"I…" Sezel hesitated for a mont. "I don't know what you are talking about," he said, but his voice, for the first ti since they had entered this strange, walled-off world, was laced with a hint of doubt.
Mari didn't say anything. She simply wiped her tears clean with the back of her small hand and went silent, her small shoulders slumping. Sezel lingered for a few seconds, his gaze fixed on the small, crying girl, before he decided to give up on asking, to give up on the strange, unsettling feeling that was coiling in his gut, and continue what he had co here to do.
'Am I acting weird?' he thought, his mind replaying his actions, his words, searching for so sign of what he used to be. 'Probably no, I think Mari is just afraid.'
For all he could recall, for all that mattered, he was not acting weird. He was doing the right thing. He was serving his Lord. The whole reason he had co to the Spirit Realm, the whole reason he had faced danger and death, the whole reason he had survived up until now, was all so that he could serve the being he worshipped as his God.
What was wrong in doing sothing for the one you believe in? For the one who had made your life worth living? Nothing, right? Sezel nodded his neck a few tis, a silent, reaffirming gesture that subdued the lingering, rebellious thoughts. His main purpose right now, his only purpose, was to collect as much Spirit essence as possible so that he could please his Lord.
He ignored the sobbing little girl and went on inside the dark factory. The only light here ca from the faint, ethereal beams of moonlight that escaped through the broken, skeletal frawork of the shed that now acted as a makeshift roof. And from the treasure trove of Spirit essence that littered the factory floor.
The entire space was enveloped in the ethereal, purple light that the crystals emitted, their glow casting dancing shadows that seed to writhe and twist in the darkness. If you had to convert the value of all this Spirit essence to real-world currency, it would probably be priced at more than a billion. But that was the least of Sezel's thoughts right now. He didn't want money. He didn't want power. All he wanted was to please his Lord.
The Flesh Reapers were, working on harvesting the Spirit Essence with their scythes, scratching at the crystal like objects growing out of the earth. Their roots were hidden deep beneath the thick, tangled wilderness that covered the factory floor, but the top part, the glowing, purple heart of the crystals, could be harvested without having to dig down to the root.
Shiki and Vesta did the sa with their swords. Sezel observed them for a second and then looked at his own arsenal: a katana and a sniper rifle. Neither was suited for this kind of work. So, he picked up a sharp-edged rock and cut down a thick, sturdy vine. He tied the rock to the end of the vine, fashioning a crude, makeshift axe.
With his new tool in hand, he, too, joined in with his fellow believers in harvesting the Spirit Essence. While he did that, his puppet, the spectral Flesh Reaper just stood behind him like a silent sentinel. It was as if he had almost forgotten about the poor, loyal thing.
Mari looked at all of them, her small body wracked with the choked sobs. Her lips still twitched from her earlier tears. It was the first ti she had ever cried, and the release had left her feeling light, a strange, unfamiliar sensation that she couldn't quite describe. But the ominous feeling had never left her. It still breathed inside her chest, a constant, suffocating presence.
Her throat felt dry, her lips parched. She looked around and saw their bags, discarded on the side like forgotten relics of a past life. Mari gathered her courage, her small legs trembling, and walked deeper into the factory. She halted at the bags and took out one of the half-empty water bottles.
She opened the bottle and put it to her lips, the promise of cool, clean water. Suddenly, sothing collided with her small body, sending her tumbling to the ground. The water bottle slipped from her hands, its precious contents spilling out onto the wilderness covered floor.
She raised her head slowly, her heart pounding a frantic, terrified rhythm against her ribs. And as her eyes took in the shape of the towering figure that lood over her, she utterly froze. She tried to open her mouth to scream, but no sound ca out. She was paralyzed, her body a prisoner of her own terror.
The Flesh Reaper's tall, obsidian, chitin-covered body lood over her. Its eyes, those cold, soulless pools of darkness, were filled with a raw, predatory bloodlust. She slowly tilted her head towards Sezel, her gaze a silent, desperate plea. He was busy, his back to her, his attention completely focused on his task. Her gaze flickered to Shiki and Vesta. They, too, were lost in their work, their minds and bodies consud by their devotion, oblivious to the world around them.
Finally, her gaze climbed back up the obsidian body of the Flesh Reaper. And this ti, she got even more terrified. The beast had raised its gleaming scythe high into the air, its sharp, wicked edge aid directly at her.
'He...help, please...Mister' she cried inside, her gaze snapping back to Sezel, a final, desperate hope that he would notice, that he would save her. But he was lost, his mind and soul given over to his Lord, without a single thought for the world, for her.
The Scythe descended, with a glint of light, it ca silently and swiftly. Mari closed her eyes, her small body convulsing, curling in on itself. Tears started to stream down her cheeks again, a hot, salty flood of pure terror.
CLANK!
The sound of chitin clashing with chitin resonated inside the hollowed-out factory, a sharp, tallic ring that echoed through the vast, empty space. A strong gust of wind erupted from the point of impact, sending debris and dead grass flying away in a chaotic, swirling vortex.
Mari lingered, frozen, for a few brief, terrifying monts. And then, slowly, she opened her eyes again. And her eyes widened with disbelief as she witnessed the scene that defied, the known fact of the Spirit Realm.
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