altimit | (Catch all) Ominous October Threads

[ 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.

[Sinclair looks up at Michel, blinking slowly. It was over. He had...he had finally overcome it. It wasn't real but it was his own demons put to rest properly this time.

Well done. and We love you.

Oh.

Sinclair feels his eyes go hot but he doesn't try to hide it as the tears fall, staggering forward to rest his head against Michel's chest to cry]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. [And] Thank you.

Ah—

[ He freezes for a moment in perfect surprise as Sinclair collides with his chest. But, he learned the last time, didn't he? He knows what Sinclair needs here.

Only a bit belated, he wraps his arms around him in a firm hug. It's strange... it feels as soothing to give one of these now as he remembers it having felt to receive one as a child. ]

No, I should be thanking you. I would have been— [ skewered, ] ...in a difficult position if you hadn't come to my rescue.

I should have listened. But I was so angry, I didn't want to--

[It's a warm hug. He feels steady with it, his sobs easing into something more even]

Yes, you should have.

[ Did Sinclair think he was going to disagree with that? Probably not. But the hug doesn't falter, except for Michel to reach up and ruffle his hair gently. ]

...What you've been through is unimaginable. It's only human to be overwhelmed by pain and anguish, fear and doubt. But you were still strong enough to hear me.

[ Sinclair's shoulders shake a little more, wracked by heaving sobs] </small It's been--so--every day, it feels like I can't escape it--

[ What can he say to a weight like that? Maybe Sinclair never will fully escape it. Those memories leave scars. He tightens the hug just a little as his silence lingers. ]

Even so, you've come this far. I think those final words in the dungeon are the message your family would have wanted you to take with you.

... even so...

[ He sniffles a little, his breathing ragged]

...she did do it, you know. She desecrated their graves.

[ Ah. He'd expected that most of the things in that dungeon had their basis in Sinclair's memories. But even so, hearing it is a little sickening. ]

There really is no vile thing she wouldn't do. ...I can understand your anger. When did you hear?

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