Lord-Campione
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Chapter no.55: You are a " Monster "
🕑 Added 2024-12-10 23:42:15 +0000 UTCKozen leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out beneath the desk. The classroom was nearly empty, the sunlight filtering through the large windows casting streaks of golden light across the polished floor. He spun a pen lazily between his fingers, his dark eyes gazing out at the courtyard where a few students milled about, oblivious to the date circled in red ink in his calendar.
January 1st, 2012.
The day it was all supposed to happen. The apocalypse. The end of everything.
Except it wasn’t.
It was now early afternoon, and the world seemed… fine. Perfectly ordinary. Kozen let out a breath, equal parts relief and irritation. Part of him had been waiting for the chaos to descend, for the carefully honed instincts and plans he had developed over the past few months to kick into gear. But nothing had happened. No monsters, no explosions, no mass panic. Just another day of school, with students yawning their way through classes and teachers droning on about equations and literature.
Kozen wasn’t disappointed, exactly. He didn’t want the world to end. But he’d been ready. And sitting here now, doing nothing, felt… anticlimactic.
The door creaked open, and his thoughts scattered as Saeko walked in.
Her presence always commanded attention, even in a quiet moment like this. Saeko moved with a fluid grace, her long purple hair tied back neatly, her piercing gaze scanning the room before landing on him. She didn’t ask permission to join him. She didn’t need to. Sliding into the seat next to his, she propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in her hand, her lips quirking into a faint, knowing smile.
“You look bored,” she said, her tone light but teasing. “Is this what the mighty Kozen does during the apocalypse? Sits around waiting?”
Kozen smirked, his pen stilling in his fingers. “Waiting’s better than dying, don’t you think?”
Saeko’s eyes glinted. “Depends on who’s dying.”
There was always an edge to her words, a sharpness that made every conversation feel like a game of verbal sparring. Kozen liked it—found it refreshing, even. But today, there was something different about her. A darker undertone.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “What’s on your mind, Saeko?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “You really think it’s not happening?”
“The apocalypse?” Kozen shrugged. “If it is, it’s running late. You’d think the end of the world would be a little more… punctual.”
Saeko chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “Maybe it’s just shy. Waiting for the right moment to make its grand entrance.”
Kozen raised an eyebrow. “And what happens if it doesn’t? What happens if today ends like every other day, with the world still standing?”
For a moment, Saeko didn’t respond. She looked out the window, her expression unreadable. When she spoke, her voice was softer, more contemplative.
“Then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
Kozen frowned. “What does that mean?”
She turned back to him, her eyes hard now, almost gleaming with an unsettling intensity. “My family. My so-called honorable family. They’ve kept me in chains my whole life. I’ve done everything they’ve asked, been the perfect daughter, the perfect warrior. And for what? Respect? Pride? No. They see me as nothing more than a pawn in their stupid legacy.”
Her voice lowered, almost a whisper. “But if the apocalypse comes, there are no consequences. No rules. No gods to judge me. I can do what I want.”
Kozen studied her carefully. He could hear the anger simmering beneath her words, feel the raw hatred that burned just beneath the surface. But there was also something else—a deep, unshakable sadness.
“And what do you want?” he asked.
Saeko’s smile returned, sharp and cold. “To finally be free.”
Kozen leaned back in his chair, considering her words. He didn’t judge her. He didn’t pity her. He just… understood. They weren’t so different, after all. Both of them knew what it was like to wear a mask, to play a role in a world that didn’t care about them.
“Freedom’s expensive,” he said finally. “Are you sure you’re ready to pay the price?”
Saeko tilted her head, her smile softening. “What about you, Kozen? What price would you pay to get what you want?”
Before he could answer, she shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t like her to show vulnerability, even in small moments like this, and it caught him off guard. But he didn’t push her away. Instead, he leaned his head against hers, the two of them sitting in silence.
The door burst open, shattering the fragile quiet in the room.
“Babe, the eclipse is going to set, come on let’s watch it toge—” Miku’s voice rang out. “What… what is this?”
Kozen barely moved from his slouched position in his chair, his head turning lazily to face her. His expression was indifferent, his dark eyes scanning her as if she were more of an interruption than a concern.
Miku’s eyes darted between the two, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The sight of them—Kozen sitting there so casually, Saeko leaning into him with an air of possessive ease—was like a punch to the stomach. Her voice broke as she asked, “What’s going on here?”
“What does it look like?” Saeko said smoothly, her voice laced with mock innocence. “We’re just… getting comfortable.”
“Miku, it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, really?” Miku’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her voice rising with every word. “Because it sure looks like you’re cheating on me!”
Saeko laughed softly, the sound like nails scraping against glass. “Cheating? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” She turned to Kozen, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Is she always this… emotional?”
Kozen didn’t respond immediately. He simply rubbed his temples, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. The tension in the room was suffocating, but he seemed utterly unfazed, as though the entire situation were a minor inconvenience.
“Kozen, say something!” Miku demanded, her voice cracking. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously. “Explain this to me. Explain her!” She pointed an accusing finger at Saeko.
“Why should he have to explain anything?” Saeko interjected, her voice calm, almost soothing. “You’re the one barging in here, making accusations.”
Miku’s jaw dropped. “Barging in? Accusations? He’s my boyfriend!”
Saeko tilted her head, feigning confusion. “And? Does that mean he owes you his every second, his every thought?” Her smirk deepened as she leaned closer to Kozen, her fingers trailing down his arm. “You don’t own him, Miku. He’s free to be where he wants. With who he wants.”
“Kozen, please—tell her she’s wrong. Tell her I’m the one you want!”
There was no warmth in Kozen’s gaze, no flicker of guilt or apology. Instead, there was something cold, detached, as if he were trying to calculate how much effort it would take to placate her—or if it was worth the effort at all.
“You’re overreacting.”
“Overreacting?” Miku’s voice broke on the word, and the tears she’d been holding back began to spill. “Kozen, I’ve been with you through everything. I’ve supported you. I’ve loved you. And this—” She gestured to Saeko. “This is how you treat me?”
Kozen shifted uncomfortably in his chair, scratching the back of his neck. “Miku… don’t make this bigger than it needs to be. You’re making a scene.”
Saeko chuckled under her breath. “You really are exhausting, aren’t you?”
“You think this is funny? You think breaking someone’s heart is a joke?”
Saeko shrugged, unbothered by the venom in Miku’s voice. “You’re acting like this is some grand betrayal. But really, Miku, what are you to him? A liability?” She turned to Kozen, her expression playful. “Isn’t that what you called her?”
Miku froze, the words hitting her like a slap to the face. She stared at Kozen, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Is that true? Is that how you see me?”
Kozen’s silence speaking louder than any words could. Miku’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as the truth settled over her like a suffocating weight.
And then Saeko did the unthinkable. She leaned forward and kissed Kozen, her lips brushing his with deliberate slowness, her eyes flicking toward Miku as if daring her to react.
Miku staggered back, her hand flying to her mouth as if the sight had physically struck her. “You…” Her voice shook with rage and devastation. “How could you?”
Kozen pulled back from Saeko’s kiss, his expression unreadable. “Miku—”
“Don’t!” she screamed, cutting him off. Her tears were streaming freely now, her hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t you dare try to justify this. Don’t you dare pretend like you care!”
Saeko watched the scene unfold with a satisfied smirk, her fingers idly playing with the edge of Kozen’s sleeve. “You should really thank me, Miku,” she said. “I’m saving you from wasting any more time on someone who doesn’t deserve you.”
“You’re a monster,” she said, her voice trembling with both anger and heartbreak. “Both of you.”
And with that, she tried to flee the room, her legs trembling beneath her—but she froze mid-step, her body locking in place as if an unseen force had seized her, trapping her in the suffocating tension of the moment.
It was as if the air itself had frozen. Kozen’s breath caught in his throat, his senses screaming in protest as a cold, unrelenting pressure descended upon him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All he could do was sit there, paralyzed, as a deep, primal fear took hold.
The eclipse had reached totality.
Kozen didn’t dare look directly at it. Instead, his gaze dropped to the floor, where the reflection of the black sun shimmered like a dark, unblinking eye. It stared back at him, vast and incomprehensible, and for a moment, he felt as if it was looking directly into his soul.
Saeko gasped beside him, her hand clutching his arm. “Do you feel that?” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Something’s… watching us.”
Kozen nodded, unable to speak. The weight of the presence was overwhelming, pressing down on him like the ocean’s depths.
“Miku,” he managed to croak, turning toward her. But she was already staring at the window, her face pale and her body trembling.
“What… what is that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Kozen didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because in that moment, as the shadow of the eclipse consumed the world, he realized something terrifyingly clear.
The apocalypse hadn’t been late. It had been waiting.
Then came the first unnatural sound—a deep, wet crack, like bones snapping under unimaginable pressure. It reverberated through the air, freezing everyone in place.
Kozen’s eyes darted to the window. Outside, the courtyard where students had gathered to view the solar eclipse was in chaos. The light dimmed unnaturally, casting the world in a pale, sickly hue, as if the sun itself had been drained of its warmth. The sky, once an ominous gray from the eclipse, now churned with dark clouds, writhing as though alive. A low, guttural hum began to grow, shaking the very walls of the school.
The hum turned into a deafening roar.
The windows shattered inward, spraying the classroom with shards of glass. Kozen instinctively ducked, shielding his face as chaos erupted around him. Students screamed, desks screeched against the floor as they were overturned, and a horrifying, unearthly sound echoed down the hall—a wet, slithering noise, like flesh dragging itself across concrete.
“What the hell is that?!” Saeko hissed, her voice unusually sharp. She had moved to Kozen’s side, her usual smirk gone, replaced with something cold and calculating.
Kozen tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. His body felt heavy, his vision blurring as if something was pressing down on him. That’s when the first tendrils appeared.
They burst through the classroom walls like grotesque roots, pulsating and slick with glistening, raw flesh. The tendrils coiled and snaked their way across the ceiling, the floor, the walls, spreading like a living infection. Where they touched, the once-familiar classroom warped and twisted—desks melted into grotesque, organic shapes, and the walls seemed to breathe, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the deep, monstrous hum.
The screams in the hallways grew louder, only to be abruptly silenced, one by one.
“Kozen,” Saeko said sharply, shaking his shoulder. “Focus. We need to move!”
But Kozen’s legs wouldn’t respond. His mind felt sluggish, as though he were sinking into quicksand. The room around him tilted, spinning, and then—darkness.
[ The Eclipse ]
