Chương 138: Fall Off The Bone II

Everyone had a breaking point… June never figured out his own… He's been hurt, again and again and again… Tomorrow! Tomorrow, life itself would draw a pleasant tarot instead of the Ten of Swords…. Then the Ten of Swords would be drawn again… and the next day… and the next… and again… The bright sunrise on the horizon never came… Again and again and again… What purpose did a life like that even serve to lives around him!? Did he even deserve to live a life that he himself enjoyed!?

What did he do to deserve such a life!? Why did people tell him god was testing his faith!? What cruel god would give a child nothing and find a way to take away something!? It felt like his mind was splitting…. Why did others have to go through pain? Why did this man steal the lives of others… to eat? Why did he put them in cages? Why couldn't he have at least fed them? Why did he even put some of these poor souls in a situation where they would consider eating their kin?

A scenario where they would even consider eating their own pets… their own children… their siblings… their parents… their neighbors? Why? His body trembled with an obstinate anger. He teetered on the edge of his breaking point… but like any of the other hurdles of his life, he never fully snapped. His body burned with a deep, unfamiliar resentment; his mind screamed and clawed at itself in search of relief, yet a part of him… a part that he disliked stayed detached… uncannily calm…

uncomfortably present and conflictingly gone. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. June's face crept into a tearing wince as his mind split in several ways. He was present. Yet, he was distant. He was angry. Yet, he was calm. He was sad. Yet, he was gleeful. He was confused. Yet, he was sure. He was afraid. And he was manic. The breaking point of his mind was being danced on like a tightrope performance. But life had more in store for him…

Quash's trauma flashed itself in his mind… the atrocities of the past… His wince deepened into pain… He tried to gnash his teeth further, but they were gone. Then came the scream… It didn't sound like the scream of a man, or a child… It sounded like a beast… a dying one letting out a final war cry! June wasn't dying? Was he dying? His injuries were light for his constitution…

His shirt was covered in blood, his face was peppered with bone shards, his teeth were ground to dust, and his gums were torn against one another with his remaining shards of dentition. Funnily enough, it was his own scream that brought him back to the present.

'I want to go home… I want to go home…' He silently wept to himself, but outwardly his body… his shell righted itself, and like a puppet on strings prepared itself with the pure intent to kill the fool… The catatonic survivors woke up; his scream stirred something in them, and now they too, like feral dogs, screamed and reached out of their cages, pressing their skin against the bars of their enclosures until their faces grew pale from the lack of blood flow.

June's hearing felt muffled, sounds blipped and chilled, and faded and rose without consistency; his body felt the same, with the only grounding ever-present sensation being his tensed skin pricked by goosebumps. How long had it been? It felt like he blacked out… Was it just a few seconds? A minute? An hour? The feral man appeared, and without hesitation this time, June twisted his whole body before delivering a devastating punch to the cannibal's face. A pleasant sound pierced his ears, though slightly faded.

The cannibal's head made a pretty sound as it cracked. A bit of the feral man's hair went up to expose glassy bloodshot eyes with a ruby red pupil; he held a vacant stare, and his expression remained distant, his veins protruded with a black and purple discoloration…

The ruby red eyes were enough of a confirmation of him being a Dreamer; his pungent aura was masked and mixed well with the filthy scent of rot, but June had already figured that the man was a Dreamer, considering that most living things would be pulped by the pressure of his punches. The feral man stood up and lunged at June with a flat hand and pierced into his helmet; however, June wasn't tall enough for his head to be in the shell's helm!

June grabbed the man's sides with both hands and gripped as hard as he could, trying to pull the meat of his ribs with a fatal grasp. With a kick off his chest, the cannibal freed himself with bleeding indentations along his sides, and he retreated a few bouncing, swift steps to grab a fire poker with a barbed end. In an instant, June felt the burning stoker infused with an unfamiliar energy pierce through his shell and through his stomach. His eyes widened; a wake-up call had arrived.

His body and mind chased away fear and the encroaching dullness permeating him. His senses sharpened as he tugged at the stoker, wincing as he felt a barb dance around in his gut before tearing it out in a singular motion. June's mouth crept into a grin as he began laughing out loud to chase the pain away. His next attacks would definitely kill this fool.