Chương 239: [Nova Wars] Chapurplepter Purp7e Purp73 Purp1e Purp13 RED

Wrixet struggled to his feet, his legs shaking. He felt weaker, weaker than he ever had since he was a podling in school. The first one vanished, sucking into itself, with a pop of matte black dust falling to the dull black flagstones. Another swept from the doorway, crossing the vast distance in seconds that took hours and days to resolve each millisecond. It stopped in front of him.

"Reclassification. Subject: Wrixet. Status: Criminal. Unrepentent. Multiple unpunished crimes!" the creature screeched. The voices were all screams of agony and terror. The sound of a podling wailing in pain and confusion made Wrixet physically flinch as he remembered one of the gangers on Level 123 punching a shopping Telkana's infant podling in the face and yelling "BOOYAH!" and flexing as the baby screamed in pain and confusion.

The fact that he had laughed along even though he was just grateful the violence had been visited on someone besides him did not make the actions of his five year old self any better to Wrixet. He suddenly felt a hard blow at the small of his back that hit so hard his vertebrae shattered and ripped at his spinal cord. He went down on his knees as invisible batons slammed into his body. He got his arms over his head and the blows increased, with boot tips joining. Skin split. Fur tore. Organs bruised and ruptured.

The crackling buzz of the shock baton raked at his memories and ears split seconds before it hit him across the top of his thighs, making his thighs, lower back, and glutes erupt in nerve pain that screamed. He spit out blood and clear saliva landed on the cobbles in front of him. Blood gushed from his nose but never touched the ground.

it's not real it's not real it's all in my head it's like hellspace its not real but oh digital omnimessiah it hurts so bad its not real its not real It sure as fuck felt real as the beating continued. It suddenly ended.

"Punishment Level One has concluded. Deception has been written to read only personnel file. End of Line," the screeching raked at his ears.

"You are Prisoner 507552704c65577249784574507552704c65 in read-write record. You will be referred to as Prisoner 577249784574. Speech privileges have been revoked. Comfort privileges have been revoked. Level Zero Punishment is in effect. End of Line," the creature squealed. I came this far just to be a prisoner again, Wrixet thought. He didn't feel anger, just bone deep resignation and weariness.

Wrixet didn't bother to say anything when he felt a burning in his throat and the feel of a belt or cord around his neck, digging into the skin, thorns raking the sensitive flesh beneath his undercoat.

"You are allowed a one [singular] optional rest break for UnDeCLARed minutes, Prisoner 577249784574. End of Line," the screeching voice made up of dozens of voices shoved together informed him. Okay. I'm... I'm Okay, he thought to himself. I'll be OK, just do what the screws want.

"Prisoner 577249784574. Rise. Failure to comply will result in Level One Pain Compliance Compulsion. End of Line," it screeched again. Wrixet struggled to his feet, feeling the cobbles rip and tear at his hands, his knees. His clothing was gone. He was naked beneath the purple sky, which pressed down on him with a nearly intolerable weight even as it tried to pull him into its endless depths.

"Follow. Do not deviate. Failure to abide by instructions will cause pain inducement to ensure compliance. End of Line," the voice squealed, waving one arm at the black edifice beyond. Its coldness, its alienness, it's wrongness reminded Wrixet of the Telkan Internal Security building that sat, brooding, in the middle of every city.

A perpetual reminder to the Telkan people that dissidence and rebellion would no longer be tolerated, and the government would not forget that some of the rebels had fled back into the populace after the war.

"Begin following movement. End of line." Wrixet nodded, looking at the cobblestones and the black mist flowing out from under the voluminous robes. It moved away and he followed. The strength was slowly returning to his body, but he could still feel the purple of the sky, pressing down on something, like heavy rain on a roof. Each inhalation took a moment for the air to realize what air did and give him some kind of air activities. It left him slightly dizzy, lightheaded, with sparkles in his vision.

Still, he followed. Stumbling at first. The pain started a few steps in. First, just like he was walking on gravel in cheap plas-soled shoes. Then sharper. And sharper. Soon it was like he was walking across broken glass. He could feel his flesh being sliced open, feel razors slicing into his feet to gash the muscle to the gone. Looking down, his feet were unmarred, not even the fur between the pads was damp. He pushed it from his head.

He knew it was real but it was in his head and because it was in his head that is what made it real. The air started to feel like needles. First just touching and withdrawing, then touching for longer and longer. Then pushing a tiny bit into his flesh before pulling away, but those tiny bit because more and more. Not even his eardrums or his eyeballs were spared. But he knew it was real because it was in his head. It was in his head because it was real. It was real because it was all in his head. He paused.

Just for a moment. A single step, and lifted his eyes. The creature floated on the short cloud of black granules that the matte black glittered and appeared shapeless as it drank in the purple light that suffused everything. He moved forward a step, ignoring the needles, and the creature moved forward. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. It paused as he paused. The pain was there. It was terrible. I was among the worst pain he had ever endured.

He blinked, slow, feeling the textures of his eyeballs against the texture of the inside of his eyelid in high detail. For a split second he could smell burnt fur as he remembered the LawSec laughing as they jammed the hot prongs of the hand-held stungun against neck and he thrashed and screamed his ten year old heart out. But I did endure it, he thought. I endured it then without screaming eventually. He could remember it. The moment he realized that screaming did no good. Nobody would come and save him.

His screams gave his tormentor pleasure. He stopped screaming, narrowing his eyes, breathing fast though his nose. we've got a tough guy the LawSec laughed, straightening up. They took the boots to him. Halfway through it, Naxen stopped screaming. They took the boots to him too. Wrixet lifted his face as the memory shattered. Another one of the spectral apparitions was floating toward them. The door to the black edifice was just as far away as it had been when he started. The one leading him stopped.

The second floated up. Atonal screeching went back and forth for a long moment. Wrixet panted as he tried to let the pain roll through him like it was just another CorpoSec or LawSec ass kicking. The first one suddenly vanished into itself, sucking away to disappear in a puff of glittery matte black dust. The second floated in front of him. The mask was bone white, with black edging and decorations at the edge. A complex filigree that was as beautiful as it was ominous.

"Subject Wrixet upgraded from Prisoner 577249784574 to Visitor Wrixet. Entry malfunction has been rectified. Visitor Wrixet is allowed touring and speech privileges. End of Line." The invisible choker around his throat vanished.

"Read only punishment file has been deleted. Categorization error due to user scans returning outdated data. Data has been updated. End of Line," the thing said. It turned and started heading toward the citadel at the far side of the courtyard. To Wrixet, it still looked like the LawSec Hall and part of him flinched away from it. But he ruthlessly shoved the fear down and followed the strange creature as it drifted forward. It only took a few steps to trudge the miles to the door.

As he moved up the handful of steps numbering in the hundreds the door opened slowly with a creak that brought chills down his back.

"The universe is in peril," the creature intoned as the two moved through the door. The purple vanished as the door closed. Torches along the walls, held in place by iron rings attached to the black stone, lit with an orange and yellow flame. The walls seemed to press in as Wrixet followed the creature, his footsteps echoing and re-echoing through the space.

"The universe may its malevolence last unto its final moment amen is glorious in its diversity to punish and tormet the mar-gite threaten such. End of Line," the first part was said in only a handful of calm official sounding voices that would sound more at home on a stage in a university classroom. The last was said with a dozen screams.

"The Mistress of the Black Fleet has brought you hear for wisdom. End of Line." Wrixet said nothing. He had learned early in life that if he didn't know he should probably keep his big fat mouth shut. He had learned that in school they'd explain it if you waited. He had learned on the street that people would tell him what he needed to know through action or deed. People tell you who they are and you should listen, he thought to himself.

"With most people it is written on their face or other manner of expression. Visitor Wrixet is correct in this observation. End of Line," the thing said as it began to move down the spiral staircase. Wrixet just blinked. This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend. Somebody starting singing it... he began thinking.

"That song is pleasant to me. This unit expresses appreciation for Visitor Wrixet's pleasant actions. End of Line." Unable to think of anything else, Wrixet continued to sing the song in his head. He was surprised to realize that the entity was humming the song with him as the stairs ended and they again moved through the twisting black corridors lit by torches.

Wrixet stared at the ceiling where cobweb made of warsteel fiber that had a tiny spider of endless night stared with stars in its eyes and a rune on its back that somehow Wrixet knew was the ancient Treana'ad rune for eternity. The corridor twisted and the spider was left behind. They passed what could only be described as a cell door. It was heavy oaken planks, banded with iron, with a small barred window. Two dirt blackened hands slammed against the bars, powerful fingers wrapping around it.

The face that pressed against the bars was human but the burning red light in the eyes made Wrixet almost step away. The face was a mask of rage and fury. The brow was heavy and dirty, with what looked like black warsteel, glossy and slick, in spikey bands advancing from the temples and onto the face. The teeth were glossy black, the edge of the mouth was gears and pistons.

"KILL YOU WHEN I GET OUT! YOU CANNOT HOLD ME HERE FOREVER! I AM..." Whoever he was vanished as blue and bright, almost white violet climbed up and down the human's body. The human screamed and vanished.

"Negative stimulus level two applied for exceeding prisoner decibel allowance. Point five amplification added for rudeness to guests and interruption of pleasant interaction. End of Line," the creature intoned in a dozen voice. Wrixet kept following.

"What..." his voice caught for a moment and he swallowed.

"What is this place?" The entity was silent for a moment.

"This place has many names. For you, here, in this moment, it is the Edge of Endless Midnight Citadel Twilight Library Annex. Moments prior during errored classification it was the Black Citadel and Starless Sky Detention and Rehabilitation Facility. End of Line." The walls seemed to draw back as the creature slowed for a moment so it was floating next to Wrixet. Ahead the corridor suddenly ended in a door.

"We knew of your coming before the sun of the Telkan system ignited. It is pleasing that you have arrived for the first time. End of Line."

"The first time?" Wrixet turned and stared as they passed an open doorway. Beyond the doorway a Mantid whose carapace was beautiful opalescent edged with decorative baroque gold and polished warsteel whorls and lines.

It was sitting on a waxy looking white lilypad in the middle of a pool of thick reddish liquid that Wrixet knew with a spike of pain was not blood or water but just red and it was a pool because it had been forced into a pool by the will and power of the beautiful mantid who perched upon the lilypad like a goddess looking into the lives of the petty and inconsequential creatures crawling through a cosmos only she could perceive as she stirred the pool she floated in as she stirred the red that was red it was red it was red because it was red and it was red because red was what it was it was red A heavy iron door shut, blocking the view of the elegant Mantid stirring at the red with the tips of decorated bladearms as her blind eyes stared far beyond what anyone should ever view or seek to look at.

Wrixet stumbled and the white gloved hands took his arm, steadying him.

"Lesson complete. End of Line," it intoned. Wrixet leaned against the creature, feeling the heavy folded and bunched black robes against his fur.

He knew, somehow, that he had seen an ancient and powerful seer who had conquered death itself and seen the very gears and pistons that drove the cosmos, had pierced the boundaries of the great stack to view the unborn and the dying and how they melded into the violent explosive birth of a new cosmos her eyes seeing the petty lives of those who mattered and the deeds and exploits known to millions that never mattered as well as the paths and currents of time and the secrets hidden in red that were there because they were red and everything was red because it was red and red was what red was simply red and nothing else but red because the gears of the cosmos dripped red that was not blood or oil or grease but simply just red because it was red so that the great creatures that maintained the gears and pistons of the great cosmic machine could see red because red was red and could not be shattered into not red which red was the color of red and The pain erupted up his spine.

He heard the screech of brakes. For a moment he was cartwheeling through the air before landing in a pile of trash. He could smell the trash, the cold rain, feel the pain in his back and side, hear Naxen yell. The memory failed and he realized the entity was holding him up.

"Level zero point one negative stimulus invocation invoked to break dangerous knowledge loop causing cerebral damage. End of Line," the creature said.

"Thank you," Wrexit gasped. This is... this is the... this is the song that never ends... he started. The entity hummed along as it steered Wrixet through the door. The pressure of the purple sky was a relief. He didn't know or care that the fur on his shoulders had a red tinge. Just a brush. A tiny brush. of red