/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46537438 72

With a moment of respite, Mima turns to see Seiga making yet another abomination. The served limbs of the dead are being fused together by some sort of cancerous mass. There’s a stark contrast between the necrotic, rotten flesh and the smooth, pink malignant growths holding them together. Mima wonders for a moment at what possibly could be a source of the connective tissue, but that question is quickly answered as an unborn child is pulled from her bag and manipulated by magic. After it is stretched out and bent to a horrific extent, she grafts it onto the abomination. It grows after that, bubbling and writhing all the while.

The wicked hermit pauses in her work to turn to Mima, “Amazing, isn’t it? The potential of a fetus that is. Each one could be a poet who binds some ephemeral moment into eternal text, a king whose wisdom brings an era of prosperity, or a peerless warrior who could topple realms with his sword. Still, I think I prefer them this way.”

What senseless cruelty. How could one do such a thing and delight in it? What depravities must one know to even think to make such a thing? How can one dream and not see such a thing in their most horrid nightmares? Mima had believed she’d gasped the lowest depths humanity could sink, but…

No matter, Mima focuses on what must be done. “You will die in agony.”

Seiga smiles, “Certainly, but you’re not the one who’ll do it.”

Following some unseen cue from its creator, the wretched thing let out a noise. It would not be accurate to call it a roar, no it’s more a wheeze, a pained death rattle emitted from atrophied lungs out too many mouths.

Despite the clear wrongness of its existence, the monstrosity lumbers forward with unnatural speed, smashing its own burial stones without the slightest recognition.

She won’t run, she can’t anyway, bound as she is by Seiga’s barrier, but even had she not been should would never leave until this thing was destroyed.

As it lumbers closer, she slows it with whatever spells she can muster. Curses do nothing to it and neither does fire as it seems to be coated with some oily fluid that Mima’s mind asserts must be embryonic fluid. Raw force though seems to have effect as it tears chunks of the creature off, though all lost tissue is replaced rather quickly by new growths from the fetus-flesh.

In a moment the thing is upon her. Still, despite its speed it is misshaped and awkward. Mima dodges the pillar of muscle that generously could be called an arm before cutting into the monster’s side, infusing everything she has into the blow. Her blade cuts through flesh and bone, but it slows as the flesh begins to grow all around the blade.

Seeing this, Mima attempts to wrest the blade from the creature’s ‘stomach’, but the flesh holds firm from all sides. She moves to pull desperately, but a sudden impact sends her flying across the cemetery.

She has no bones to break, but the force does disrupt her material rendering her hazy and indistinct. A wave of curses from the witch hit her as she lay dazed, sapping her of her strength.

Seiga and the thing approach slowly, leisurely. The witch is terribly pleased, “I suppose this was worth the effort, it only to show off a new toy. Alas, it seems I’ll need someone stronger if I wish to truly test it. No matter, I suppose I can use this time to refine it, add a few more parts.”

Seiga smirks cruelly, “But where to get them? Hmm… I heard that you’re Marisa’s teacher, is that right? I hear that she’s pregnant. Maybe I can pay her a visit soon. Oh! When you’re bound, you can come along, won’t that be sweet?”

She’s going to tear Marisa’s unborn child from her. She’s going to rip out Marisa’s fetus, and there’s nothing Mima can do. No, Mima is going to help. She’ll wind up like all the other souls this witch controls. Tormented tools driven on to help in terrible deeds.

She was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to be beyond this, a great spirit whom none would trifle with. She was supposed to be able to protect those she cared about. She was supposed to stop these monsters and yet Yukari, Seiga, and their ilk roam free.

They’ll torment the weak and helpless. They’ll feign morality and justifications when convenient but whenever it is not, they’ll do whatever they please to any who can’t fight back. She can’t stop them.

Though she lacks any true biological mechanisms for it, Mima begins to cry.

Seiga tuts, “Wait until I’m there to cry, the tears of a vengeful spirit are not something to waste.”