5TH DAY :

sɐʍ ǝɥs oɥʍ pǝzılɐǝɹ oɥʍ lɹıɓ ǝɥʇ

*Disturbing scenes, harsh language

—

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the pink eyes of my mom that stared deep into my cyan ones. I blinked, confused as in what was going on. If I remembered it correctly, I was in the Church, playing with other fellow magicians...When my sight turned black and I was knocked out.

"Mum?" Confused at the entirety of the situation, I called out my mom in curiosity, the single word holding many deep hidden questions that I didn't articulate fully. How naive of me, not able to notice the overflowing insanity reflected in her eyes. My mom just grasped my shoulders hard, smiling like a madwoman.

"Kashira, honey. You love mum, right?" She inquired, seemingly glancing back, then back at me. I followed her glance and barely saw a tall man with long, navy hair, looking old yet powerful, holding a long golden staff that looked extremely intricate. I instantaneously knew who he was. I tilted my head in confusion again, but nonetheless, nodded. Her smile seemed to turn happier, if it was even possible at this point. Her lips looked like as if was going to rip.

.

Was this her memory?

.

"Elder David has requested you to attend his 'study' of Ill Illah. Isn't that such glory?"

I tilted my head in confusion. What was the study about? All I had in my mind was the want to go back and play with my friends, but with my mom grabbing onto my shoulders to intensely, I had to nod. Something screamed me in the back of my head not to do it, but it was too late. Once I nodded my head, my mother turned around, smiling hideously.

"You heard it, right!? Sir elder David? She consented!"

I turned my head around and saw elder David looking at me, smiling confidently, insanely. His eyes seemed to pierce through me, causing me to automatically lower my gaze. For some reason, it was then when fear and worry started to consume me. Was it the right decision? Should I say no? Questions lingered in my mind, but all of them ultimately didn't articulate. Partially it was because I was scared, but mostly it was because I was still confused at the entirety of the situation. Especially, it was my mom who seemed weirder today. She never really raised her voice nor smiled like that. She was quiet, she was gentle, she was the one who always prioritize my safety first.

Yet, who is this woman in front of me? Showing me smile that I never saw from her, raising her voice, looking as if she was ready to run to elder David and bow down...I staggered that moment, feeling nausea sweep over me. I couldn't hear anything as I could only see David mouth something to my mom. She pushed me away and practically ran towards him, kneeling down in front of him as she licked the top of his shoes. She was smiling happily.

.

Is she really my mom?

.

I only watched that scene with confusion, wondering my mom's bone-chilling action. Even when dark spots appeared in the corners of my eyes, my brain was filled with unanswered questions. Why was she acting like that? What was going to happen to me? The lingering questions faded away along with my consciousness. My instincts screamed in alarm.

I was only six years old.

.

Kashira watched in silence at the memory that was unfolding her. She frowned in fear and worry at the impending ominous feeling. She was curious to know the rest of her memory, but she was also scared. Nonetheless, the panorama-like memory continued relentlessly, changing its surrounding to another room. With walls splattered with what seemed like blood, the room had tables filled with notes, scripts, knives; a large shelf with several hundreds of books ordered neatly; another table at the corner with the current staff that Kashira had; and a rather large, golden altar that had the agenda of the Orthodox carved into it.

Chills went down her spine.

.

I opened my eyes, gasping in surprise in finding sudden consciousness. Looking around, I found myself tied to a golden, table-like area. Shifting my eyes around, I found elder David standing several feet away from me, flipping through his notes. He had a smile that I couldn't fully explain. It was innocent; with his eyes bright, lips curved deeply — as if a child was learning new things — yet so dark and twisted. I wasn't sure, but if there was one thing I was sure of, it was the fact that I was getting scared. Finding myself bound with chains on a table didn't seem too enjoyable to me.

He must have sensed my stare because he turned around, smiling the same smile at me.

"Why, hello...Kashira Steif Naem, was it?" He spoke, looking straight into my eyes.

I nodded.

"Thank you for agreeing to participate in my studies. I was looking for some talented magicians to help me...Especially the strong and durable ones!" His tone seemed light-hearted...But the words spoke didn't seem too bright. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he mentioned words like "strong" and "durable." Durable? Why would he use that word? Despite the confusion, I nodded again.

"Now...Talking about the study, I'm actually conducting ways to manifest Ill Ilah upon this world. Wouldn't it be such a glorious moment to see the God? Especially if it came down through a human vessel? Oh, of course, that human vessel is me."

I snapped my head towards the man in front of me, shocked. "Elder David, that's unsanctimonious!" I cried out, struggling in my chain. The Church deemed Ill Ilah as being sacred, and yet, why was he trying to pull down the God down? However, elder David only tilted his head to the side, his signature smile still lingering on his lips.

"What do you mean, unsanctimonious? I'm the singularity of this world, I deserve the rights to exercise the duties of the God!"

Rendered speechless, I just watched him with wide eyes. Was he actually being serious? I looked up at elder David who stared down at me. He continued on, turning around while grabbing one of his notes as well as a golden staff that seemed pretty and simple.

.

That was, her staff. Kashira felt horror spreading throughout the entire body upon looking at the situation.

.

"Moving on, I know that there is a method to connect a single soul with the God, but I'm not quite sure about the success rate of this equation," he spoke, flipping through the notes and stopping at a specific page that had intricate magic spells and commands written covering the entire page fully. "This is the spell to connect a human with God. It's the one I came up...But it's just a hypothetical one. I would need a lot more trial and error process to fully complete this spell. So, I seeked for capable, young magicians who seemed to have talents in magic, as well as a strong body," he finished, showing turning around to show me the page. In his other hand, there was the staff that was glowing eerily, the staff that seemed too sharp for my liking.

The situation finally started to seep into my thick skull. I struggled, instantly regretting my decisions. Fear I never felt before roared to life, my eyes quickly filling with tears as I continued to struggle within the binds of the chain, pathetically begging to be set free. I didn't want this. I didn't like the direction this was going towards. I begged and begged the elder David, struggling more and more as he chanted out the spell. One by one, bloody red words appeared beneath me and above the altar I was tied above.

Nothing seemed to happen yet as he finished chanting, and just as when I was about to let my guard down, elder David smiled and cut away my clothes, deeply slicing vertically, following the path of where my esophagus lay, hidden inside the skin.

I screamed,

blood oozed out,

the spell was activated.

.

Kashira winced and blocked her ears when a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the room. She watched with horrified eyes as she saw herself convulsing at the altar, the blooding that was flowing from her injury causing the spell to activate stronger and stronger. Elder David was standing right next to her, watching the entire scene with calm eyes as he took down notes, observing the reactions happening.

She felt disgusted by his presence.

.

īͣͮ̀̌ͭ̈́ͭ̑̌̋̏ͨ̐̾̎̓ͫ͞͏̡͇͉̺̝̱̩̱̙͚̺̱͜t̷̯̹͔̙̪̯̦͍̯͈̤͉̗̥̖̃̔̆ͬ̽ͧ̍̿͂ͬ̋ͣ͆ͯ͘͠͞ͅ ̋ͩ̃ͨͧͭͫ̓͗̂ͯ̽ͧͣ̾͏̛͏̠̻͖͖̦͓̯͎̼̘̺H̢̰̳̝͉͙͓̯̬̦͇͙̼͕̜͙͉͓̹͎͊̄̔͂̔̅̾ͩͦ̃ͪ̀ͯ̀̊̄̓̈́̚͢͡͞U̵͈̦̫͙͉̳͇̫̪̰̲̯̟ͨ̃̊̄̋̑̆̏̊ͭͦ̏̅͝Ȑ̴̴̦̱̺͓͈̲͇͈̦̺̲͕̲̲̖̠̃ͤͪ͒͐͒͛̿ͧ̆T̵̻̰̖̥͙̝̜̭̻̫̓̓̓̏͋̈̀̀͘̕͢S̷̨̻͈̻͔̪̳̦͓̗̞͎͓̣͈̉̓ͣ͐́͑̓ ̴̨̡̹̝̪̪͉̺͈̳͗̄͒ͯͣͩ̋͑̎͆ͯ̍̈́̄̏̍́ͪì̷̛ͬ̌ͮ͋̊̉̎͝͞҉͈͖͇̬͎͎̣̠̺͚̯̗̤̗̖̙̙̺T̸̃ͩ̋̏̋ͥ͊̎̑̅ͦ̀̈́̊̈́̀̚҉̩̭̬̼̤̟̜̩̮̫̩͟ ̵̛̜̼̖̟ͯͮͥ́͂̓̅́h̷̡͇̗̙̮̘̪̜̞̳̗͙̩͍̫ͮ̋ͥͬ͗͑̾ͤ̒͌̌̀ͧ͂̇͆̔̎͞͝ͅU͗̌ͯ̿̓͑͑ͩ̈ͣ̇͒̚͏̴͔̞͔̘͇̠̺̜̭͎͉̬̻̱̱̀͢r̨͓̙̱̟͎͕̟̳̻͓̦͓̬̠̜͆̑̎̾̋ͫ͒ͦ͊̆̓͑͂̑͒͒̍ͣ͘͢ͅt̡̘̬͍̖̼̟̎͂ͨ͆̃̏̈́͞s̵̲̭̙̺̤̲ͯ̓͛͗̽͘ ̵̨͍̪̺̖̮̰̲̦͉̱̠͕̝͈̺͂̈̅ͪͫ̿̄̏̌̍ͯ̓͗̌͠ͅi̧̝̠̱̯̫͙̯̻̺̞̖͓̞͇̭̫̠̻̐ͤ͆̋̌ͩ̿͋̏̒͘͢͝͠Ţ͔̪̞͈̰̻̣̺̺͎̖͕̹̬̥͔̝̌͌̏̍̊̅ͨ͐̽͜͝ͅ ͧͥ̐̌͑ͩͦͧ͡҉̹̰͕͖̲͈̭̦̹̺̣̣̩H̷̨̱̠̝̦͓͔͍̩͇̲͎̩̤͎̯̮̩̑̄͒̃̍ͮ̿̊̀̎̈́̀̿͐̆̔̓̿́́̚͠u̓̐ͬ̒̽ͦ͒̋ͥ͊ͩ̎҉̯͕̟̞̬̗̺̀́͜ͅͅR͋̓ͬ̌ͤ̾ͩͪ́͋͗ͯͬ͘҉̗̜̘͙̙̖̻͖͇̺̪ͅT̢̺̖̩̩͎̞̘͉̩̟̝͖̮̗̥̻̲ͨ̓̃̂̃͑ͤ́ͅS̶̡̞̪͎͍̓ͪ̾ͨ͗͒ͪͦ ̷̒̒ͮ̌̈ͣͨ̂ͩ̔̅̏̾͌̎͏̥͎̞̦̭̗̼̬͙̻̳̺͓̺̝̺̺͠ͅī̸̧͍̗̼̙͓̠͉̞̣̤͂͑̈́͘͡ț̶̬͍͚̗̺̠̫̙̗̰̭̜̻̙̀̊́̎͗̍͛͂̌̾̑̑͆̅̽̉ͬ͜ͅ ̵̺̬̪͌͌̒̔ͣͭ̊͆ͣ͒̒͗̄̌͘h̊͗ͫͬ͒ͩ͏҉̟̪̰͔̯̯͕ư͙͓̯̦̙͎̹͚̖̺͚̺͔̳̫̹͎̜̏̀̐̾ͩͪ̽̽͂̇͗ͯ͘r̷̡̻̤̹̖͔̙̍ͬ͑̈́ͨͩ̀͆̆̅ͤ̄̂ͦ̈́ͩ͌̉͡͠͞t̵̻̲̬͕͙̝͋̊͂ͬ͂́͘s̷̴̢̤̙̟̜̻̪̮̣̺̙͖̙̺͚̳̜̋ͣ͆ͤͭͣͭ̏͗̋ͣͫ̈ ̬̟̯͉͍̦͕̟̩̮̮͓ͣͧ̉̄͐͠͡͡ͅͅH̡̢̛̫͚̗̝͖̖̘̻̙̥̱͍͇̹̹͎̦̥̀͌̎̒̏͊̍̔͗ͤ̔̊́͋͜͝U̶̝͓̣͉̤̗̺̘̻̣̩̖̦̘̰̰̐́̓̀ͫͭ͆ͣͨͤ̾͑͂̋̀̓̚͟͠͝R̵͉̹͕͈͈̬̥͓̬͑̅̓̌͆̈̍̐̏ͨͥ̿̔̃̈͛̈́͞ͅT̢̛̲̝̞̩̯͙̦̃̎ͩ̏̓͋̓͑̅̍̓̓ͦ̂̈̿ͯͮ͝S̶̴̢̛̹̖̞̼̝̮͓̰͇̬̘̭̥̹̄ͮ͒̓̅̂̀ ̨̨̯̺͇͈̦̝̳̞̻̘̖͖̪̭͙̠ͤ̌̆͂͗̑̑͋̔̉̍̈́ͫ͗͟ͅį̺̭͚̦̠̌́ͤͭ̍̒̋̃͐͌̈ͫ́͜T̨̠̖̫̻̾̈́̊̀̇͜͢ ̸̧̛̺̤̻͔̯̓̌̅̎ͯ̑̈̓͒̔ͬ̉̔͌̀ḧͬͬ̍̋͛̎̽ͧ̾͛ͮ̀͂҉̵̛͓͕̘̱̮̠͓̰̫̣͇̦̺̝̘̠̀͞Ȗ̶̢̢̳͉͎̞̙̮̬͌ͮ̈ͬ̃̃ͯ̾̉̄͆̋̒͂ͩͤ̚r̛͙͔̰̰̖̲͉͍͓̝̩ͩ̈̏̅͋ͬͩ̈́̔̽͐̀t̢͚̜̟̲͍̦̝̹̳̼͓̱͗ͥ̓ͦͭ̑̆ͫ͌̀ͣ̃̚͘͞s̖̙̥̭̮̤̝̭̝̼ͨ̓̂ͩ̎̾ͩ̐͒ͥ͑̑͊̈́ͯ̑͑͗́̚͟͞ ̵̷̢̬̲̪̺̰̘̺̖͙̗̩͎ͣ͒̓͒̇ͧ̾ͯͬͥͨ́ȋ̡̨̜͔̰̠̫͚̬̗̗̣̙̦̺͓̣̝̀̉͆͊ͣ͟͞T͙͚̤ͫͩ̍̿ͫ͌ͯ̃͗̒͑̓̈́̀͜͠͠ͅ ̵̢̳̫̜̗̗͊̋̈́̅͌̈́̎͘͠͝Ḧ̛̟͎͔̙̤͔̳͎̦̩̗́͗͊̃̐͊͐̏̾̈̊͆̕u̱͕͍̝͇͚̮̯̫͔͍̦ͧ̽ͤ̋̉̀͡͡͡R̖͉̪͙̗͉̥̟̺̥̅͗͐̋̐ͭ̒̉̄ͣ̉̚͟͟͟͠T̳̼̦̮̳͉̓ͮ̃̈́̒ͮ̂̂ͣ̑ͣ̋͘͟Ş͚̗͈̪̱̠̞̳̞̈̿ͤͯ͋̿̇͆͗ ̠͚̗̞̯̤̭̬͐̀̃ͫ̇͠I͉̖̦̮̦͐͑ͥͩͩͦ͘͢͠ͅt̷̤̠ͨͣ͐̔̀͘ͅ ̳͕̠̻̱̣ͧ̓̒͛̓̀ͯ̕h͋̽͆ͨ̕҉̺̖͉́ȗ̵̠͉͉͙͓̬̯͌̉̅̕ͅŕ̻̔ͮͥ̌ͬͪ̈́ͥ́ͅͅť͍̬̙̺̓̊͑̓͗̑͑s̈ͫ̉͆̅҉͏̙̯͕ͅ ̳̭̻͌ͭ͐̀́͋̾̇į͎̯̭̱͔͈̜͈̭̔ͩ͐t̴̷͉̺̺̩̫̿͊͂ͥͭ̀ ̫͔̯̼̟̑͐͗ͩ̋̽ͫͯh͓̩̖ͮͬ̐u̶͉͔͙͔̼̬̺ͤ͋̇̈́ͥ͆̽̂ṛ̡͔̤̜ͮ̂̆̓̊͒̆t̽ͣ͐́͏͠͏̲s̸ͫͭ҉̬̭̝̬͎͚̳ ̿ͣ̒̈́̒̓ͭ͝҉̳̗̲͈͈̳̬̹̟ḯ̴̩͓̠͔̞ͦ͛ͯͧ̏t̖̹̑͐̀ ̣̱͙̘̟̦̲ͤͩ̿̀h̸͈̞͕̹͔̪̯̖̽͛͡ͅu̸̢͚͖̼̭̪̗̣̼͕ͨ͂r̫̭͐ͥͧ̑͌̋ͩ̉̚̕t̻̗͎͚̣̼͖̘̓̀ͣ͋ͯ̓͐s̸̤̫̬̀ͤͅ ̡͓̘̖̠ͦͪ̕͢ī̝̰̝̻͙͓́ͩť̢͚̤̤̣̉̇͂ ̡̡͖̬̽̂͛̉͐ͬ̋̚ḥ̛̯̩̮̪̘͚̓ͫ̌̊̉ͣ̽́͢ų̸̷̱̣͙̠̘̎̓͗̍͊̈́͒r̛̮̙̣̥͎̲͍͕̩ͧ͆͋́t̹̺͕̥̤͍̍̊̕s̮͇̟͉͕ͬ͗̏ͨ̿ͥ̎̚͜͟ īͣͮ̀̌ͭ̈́ͭ̑̌̋̏ͨ̐̾̎̓ͫ͞͏̡͇͉̺̝̱̩̱̙͚̺̱͜t̷̯̹͔̙̪̯̦͍̯͈̤͉̗̥̖̃̔̆ͬ̽ͧ̍̿͂ͬ̋ͣ͆ͯ͘͠͞ͅ ̋ͩ̃ͨͧͭͫ̓͗̂ͯ̽ͧͣ̾͏̛͏̠̻͖͖̦͓̯͎̼̘̺H̢̰̳̝͉͙͓̯̬̦͇͙̼͕̜͙͉͓̹͎͊̄̔͂̔̅̾ͩͦ̃ͪ̀ͯ̀̊̄̓̈́̚͢͡͞U̵͈̦̫͙͉̳͇̫̪̰̲̯̟ͨ̃̊̄̋̑̆̏̊ͭͦ̏̅͝Ȑ̴̴̦̱̺͓͈̲͇͈̦̺̲͕̲̲̖̠̃ͤͪ͒͐͒͛̿ͧ̆T̵̻̰̖̥͙̝̜̭̻̫̓̓̓̏͋̈̀̀͘̕͢S̷̨̻͈̻͔̪̳̦͓̗̞͎͓̣͈̉̓ͣ͐́͑̓ ̴̨̡̹̝̪̪͉̺͈̳͗̄͒ͯͣͩ̋͑̎͆ͯ̍̈́̄̏̍́ͪì̷̛ͬ̌ͮ͋̊̉̎͝͞҉͈͖͇̬͎͎̣̠̺͚̯̗̤̗̖̙̙̺T̸̃ͩ̋̏̋ͥ͊̎̑̅ͦ̀̈́̊̈́̀̚҉̩̭̬̼̤̟̜̩̮̫̩͟ ̵̛̜̼̖̟ͯͮͥ́͂̓̅́h̷̡͇̗̙̮̘̪̜̞̳̗͙̩͍̫ͮ̋ͥͬ͗͑̾ͤ̒͌̌̀ͧ͂̇͆̔̎͞͝ͅU͗̌ͯ̿̓͑͑ͩ̈ͣ̇͒̚͏̴͔̞͔̘͇̠̺̜̭͎͉̬̻̱̱̀͢r̨͓̙̱̟͎͕̟̳̻͓̦͓̬̠̜͆̑̎̾̋ͫ͒ͦ͊̆̓͑͂̑͒͒̍ͣ͘͢ͅt̡̘̬͍̖̼̟̎͂ͨ͆̃̏̈́͞s̵̲̭̙̺̤̲ͯ̓͛͗̽͘ ̵̨͍̪̺̖̮̰̲̦͉̱̠͕̝͈̺͂̈̅ͪͫ̿̄̏̌̍ͯ̓͗̌͠ͅi̧̝̠̱̯̫͙̯̻̺̞̖͓̞͇̭̫̠̻̐ͤ͆̋̌ͩ̿͋̏̒͘͢͝͠Ţ͔̪̞͈̰̻̣̺̺͎̖͕̹̬̥͔̝̌͌̏̍̊̅ͨ͐̽͜͝ͅ ͧͥ̐̌͑ͩͦͧ͡҉̹̰͕͖̲͈̭̦̹̺̣̣̩H̷̨̱̠̝̦͓͔͍̩͇̲͎̩̤͎̯̮̩̑̄͒̃̍ͮ̿̊̀̎̈́̀̿͐̆̔̓̿́́̚͠u̓̐ͬ̒̽ͦ͒̋ͥ͊ͩ̎҉̯͕̟̞̬̗̺̀́͜ͅͅR͋̓ͬ̌ͤ̾ͩͪ́͋͗ͯͬ͘҉̗̜̘͙̙̖̻͖͇̺̪ͅT̢̺̖̩̩͎̞̘͉̩̟̝͖̮̗̥̻̲ͨ̓̃̂̃͑ͤ́ͅS̶̡̞̪͎͍̓ͪ̾ͨ͗͒ͪͦ ̷̒̒ͮ̌̈ͣͨ̂ͩ̔̅̏̾͌̎͏̥͎̞̦̭̗̼̬͙̻̳̺͓̺̝̺̺͠ͅī̸̧͍̗̼̙͓̠͉̞̣̤͂͑̈́͘͡ț̶̬͍͚̗̺̠̫̙̗̰̭̜̻̙̀̊́̎͗̍͛͂̌̾̑̑͆̅̽̉ͬ͜ͅ ̵̺̬̪͌͌̒̔ͣͭ̊͆ͣ͒̒͗̄̌͘h̊͗ͫͬ͒ͩ͏҉̟̪̰͔̯̯͕ư͙͓̯̦̙͎̹͚̖̺͚̺͔̳̫̹͎̜̏̀̐̾ͩͪ̽̽͂̇͗ͯ͘r̷̡̻̤̹̖͔̙̍ͬ͑̈́ͨͩ̀͆̆̅ͤ̄̂ͦ̈́ͩ͌̉͡͠͞t̵̻̲̬͕͙̝͋̊͂ͬ͂́͘s̷̴̢̤̙̟̜̻̪̮̣̺̙͖̙̺͚̳̜̋ͣ͆ͤͭͣͭ̏͗̋ͣͫ̈ ̬̟̯͉͍̦͕̟̩̮̮͓ͣͧ̉̄͐͠͡͡ͅͅH̡̢̛̫͚̗̝͖̖̘̻̙̥̱͍͇̹̹͎̦̥̀͌̎̒̏͊̍̔͗ͤ̔̊́͋͜͝U̶̝͓̣͉̤̗̺̘̻̣̩̖̦̘̰̰̐́̓̀ͫͭ͆ͣͨͤ̾͑͂̋̀̓̚͟͠͝R̵͉̹͕͈͈̬̥͓̬͑̅̓̌͆̈̍̐̏ͨͥ̿̔̃̈͛̈́͞ͅT̢̛̲̝̞̩̯͙̦̃̎ͩ̏̓͋̓͑̅̍̓̓ͦ̂̈̿ͯͮ͝S̶̴̢̛̹̖̞̼̝̮͓̰͇̬̘̭̥̹̄ͮ͒̓̅̂̀ ̨̨̯̺͇͈̦̝̳̞̻̘̖͖̪̭͙̠ͤ̌̆͂͗̑̑͋̔̉̍̈́ͫ͗͟ͅį̺̭͚̦̠̌́ͤͭ̍̒̋̃͐͌̈ͫ́͜T̨̠̖̫̻̾̈́̊̀̇͜͢ ̸̧̛̺̤̻͔̯̓̌̅̎ͯ̑̈̓͒̔ͬ̉̔͌̀ḧͬͬ̍̋͛̎̽ͧ̾͛ͮ̀͂҉̵̛͓͕̘̱̮̠͓̰̫̣͇̦̺̝̘̠̀͞Ȗ̶̢̢̳͉͎̞̙̮̬͌ͮ̈ͬ̃̃ͯ̾̉̄͆̋̒͂ͩͤ̚r̛͙͔̰̰̖̲͉͍͓̝̩ͩ̈̏̅͋ͬͩ̈́̔̽͐̀t̢͚̜̟̲͍̦̝̹̳̼͓̱͗ͥ̓ͦͭ̑̆ͫ͌̀ͣ̃̚͘͞s̖̙̥̭̮̤̝̭̝̼ͨ̓̂ͩ̎̾ͩ̐͒ͥ͑̑͊̈́ͯ̑͑͗́̚͟͞ ̵̷̢̬̲̪̺̰̘̺̖͙̗̩͎ͣ͒̓͒̇ͧ̾ͯͬͥͨ́ȋ̡̨̜͔̰̠̫͚̬̗̗̣̙̦̺͓̣̝̀̉͆͊ͣ͟͞T͙͚̤ͫͩ̍̿ͫ͌ͯ̃͗̒͑̓̈́̀͜͠͠ͅ ̵̢̳̫̜̗̗͊̋̈́̅͌̈́̎͘͠͝Ḧ̛̟͎͔̙̤͔̳͎̦̩̗́͗͊̃̐͊͐̏̾̈̊͆̕u̱͕͍̝͇͚̮̯̫͔͍̦ͧ̽ͤ̋̉̀͡͡͡R̖͉̪͙̗͉̥̟̺̥̅͗͐̋̐ͭ̒̉̄ͣ̉̚͟͟͟͠T̳̼̦̮̳͉̓ͮ̃̈́̒ͮ̂̂ͣ̑ͣ̋͘͟Ş͚̗͈̪̱̠̞̳̞̈̿ͤͯ͋̿̇͆͗ īͣͮ̀̌ͭ̈́ͭ̑̌̋̏ͨ̐̾̎̓ͫ͞͏̡͇͉̺̝̱̩̱̙͚̺̱͜t̷̯̹͔̙̪̯̦͍̯͈̤͉̗̥̖̃̔̆ͬ̽ͧ̍̿͂ͬ̋ͣ͆ͯ͘͠͞ͅ ̋ͩ̃ͨͧͭͫ̓͗̂ͯ̽ͧͣ̾͏̛͏̠̻͖͖̦͓̯͎̼̘̺H̢̰̳̝͉͙͓̯̬̦͇͙̼͕̜͙͉͓̹͎͊̄̔͂̔̅̾ͩͦ̃ͪ̀ͯ̀̊̄̓̈́̚͢͡͞U̵͈̦̫͙͉̳͇̫̪̰̲̯̟ͨ̃̊̄̋̑̆̏̊ͭͦ̏̅͝Ȑ̴̴̦̱̺͓͈̲͇͈̦̺̲͕̲̲̖̠̃ͤͪ͒͐͒͛̿ͧ̆T̵̻̰̖̥͙̝̜̭̻̫̓̓̓̏͋̈̀̀͘̕͢S̷̨̻͈̻͔̪̳̦͓̗̞͎͓̣͈̉̓ͣ͐́͑̓ ̴̨̡̹̝̪̪͉̺͈̳͗̄͒ͯͣͩ̋͑̎͆ͯ̍̈́̄̏̍́ͪì̷̛ͬ̌ͮ͋̊̉̎͝͞҉͈͖͇̬͎͎̣̠̺͚̯̗̤̗̖̙̙̺T̸̃ͩ̋̏̋ͥ͊̎̑̅ͦ̀̈́̊̈́̀̚҉̩̭̬̼̤̟̜̩̮̫̩͟ ̵̛̜̼̖̟ͯͮͥ́͂̓̅́h̷̡͇̗̙̮̘̪̜̞̳̗͙̩͍̫ͮ̋ͥͬ͗͑̾ͤ̒͌̌̀ͧ͂̇͆̔̎͞͝ͅU͗̌ͯ̿̓͑͑ͩ̈ͣ̇͒̚͏̴͔̞͔̘͇̠̺̜̭͎͉̬̻̱̱̀͢r̨͓̙̱̟͎͕̟̳̻͓̦͓̬̠̜͆̑̎̾̋ͫ͒ͦ͊̆̓͑͂̑͒͒̍ͣ͘͢ͅt̡̘̬͍̖̼̟̎͂ͨ͆̃̏̈́͞s̵̲̭̙̺̤̲ͯ̓͛͗̽͘ ̵̨͍̪̺̖̮̰̲̦͉̱̠͕̝͈̺͂̈̅ͪͫ̿̄̏̌̍ͯ̓͗̌͠ͅi̧̝̠̱̯̫͙̯̻̺̞̖͓̞͇̭̫̠̻̐ͤ͆̋̌ͩ̿͋̏̒͘͢͝͠Ţ͔̪̞͈̰̻̣̺̺͎̖͕̹̬̥͔̝̌͌̏̍̊̅ͨ͐̽͜͝ͅ ͧͥ̐̌͑ͩͦͧ͡҉̹̰͕͖̲͈̭̦̹̺̣̣̩H̷̨̱̠̝̦͓͔͍̩͇̲͎̩̤͎̯̮̩̑̄͒̃̍ͮ̿̊̀̎̈́̀̿͐̆̔̓̿́́̚͠u̓̐ͬ̒̽ͦ͒̋ͥ͊ͩ̎҉̯͕̟̞̬̗̺̀́͜ͅͅR͋̓ͬ̌ͤ̾ͩͪ́͋͗ͯͬ͘҉̗̜̘͙̙̖̻͖͇̺̪ͅT̢̺̖̩̩͎̞̘͉̩̟̝͖̮̗̥̻̲ͨ̓̃̂̃͑ͤ́ͅS̶̡̞̪͎͍̓ͪ̾ͨ͗͒ͪͦ ̷̒̒ͮ̌̈ͣͨ̂ͩ̔̅̏̾͌̎͏̥͎̞̦̭̗̼̬͙̻̳̺͓̺̝̺̺͠ͅī̸̧͍̗̼̙͓̠͉̞̣̤͂͑̈́͘͡ț̶̬͍͚̗̺̠̫̙̗̰̭̜̻̙̀̊́̎͗̍͛͂̌̾̑̑͆̅̽̉ͬ͜ͅ ̵̺̬̪͌͌̒̔ͣͭ̊͆ͣ͒̒͗̄̌͘h̊͗ͫͬ͒ͩ͏҉̟̪̰͔̯̯͕ư͙͓̯̦̙͎̹͚̖̺͚̺͔̳̫̹͎̜̏̀̐̾ͩͪ̽̽͂̇͗ͯ͘r̷̡̻̤̹̖͔̙̍ͬ͑̈́ͨͩ̀͆̆̅ͤ̄̂ͦ̈́ͩ͌̉͡͠͞t̵̻̲̬͕͙̝͋̊͂ͬ͂́͘s̷̴̢̤̙̟̜̻̪̮̣̺̙͖̙̺͚̳̜̋ͣ͆ͤͭͣͭ̏͗̋ͣͫ̈ ̬̟̯͉͍̦͕̟̩̮̮͓ͣͧ̉̄͐͠͡͡ͅͅH̡̢̛̫͚̗̝͖̖̘̻̙̥̱͍͇̹̹͎̦̥̀͌̎̒̏͊̍̔͗ͤ̔̊́͋͜͝U̶̝͓̣͉̤̗̺̘̻̣̩̖̦̘̰̰̐́̓̀ͫͭ͆ͣͨͤ̾͑͂̋̀̓̚͟͠͝R̵͉̹͕͈͈̬̥͓̬͑̅̓̌͆̈̍̐̏ͨͥ̿̔̃̈͛̈́͞ͅT̢̛̲̝̞̩̯͙̦̃̎ͩ̏̓͋̓͑̅̍̓̓ͦ̂̈̿ͯͮ͝S̶̴̢̛̹̖̞̼̝̮͓̰͇̬̘̭̥̹̄ͮ͒̓̅̂̀ ̨̨̯̺͇͈̦̝̳̞̻̘̖͖̪̭͙̠ͤ̌̆͂͗̑̑͋̔̉̍̈́ͫ͗͟ͅį̺̭͚̦̠̌́ͤͭ̍̒̋̃͐͌̈ͫ́͜T̨̠̖̫̻̾̈́̊̀̇͜͢ ̸̧̛̺̤̻͔̯̓̌̅̎ͯ̑̈̓͒̔ͬ̉̔͌̀ḧͬͬ̍̋͛̎̽ͧ̾͛ͮ̀͂҉̵̛͓͕̘̱̮̠͓̰̫̣͇̦̺̝̘̠̀͞Ȗ̶̢̢̳͉͎̞̙̮̬͌ͮ̈ͬ̃̃ͯ̾̉̄͆̋̒͂ͩͤ̚r̛͙͔̰̰̖̲͉͍͓̝̩ͩ̈̏̅͋ͬͩ̈́̔̽͐̀t̢͚̜̟̲͍̦̝̹̳̼͓̱͗ͥ̓ͦͭ̑̆ͫ͌̀ͣ̃̚͘͞s̖̙̥̭̮̤̝̭̝̼ͨ̓̂ͩ̎̾ͩ̐͒ͥ͑̑͊̈́ͯ̑͑͗́̚͟͞ ̵̷̢̬̲̪̺̰̘̺̖͙̗̩͎ͣ͒̓͒̇ͧ̾ͯͬͥͨ́ȋ̡̨̜͔̰̠̫͚̬̗̗̣̙̦̺͓̣̝̀̉͆͊ͣ͟͞T͙͚̤ͫͩ̍̿ͫ͌ͯ̃͗̒͑̓̈́̀͜͠͠ͅ ̵̢̳̫̜̗̗͊̋̈́̅͌̈́̎͘͠͝Ḧ̛̟͎͔̙̤͔̳͎̦̩̗́͗͊̃̐͊͐̏̾̈̊͆̕u̱͕͍̝͇͚̮̯̫͔͍̦ͧ̽ͤ̋̉̀͡͡͡R̖͉̪͙̗͉̥̟̺̥̅͗͐̋̐ͭ̒̉̄ͣ̉̚͟͟͟͠T̳̼̦̮̳͉̓ͮ̃̈́̒ͮ̂̂ͣ̑ͣ̋͘͟Ş͚̗͈̪̱̠̞̳̞̈̿ͤͯ͋̿̇͆͗

.

Ear piercing screams following by what sounded like broken tape recording screaming out her pain filled Kashira's head as the female finally closed her eyes, unable to further watch the scene. Her heart broke into millions of pieces as she saw a part of her past, realizing that there were no parts of happiness, no parts of "family," and no parts of what she could call as "happy memories" worth remembering.

Haunting sounds of bone cracking and choking, followed by more screaming entered her ears, all combining into an ugly feeling of despair and fear. Despite closing her eyes, the screaming, cracking, slamming, choking, gurgling, and the faint sounds of pen scribbling made the image of what was happening behind her closed eye conjure up even more clearly. She couldn't believe how she could have no memory of the petrifying scene.

Opening her eyes once again when the screaming died out, Kashira watched with trembling body as she saw the young girl rendered unconscious. Her cuffed hands and legs twisted into a gruesome shape, Kashira could easily figure out that her wrists and ankle had been broken. Just by that, Kashira could see how painful the spell was, and how badly the young girl in front of her struggled in the chains in order to escape. Eyes that were rolling into the back of her head contained no life, corners of her mouth were filled with bubbles, and her chin was smeared with blood and saliva. The only thing that made Kashira sure that she was alive was the constant jerks she gave every few minutes.

Without giving any more time for Kashira to lament, the scene around her changed once again.

.

One year later passed, and the experiment was still going on. I screamed again as the spell's effect intensified. The pain, the fear that I was feeling had long turned into despair in how long would this have to continue. 52 times. For 52 times, my stomach was cut open, my chest was sliced, and my body was subjected to numerous experiments that involved blood. Lots of blood, and lots of pain.

Pain I never get used to continued on, my body writhing as I tried everything I could in order to lessen my pain.

By this time, I just desperately wanted the God to come down and please let this experiment succeed. I just wanted to die, I just wanted to be saved.

p̵̡̢̛̣̟̳͖̝̽́̀̃̒͒l̶̻̗̝͙̱̠͚̠̜̑̅͠͝e̷̳͒̓̃a̵̛̝̔͋̓̅̃̕̚͜͠ͅs̷̠̙̑͑͑͋ẹ̴̢̖̦̣̹̼͚̖̓͗̀̃͛̄͜͠ ̶̛̗̟̇̀̂̓͌̈̍̿͘ͅs̸̭͐̓̈̀̔̊̑͝ā̵̢̗̻̭̟͛͘v̴̤̌̋̑e̵̱̣̜̮͕͛̾̽̋̋ ̸̡̰͖͈̀́̃̚m̵̳̲̐̔̄͐̃̈́̾̕̕ę̶̛̛̹͚̰̰̺̜̦̓̎̂͝ ̴̣͍̲̼̥̦͑͆͊̚͠ṕ̵̭̫̮̺̱̮̌̆̚ļ̸͓̪̬̱̜͎͗͂̐̀͛ê̴̢̛̜̼̲̹̇̇͌̑͑͌͜͝a̵̲͚̻̅̓̍͋̀̌̍̒͊͝ͅs̶̫̼̟̯̯̯͇̜͌͛͘e̷̢̟̜̰̬̟̊ ̸̢̥͇̳̟̗̯͎̣͉̾̍͠h̵̫̫̔̿̀̃ȅ̴͖̓͐̆́̕l̴̨̡̛̻͚̼̻̈́̐͊̇̄̿͑ͅp̴͖̳̲̫̣͒̈̎̃͗̇̚͜ ̴̖̭̰̾͛͝m̴̺̭̪͑e̸̟͌̆̂ ̴̢̗͈̭͔̜̃̀͆̅͂̋̂̉p̴̤͕͎̟̭̲̀̈͘l̴̨̟̪͖͖̝̰̺̳͆̀͑͗̏͝ĕ̶̹̞̗̐̈a̸̜͊̆̕ş̸̭̪̲̜̅͛̿͝ḛ̵̢̢̛̛̘͓͔̣̙͆̉͆̒͝͝ͅͅ ̶̛̙͈͉̖̫̞̬̈̃p̴̧̛̲̹̘͇̙̘͑̄̈́̍̽͊͌͝ͅl̶̞̐͜e̴̲̮͎̗̬̹̳̝̝̯͊̂̀̆̽̈́̂͝a̴̡̳̖̝̙̱͎̤̍̈́̾͘s̷̭̫̻̜̙̫̹̲̈́̋̌͝e̵̙͔͎̰͂̌̈́̂̓́̂̕͝ ̷̙͙͔̀̿͆̇p̸̣̹͉̘͓͕̰̙̒̿̀̈́̆̄̄͜͜l̶͇̤̫̦̦̤̙̓̓̈́͜e̶̝̟̯͎͛̾͗́̚å̴̠͍̱̪̝̇̐̅̏͆͋͑s̷̘̩͆͗̒͊̾é̷̢̮̟̠̖̻̬̯̂̐̓́͆̀͆ ̷̲̤͎̙̲̦̀͜h̴̛̥̗̥̖̰͍̹̥̰̹͑̾͌e̷̻̙͙̦̋̈̉̑̋̃͛̋l̷̟̳̫̼̹͉͚̣̥̃͑́͜p̷͙̬̤̜̲̏̂̏̽̾̐̈́͜͝ͅ ̷̡͈̣̐̌̉̋̏p̴̩̞̥͎̾̾͌͜l̶̛̛̳͉͔̝̠̫̏͒͆̅̂́̎̐Ȩ̴͖̜̖̠̜̖͓̤̼̋̓͐́̎͆̿Ą̵͎͎̹̱͐̔̑̋̈́͒ͅs̵̢̜̹̩̃̾͜͝Ȩ̸̺̙̥̻̘̜̮̟͜͠ ̴̛̘͓̼͇͚̞̊̒̆̄͒̉͝ͅs̸̢̗͔̰̟͙̖͓͓̼̍̇̔̏̈̀̈́͘Á̸̰̻̪̀̎v̷̫̝̤͆̔Ẹ̵̯̹̮́͛̀̍ ̷͈̳͗̐̀̄̈́͐ḿ̸̡͕̤̟͖͓̣́̿̿̈́͂Ë̴͚̝̮̺́͋̓͂͘ ̴͔̱̳̙̦̩̪̄͜ͅp̵̭̭̣̟̻̍͒̍́̇̈́̏̆͌̓l̵̨̄̽̉̚͠͠E̵͈͓̞̓̂̊̓̏̈A̶̯͆̈̐̀̇̕s̶̢͍̃̏̂̑͊̇͝͠͠Ḙ̴̜͕̓͗̌̽̽̆̒̉̔̚͜ ̵̧̨͖̗̳͙̺͎̌̾͑͊̏͐͐͘͠ͅh̶̢̖͕͔̲̫͂̈͆̏̄̀͊̔ͅͅÉ̴̱̞͕̫ͅl̸̠̻̣̺͉̬̜͍̲͖̈́̓̕̕p̵̞̼̜̩̘͐ ̶̰͈̩͉͗̈́͘ͅṃ̵͇̗̗̼̮̓̉͂͋̐̚͝E̸̙̪̼̗̜̖̼̦̔̌ ̶̺̪̬̠͈͚͛̀̉͗̃́̚͝͠p̷͈̬͋̈̋̎l̴͇͙̣̦͉̙͈͖͓͊͂͒̀͆̆͘̚͜È̷͍̟͉͇̍͊̍̈́̈͂̽͛̚Ả̷̳̟̰̥̜̞͂̆͒̑̐s̵̩̉̈́́Ĕ̶̩͕͍͖̞̉͒ͅ ̸̳̀̋̈́̏̾͒̇͒̒̒p̸̰̠͙̰̝̺̺̜͔͑͊̅̐̔̈́̕l̴̬̹̘͍̲̭͍͂̅͋̑̏̒̐̒É̶̥̳̹̩̙̂͌̚Ą̷̳̬̯̙͈͔͖̹̓̐s̷̥͍͖̱̭̟̫̰̫̿̿̀̌͒͆͝E̷̡̪̗̮̯̬̦͒̉͋̔́̓͗͝ ̵̧̰͕̝̖̰͎̗̺͂͗̃̋͒̋̕͘͝͝p̸̢̡͕̗̙͉̰͑̓̑l̶͔̭͇̼͒̅̉͘͝Ë̸̬͔́͐̀̚A̷̹͎̬̲͘s̷͕̘̊̈́̽E̸̢̟̯̝̎͠ ̶̢̡̢̗̯̪̹̦̪̌̓̈́̐̏́͘̕͜h̸̤͇̓̅E̷͚͉̟̫̙͙̘͍̜̅͋̋̇́͠l̷̨͇͙̬̫͖̬̈̄̽̇̈́̌̆ͅp̷̡̛̎̈́̍̋̂̾̊͊̇ ̵̧̛͖̹̱͚̜̦̖̐̀̒̐̑͂̔͘͜P̸̡̢̯̜̜̼̦̬̅̔͊̀̈́̎͑̄͋͝L̷̪̭̙͌ė̵̺͓̞̻̻͍̼̓͋̿͜a̵̤̻̩̝͔͕͙̟͎͌͌Ṣ̸̛̰̓͊̀̄̈́̒͘͘͝ȩ̷̡̳̜̍ ̵͎͉̠͍̖̤̭̊̏͋̐́̚͠͝ͅS̷̛̬͍̥͓̎̏̌͗͂̍̇͑̚ͅą̴̜̬̤̝̙͖͗͂͜͜͜V̶̯̯̠̹̤͓͉̦͔̈́͒̀͂̋̈́e̸̩̲͓̤̦̩̥̗͈͉͂ ̵̟͌̎́͒͋͛̐̕M̴̲͍̼̘̮͙͋̇̅͜ͅë̸͍̣̝͇͚̫̗̲̀͐̀̋͛͝ ̵͇̪͖͔̄̕͠P̸̫͕̂̃̚ͅḼ̶̲̼̣̇̾̏̃̒e̶͙̝̝̺̲̿a̶̧͎̹̬̽͒ͅS̸̝̙̪͉͎̈́̋̎͂͗ͅe̷̡̼̝͕͚̮̟̫̅̒̓̒̇̃̔̔͜͝ ̵̛͙̘͝ͅH̴̡̛̤̗̝̠̞̗͒͒̄̏̇̾̕͝͠ḙ̵̡͎͖̫̑́̈͂̒́͒͠L̶̘͚̟͆̓̽̑́̓́̽̚P̸̧̧̳̳̥̜̞̔͑̄̅́̀͛̃̎͝ ̴͕͉͉̑̔̂͠M̴̡̡͚̟̣͙̗͚̳̐͐́̈̒́̀́͂̂ẹ̷̛̖̝̖̯̪̯͓̝͊̄́ ̶̰̗͐̏P̷̡̮̲̦̣̖̌͊̈́́̾̄͑̂̏̕L̵̢̛̩͙̫̞̘͇̬͐̈̎̏̉̔̕͘̕ë̸͚̓̓̈́a̷̻̪̯͕͔͈̹̓̓̐̿̌͂S̷̰̤̓̌͆͋͋͛̋̎̚͝e̸̲̥̙̥̥̻̳͓͌̐̔͜ ̵̱̞͗͂P̶̭͕̗̦͕̘͎̦͗̿̈́͐́͒͜L̵̮̝͇̟̦̹̜̟͓̠̋̿̋̈́͌e̸̺̹̘͙̩͆͗̋͘͜ͅả̸̡̨̜͙̮̬̬͓S̴̡̞̣̲̟̝͔̟̻͎̐̌̏̋͋͂̇ë̶͇̮̹̬͚̮̺͕̙̑̓̇ ̶̡̧̘̳̖̠̺͖̉̾̀̀̆͠P̴̤̭̳̠̠̝̜̠͈̎̉̿̉̍̈̾̋̉͜͝L̸͍͛͐͌́̅ě̷̯̭̮̻̮̟̮̗̓̑̏̑̉͝ͅa̷̮̼̞̗̬͍̞͈͗͝͝ͅS̶̨̠̜̭̦̳͈̪̞̞̋͗̈́̃̈́͘e̷̘͌̀̈́̐̓̅ ̵̜̮̝̇͒̅̃́̇͠H̵̢̜͔̯͙͇͆̃̈́̎̎̚̚͝͠e̷̱̹͓͔̠̮̠͙̫͙̿̒̏Ḻ̶̡̟̹̘̖͖̓̀̑̑̋͘͠͝P̴̨̣͆̾ ̶͔͍͎͉̘̥̭̥̮̲̋̇P̶̛͎̣̥̊̍͌̑͛̄̀L̵̬͋͒͑͐͑͠E̷̢̼͕̪̐̃͠Ā̸̳͌̌͝S̸̨̠͛͒̏͆̓̃͝Ȩ̸͔̝̪͓̰̫̻̼̃̀̓͂̒̈́ ̶͓̞͖͉͉͚̱̾̀͆̂̃̊̆̀͝S̴̗͖̞͉͔͕͖̎́̈́̉A̵̢̨̳͙̝̲̣̙͛̅̌̓̃V̴̰͙̼̲͉̖̊̿̀̀̋̄͝ͅE̵͙͆͝ ̶̺̘̪̳́̆M̶̗͚̲̘̪̞̙͙̗̄̈́Ḙ̸̻̙̠͙͍̒̾͊͂ ̵̱͙͙͚͔̥̼̳͊ͅP̶̡̣͍͇̒̉̾̋́͐̅L̸̡̨͕̰̜̦̣̜͓͍̔͊̉̌Ẻ̴̥̪̪͎̽͒̔̅̅̓̄̀͌A̷͎̫̹̱̖̞̼͘͠S̴̨̢̛͎̩͈͎̯̱̭̻͐̒̃̒͑͆́E̷̳͓̮̱̩̩̹̍̌̒̅̒ ̷͙̰̫̹̺̺̮̞̬͗̄͠͝͝ͅH̸͇̺͇̠͓̘͍̮̖̳͊͊̀̅̈́̄Ê̷̡̻̺̺̼̗̞̓̀̀̽́͛̎̐L̶͉̥̉̓̅̍͆͝Ṕ̴̡̻͐͂̓͑̎̑ ̵͕͚̯̱̥̂͜ͅM̷̖̜̺͛Ę̴̢̩̰̲͇̻̞̘̘̉̇́͑̈̿̍͂ ̵̢͔͍͐̽̇́̈́̈́̌͂̾̈ͅP̵̧̜͓̦̪̰̤̼̭̔̑̂Ļ̴̧̳̪̼̬̥̏̀̈́̔̾̒́͝Ȩ̵͓̻̯̈́̃͐̈́͋̈́͗̒̅̕A̸̢͈͕̩̗̥̼̣̋̓̀̃͝Ş̷̝͙̞̏̂̒̚͠Ë̵̱̝̺̝́̄̔ ̵̨̗͉̮̟͚͓̀̀̏̚P̶̻͇̹͎̳͈̋͑̇̎̔L̷̠͉̏̔͘E̸̤̋̊͊̄͝ͅȀ̵̡͔͔͈̙̐͠Ṡ̷̨̠̺̫̯̪͔͉͖͐͐́́͝Ë̷̛̞̥̻̺͚̞́̃̄̕͝ ̴̜͗̈͝P̴̯̣̬̜̼̗̗̊͋͝L̵̝̋͒́͛͠E̷̯͛́̅͆́͌͘͝Å̵̹̩̟͙̾͗́̄Ş̴͔̹̗̦̭̏̏̒̊͂̑͐͘͘͜ͅĖ̸͖͔̾̓̽͛͆̈̏̆͗p̵̡̢̛̣̟̳͖̝̽́̀̃̒͒l̶̻̗̝͙̱̠͚̠̜̑̅͠͝e̷̳͒̓̃a̵̛̝̔͋̓̅̃̕̚͜͠ͅs̷̠̙̑͑͑͋ẹ̴̢̖̦̣̹̼͚̖̓͗̀̃͛̄͜͠ ̶̛̗̟̇̀̂̓͌̈̍̿͘ͅs̸̭͐̓̈̀̔̊̑͝ā̵̢̗̻̭̟͛͘v̴̤̌̋̑e̵̱̣̜̮͕͛̾̽̋̋ ̸̡̰͖͈̀́̃̚m̵̳̲̐̔̄͐̃̈́̾̕̕ę̶̛̛̹͚̰̰̺̜̦̓̎̂͝ ̴̣͍̲̼̥̦͑͆͊̚͠ṕ̵̭̫̮̺̱̮̌̆̚ļ̸͓̪̬̱̜͎͗͂̐̀͛ê̴̢̛̜̼̲̹̇̇͌̑͑͌͜͝a̵̲͚̻̅̓̍͋̀̌̍̒͊͝ͅs̶̫̼̟̯̯̯͇̜͌͛͘e̷̢̟̜̰̬̟̊ ̸̢̥͇̳̟̗̯͎̣͉̾̍͠h̵̫̫̔̿̀̃ȅ̴͖̓͐̆́̕l̴̨̡̛̻͚̼̻̈́̐͊̇̄̿͑ͅp̴͖̳̲̫̣͒̈̎̃͗̇̚͜ ̴̖̭̰̾͛͝m̴̺̭̪͑e̸̟͌̆̂ ̴̢̗͈̭͔̜̃̀͆̅͂̋̂̉p̴̤͕͎̟̭̲̀̈͘l̴̨̟̪͖͖̝̰̺̳͆̀͑͗̏͝ĕ̶̹̞̗̐̈a̸̜͊̆̕ş̸̭̪̲̜̅͛̿͝ḛ̵̢̢̛̛̘͓͔̣̙͆̉͆̒͝͝ͅͅ ̶̛̙͈͉̖̫̞̬̈̃p̴̧̛̲̹̘͇̙̘͑̄̈́̍̽͊͌͝ͅl̶̞̐͜e̴̲̮͎̗̬̹̳̝̝̯͊̂̀̆̽̈́̂͝a̴̡̳̖̝̙̱͎̤̍̈́̾͘s̷̭̫̻̜̙̫̹̲̈́̋̌͝e̵̙͔͎̰͂̌̈́̂̓́̂̕͝ ̷̙͙͔̀̿͆̇p̸̣̹͉̘͓͕̰̙̒̿̀̈́̆̄̄͜͜l̶͇̤̫̦̦̤̙̓̓̈́͜e̶̝̟̯͎͛̾͗́̚å̴̠͍̱̪̝̇̐̅̏͆͋͑s̷̘̩͆͗̒͊̾é̷̢̮̟̠̖̻̬̯̂̐̓́͆̀͆ ̷̲̤͎̙̲̦̀͜h̴̛̥̗̥̖̰͍̹̥̰̹͑̾͌e̷̻̙͙̦̋̈̉̑̋̃͛̋l̷̟̳̫̼̹͉͚̣̥̃͑́͜p̷͙̬̤̜̲̏̂̏̽̾̐̈́͜͝ͅ ̷̡͈̣̐̌̉̋̏p̴̩̞̥͎̾̾͌͜l̶̛̛̳͉͔̝̠̫̏͒͆̅̂́̎̐Ȩ̴͖̜̖̠̜̖͓̤̼̋̓͐́̎͆̿Ą̵͎͎̹̱͐̔̑̋̈́͒ͅs̵̢̜̹̩̃̾͜͝Ȩ̸̺̙̥̻̘̜̮̟͜͠ ̴̛̘͓̼͇͚̞̊̒̆̄͒̉͝ͅs̸̢̗͔̰̟͙̖͓͓̼̍̇̔̏̈̀̈́͘Á̸̰̻̪̀̎v̷̫̝̤͆̔Ẹ̵̯̹̮́͛̀̍ ̷͈̳͗̐̀̄̈́͐ḿ̸̡͕̤̟͖͓̣́̿̿̈́͂Ë̴͚̝̮̺́͋̓͂͘ ̴͔̱̳̙̦̩̪̄͜ͅp̵̭̭̣̟̻̍͒̍́̇̈́̏̆͌̓l̵̨̄̽̉̚͠͠E̵͈͓̞̓̂̊̓̏̈A̶̯͆̈̐̀̇̕s̶̢͍̃̏̂̑͊̇͝͠͠Ḙ̴̜͕̓͗̌̽̽̆̒̉̔̚͜ ̵̧̨͖̗̳͙̺͎̌̾͑͊̏͐͐͘͠ͅh̶̢̖͕͔̲̫͂̈͆̏̄̀͊̔ͅͅÉ̴̱̞͕̫ͅl̸̠̻̣̺͉̬̜͍̲͖̈́̓̕̕p̵̞̼̜̩̘͐ ̶̰͈̩͉͗̈́͘ͅṃ̵͇̗̗̼̮̓̉͂͋̐̚͝E̸̙̪̼̗̜̖̼̦̔̌ ̶̺̪̬̠͈͚͛̀̉͗̃́̚͝͠p̷͈̬͋̈̋̎l̴͇͙̣̦͉̙͈͖͓͊͂͒̀͆̆͘̚͜È̷͍̟͉͇̍͊̍̈́̈͂̽͛̚Ả̷̳̟̰̥̜̞͂̆͒̑̐s̵̩̉̈́́Ĕ̶̩͕͍͖̞̉͒ͅ ̸̳̀̋̈́̏̾͒̇͒̒̒p̸̰̠͙̰̝̺̺̜͔͑͊̅̐̔̈́̕l̴̬̹̘͍̲̭͍͂̅͋̑̏̒̐̒É̶̥̳̹̩̙̂͌̚Ą̷̳̬̯̙͈͔͖̹̓̐s̷̥͍͖̱̭̟̫̰̫̿̿̀̌͒͆͝E̷̡̪̗̮̯̬̦͒̉͋̔́̓͗͝ ̵̧̰͕̝̖̰͎̗̺͂͗̃̋͒̋̕͘͝͝p̸̢̡͕̗̙͉̰͑̓̑l̶͔̭͇̼͒̅̉͘͝Ë̸̬͔́͐̀̚A̷̹͎̬̲͘s̷͕̘̊̈́̽E̸̢̟̯̝̎͠ ̶̢̡̢̗̯̪̹̦̪̌̓̈́̐̏́͘̕͜h̸̤͇̓̅E̷͚͉̟̫̙͙̘͍̜̅͋̋̇́͠l̷̨͇͙̬̫͖̬̈̄̽̇̈́̌̆ͅp̷̡̛̎̈́̍̋̂̾̊͊̇ ̵̧̛͖̹̱͚̜̦̖̐̀̒̐̑͂̔͘͜P̸̡̢̯̜̜̼̦̬̅̔͊̀̈́̎͑̄͋͝L̷̪̭̙͌ė̵̺͓̞̻̻͍̼̓͋̿͜a̵̤̻̩̝͔͕͙̟͎͌͌Ṣ̸̛̰̓͊̀̄̈́̒͘͘͝ȩ̷̡̳̜̍ ̵͎͉̠͍̖̤̭̊̏͋̐́̚͠͝ͅS̷̛̬͍̥͓̎̏̌͗͂̍̇͑̚ͅą̴̜̬̤̝̙͖͗͂͜͜͜V̶̯̯̠̹̤͓͉̦͔̈́͒̀͂̋̈́e̸̩̲͓̤̦̩̥̗͈͉͂ ̵̟͌̎́͒͋͛̐̕M̴̲͍̼̘̮͙͋̇̅͜ͅë̸͍̣̝͇͚̫̗̲̀͐̀̋͛͝ ̵͇̪͖͔̄̕͠P̸̫͕̂̃̚ͅḼ̶̲̼̣̇̾̏̃̒e̶͙̝̝̺̲̿a̶̧͎̹̬̽͒ͅS̸̝̙̪͉͎̈́̋̎͂͗ͅe̷̡̼̝͕͚̮̟̫̅̒̓̒̇̃̔̔͜͝ ̵̛͙̘͝ͅH̴̡̛̤̗̝̠̞̗͒͒̄̏̇̾̕͝͠ḙ̵̡͎͖̫̑́̈͂̒́͒͠L̶̘͚̟͆̓̽̑́̓́̽̚P̸̧̧̳̳̥̜̞̔͑̄̅́̀͛̃̎͝ ̴͕͉͉̑̔̂͠M̴̡̡͚̟̣͙̗͚̳̐͐́̈̒́̀́͂̂ẹ̷̛̖̝̖̯̪̯͓̝͊̄́ ̶̰̗͐̏P̷̡̮̲̦̣̖̌͊̈́́̾̄͑̂̏̕L̵̢̛̩͙̫̞̘͇̬͐̈̎̏̉̔̕͘̕ë̸͚̓̓̈́a̷̻̪̯͕͔͈̹̓̓̐̿̌͂S̷̰̤̓̌͆͋͋͛̋̎̚͝e̸̲̥̙̥̥̻̳͓͌̐̔͜ ̵̱̞͗͂P̶̭͕̗̦͕̘͎̦͗̿̈́͐́͒͜L̵̮̝͇̟̦̹̜̟͓̠̋̿̋̈́͌e̸̺̹̘͙̩͆͗̋͘͜ͅả̸̡̨̜͙̮̬̬͓S̴̡̞̣̲̟̝͔̟̻͎̐̌̏̋͋͂̇ë̶͇̮̹̬͚̮̺͕̙̑̓̇ ̶̡̧̘̳̖̠̺͖̉̾̀̀̆͠P̴̤̭̳̠̠̝̜̠͈̎̉̿̉̍̈̾̋̉͜͝L̸͍͛͐͌́̅ě̷̯̭̮̻̮̟̮̗̓̑̏̑̉͝ͅa̷̮̼̞̗̬͍̞͈͗͝͝ͅS̶̨̠̜̭̦̳͈̪̞̞̋͗̈́̃̈́͘e̷̘͌̀̈́̐̓̅ ̵̜̮̝̇͒̅̃́̇͠H̵̢̜͔̯͙͇͆̃̈́̎̎̚̚͝͠e̷̱̹͓͔̠̮̠͙̫͙̿̒̏Ḻ̶̡̟̹̘̖͖̓̀̑̑̋͘͠͝P̴̨̣͆̾ ̶͔͍͎͉̘̥̭̥̮̲̋̇P̶̛͎̣̥̊̍͌̑͛̄̀L̵̬͋͒͑͐͑͠E̷̢̼͕̪̐̃͠Ā̸̳͌̌͝S̸̨̠͛͒̏͆̓̃͝Ȩ̸͔̝̪͓̰̫̻̼̃̀̓͂̒̈́ ̶͓̞͖͉͉͚̱̾̀͆̂̃̊̆̀͝S̴̗͖̞͉͔͕͖̎́̈́̉A̵̢̨̳͙̝̲̣̙͛̅̌̓̃V̴̰͙̼̲͉̖̊̿̀̀̋̄͝ͅE̵͙͆͝ ̶̺̘̪̳́̆M̶̗͚̲̘̪̞̙͙̗̄̈́Ḙ̸̻̙̠͙͍̒̾͊͂ ̵̱͙͙͚͔̥̼̳͊ͅP̶̡̣͍͇̒̉̾̋́͐̅L̸̡̨͕̰̜̦̣̜͓͍̔͊̉̌Ẻ̴̥̪̪͎̽͒̔̅̅̓̄̀͌A̷͎̫̹̱̖̞̼͘͠S̴̨̢̛͎̩͈͎̯̱̭̻͐̒̃̒͑͆́E̷̳͓̮̱̩̩̹̍̌̒̅̒ ̷͙̰̫̹̺̺̮̞̬͗̄͠͝͝ͅH̸͇̺͇̠͓̘͍̮̖̳͊͊̀̅̈́̄Ê̷̡̻̺̺̼̗̞̓̀̀̽́͛̎̐L̶͉̥̉̓̅̍͆͝Ṕ̴̡̻͐͂̓͑̎̑ ̵͕͚̯̱̥̂͜ͅM̷̖̜̺͛Ę̴̢̩̰̲͇̻̞̘̘̉̇́͑̈̿̍͂ ̵̢͔͍͐̽̇́̈́̈́̌͂̾̈ͅP̵̧̜͓̦̪̰̤̼̭̔̑̂Ļ̴̧̳̪̼̬̥̏̀̈́̔̾̒́͝Ȩ̵͓̻̯̈́̃͐̈́͋̈́͗̒̅̕A̸̢͈͕̩̗̥̼̣̋̓̀̃͝Ş̷̝͙̞̏̂̒̚͠Ë̵̱̝̺̝́̄̔ ̵̨̗͉̮̟͚͓̀̀̏̚P̶̻͇̹͎̳͈̋͑̇̎̔L̷̠͉̏̔͘E̸̤̋̊͊̄͝ͅȀ̵̡͔͔͈̙̐͠Ṡ̷̨̠̺̫̯̪͔͉͖͐͐́́͝Ë̷̛̞̥̻̺͚̞́̃̄̕͝ ̴̜͗̈͝P̴̯̣̬̜̼̗̗̊͋͝L̵̝̋͒́͛͠E̷̯͛́̅͆́͌͘͝Å̵̹̩̟͙̾͗́̄Ş̴͔̹̗̦̭̏̏̒̊͂̑͐͘͘͜ͅĖ̸͖͔̾̓̽͛͆̈̏̆͗

I endlessly prayed.

I prayed from the dawn,

through the morning,

through the afternoon,

through the dusk,

through the night...

I prayed that someone would please save me from this hell, where the sound of "his" voice, the sound of pen scribbling down, and the smell of blood permeating throughout the room almost drove me to insanity.

.

Kashira just stayed silent, tears streaming down her entire face. She couldn't believe how cruel her life was. Now she regretted wanting to find her memories back. Was she born in this world just to get experimented upon? Despite the fact that she was only seeing parts of her memory, Kashira already knew what happened to all those moments the scene in front of her did not show. Her brain had accumulated hundreds of the same scenes: Blood, screaming, David, hatred, madness, sadness, despair, anger, cracking...Some of the experiments done to her were so gruesome and inhumane that Kashira almost threw up, hastily trying to shift her attention to other memories...Which were unfortunately all disturbing. All of the emotions and pain and the scene entered into her brain, causing her to hyperventilate at the brutality of the the entirety of it.

She just wanted it to stop — wanted this to stop. She desperately wanted to see Solomon. She wanted to cry in his arms, to let out all the pain, to let out all the ugly things that happened to her body. Harshly grabbing her hair, the raven haired female tugged at the roots of it, biting her lips hard.

.

I watched the room around me with dull eyes. How many days have past, I didn't remember, but I did remember the pain that was now permanent in my body. Tears collected at the corners of my eye. I didn't like this. I wanted to die. The spell was too painful. Every week or so, David would enter this room and perform his experiment, always apologizing to me that he was sorry for not visiting me every day. What a bunch of bullshit. I just wished he never came back. The day he entered was hell, every single time. Also, at this point, I also realized that this experiment wasn't only about connecting me and him. Whatever it was, it felt like David was trying to change something in my body. The way how magoi flowed in my body? I didn't know how to explain it.

Today was the day when I officially turned 9 years old. Three years. Three years worth of pain and despair and hating the man. I looked down at my body, the smell of blood seemingly etched all across my body as if it was my own personal perfume. I gagged at the disgusting feeling. Nothing changed for the past three years, and I sometimes wondered how was I even able to go through all these years without attempting to kill myself.

Not that I even had a chance to.

I tried to shake the negative feeling away, trying to think positively that it was my birthday, the day I was born in this world. I sardonically laughed, unable to believe that some part of my brain had the senses to think positively about my fucking birthday. Birthday? Yeah, bullshit. That day had turned into the day I loathed the most over the course of several years...All thanks to David. I grinded my teeth, my mind whirling back to moments when on every single year, on the day of my birthday, David performed several of his most gruesome and painful experiments upon me, claiming that it was his "birthday present."

Today was different, though. I raised my eyebrows at the strange feeling. Normally, fear coursed through my blood as I heard David's footsteps nearing to the room, but today, strangely, I wasn't scared at all. Maybe the effects of David's experiment was finally doing its work? I pondered for a second, mentally going over the list of what kind of experiment David did upon me.

However, my thoughts were interrupted as David came in with his shitty smile, congratulating my birthday. I snorted, turning away from him. Despite my attitude, David continued, getting ready with his experiment. Gritting my teeth, I hatefully watched as David chanted out the spell again, the bloody red magic circle appearing beneath me. Out of reflex, I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body tensing as it got ready for the impending pain.

One second,

two,

three,

four...

I slightly opened my eyes when no pain engulfed my senses, my eyes flying wide open as my vision turned white. A pure white figure wavered in front of me, one of its tentacle like something reaching out to pat my head. At the warm feeling, I felt tears quickly collecting at the corners of my eyes, feeling as if the entity in front of me was saying "you have endured enough. You worked hard."

I closed my eyes back, then reopened them again, finding myself lying down at the altar again. A single streak of tear ran down my cheeks, David looking down at me with the most eldritch smile I had ever seen.

"You saw it," he stated, his words coming out as a pure statement, not as a question. I refused to answer. He then started to laugh maniacally, throwing his head back while tossing his notebook to the side carelessly. "I did it! I finally managed to find out the way to connect God! Well, that was close. If I hadn't deactivated the spell, it would have been you that would have been connected to Ill Illah!"

The warming emotion I felt in a few years quickly died out, distaste filling my senses as I glared at the man in front of me. How despicable, how self-centered, how egoistic, and how foolish is he? I snorted, opening my mouth for the first time to speak in several months. But...I didn't care it was almost me that was connected to God...Or if he was supposed to be connected to the God. The one thing I cared was...:

"Am I free now?" I spoke, ready to tell the entire church about what David had done to me, and how blasphemous he was.

I already knew how to use clairvoyance magic to show my memories, so as soon as I was free, I was planning to run out to the plaza within the church — a place where most priests spent their time practicing their magic, reading the agenda, or just plainly strolling around — to tell the truth. A smile almost broke out from my lips when David nodded, a satisfied smile etched across his face as he bent down to pick his notebook back up. I silently watched as David scribbled some more things down before he closed his notebook. He suddenly clapped his hand, making a face as if he remembered something important. However, I took no deep consideration in the face he made, too focused on the idea of what I could possibly do once I got out from this cursed place. Feeling of elation started to fill my emotion, my heartbeat beating erratically at the thought of finally being able to breathe in fresh air, meet new friends and learn new magic. Three years of pain... I was going to learn as much magic and study and battle people that I could get strong that one day... I would be capable of killing this bastard in front of me.

"You are free," Breaking my chain of thoughts, David spoke, smiling down at me. For the first time, a flashed him a small fake smile. At least he deserved the fake one.

However, the thumping in my heart nearly stopped when David spoke out the next several words.

"...When I erase your memories."

"What?" I instantly snapped back, feeling my heart drop to my feet. Eyes wide, I stared at David, momentarily questioning my hearing abilities. Did he just...? The fake smiled I plastered quickly faltered.

"I said," David started, his eyes seemingly laughing at my face, as if he already knew what I was thinking. "I'll set you free once I erase your memories from here. You'll remember that you were directly trained under me, and that you had just finished your training with me, once you go out from this room."

I snarled, trying my best to escape from the chains that still bound me to the despicable altar. That man...That man...That fucking bastard! The happy emotion had died out long as I hatefully glared at the man in front of me. How dare he...How dare me?! Out of pure frustration and anger, I felt tears collect at the corners of my eyes. David seemed to comment something upon seeing my tears, but I ignored, my eyes glaring straight to him. I was going to pay him back. For sure. Even if I lost my memories. I was going to kill him. One day.

"I'll kill you," I breathed out, mustering the best glare I could. "One day, I'll pay this back to you." I watched as David's hand came right above my eyes, not struggling. I knew struggling was futile. If I struggled, even though I would have been able to stop him for several minutes, ultimately he would erase my memories, one way or the other.

I didn't close my eyes even when David's hand covered my hands, I didn't close my eyes when David called out his spell. I didn't close my eyes until the very last moment when my consciousness forcefully made me to close my eyes...Endlessly repeating the same thoughts over and over and over and over again, as if to imprint and carve and forever leave the command and the hatred into my brain. I didn't care if David laughed at my efforts as being futile.

miʜ ||iʞ oƚ ǫᴎioǫ ꙅɒw I

A/N: Aw...yay...Yeah, it's totally Sunday...Or Saturday...Or whatever...

..

..

Everyone, I'm really sorryㅠㅠ I'm realizing that I suck on keeping promises. Grrrrr...I'm really really sorry! I tried to write long...I hope you guys enjoyed it...I hope it wasn't boring ㅠㅁㅠ I had a hard time writing this chapter, on my defense! Dang it...

Ahem, but anyways, I don't know if you guys realized it or not, but I published another book. It's the second series of alis propriis volat! Awy yay! Please check it out if you have time :)

I honestly don't have much to say for this author's note, so I'll end it here, and I'll try to update as fast as I can! I'll probably shift between updating Idiosyncrasy (the name of my other book) and Dearest Friend, so it might take a bit longer to update? I dunno... Again, I'll try to update as soon as possible!

Once again, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, I'm sorry for the choppy storyline, any grammar issues, etc. :')

Bye!