Even amidst the sunny and bright atmosphere, the first thing Carter noticed was the tears streaming down Catherine's face. At this moment, he immediately recalled what he had seen. When Catherine impaled Isaiah through the neck, his own surroundings became dark and murky. Since Isaiah is an Order 8 of the Puppeteer pathway, this could very well be a vision, where the latter is a "puppeteer" of sorts.
This could very well be a last-minute move, a trigger of his opponent's survival instincts. Or this could have all been an illusion—what if all they had seen and done was an illusion—what if both of the Catherines he had seen were illusions?
"Why are you crying?"
Even whilst asking that question, Carter had already aroused suspicions that any identities seen in this dreamlike world were all fabricated. Catherine didn't respond, turning back and watching the young girl run through the garden. She continued to laugh and prance, chasing a colorful butterfly that flapped and weaved around trees—colorful trees that rained down green leaves onto the plush grass.
For a moment, Carter seemed entranced by this, watching passively as a small smile gradually filled his cheeks, the freckles peppering his upper face bending at the edges.
"Jesibel, it's time for lunch!" Catherine stood up, cupping one hand over her mouth to project her voice.
Jesibel let out a yell that roused a family of birds overhead. She turned back to the duo, tears beginning to sprout in the corners of her eyes as she ran forward, immediately seeking Catherine's embrace.
"A bee, Mother! A bee stung me!"
Jesibel lifted her arm, showing the small red wound to Catherine. Catherine immediately took a gentle hold of her arm, closely inspecting the puncture site. Even as her daughter cried, Catherine smiled softly to reassure her.
"Don't worry, dear—it's just a bee sting."
She stood up, taking Jesibel back to the house nestled by the lake. They made their way up the creaky wooden steps and entered the house. Carter followed behind, his gaze never leaving Jesibel. The moment he saw the interior of his old house, his eyes widened as his breath hitched in his chest. The wooden kitchen counter and table were bathed in golden sunlight.
He caught sight of the sofa and nook where Catherine would spend languid evenings sunk in her chair, her face buried deep in either a historical text or an engrossing novel.
"I read that bee honey is acidic, and that it can make the pain from a bee sting go away in an instant." Catherine opened the overhead cabinets above the stove, rumbling through the countless labeled jars and ingredients.
After a few moments she took out a jar of honey and placed it on the counter, turning back to Jesibel. "But first, we need to remove the stinger."
"Hold still," Catherine whispered, kneeling down in front of the girl. She reached into another cabinet, taking out a small leather case with hinges.
Catherine opened the case and showed Jesibel the items inside—a few cotton swabs, a syringe accompanied by a small yet intimidating needle, and a pair of metallic surgical tweezers.
"Will it hurt?" Jesibel's voice began to tremble as she clutched her arm, tears continuing to prick the corners of her eyes.
"Only if you want it to hurt. The best way to make pain go away is to just ignore it."
At this moment, everything flickered into bleakness. The walls, floors, and counters dissipated into shadows, alongside Catherine and Jesibel. They turned their heads to Carter, looking directly at him. Their faces suddenly contorted with pain as their skin and flesh began to writhe and peel, melting off their faces and revealing their flesh and bones beneath them.
Even amidst the grotesque scene, the duo began to laugh.
"The best way to make pain go away is to just ignore it!"
"The best way to make pain go away is to just ignore it!"
"The best way to make pain go away is to just ignore it!"
The words echoed, acidic and venomous. They seemed to burn directly into Carter's skin, making him wince and grit his teeth.
"If only she hadn't sacrificed her to demons," A voice suddenly sounded behind him—Isaiah Walls.
Carter didn't talk, he didn't even acknowledge his presence. The only thing he did was take out his hand gun, swinging around a baseball bat and planting three bullets directly into Isaiah's skull. The man with one yellow eye fell silent, the smirk leaving his face in an instant. His eye gradually lost its look of placidiness, numbing over as if a bitter cold had confused it.
Though—he didn't resist these changes. The edges of his eye darkened, turning ink-black as his body leaned, turning into dust as it hit the wooden floor. Isaiah's laugh echoed throughout the vast, illusory void. As the dust flew away, so did the laughing.
"Carter!" A sharp slap to his cheek pulled Carter out of the surreal environment. He found his own body curled on the floor, spasming and writhing in agony. As the dim lighting of Isaiah's workplace came back into view, Carter let out a low groan as he slowly sat up, rubbing his head.
In the spot where Isaaiah once stood, there was nothing but a pile of dust.
"He's not dead," Catherine announced, looking towards Carter.
He felt a wave of confusion and nausea wash over him upon hearing this. Without wasting any time, Carter asked, "How?"
"It's not just a premonition; I can feel it."
Catherine inhaled through her nose, her eyes flickering with a faint edge of purple.
"His spirituality still lingers in the air, that means he obviously escaped somewhere else."
...
I clung to my spirit body, desperate to absorb it into myself. My trembling arms wrapped tightly around its illusory, half-blurred form. Looming above me, the ashen-gray demon—my father—towered like a giant, baring every tooth of his in a malicious grin.
"She's in the hospital right now, paralyzed partially and unable to tend to her wounds," My father spat, cackling as he grabbed the back of my shirt.
He suddenly lifted me into the air, looking into my eyes with his own. Within the pupils, all I saw was twisting, contorting flames and blood.
"Shut up, that's not true!" I held onto my illusory spirit body with an iron grip, suppressing the tears that threatened to spill down my face.
"Let go of me, dumpster-boy!" My spirit body's voice came out low and guttural, a mixture of my fathers and mine.
Its fingertips grew, transforming into claws and sank deep into my back. Although they shed no blood, I still bit my lip to suppress any noises. Seeing this, my father couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
"Don't you see, Isaac? Your own spirit body doesn't know who to trust."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot and putrid against my ear. "It doesn't know whether or not it's you ...or me."
The lucid, crimson pupils of my spirit body washed over, turning a bright white color. At this moment, I felt the claws in my back loosen, retracting back into my spirit body's fingers.
"D-don't hurt him!"
My spirit body's form suddenly turned even more illusory, its body spreading and expanding like a pool of viscous water. The "water" spread throughout the throne room, and a pair of crimson eyes emerged in the pool.
I took a step back, watching as the surreal spirit pool took the form of a malevolent, towering beast with ink-black wings and horns that protruded from its body. Its mouth opened, revealing a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth, glistening with crimson, crackling energy. The towering giant took a step forward, its massive wings spreading behind its back.
My father remained still, looking up at the towering giant with an impassive expression. He didn't do as much as move, not even flinch upon seeing this creature. My spirit body looked towards me, the crimson pupils amidst the darkness softening slightly. It let out a low whine, one that resembled an injured dog.
Seeing this, my fathers smile only grew, and he exploded into laughter. "Look at this, your spirit body can't attack me!"
He spread his arms, stepping back. I watched, unable to speak as an illusory chain composed of crimson energy appeared out of thin air, coiling around the neck of the giant. With a sharp tug of the chain, my spirit body was sent to its knees, whining in submission. My father paused for a beat before walking forward, lifting the chin of my spirit body.
"It appears my influence has already affected your spirit body. You can't attack me because you've already submitted to me—"
I didn't bother to think about what I was doing, landing a sharp punch to my fathers face. The ashen-gray demon only stumbled back from the attack, only taking a second to recover his equilibrium. The throne room around us fell deathly silent as my father touched his left cheek—the area where I had slapped him.
"Is that anger, kid?" He looked up at me, his face unreadable.
I fell silent, my heart sinking to my feet as my hands trembled, clenched taut. I didn't want to reply and seem snarky, but it seemed like at this moment, something ignited within me.
"M-maybe it was ...is that a problem? Can't I not get mad every once in a while?"
My body moved on its own, stepping closer to my father. I then glanced at my spirit body, which remained restrained within the crimson chains. It let out another whimper, its eyes wide and gazing directly at me. It was like looking at an injured puppy.
"You want me to become your "perfect son," the perfect host for your demonic schemes. You openly manipulated my family, most likely seduced my mother into loving you, and mentally tortured us without us knowing."
My lips curled into a small smile. As if silently understanding what I meant, my spirit body's lips curled up, suddenly yanking the illusory, corporeal chain from my fathers grip. The ashen-gray demon let out a low growl the moment he realized what happened, turning back to me with a scowl.
I spread my arms slightly, and my lips twitched upwards into a smile. "My spirit body may be conflicted, unable to completely choose a side, but what happened shows something deep down within myself..."
"I don't want to hear your bullshit!" My father leapt at me, his claws slashing directly across my face. Instead of immediately crying in pain, I ignored the burning pain and blood running down my face.
The blood gushing from my wounds spilled into my right eye, flooding my vision a deep crimson. But even within the blurriness, I could still see the outline of both my father and my spirit body. My body stumbled back, almost falling over. But even through all of this, I still continued to smile.
"Y'gonna talk now, dumpster-boy?" My father took a few steps forward, his hands ebbing with demonic energy.
"No...I'll let it talk to you," I chuckled, pointing to the other end of the room.
Before my father could turn around, my towering spirit body ran over, swinging its massive fist directly at my fathers face. I watched with bloodied vision as the demonic tyrant flew across the room—directly towards the throne. Instead of coming to a rest, my fathers body crashed through the obsidian throne, crashing through the crimson, circular window.
I stumbled over to the window, my eyes widening as my fathers body began to ripple and contort, stretching and shrinking like macabre putty. He let out a demonic howl that echoed throughout the void as he turned to ashes, succumbing to the immense energy of my mind's symbolism.
The rippling, contorting wormhole extended an uncountable amount of illusory tendrils, each wrapping around the ruins, dragging them into the darkness.
After everything fell silent, I stumbled back and collapsed onto the throne, my head lolling to the side as I shakily heaved in and out. Though the silence spoke no words, I could hear whispers echo in my ears—whispers that told me my father was truly dead—his influence over my body had completely dissipated.
That bastard was finally gone.
I could finally rest.
This moment of victory was short lived the moment my spirit body let out a low growl, lunging directly at me with an open mouth. My eyes clenched tightly, unable to react quick enough to avoid this. But ...I didn't feel any pain, no fangs sinking into my flesh or darkness around me.
"I don't know why you're sleeping, just wait until you find out what's happening outside."
The Umbridge descended from seemingly nowhere, their arms clenched tightly around the crimson chain coiled tightly around my spirit body's neck.
"Huh?"