alone. Me. She's going to keep coming, she'll keep coming and now--

[ Mithrun didn't have to wait for Sinclair to return to reality. They were all here. Waiting for Sinclair. He marches forward, his polearm slick with blood dripping down the blade. He tests the door first]

If this world is doing this, I'll rip apart whoever is behind it too.

Edited 2023-10-07 06:10 (UTC)

[ It's as if with that last declaration, the dungeon pulses once, making the two feel it. Something is beyond the door. It opens easily, showing a huge person there with similar heavy white armor who's holding a hammer. There's something different about this one though. Perhaps it's a miniboss. They raise their big hammer and brings it down onto Sinclair. They will decidedly deal with Winter after. But before the hammer is fully brought down, there's a scream coming from inside the house:

"Run, Emil!!"

It sounds like his sister. ]

[ Michel remembers more vividly than he would have expected; a hammer, and blood, and that same voice saying the same words. He doesn't need that to galvanize him. He knows what a true older brother would do here.

He moves as fast as he can to try to knock Sinclair out of the way, half-lifting his sword to block. He won't try to talk Sinclair out of this anymore. But maybe Sinclair will listen to the other voice this time, the way he had in the past. ]

[He freezes. That voice could always bring him up short. Again, again - he doesn't expected Michel moving in to take that blow. Sinclair goes staggering despite the weight of his class, and he freezes, eyes wide with horror]

Michel...?

[ Why was Michel? Why...? His expression twists with horror as the hammer swings down and he forces himself to move, raising his polearm instinctively to deliver a blow that armored person's side. Her...]

Edited 2023-10-07 17:38 (UTC)

[ The hammer comes down with heavy force, so hopefully Michel can block it with the half-lifted sword. The polearm is successful in delivering a blow to the person's side, but they don't even flinch. The armor doesn't even have a dent in it.

Hey, what level are these "monsters" again...? If Sinclair thought he was too helpless against them, of course they would be stronger than him, right? Does he still think that? Sinclair better get some sort of boost in confidence so that they won't get out of this with heavy injuries.

Beatrice, Sinclair's sister manages to come down the stairs and grabs at the huge armored person.

"Get away from them!" She cries out desperately, hitting the person's back and to the other two: "Run! Hurry!" ]

[ Michel blocks with surprising deftness — it must be the adrenaline now, but his grip on his sword doesn't even slip when he shoves back against the boss and steps clear of its range. ]

Emil! Go, now!

[ It doesn't feel right to leave Beatrice here... But he has to remind himself that this isn't real. It's a construct of the game, a repeat of events that have already happened. Faltering here won't help a girl already gone, but it could hurt Sinclair, who still lives. Michel reaches for Sinclair's arm to try to yank him away, back, towards the exit. He's no longer trying to persuade. ]

[ Something rises up in Sinclair's throat. A scream? He doesn't know. But he's angry, cold with fury. He doesn't believe he's weaker than these monsters. He knows he's stronger now]

I'm not running away!

[ He pulls himself free of that grip, swinging in with his polearm at the armored man's head. This is his chance]

Beatrice!

[ Sinclair knows that he's stronger than these monsters and that is the key. When Sinclair swings his polearm at the armored man's head, the helmet, it cleaves in two like a hot knife through butter. Perhaps Sinclair went too hard on the swing because they go so cleanly split down, cutting the armored man in half when the earlier attack couldn't even make a dent in his armor. The armored man's level? 10.

And it's a shame that Beatrice clung onto the armored man so tightly in an attempt to hold him back because she gets caught in the swing and is also cleaved in two herself. She crumples first. ]

[ Ah.

He'd been afraid for Sinclair. But even his fears hadn't encompassed the range of possibilities. Michel jerks his gaze away from the welter of gore for a moment, fighting down the rising sense of illness and the tinge of real anger.

This isn't real. The consequences could be very real, but none of this is real. ]

Don't look. This isn't real. It isn't running away. Why won't you hear me?!

[ His weapon slips from numb fingers, clattering to the ground. He sinks to his knees shortly after too, his head spinning]

But it's all...it looks so...aah...nonononono--

[ He leans over and begins to gag, throwing up on the spot]

[ 🎵 BGM: Between Two Worlds

Perhaps a soft chorus can be heard in the distance, very faint. It sings of the passing of the two bodies before them, but there will soon be more. The armored man finally crumples, its split halves and injured organs spilling everywhere. It's a shame, because all that only covers some of Beatrice's corpse, also cleanly split in two with messes of organs and gore on the floor.

Yet, the dungeon still isn't over.

Beyond the living room, two more bodies roll down the stairs. There's a hideous cracking noise as one of them makes impact onto the floor. The other, reaches her hand out.

"E...mil..."

It's his mother. His father's neck had long since snapped on the way down, unable to send off his son before his untimely demise.

But even the mother is soon silenced, with a long stake that is driven through both parents. Together in love. Together in death. And of course, the stakedriver, is her.

"Sinclair~ Merry Christmas!"

She can't hold back her cackling, bursting out in manic laughter in the middle of her sentence.

"You're late! I was waiting for you for soooo long!" ]

[ Each new horrible sound, sight, makes Michel flinch anew. Snapping bone, the squelching sound of pierced flesh. His stomach roils, but the desperate mantra in his head grounds him as much as he can hope for. It's not real.

At least for him, it isn't real. Only Sinclair is. Michel reaches for his shoulder to tug him back, hoping to jolt him back with touch where words have so plainly already failed. ]

Listen to my voice. Remember where you are. There's no meaning to fighting her here. Go!

[ Here's the thing about Sinclair: for the past year, he had been been wandering blindly in the dark, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. Alone. It had changed with the beta, sources of strength he didn't know he could draw on appearing to help him feel stronger
And yet, the feeling of being haunted never ceased.

He was proven right two weeks ago. And for the past two weeks, he had been frantically trying fo pull things together. Everything in its rightful place, carefully divided, as to not taint each other. His work is unraveling now]

... she'll follow me. Wherever I go, no matter what I do

[He shakes, unable to move from either fear or anger. It paralyses him on the spot as he stares at his family's bodies.]

Mithrun was right, she probably already has my real body, she's probably worked it all out, if I don't fight now---

[ 🎵 So many regrets bring me to tears. 🎵
🎵 Not many notice nor care. 🎵

When Kromer is being ignored, she doesn't quite like that. Michel is in the way. She wants to have alone time with Sinclair, so she gets out another stake in an attempt to skewer it through Michel's leg (14+5=19). He's in the way of this level 90 monster, level inflated by Sinclair's low confidence in having power over Kromer.

"Someone that my Sinclair is close to? Then you can join his family!"

Her sharp laugh echoes throughout the blood house. ]

Mithrun doesn't know a single thing you don't. Pull yourself together!

[ He gives Sinclair's shoulder a little shake. This is what's important right now. More than Kromer, more than how angry he'll be at Mithrun later.

It's only being addressed by her directly that gets Michel to look over in annoyance, slow (11) in his reaction. He gives Sinclair a push — get him moving again, get him running, even if Michel himself can't dodge out of the way of that stake in time... ]

[It's hard to process what he knows and doesn't know. But he does know this:]

Don't you touch him--

[It's the level 25 spear he has equipped this time, his level 50 abandoned on the ground, and he forces himself to move, out of sheer fear and anger as he parries that blow (11). Not again. Not like with the fake Beatrice, not like his parents.

If he loses it all, what will he have left?

He pants, struggling against the giant stake. Pull yourself together, pull yourself together]

How can you be so sure?

[ The stake barely veers off course by just a little and Kromer takes it back, just to thrust it again.

"You're nothing without me, Sinclair! Just get rid of this thing, shed him off, and let's have a nice talk, just between us."

This time, she's aiming for Michel's arm (3+5=8). ]

[ The near-miss should be terrifying, and it's not like Michel doesn't feel at least a brush of that. But much keener is the fierce sense of victory. Sinclair isn't folding anymore, isn't losing sight of himself completely. ]

He's as trapped here as the rest of us. Didn't you tell me? Rodya and Don will have found you. He has no knowledge otherwise... your own fears and doubts are preying on you.

[ Michel is perhaps too absorbed in his explanation to make much of a parry (3). But he's not fighting alone now. ]

You need to Shut Up and stay away--

[He snarls at the Kromer--Kromer Monster really. Sinclair launches himself forward without another thought, his spear wreathed in flames as he delivers a Vak Tornado (16) to the Kromer monster. He didn't realise he had this skill. But he'll use it - finally something that matches his element. He's done with being preyed on, he's done with being manipulated, followed]

Maybe...maybe you're right, but how do I stop it--I can't stop looking back, I can't stop worrying--

[ She's getting so shafted here... the stake gets flung off with the Vak Tornado, but it's fine. She has another.

And she's annoyed! Angry!

Then she tries to go for the kill—the long stake right at Michel's heart (19+5=24). If Sinclait gets in the way of the path, then she'll just skewer both of them. ]

You're asking me what you can do?

[ Sorry, Monster Kromer. The most valuable lesson he has to share with his one and only little brother is that you're not even worth his time. ]

Share that worry with the people around you. Stop letting it consume you. You don't have to become anyone else. But look around you and remember that you aren't alone, Sinclair. Look forward!

[ Hypocritical advice if ever he's given any. Michel doesn't care. He brings his sword up in another parry (11), the stake sliding against the metal with a sound that raises the hair on the back of his neck. If he can take that hit in the shoulder or the side instead, that would be good enough... ]

[There's no taking any hits from Kromer. Sinclair wont allow it. Michel's words finally break through. He's not alone. He's not alone anymore and he doesn't have to work this out just by himself. Wood element wraps around his spear and he charges forward with a shout, delivering a Juk Punisher (20) to Kromer's heart.

Kromer? Is nothing. He can be stronger than her. He is stronger than her]

[ Sinclair's boost to confidence from Michel's strong advice makes the dungeon pulse, immediately weakening Kromer, who takes the Juk Punisher to the heart. She smiles maniacally as always and shrieks as she dies, crumpling onto the ground.

If only, we could be, forever naive and pure.

If only, we could lead painless futures.

If only there could be a forgiving world.

As the final boss of the dungeon is vanquished, the Sinclair estate and its entire property disintegrates, leaving Michel and Sinclair in the dungeon of what it's supposed to be: a meadow dungeon with a forest at the heart of it all. No more monsters are around.

As the two reach the end of their adventure, they hear gentle, quiet voices whisper.

"Welcome home, Emil. Allow us to bless you before you depart. We love you..."

Very familiar voices that the two heard only moments ago, but it also included the father this time as well. A small breeze blows as if to send them off.

The two have received a blessing to uncover the truth for themselves. Whether they believe it to be a curse or blessing is up to them.

With that, the voices' warm presence disappears. Goodbye for the last time, Emil. ]

Edited 2023-10-08 05:49 (UTC)

[ Had he ever really doubted that Sinclair had it in him? Maybe he just hadn't been allowing for any other possibilities. Michel's shoulders slump just a little in relief as the adrenaline begins to ebb again.

He had no intention of allowing Sinclair to be hurt. But he's a little surprised, and perplexed, to find himself in one piece. What is he even supposed to say now?

What words would he have wanted from Didier? ]

...Well done. You've gotten strong, Sinclair.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: gore

no subject

Cw: emeto

cw: gore

cw: gore

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject