The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 79: I’m Scared (2)

Gazel felt fear.

Fear of what he truly was.

A demon.

"Dad… Mom… Big sister ... Jarren… I don't know what to do," Gazel whispered.

His eyes were red.

His chest tight.

What happens if I lose control again?

What happens if next time it is children?

Innocent people?

Is this what it means to be cursed by that devil?

Despite everything.

Despite trying to become the demons' bane.

Despite hunting them relentlessly.

Was he still born to carry out their will?

To spill human blood?

Was this his true nature?

The memory hit him again.

Him ripping the head off one of the Shurals.

Not clean.

Not quick.

Brutal.

Agonizing.

He remembered the resistance. The sound. The blood.

Gazel shut his eyes tightly as if that could erase it. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

He is a demon.

A damned demon.

Just another cursed human.

"Why?" he screamed into his pillow, voice muffled and broken. "Why?"

His heart felt like it was being torn apart from the inside.

Another memory slammed into him.

San.

Begging.

Crying.

Talking about his family.

Saying he did not want to die.

And what did Gazel do?

He did not listen.

He tortured him.

Slowly.

Crushed his heart in his own hand.

Cold blood.

It was too much.

The tears would not stop.

And then another thought came.

The devil.

The way that monster destroyed his entire family with a smile on his face.

Was that not the same way Gazel killed those three?

Smiling.

Enjoying it.

Leaving their families behind in agony.

Was he any different?

Hours passed.

Guilt.

Pain.

Agony.

It felt endless.

His chest burned. His head pounded.

Finally, his trembling hands reached for the gloves his mother had given him on his birthday.

He clenched them tightly.

They were small.

Worn.

But they still carried warmth.

A fragile warmth.

It helped.

Even if just a little.

In a small, shaky voice, he whispered,

"Mom… Dad…"

His throat tightened.

"I… I'm scared."

The words broke out of him.

"I'm really scared of myself. Of what I might become in the future."

His fingers tightened around the gloves.

"I don't want to become like him. I don't want to end up like the devil."

His voice cracked.

"I'm really scared."

Exhaustion finally dragged him down. His body, drained from crying and guilt, gave in.

Sleep took him.

Then—

Gazel's eyes snapped open.

He was standing.

Not in his room.

In darkness.

Endless.

Empty.

There was nothing.

No walls. No light. No sky.

Just him.

"What is going on?" Gazel's voice echoed strangely. "Is anybody there?"

Silence.

His own voice came back to him, distorted.

"Is anyone here?"

Nothing.

Just emptiness.

He was about to dismiss it as another strange dream. He was used to those.

Then he heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Steady.

Walking toward him.

Gazel's body reacted instantly. He reached to his side where the kitchen knife his father gave him should have been.

Nothing.

Only his nightclothes.

His breathing sharpened.

He tried to pull on his Azura.

Nothing.

No energy.

No warmth.

It was like he had been stripped down to an ordinary human.

Helpless.

The footsteps grew louder.

Closer.

Closer.

His muscles tightened. His heart pounded.

Whoever was coming was almost in front of him now.

Gazel swallowed.

Then the figure stepped out of darkness.

But what stepped out of the darkness was not what Gazel expected.

The first figure had no head.

Instead, he was holding it.

Fingers tangled in his own hair, the head dangling grotesquely from his grip. The neck was torn, not cut. Ripped apart in a savage, uneven mess.

Gazel's heart slammed against his ribs.

Rasno.

The Shural he tore apart with his own hands.

Before Gazel could breathe, two more figures emerged.

The second had both arms sliced off. A brutal cut split his throat open, dried blood staining his chest.

Crain.

The third…

His chest was torn wide open. Hollow. His heart crushed.

San.

Gazel swallowed hard.

He knew them.

He killed them.

Cold blood.

The three stood before him, staring.

Rasno's face burned with anger.

Crain's expression twisted with pain.

San…

San looked guilty.

But above all, they looked displeased.

Of course they did.

Who would smile at their killer?

Gazel's knees gave out.

He dropped to the ground, head bowed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

His voice shook.

"I mean it. I'm really sorry."

The words felt small.

Worthless.

"I couldn't control myself. I didn't do it willingly."

He did not know who he was trying to convince. Them. Or himself.

He braced for it.

For rage.

For curses.

For them to lunge at him and tear him apart.

For them to scream.

To condemn him.

But they did none of that.

Instead, the three opened their mouths.

And spoke as one.

Their voices overlapped, distorted, unnatural.

"What are you pleading for?"

The sound scraped against his mind.

"You did a good job."

Gazel froze.

That voice was wrong.

Too deep.

Too twisted.

The trio slowly raised their fingers and pointed at him.

"Your mission is just beginning."

Their smiles stretched unnaturally wide.

"These three are only the beginning."

The darkness around them began to dissolve.

The empty space shattered like glass.

And then—

They were everywhere.

Thousands.

Humans.

Children.

Adults.

Shurals.

Demons.

Creatures he had never seen before.

Even animals.

An endless sea of living beings stretching into infinity.

They surrounded him from every direction.

Watching.

Waiting.

The three corpses spoke again as one.

"All of them are your mission."

Their voices boomed.

"Kill them."

The crowd stared at him.

"Kill them all."

Children.

The young.

The old.

"Innocent. Guilty. It does not matter."

"Kill them."

The sound echoed endlessly.

"Kill them. Kill them. Kill them."

Kill them all.

To be continued.

Author's Note:

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