deercountry | LET'S SHOW THEM THE TRUE NATURE OF THIS WORLD

[When Chara steps off the flooded bank of Marina's ocean, their clothing soaked in the salt of the ocean, the blood of the people who died on the beach, and the beasts that died so that Chara could cut through them in a bloody whirlwind of blades.

They're on the boardwalk, a ways away from Rosenberg, who she had left with her pale, invisible sparkling blood oozing onto the sand, a knife placed directly between her ribs in an attempt to pierce her heart and put her down once and for all. Rosenberg's natural malice and mistrust meant that their ATK was weakened, and she didn't die instantly.

She lived long enough to cast two spells. A direct attack on Chara, lightning pouring down from the skies above, and an attack on their mind. Their DETERMINATION is dampened by a stark white fear. The opposite of an orange soul, they feel their movements slowed and uncertain, like the child that they're supposed to be.

Their eyes are a stark black, corrupt and malicious. And they see Frisk, hurrying to investigate the distortion happening by way of Mariana's wrath.]

Frisk... [They say, their voice barely a whisper, but they have faith that their partner will hear them.] Let's go home. There's nothing we can do for them, at the moment.

[Their voice is... well, an attempt at "steady", but there's still a distinct vulnerability to it. A silent plea of "Please don't make me go down after you."]

( It's not just the distortion. Frisk could feel that something was wrong. The way that Chara's corruption spills over to touch Frisk's very SOUL was telling. They could feel the fear and hurt that they felt.

But, it's seeing Chara that fills them with concern and dread all at once. They stop in their steps for only a moment once they're close enough to take in their current state before quickly making their way to them.

The scene of seeing bodies washed ashore is enough to make anyone stop in fear, but the faint metallic smell makes their stomach churn. )

You're hurt. ( It's not just that. They'd be blind not to see that something else was wrong, but they need to find someone who can treat Chara's wounds. )

I have a way to reverse it... Back home, beneath - beneath the floorboards. [There is a shortness of breath that stems from their panic. 1/110 HP, and it's the least of their worries. Of course it is, they'll just reset upon death.

(Will they? Is there any guarantee of that?)

It doesn't even really make them think of Frisk seeing what else they have beneath the floorboards, notably chocolates from February frozen in stasis, a collection of sugary poisons to be used on enemies or experiments both, all traded with a small fortune's worth of blood.

They're only scared of one thing here. Well, many things, but nothing scares them as much as the concept of any of those people meeting Frisk and realizing their connection. It's yet another weapon that could be used against them.]

Please. Let's go. [They offer their hand for Frisk to hold, a plea just as loud as the one they uttered aloud.]

You should save your energy.

( They've never seen Chara seem so weak before. It's terrifying. They've lost them once before, but now... there's a very real possibility that they could lose them again. They want to prevent that at any cost.

They have so many questions right now, but they know that it's best to save it until they can help Chara. So, they reach to take their hand, gently tugging at it in order to lead it back to their home. They keep a pace slow enough so Chara won't strain themselves. )

I can get us home. [They say, their voice a hushed whisper. They don't want to walk beside Frisk like this, after what they've done. It will implicate them. It will identify them as a weakness that they cannot afford to lose.

Their grip tightens and they squeeze Frisk's hand. They offer a smile, pained though it is, and a joke only Frisk will get.]

I know a shortcut.

( If there's any hesitance on Frisk's end, it's because they don't want Chara to put any strain on themselves right now. At the same time, they trust them. They know that Chara wouldn't volunteer to do that much if they weren't able to.

So, they nod their head, their grip on Chara's hand tightening in return. They offer a small smile in return to the joke, but that worry doesn't seem to leave them any. Still, Frisk appreciates Chara trying to lighten the mood right now. )

Okay.

[It's as they found a corner, Chara's own heart still pulsing with fear, that a shortcut is opened.

It's not visual. Frisk doesn't see anything, but Chara's will tears a hole in space, and in a moment they are on the inside of their small home, their pokemon sleeping peacefully on the couch.

Chara seems to drop as soon as they arrive, their legs no longer working.]

( A quiet, surprised sound escapes Frisk then, immediately moving to hopefully catch Chara before they fall, letting them lean on their shoulder. At the least, they can try to lead Chara somewhere comfortable. They direct the Pokemon off of the couch, slowly but steadily walking over and helping Chara to it in their place.

Seeing Chara like this is alarming. They've never seen them so weak before. They've seen them in a fragile state before, but not like this. They'll have to hurry. )

Hang on - please.

( They'll make their way out of the room then, exactly where Chara had told them to go. )

[Chara drops on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in a barely restrained panic as they feel their limbs escape them.

It's not pain. But it is fear. It's a familiar feeling, deep in their gut, this dread at having their autonomy taken away. They're like a puppet off a string, limp and helpless, as stiff as a corpse.

They feel the smudges on their chalky face before they realize anything. It's black, of course, like their eyes. Dark, darker, yet darker.

Beneath the floorboards of Chara's room are a few things. Papers, all written in code, detailing several blood runes that might be useful. Several poisons, for mind alteration and lethality and paralysis, all created from the candies from February. And of course, a poultice made from a mix of boiled darkblood, paleblood and vileblood. The kind that can be rubbed on their skin to return it to a prior state. It will hurt, but Chara is used to pain like a fish is used to water.]

( It's all things that should draw suspicion, but it's nothing that Frisk takes the time to think about right now. What matters right now, more than anything else, is getting back to their friend as soon as they could. They were counting on them - they couldn't lose them. Not again.

They search through everything in sort of a strange, calm panic - small hands shuffling through everything until they find the strange, herb like substance. They don't bother to put anything back in its place before making their way back to their partner.

Terror seems to fill their every sense when they find Chara collapsed on the couch, and they quickly reach for their hand, gently squeezing it before speaking. )

Can you hear me? ( There's pleading in the way that they speak. Chara looks so frail right now, like they won't last much longer at this rate.

They can't lose them again. They can't. )

Of course I can hear you.

[They say, half a laugh in their breath. If they die here, they'll just reset. Frisk really is such a worrier. The terror remains, of course, pulsing through their blood.

They grip Frisk's hands like it's a rope to safety. A rope away from being them, with the role that they have to play.]

I'm not going to die, Frisk. You know that. [They attempt to smile, but the black liquid has stained their lips, so it's a lot more unsettling than it is comforting. They tug down the sleeve of their shirt.]

Just apply it to my arm. I'll be okay.

( While a unsettling, it's the words that provide comfort for Frisk. )

I know. ( They respond softly. ) You're really strong, Chara.

( But, that's why it's scary to see them look so weak now.

They follow their instructions then, using a free hand to gently lift their arm upwards in order to apply the substance to their arm. If Frisk hadn't been in a rush to find it in the first place, everything about what Chara was hiding would feel far more off than it did now. )

Like this?

[It's at their lab that he finds them. They suspected that this would happen, but it is never-the-less quite inconvenient that they were found by one of Oscar's revenge-seeking loved ones, especially in a place so integral to their work. They look up at him from their experiments with blood - a large tank of darkblood to be mixed with coldblood for a timed bomb of shrapnels of ice, though it's hardly recognizable as such from an outside point of view - at the man before them.

They'd only spoken to Ozpin briefly at the opening of his academy, where they had met Zib and collaborated with him, and so it's with no notable emotional reaction (beyond the cold lifeless black eyes that stare directly into Ozpin's eyes) that they summon the dagger bound to their soul.]

I take it you're here for revenge? [There's almost a playful element to their tone, a cold condescension that says that "revenge" in this case is little more than a pretense for him to rush off to join Oscar in a shallow grave.]

[ Everything about this is wrong.

It's the tank of Darkblood, the sense of a witch's workshop, the blacks of their eyes— he should not be reminded of something far older and more terrible than a vengeful child, and yet. He looks upon Chara and cannot help the frisson of fear. ]

I am here to put a stop to the violence.

[They turn, looking at him directly with a bemused smile. The black emptiness in their eyes bleeds and trails down their chalky face.

A stop to the violence, he says, as if he is not here to enact it. A stop to the violence, he says, as if he is not here to join his friend.]

And how do you intend to do that?

Edited 2022-07-27 00:46 (UTC)

[ That black spills down their face like weeping tar, and he shifts back on startled instinct, openly uneasy. He holds the cane in his hand lightly, ready to free its blade at any moment. His hands are steady, but the tension in them is plain to see. ]

By putting a stop to you.

[ He clicks the mechanism that unsheathes the cane's blade: sharpened dream antler, off-white and surreal in this lighting. He holds it like a sword. ]

[They smile, cruel and empty, and pull the dagger - gnarled and red and pulsing to the beat of their heart - from their soul. The symbol of their bond, the one thing that ties them to their partner in this world.]

You're certainly welcome to.

[They make no move to attack yet. They find that the first move is less of an advantage under this system.]

[ Ozpin takes the opening, and strikes first.

He darts in with the bladed cane, unnaturally fast— even with all Trench's changes to him, he has retained a few advantages, a few tricks worthy of a Huntsman— to land a jabbing flurry of blows. He is striking to wound and disable, not to kill.

His opponent looks like a child, for all that he tells himself they are as corrupted and lost as the victim of a Chill: a human puppet to some darker impulse. This is Oscar's murderer. He should not hold back.

He still does. ]

[He does catch them at multiple times, his cane sliding off their skin with a wicked crack and a hollow scratching sound, like their skin is made of chalk, or frozen solid. It's hard to tell whether it's even skin anymore.

Their natural defence makes the attacks weaker, especially due to the mundane nature of the weapon, and the ways in which he's holding back. Weak. His resolve will falter and Chara will get the opening required to kill him.

CHARA LV 21 HP 90/99

* You get the distinct feeling you're not in Kansas anymore...

>[FIGHT]
[ACT]
[ITEM]
[MERCY]

Of course, while Ozpin might have lost the majority of his power upon arriving in this world, Chara has only gained more. Sasuke's training in particular has helped them hone their instincts and reflexes, and it's with that training that - as fast as lightning - their offhand seizes Ozpin's wrist with an unnatural strength, summoning up the chakra required to break it with a vicious crunch.]

Would you like another turn, Professor?

[Mother Mercy's shrines are rarer than most Pthumerians. Many of them do not actively seek worship, but Mercy certainly does. There are plenty who are comfortable taking up their name to seek their own forgiveness.

They have found one, though, out of the way. They don't even need to call on Silva or Paimon or Frisk for this one, in fact they are content to leave them to their own devices, despite any lingering worries that the two of them might fight while Chara's back is turned.

A follower raises a spear against Chara as Chara begins scrawling runes from a mixture created from darkblood and coldblood harvested from other people they have killed in their quest. They do not look at him.

Unbeknownst to him, a shade of blood is behind him, and Chara has lent it their Knife. The follower brings his spear down, and it reduces their HP by 2. The fallen child sighs.]

Now, please.

[As the shade pierces his heart, he does not make a sound before he crumples to the floor, dead. They stand up, wiping blood off of their clothes and looking to the people remaining, scattered through they are. They aren't as scared as they really should be, and in fact seem to regard the man with the spear with little more than disdain. Chara does not see Ezra arrive.]

Edited 2022-07-21 02:20 (UTC)

Ezra does not have a vision, exactly, just a bad feeling that something is happening/will happen and a tug in the Force that takes him a little off from his beaten path in his chosen neighborhood.

He sees Chara. Technically, it's the Disciple that attacks first, as far as he can tell, and he'd never tell someone they aren't allowed to defend themselves, but -

"Chara. What are you doing?" he bursts out, hand going to his stun blaster first, rather than his lightsaber. "The natives, they don't - they don't come back."

Edited (typo) 2022-08-03 17:23 (UTC)

[Chara looks back at Ezra, their eyes hollow in the face of the suffering they just caused. It's not the first person they've killed today, and Ezra can probably tell just by the complete lack of emotion on their face.

In fact, when they do speak up, it's in a dry and sarcastic voice.]

You don't say.

[Chara glances at the gun, then decides to ignore Ezra entirely, walking carefully towards the followers who scowl down at them in defiance.]

[It is, of course, unsurprising that Mother Mercy's protective force does not come from her traditional followers, who enact cruel mercies in the name of their mistress. It's the followers attracted by one Night Sister who fell into the sea, conned into power that isn't theirs. They've proven more formidable foes with their weak understanding of the force, and paired with a group of several cultists who are extra keen on lighting their attackers on fire using coldblood magic, this is proving to be more challenging than usual.

It's why they picked up Silva from her own bloody crusade, and brought her along for the ride. They are so far proving to be a bloody and effective team, even though Chara has to share in the EXP with her. It's as they clear one room in one of the bigger buildings dedicated to the Mother that they stand up from finishing off the Darkblood that proved most difficult and take a moment to look at Silva.

Their eyes are hollow and black and lifeless, but none-the-less impressed.]

I'm thinking we can bring this entire building down. What do you think, magic, or the good old fashioned way? [It's not the first house Chara burned down this month.]

Edited 2022-07-20 08:48 (UTC)

I'd like to see the whole place turned to ash. I don't want them to be able to figure out whose bones are whose by the time we're done here. [ She looked back to Chara when she responded. Hate dripped from her voice as she wiped beads of sweat and blood from her brow. The cultists have proven painfully formidable with the powers they've used against them, dealing Sharon several wounds that were already making her move slower. She was going to need days to recover as it were after this. ]

I don't want a beam in this shithole left standing for them to cluster and pray around. [ A dark fire flickered in the palm of her hand and she let it dance and swirl around her fingers. She wanted them gone. She wanted them so completely eradicated that no one would speak their names in a year's time. ] This lesson should be the death of them.

[Chara smiles, clearly satisfied with that answer.

In truth, the depths of Silva's hate are a lot, even to them. But they're not Asriel. They don't need her to be stable, only destructive. It's nostalgic, in a way. They remember when they felt hate to that degree, rather than the dull haze that they find themselves in.

They're not unsympathetic, either, which is why this partnership works. In a way, Silva reminds them of them before they died. So utterly overwhelmed by her hatred at those that had hurt her. She has a right to it, of course. Just like the child that was had a right to it as well.]

Then let's see that wish granted. [Like some kind of awful genie, stuck in the dirt for god knows how long.]

There are more, in the lower levels, beneath the earth. [Because that's what this was, before Superior and her queen arrived.] Let's cave the building itself in, and then I can bring us below to finish the rest off while they have no means of escape.

It'll be a locked door slaughter. [They walk past the smoldering corpse of the one they just finished off to another one, half living still, bleeding a cold liquid that Chara gets to work in harvesting quickly.] You can start. I'll be but a moment.

Edited 2022-07-23 05:56 (UTC)

[ Chara reminds Sharon so much of her dark self. They're like an echo of early Alessa, full of a dark, cold determination that drives her to be crueler. It's comforting. It's nice. A grin spreads out across her face, teeth peeking out from behind her darkened lips.

It was as if they were granting her a wish, a wish she's granted herself once long ago. Before Trench, she'd committed acts like this against The Order but this reminds her more of her brief act of vengeance in the church sanctuary. It excites her. ]

Don't take too long. [ Blood is important here, she knows that, but she's feeling antsy. There's so much energy here, so much darkness deep inside that she's feeling riled. She sends fire hurling through the air and it smashes through one of the windows, catching a pair of dark curtains alight.

While Chara works, she does too. She moves through the building and topples pillars telekinetically. She crushes statues and sets anything that can burn afire. She wants there to be nothing left when they're done here. Nothing but rubble. A reminder that people like this, that cults, weren't acceptable here any longer. ]

[They smile like what she says is a private joke between them and them alone, like time isn't something they can weave together like fabric. They draw the sigils, and it takes about two minutes.

They can hear, distantly, the sounds of the survivors in the underground. They've trapped themselves. Chara wonders if they even know that yet.

They finish, standing up with a flourish. They admire Silva's work, the flames burning and filling the room with smoke where once their was blind zeal and belief.]

Let us continue. We have work to do. [They offer Silva a small hand to take, to follow them underground further into the dark. The blood is timed. If either of them come into contact with it, they'll be caught in the blast.

So naturally, they know a shortcut.]

[ Sharon takes the small hand without an ounce of hesitation, gripping it gently with her larger one. She had once thought she would have to commit these acts all alone again, acts she knew other Sleepers would disapprove of, but then Chara appeared like some dark avenging cherub and she knew she wouldn’t be alone.

It was just like that moment in the hospital when her darkness came to her full of promises. It made her feel connected to them in an indescribable way. Protective. Admiring.

As they head to the lower levels, Sharon idly allows fires to bloom up around them like spring flowers. She can hear the survivors now more clearly. Some of them were praying and it ignites a fresh fury in her. She gives Chara’s hand a tight squeeze as if seeking comfort. ]

They’re no different than the Order, praying to a deity that doesn’t care for sanctuary and succor from those who judge them for their cruel, blind faith. [ a dark laugh bubbles up from her throat. ] They should be praying to us.

[Chara looks at the last location on their list, and their partner beside them. They have some reservations remaining about the corrupted effect this is going to have on their partner psychologically, but the bitter truth of this world is that the more corrupted Frisk is, the more likely they are to survive and be capable of keeping up with Chara.

The last time they were here, Chara had their secrets forced out of them like teeth, and Frisk held them as they sobbed and declared their intention to kill them all. They have doubts at Frisk's ability to follow through, but if it's anything like last time, Frisk will recognize that the people they're killing aren't real either, and will take the boost in power for what it is.]

Here we are again, partner. I hope you have prepared yourself adequately.

Edited 2022-07-20 08:47 (UTC)

( Being here is different right now, in many ways -- but, what hasn't changed is Frisk's determination to stay at Chara's side.

A lot has happened during their time here -- some good, but mostly bad. This month had been the worst of it. From rescuing Chara from near death, to going through the emotions that this world had forced them to go through, and then facing death themselves. They had technically died many times in the underground, but this time was different. It was far more real than anything they had felt before.

Their corruption had begun when they had fallen into the catacombs, but one thing had lead to another, and now they felt the same as they had when the anomaly had pushed them towards killing every monster in their path. If it wasn't for the goal ahead of them, they'd feel nothing - a strange sort of numbness with the exception of the concept of seeing how much their LOVE could increase.

There's silence in response to Chara's words - a subtle nod as they turn away from Chara and look to the path in front of them. They take a step forward without waiting for them to move first. )

Let's go.

[Chara smiles at Frisk's confirmation, there's a hint of affection, relief and pride at it. They trust their partner. They don't want to leave them behind. There's things that Chara has been doing this month that go beyond what Frisk in their most corrupted form would consider necessary, but at least they're starting to understand.

Before they continue, Chara moves closer, and wraps their arms around Frisk, pressing a light kiss to their head. They were always smaller, but their determination rivals Chara's own. It's the first time they've felt like they're on the same page for a long time.]

Let's finish this. [And Chara summons their knife. Ugly and corrupted and red, throbbing like a beating heart. When they reach the doors, Chara cuts into it with the knife, and the doorway - steel and old and historical and well-crafted - shatters like glass, leading them into a collection of people who are corrupted by their waning faith in a mercy that will not protect them.

Half of them are on the verge of beasthood. The otherhalf are taking up arms to compensate.]

( If not for conflicting timelines, their previous arguments could have been prevented. But, that's neither here or there. It's not a thought that Frisk lingers on.

The fact that they have a similar goal in mind feels bittersweet, in a way. After all, this was a culmination of what this world had done to the both of them. With their connection, It almost feels like their corruption is feeding into one another's.

There's a look of acknowledgement when they feel Chara pull them close - the iciness in their expression thawing away for a moment before they begin to move forward with Chara.

They're well-aware of what Chara needs them to do now. They grip their own knife tightly. It's no where near as strong or unique like Chara's, but it'll do what needs to be done.

They're aware of trying to attack any of them is risky. Their LV is still at 1, but danger isn't anything that's stopped them in a long time.

[ ] FIGHT
[ ] ACT
[ ] ITEM
[ ] MERCY

Frisk doesn't wait for Chara before the begin to move forward. They'll target those who seem to be losing their humanity. Never mind the looks of confusion, fear, or anger. Never mind that there are those here already prepared to attack Chara and Frisk both.

[ ♥ ] FIGHT )

[There is a crossbow pointed at Chara. They have trained, in the past six months they've been in this world. Ninjitsu has many applications, and they all bounce off a basic barrier put up.

Simple. Effective.

It's when one of the bolts are aimed at Frisk that Chara is spurred into action, jumping in front of them and redirecting the bolt with a slash of their sword, as if it is a baseball bat.

They don't need the knife for these low level hordes. It's better to let Frisk get some of the kills. The bolt however lances right back at the one who took the shot, and embeds itself directly into the skull of the person who dared to shoot their partner. Chara smiles, satisfied.

It was a good shot.

Three more approach. One with a sword, one with a spear, one with an axe. They figure Frisk can handle dodging the attacks.]

Go for vital areas. [When attacking, naturally. That puzzled them too.]

( If not for Chara's barrier, Frisk would have been quick to react. They may not have Chara's abilities, but they have reflexes. They'll do anything they need to do to protect them - even if they end up getting hurt instead.

But, it seems that such thoughts are ones shared with Chara. Their gaze hardens when they step in front of them, narrowing at the sight of someone threatening both of them. There's a subtle flinch, one barely noticeable when they're struck down.

But, there's no time to think or process anything that's happening, not when they need to act fast. Instead of responding with words, Frisk takes a single step forward before racing forward, easily dodging any potential blows from their victims before attempting to strike as directed - aiming for the neck, following by the chest of the next person.

They turn their gaze towards Chara for only a moment then, instantly speaking when they see others moving towards their partner. They won't be able to reach them in time to do anything, but they can at least warn them: )

Behind you.

[The location that Chara has brought Paimon to is a ways away from the main civilization in Trench, in a quiet warded off area in the Trenchwood, there is a shrine, where some of the more extreme followers of Superior convene, to sacrifice the sick and infirm to her bitter mercies. They use paleblood magic to force out confessions of evil doers, all before a lifeless statue that rarely even speaks to them.

They have no moral hangups about slaughter. It is the purpose of a demon to become powerful. But a piece of them is glad for the reminder of who it is that they're slaughtering, and who it is that they worship. They look at Paimon, unsheathing their own short-sword. It's best if they practice with it against a mindless crowd of NPCs like this.]

Fifteen of them are here today. There's normally three more. They will rejoin them shortly. Once they do, we will seal them all of and begin our raid.

Sound good to you?

Edited 2022-07-21 02:21 (UTC)

( It isn't the demon's first time following and assisting the being with the red eyes. Paimon still doesn't quite know what Chara is — but they're something familiar, at the core of it all. A child that doesn't seem entirely a child. A child that is something else. Something more.

Paimon has developed a certain loyalty to this child. It happened so easily, too easily, borne from what Chara stirs in his own spirit, and from their smallness... Something in the demon king is sensitive to the child, wants to protect them just as much as he recognises their own power and capability of taking care of themself. Paimon's seen them slaughter before, after all.

But it's there inside of himself. That need to assist, to tether himself to a conjurer and faithfully grant whatever they seek of him. Chara did not conjure him so literally, summoning him via ritual the way witches and magicians have throughout time, but when the child asks for his assistance, Paimon takes it with as much severity as though they had drawn his sigil and given him offering, spoken to him in a commanding roar. Chara calls and the demon king of the West answers. He stands beside them, tall and quiet and eyes swollen black. He will protect them. He will rip a body limb from limb. )

It sound... good. ( ...Making words fit the right way is still strange )

Do you wish any left alive? To be tormented after? Or all dead?

( Yes, he's... offering to torture anyone afterwards, if Chara wishes such a thing. The demon is quite good at that. He can undo a person physically — bones bent and flames licking flesh, but he can also shred a person mentally, too. A mind is so easy to split wide open. It all depends on what the red-eyed child wishes, for Paimon is here to grant them it. )

[It's a useful bond to have, and they are grateful to have Paimon's company as they begin. In another life, they were the demon summoned. They remember too well what the position was like.

The irony isn't entirely lost on them. They consider the offer for a few moments, humming in thought.]

All dead. Sends a better message that way. [Their voice is a quiet yet commanding whisper.] Afterwards, we will desecrate their statue and their shrine. Their little cult dies with a whimper tonight.

The more public areas can go a little less quietly.

( All dead. He can do that; it wouldn't be the first time that "all dead" was the directive for him to follow. Not that he remembers the past too explicitly — but he does remember pieces of it. Mostly, he's been taught by others over time, about what happened to him. Luna's figured much of it out. How he was used by human hands, back home. Used by an organisation, a group of people drawn together for one purpose: to worship him. Serve him. (Keep him, caged like a bird.)

It's why the thought of making these people all dead ripples against some angry place within him, stokes it. That anger needs somewhere to go, and The People that Chara are targeting deserve to have it unleashed upon their heads. "Cult", the child calls them. Paimon knows that word. )

They will whimper. ( He agrees, voice human on the surface, spoken through Peter's vocal chords — but something Else moves just below, a second voice. A growl straining, and a static buzz of too much cacophonous light. The very energy around the demon seems to tense, like a fist clenching. )

And scream.

Something is amiss.

Midoriya checks the vitals of the third person he's found dead. The work is thorough, multiple stab wounds designed to kill. Someone knows their way around blades. He follows the bodies strewn on the street like bread crumbs. Judging by the trails of blood, they tried to fight or run.

Midoriya is still a Corrupted wreck from the day of the marine expedition gone wrong. His eyes are impossibly clouded with a dead white, and his ruined gloves show fingers tipped with claws. He rounds the corner at a prowl and comes upon a scene of slaughter in front of what looks like a local Trench shrine. To Midoriya it hardly matters which god it's dedicated to. He's hellbent on saving anyone within reach. Riding the waves of turmoil this long isn't possible as a human, but feasible as a Corrupted Sleeper.

"Chara-san," he says through his fangs and bleeding lips.

Chara helped with the execution of the prisoners on The Lonely Island. By now Midoriya knows Chara killed Oscar. They are now inextricably set against each other, the fighters who once engaged in friendly competition during the martial arts tournament in May and laughed about doing pirate voices just weeks ago.

Chara looks up at him with hollow lifeless eyes. It would be easier if they were black and lifeless, or bright red and vicious. Instead, they are a dull brown, not a trace of feeling or recognition in them.

* In my way.

They toss the latest follower aside. For the moment, it looks like she might survive. But Chara has no intent on letting survivors escape, no matter how much Deku might wish that they would. They don't strike her down yet, though.

"Midoriya," They don't smile. They just cock their head. It would be easier if there were mirth there. There's not. There's no sadism, no anger, no sneering monologue. Only a dull and empty malice and pity for this heaving reanimated world. "Here to give a heartfelt speech that I won't listen to? I would have thought you would be sick of them by now."

Midoriya does not know about Sharon and Paimon, off at another shrine, killing right this moment. If Chara has their way, he will remain ignorant.

"I'm not too tired to."

People seem to think Midoriya isn't doing well this month, for some reason, or that he will ever tire of heartfelt speeches. Chara doesn't have their usual tone, like they're relishing chewing over a secret no one else knows. In the past, Midoriya would have condemned Chara's actions without looking into them, but now,

"First I want to know why you killed Oscar-kun, and why you're killing these people now."

However, not one to waste time talking while someone is being attacked, he snakes out several tendrils of Blackwhip towards the fallen follower.

"I killed Oscar because he was butting in on a matter that was none of his concern, and because he was free EXP," They shrug. EXP, like it's all a video game. Like murdering Oscar was no different from brushing their teeth, or from watering a flower. Step one of a process to see something flourish.

In the same way that Midoriya saves lives, Chara takes them. They are collectible, something to hoard that fuels their own power.

"As for the people here?" They raise their hand to gesture to all the corpses. "To prove a point. The point that I am making is just step one in my revenge."

They regard the one he collected. A stranger to them. Even more of a stranger to him.

"Did you expect to sympathize with my reasons?"

Edited 2022-07-26 06:29 (UTC)

He knows EXP. He's played a few video games, and his mortal enemy is also a gamer. Shigaraki talks about clearing levels and final bosses all the time.

He remembers saving Chara's life in the storm, though they had been remarkably calm throughout it with their dark soulless eyes. By extending his hand to others, Midoriya hopes to show everyone a kinder world. It is still composed of grays, but he hopes to show everyone the reasons they, too, can extend their hands. Save people to achieve victory. But whereas Chara sees both methods, saving and killing, as a matter of cold numbers, Midoriya's heart pulses with a radiant need born of a (sometimes desperately clawing) empathy and respect for life.

"Can't really expect what I don't know. But I did want to know more. To understand."

Even if a fight is inevitable, but he doesn't say. He digs in one of his belt pouches for a large adhesive bandage to stem the bystander's bleeding.

"Who are you getting revenge on?"

LET'S SHOW THEM THE TRUE NATURE OF THIS WORLD | July Catch-All (Closed)

how to save a life - closed to frisk

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blood on your blade - closed to ozpin

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strike first, strike hard, show no mercy - playerplot prompts

see how the serfs work the ground? - closed to ezra

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sorry this is so late, august murdered me dead

show me no mercy - closed to sharon

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let us erase this pointless world - closed to frisk

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to kill on my command - closed to paimon

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