The Cruel Horizon

Beelzebub stands at the edge of the forest, staring into the dense trees before him, his arms crossed as he paces back and forth. "Damnit," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. "I should've stayed up top, gotten a better gauge of where everything was." He stops, sighs heavily, and turns back toward the shadowy woods. "Hmm... this should be it for now."

A sly grin spreads across his face as he looks to the horizon. "Eldoria should be just a few miles from here. He'll find his way," Beelzebub says.

He chuckles softly, then stifles a laugh with his hand over his mouth, as if struggling to contain his excitement. "I wonder how he'll react," he says to himself, the giddiness creeping into his voice. "Wonder if his mind will break... oh, how riveting that would be."

His laughter bubbles up again, his shoulders shaking as he clutches them, eyes rolling back in delight. But then, with a slow exhale, he calms himself, pressing his hand to his lips to force it. "I'll let some of the memories flood back… Kid, look at what you did."

As he speaks, his hair shortens, turning from stark white to black, his eyes shifting back to a deep, muddy brown. His body stumbles for a moment, and he trips, falling onto his hands and knees. The transformation seems to take its toll, disorienting him for just a second. He blinks a few times, pushing himself up from the dirt, his breathing quick and shallow.

"Ugh," Obinai mutters groggily as he looks up, his mind still foggy. "Santos... I can..." His voice falters, and his eyes widen as he finally takes in his surroundings. His breath quickens. "What... what is this?" He scrambles to his feet, staggering as his heart races. He looks around, disoriented, the forest before him unnerving in its vastness. Then his gaze snaps toward the distant horizon, where Nurikabe looms. His pulse spikes, his eyes fixating on it in confusion.

"How... am I...?" His voice falters as he turns around, a growing sense of panic creeping in. "What the hell is happening?"

Obinai's weaken beneath him as he stumbles forward, his heart racing in his chest. His breath comes out in frantic gasps as he moves closer to the wall, still trying to make sense of what's happening. He mutters, almost to himself, "That's... impossible..."

He chuckles nervously, as if trying to convince himself that this is just some strange dream. "But how did I...?" His voice cracks, and his mouth opens, a guttural scream tearing from his throat. He collapses, hands clutching his head as his legs kick against the ground, his body writhing in agony.

The world around him begins to blur as memories flood his mind...

...rushing in like an uncontrollable wave. His eyes wide as the vision plays out before him, the scene unfolding like a twisted nightmare. He watches his apartment door swing open slowly, his mother standing there, a worried expression on her face as she calls out to him.

"Obinai, what's—"

Her voice trembles, and his heart lurches in his chest. He can feel her concern, her care, but the moment she opens her mouth to speak, something changes within him. His hand moves of its own accord. Before he even realizes it, his palm swings across her face with a sickening crack. She stumbles backward, crashing into the table. The sound of bones snapping echoes in his ears, and he watches helplessly as his mother crumples, her body going limp.

The world around him blurs as his father bursts into the room, his face contorted with horror. His voice shakes with disbelief. "Impossible... you weren't supposed to be chosen." His father's gaze flicks between his wife's unmoving body and Obinai...Beelzebub's gleeful eyes.

"No..." his father cries, his voice breaking. "Not you, not my son..."

In a desperate attempt, his father lunges toward him, but Obinai's body moves faster. His arm shoots out, effortlessly catching his father's punch and twisting it, breaking his arm with a sickening crack. His father's scream is strangled as he stumbles back, his face a mask of shock. Beelzebub chuckles at this.

"...More...", he says.

With swift, practiced motion, Beelzebub reaches into his father's mouth, tearing his tongue out with a brutal yank. His father's scream is cut short as Beelzebub backhands him with his free hand, sending him sprawling across the floor. His jaw hangs awkwardly, broken and twisted.

His own voice breaks through the madness, a desperate cry, but the horror doesn't stop.

The vision shifts, and Mya walks in, her eyes wide with fear as she sees the destruction around her. She takes one look at him, tears springing to her eyes as she backs away, trembling. Her sobs break his heart, but he can't stop it. He can't stop him.

Beelzebub's shadow looms over her. He grabs her arm with force, pulling her into the living room. Mya kicks and struggles, but her small body is no match for his strength. Her sobs become desperate gasps as Beelzebub hoists her into the air by her arm, her body writhing in his grip.

"Please, no!" Mya cries out, but the words are useless.

Obinai watches...

Beelzebub's hand shoots out, impaling Mya in a brutal motion. Her breath catches in her throat, and her body spasms as she shudders from the violent shock. Beelzebub pulls his arm out sideways, ripping through her body with sickening ease. Her eyes roll back, and she goes limp, her body crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud.

"No, no, NO!" Obinai screams, his voice raw with grief and guilt. He slams his head against the ground in anguish, blood dripping down from the impact, his forehead torn open. He sees her body again in his mind's eye—her small, fragile form crumpled and lifeless, and the anguish is unbearable.

The vision shifts again, and Obinai sees himself. He watches, frozen, as he impales Santos, his hands slick with blood. The guards and scientists fall one by one, their bodies crumpling beneath his power. His mind reels as he watches himself carry out the gruesome acts, each moment more horrifying than the last.

He sees himself humiliate their corpses, the dead eyes staring back at him, lifeless and empty.

His throat tightens, and he scratches at his face, his nails digging into his skin as if trying to tear the vision away. His breath comes in short, painful bursts. His palms slap against the dirt as he screams again, his voice breaking in desperation.

"Die... Die... I have to die!" His words are broken, barely recognizable, as his body trembles. His hands shake uncontrollably. He curls in on himself, his chest tight.

"I have to die..." His voice cracks again, his body shaking with violent tremors. "I have to die... I have to die...!"

He tries to crawl forward, his movements slow and uncoordinated, his limbs weak as he struggles to stand. His legs buckle beneath him, and he stumbles, face-first into the dirt. The ground feels cold against his skin, and the world around him seems to blur, spinning out of focus. He passes out, the last fragments of his mind slipping into darkness.

...

The heat from the sun begins to burn into Obinai's eyelids, pulling him from his restless slumber. His body feels heavy, soaked in sweat, and his head is pounding like a drum. He groans softly, his hands moving to press against his face...

...with no mark or gash on his forehead.

The world around him is hazy, but when he shifts his gaze, the forest is still there. It stands tall, dark, and uninviting—its thick trunks casting long shadows in the early morning light.

He blinks slowly, taking in the sight of his hospital gown, now drenched in dried blood and sweat. The fabric sticks to his skin, uncomfortable and foreign. His throat is dry as he mutters to himself, barely above a whisper, "So... it wasn't a dream."

The realization hits him with a sudden wave of nausea, but he grits his teeth, trying to shake off the dizziness. Slowly, he pulls his hands away from his face and pushes himself up onto unsteady legs. He stumbles, his body weak and uncoordinated, but he forces himself to move forward, dragging his feet toward the forest.

Before he steps fully into the woods, he turns back, his eyes drawn to the massive wall looming in the distance. His brow furrows as the memories start to churn in his mind. Dad... Chosen... The words feel wrong, heavy in his chest. Why did his father say that? Why was it said like it meant something? Why the hell was that...?

He clenches his jaw, looking up at the top of the wall, his eyes narrowing in frustration. What the hell are you...?

He ponders just for bit more until his mind gets to a subject that stops him from yelling out. His teeth grind together, and in his irritation, he accidentally bites his lip, drawing blood. He winces, but he ignores it. "And you..." he mutters, his voice low. His thoughts flash back to the vision—the face he saw, the one with white locs and that damned laugh. I'll figure out how to fucking kill...

Before he can finish the thought, his foot catches on a thick branch that's half-buried in the dirt, and he stumbles forward. His hands flail out, trying to steady himself, but he crashes to the ground with a soft grunt.

"Damnit..." he mutters, pushing himself up onto his knees. The sting of his fall sharpens his senses, and he takes a deep breath, refocusing. Slowly, he stands, eyes still sharp but clouded with confusion as he glances back toward the forest.

He glances down then looks forward where a rabbit catches his eye. At first, he doesn't register it—until he realizes that it's pinned to a tree, its front paws stretched out unnaturally to the side. The rabbit's belly is torn open, its entrails exposed to the air. The blood is still bright red, but there's no scent, no decay.

Obinai's stomach lurches, but he forces himself to look away. He steps around the carcass, his stomach twisting. "I gotta get away from here," he mutters aloud, his voice rough and hoarse. He starts to jog, but with every step, he's reminded that he's barefoot, and his feet are ill-prepared for the jagged rocks and uneven ground. He winces as his foot lands awkwardly on a sharp stone, and his momentum stumbles. His bare feet meet the earth with a dull thud, and he swears under his breath.

Keep moving, keep moving... he thinks, pushing through the discomfort. His feet ache, but he forces himself to keep a careful pace. His breath comes in shallow bursts, the dry air scraping at his throat as he moves, making his way toward the mouth of a small, clear lake that shimmers ahead. The water gleams in the light, reflecting the blue of the sky above it.

When he finally reaches the lake, he collapses to his knees at the edge, gasping. He doesn't hesitate—he scoops handfuls of water into his mouth, gulping greedily. The coolness of it is a sharp relief against the heat of the day and the ache in his chest. He doesn't care how messy or frantic he looks. His fingers tremble as they scoop more water, shoving it into his mouth without a second thought.

The lake's surface ripples with each movement, the water flowing in a gentle, inviting current. Obinai drinks until his thirst is momentarily sated, the coolness washing away the sharp dryness that clings to his throat.

He takes a moment to pause, looking up at the stillness of the lake and the peaceful landscape around him.

The quiet of the forest is suddenly broken by a soft voice.

"Excuse me."

He whirls around, his heart pounding in his chest as he faces the source of the voice. Standing before him is a woman, her presence immediately striking. She has bold hair, intricately woven into a Dutch-like braid that snakes down her back, its golden hue catching the light with every movement. The forest air seems to hum around her.

"Who are you?" he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, his wide eyes drinking in her appearance. He takes a moment to process the graceful figure before him—tall, poised, and but not out of place despite being in the forest.

Before he can ask another question, she lets out a light laugh—a sound that reminds him of wind chimes swaying in a soft breeze. Her voice carries a musical quality, unlike anything he's ever heard before. "Tirae valesh diara, thalen," she says, her words melodic and flowing like a song.

Obinai's brow furrows, the language unfamiliar and strange. He opens his mouth to respond, but she raises a hand gently. Her fingers brush against her neck, and she murmurs an incantation under her breath—kelsita nori thalassa. The air around them shimmers briefly.

With a soft sigh, the enchantment dissipates, and her smile broadens as she looks at him with newfound clarity. "Hi," she says. It's gentle, welcoming, and filled with warmth.

There's no hint of malice, or pity. Only curiosity.

She tilts her head, studying him, and then in a tone that holds both kindness and authority, she continues, "My name is Eris Vanheim Eldoria, and I am the second princess of the Kingdom of Eldoria."

Obinai's mind races, but his eyes can't help but wander. She's wearing a flowing dress that moves with every step, the fabric catching the sunlight in its folds, almost translucent. Its delicate material shimmers softly with every shift, adorned with intricate floral embroidery that adds an elegant touch. The dress is cinched at the waist by a simple yet elegant belt, emphasizing her lithe figure. His gaze lingers, almost involuntarily, as she moves a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, revealing an unmistakable point to her ear. An elf...

His mind stumbles at the realization, but her eyes, a brilliant mix of sapphire and emerald, catch his attention next. They're expressive, full of life, and framed perfectly by her long, flowing golden hair. Despite his confusion, he feels oddly at ease under her gaze, as if she's not just a stranger but someone familiar...weird.

Her smile softens as she continues to hold his gaze, and her voice lowers just a touch in anticipation. "And you are?" she asks.

Obinai blinks a few times, struggling to find his bearings. He clears his throat, trying to steady himself. His heart still races in his chest, and the words seem foreign on his tongue. "I... I'm Obinai," he stammers.

Eris's eyes light up at his name. She repeats it softly, almost as if tasting the sound. "Obinai," she murmurs. Her lips curve into a grin, and she leans in just a little, her curiosity piqued. "Are you human?" she asks, her voice full of eager interest.

Obinai is taken aback by her enthusiasm. He nods slowly, his voice uncertain. "Yes," he says, his tone cautious. "I'm human."

Eris's excitement grows, her eyes sparkling with fascination. "I've always wanted to meet one!" she exclaims, her hands coming together in delight, her joy infectious. Before he can respond, she rushes on, "Are you from behind the wall?"

The question hangs in the air, and before Obinai can even fully process it, Eris closes the distance between them with a few quick, graceful steps. The sudden movement catches him off guard, and he feels a flush of warmth rise to his cheeks as she steps into his personal space. Yet he can't bring himself to step back. She stands before him, her gaze unwavering, her posture open and inviting.

"Yes," he says again, his voice hoarse but steadying as he regains his composure. "I'm from behind the wall."

Eris smiles, her eyes twinkling with a knowing look as she takes a small step closer to Obinai. "Then we have much to talk about," she says, her voice soft.

She studies him for a moment, her gaze not missing a single detail. Her eyes linger on the dirt and sweat smeared across his skin, the tattered hospital gown still clinging to his frame. Her expression shifts into something more thoughtful, a trace of concern creeping into her features. "You need to get cleaned up," she observes, her voice carrying a tone of care. She tilts her head slightly, her blonde hair shifting with the movement. "Come with me to the palace," she continues, her smile broadening. "I can take care of you there."

Obinai hesitates but nods, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over him. Despite the confusion swirling in his mind, something about her presence feels...unnaturally comforting. He follows her, his steps hesitant but steady as she leads him down a narrow, winding path through the forest.

She moves with an effortless grace, her short but flowing dress shifting with each step. It slightly shimmers as she moves. Her hair bounces lightly against her back, the golden strands catching the sunlight like spun gold. As they walk, she hums a soft, lilting tune, the melody drifting in the cool air around them.

Just past a large tree, Eris suddenly breaks into a quick, playful skip. Her feet barely make a sound as she moves, and with a mischievous grin, she reaches down to pick up a small basket resting on the ground beside a stone. The basket clinks gently as she lifts it, the sound of metal against metal faint but distinct.

Obinai's attention sharpens as she lifts the basket, and for a split second, he catches a flash of something red inside it. His gaze narrows, his curiosity piqued. The color is so familiar—something he can't quite place but feels he should.

As she adjusts the basket against her side, she glances over at him with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling. "Don't worry," she says with a wink, clearly enjoying the effect she's having. She steps closer...

"I'll take good care of you..."