Skeletal fingers reached out to caress, yet the spider lily revolted. The red surged and billowed all over as the pleasant aroma flooded his bones, all overflowing to the surfaces beneath the cloak.
The red spider lily dissipated into a stream of particles, permeating Teret in his entirety. A bed of these flowers sprouted up within his soul, and even his body was emitting the fragrance.
His skeletal frame was also tinted in this red, though they were still a little dingy. His skull remained white, his tail remained pink, and he gave off a subtle metallic luster all around. On the glabella of this very skull, a complex insignia of this very same spider lily slowly formed and emanated a deep crimson glare.
This lasted for but a moment as the insignia was branded on both body and soul. Transforming his aura immutably, it disappeared from view yet remained where it was.
...Everything dimmed.
Alone in a deep crevice, Teret stood up. Bowing his head at the area the sentinel departed, he felt a tear composed of mortisim drop down his bones.
"...Why can't I be multifaceted? I prefer being upbeat, but sometimes doing something else is necessary. I...as long as I'm still Teret, it should be fine, right? Right..."
Reassuring himself, infinity was all he could see. There was no ouroboros for him, no cycle of death and reincarnation. Instead, he was deprived from an eternal slumber, such was the consequence of endlessness.
This restlessness must paradoxically be put to sleep. Burying his apprehension, he looked at the world with an appreciative gaze. In such a short time he had seen so much and yet so little. There was an ever-expanding horizon of things to explore!
"Most important thing...I have to deal with those Participants. Hey, maybe Winnie and Mark can be free if I beat them back hard enough...? And if that doesn't work..."
A grim grin was drawn on Teret's face, despite his lack of faculties to smile with.
"I'll just beat them down harder."
.....
Bang, bang!
A salvo of misty flashes rocked the very foundation of Swillberg. Something within the Foeglaze Cradle had changed; Stemmer could taste it!
But why? That freak or whatever didn't walk wherever the place was salted! The preventative measures he had set up were as unsteady as the throne he sat upon!
"Hao, go see what's happening."
Stemmer maintained his calm as he directed his Malicious right hand. Grumbling to herself, she hurriedly acquiesced and made for the Stairs of Waste.
Arriving at the Duster's Brink, a gaggle of brawling brutes slipped and slid atop the piled guts of their "compatriots." Booze stank like the sterilized halls of a hospital, and the whole place reeked of a morgue.
There was a figure wearing a black cloak and hood on every rooftop. The various black objects in their hands were their main commonality, but each shape was distinct and unique to their holder. Some smoked cigars, some drank from glistening bottles, and some made bets and played cards.
The various piercings and tattoos that were scantly shown from their expansive cloaks were striking and domineering. So many eyes were cold and without emotion; this occurrence was a job like any other.
"Full house. You lose. I spy with my little eye...a burial at sea! Go pick that loser up already, ha? Maybe you can bond over your shitty luck!"
A Reaper with lips like lacquered wood spoke as she raked in all the Deadman's Splendor before her. A grumbling Reaper got up, his cloak unfurling into a raven's wings as he swooped up a body slathered in gore.
The Deadman's Stigma shone as a boat formed beneath the corpse.
"Bad luck, huh? Yeah, you're an asshole who doesn't even live up to the Glorious Death-Board. Let's see you maintain your horrible rank with this."
With the chime of a bell, his "Scythe," as it was called, grew into a creature with a warped appearance. As it munched away at the corpse, a brand formed on all the places its beak had torn through.
"Hey~! No need to be so mean! A permanent debuff? Don't throw a tantrum~!"
This was quite the common sight in the area, and the Reapers were like vultures in Hoara's eyes.
The festive atmosphere brought about by all the Reapers would not cease until blood no longer flowed. This was an "Event" to them, as the widespread killing was usually reserved for tremendous occasions or specific venues.
Money flowed like liquor, amber dollars exchanging hands at an expedient rate. Every once in a while, a Reaper did their job by retrieving a body without nary a complaint.
"They really won't kill us? How am I supposed to trust that...!"
The buoyed ends of rich black cloaks fluttered beneath the artificial lights.
"Don't be so sad~! You kill for a living, so why are you afraid? Look at this horde...whew! Draw that blade in your coffin and get to work, buddy!"
A Reaper called from above as the rooftops erupted in laughter. Then, in unison, they all stood atop the empty air.
Except for one. Kiva sat at the same vantage point Teret had memorized earlier, an elbow propped over his knees.
[The Black Gigantomonarch wonders how things got so out of hand. He says that he doesn't mind the excitement, but it's still bland compared to where he is.]
[The Scorned Tatters tuts to himself. These are not outlaws but mere riffraff, he says. It's like a poison jar, he adds.]
"A clever way to call these poor saps a "fuel," huh? I'm surprised I agree with you guys..."
The chaos was also projected on a screen in the Reapers' domain. Unfortunately, the star of the show had yet to arrive, and yet popcorn had already been spilled several times.
This was like a movie to the psychopomps. They rarely engaged in combat due to their designation, and since the Reapers were all waiting for the several game patches down the line...
They could only find so many ways to amuse themselves. Stirring the crowd to slaughter even more, the tempo was at their beck and call. With enough hemming and hawing, these Participants would ruin years' worth of bonds for practically nothing.
A ruthless pit of dogs bit and tore at each other's hide, their teeth misshapen and mispointed. Underneath encompassing eyes, there was nothing the Participants who couldn't differentiate friend from foe could do.
It was a bloodbath, a feeding frenzy.
Spanning the expanses of the layer, Hoara bravely plunged into the fray. The very cause of this strife was just underneath her nose, moving past while clad by a thin pink fuscia outline.
Teret scaled the Duster's Brink in the air, his now 10 years worth of string-qi heeding his will without end. Propelled, he sometimes stepped on the coagulated strings and sometimes wrapped them around flying debris to throw himself further.
It wasn't long before he reappeared at the place he had distinguished quite a bit earlier.
"Hi there."
Kiva snapped, drawing the skeleton's attention and giving him a friendly greeting in the form of a wave.
"Oh, hi! It's been a while, I think...?"
Teret's voice that was pleasant to the ear seemed to give Kiva the shivers. But, like master, like apprentice, no matter how tender the skeleton's voice was, he would remain vigilant.
"...Right. You remember me, then?"
"How couldn't I? You reek of fear. Did all of your friends decide to sit this one out?"
"How provocative. But I like your courage. It's..."
Kiva gestured to the cluttered battlefield below with a broad sweep.
"...Much better than those bloodhounds."
"Bloodhounds?"
"No matter how impressive a system is, a dog will remain a dog when they get a whiff. Why don't you join them?"
Teret perched at Kiva's side, surveying the wreckage with the Reapers, who didn't mind his presence one bit.
"That's because I'm not a dog."
"...Well said. So when will you slay them? Butcher."
"It can wait, can't it? Believe me, I'm ready to fight. But right now..."
"You're curious. How can one be so sinister while doing something justifiable...? You're going to get an alignment at this rate."
"Really~? Sounds cool!"
"Uh, yeah."
The deathdeities in the Observer Wisps couldn't send messages any longer. Why? Although Teret had gained their personal favor, a deathdeity's interaction with a Participant was very limited in the current version of Everything is Bury.
"Right on!"
The Reapers all did rocker hand signs, pumping their arms along as the battle came to a new high. Phantasms and psychedelic colors danced about in the grunge-laden outpost, the slewing energy causing the un-beating heart in their chests to palpitate!
"Hey, what's that?"
Teret pointed to the hands, his body rotating shoulder first as he launched his inquiry. Kiva scratched at his earrings for a second, responding by making the same gesture.
The middle and ring finger were laid flat on the palm, the index and pinkie fingers were vertical and sharply accentuated...and the thumb jutted to the side, nice and horizontal.
"This? It's like...a stylistic thing."
"Huh...is this how you do it?"
A bony hand rose in a flourish, perfectly performing the movement.
"Yeah. Pretty cool, right?"
Teret hurriedly nodded as if he was a pigeon pecking at grains, turning his direction back to the conflict beneath the ledge.
Kiva raised a hand before Teret arched his spine and waggled his digits, preparing to take off. Before his empty palm was a panel of light.
====+====
Reaper's Quest:
LV Recommendation: N/A
Kiva, the Reaper sees a potential within you due to your unique status as both a Participant and an Inhabitant. He has promised to awaken it if you die 5 times.
Death Counter: 0/5
====+====
"This is what my gift to you is. Ah, but it won't count if you end yourself. Good luck and have fun."
Teret spun on his heels, cocking his head to the side in confusion as he saw Kiva's vibe change. There seemed to be thin droplets of sweat plopping onto the concrete.
Staring at him for a while, he shook his head and turned around. Then, with a bound, he leaped downwards, speeding towards the ground.
His observations had led him to a critical distinction. These Participants didn't know how to fight, not one bit. Sloppy. Lazy. There was no rhyme or rhythm to the slogfest.
(Is it fun to pretend to battle?)
Ten strings of qi shot out as Teret pivoted in the air, landing squarely on his feet. A strong bashing force knocked against spines, sending low-leveled Participants flying with a mere flicker.
He walked through the chaos, and no one knew. His
A bear of a man was pierced with a sickening crunch, a dagger flying about and slicing through his muscles. Then, as the tendons were severed, WantaDollah fell over...
Teret didn't bother to throw his dagger any more than that. Instead, the blade whirled and flashed, its handle moving in either direction as the skeleton alternated his grip.
Gashes spurted rich ichor as crevices were drawn. Teret experimented as he progressed, actively trying to refine what he viewed as poor skills.
Bang!
A lump of gravel was flung at the skeleton as Teret ascended, landing atop it and letting it carry him backward. On his way there, he swiped out, casually clawing through a few scalps with his mortisim-laced digits.
An intense gaze was directed at the simple mask. Teret passed by a bounty sign, the crinkled paper speckled with foul-smelling smears.
On it was his likeness, skillfully drawn. Well, it was the likeness of the cloak and mask...? For some reason, the figure had been sketched with flesh.
"Flattery will get you nowhere~!"
The spiked chunk of gravel dug into a building, causing it to lean over with a deafening uproar.
Uplifting the jaw of the mask, Teret nestled his skull on the back of his hand. Playfully tossing the dagger with gentle agility, he watched the woman with wide eyes and startling pink hair.