Chereads / Intertwined Realities / Chapter 6 - Synchronize

Chapter 6 - Synchronize

Year: 2043, Month: October, Day: 11

Material Realm

⁎⁎⁎

The teens seem to notice his change in demeanour.

"Whoa there! What's got ya so spooked?" asks a brown-haired boy wearing baggy sweats with a big smile on his face. As they walk up to Lumin, the group laughs even louder.

"Don't worry, man. We ain't gonna hurt ya." says the one with the metal pipe, seeing his wolfish grin as he looks down at Lumin.

﹝As if I am that naive, time to brace for a push and whack from a pipe.﹞

Lumin thinks as the concrete walls of the narrow alleyway echo with their sadistic laughter, almost tasting their malicious intent.

The teens begin to surround and taunt Lumin. The brown-hair boy pushes Lumin against the wall with his left arm as his right-hand requests the pipe from his friend.

Once received, he then whispers into Lumin's ear.

"Say hello to my little friend!"

Then he pulls his arm back and swings hard.

﹝Left of my head.﹞

Clang!

A loud sound echoes through the alleyway as the metal pipe strikes Lumin's forearms. A dull pain shoots up Lumin's arm, taking a staggered breath as he protects his head.

"Urgh!"

﹝Damn, that hurt. A lot.﹞

His forearms bleed, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth as he crumbles to his knees. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and his heart races like a drumbeat in his ears.

The boy with brown hair, the gang leader, steps forward. His eyes glint with unsettling mirth in the dim light of the alleyway, the pipe gleaming ominously by his side.

"You're trying to play tough now?" He leans over Lumin, the echoes of his chuckles bouncing off the cold, graffiti-covered walls. "Well, I will show you what happens when you try!"

Lumin stays quiet, trying to muster some strength to resist these punks.

﹝These barbarians, using violenc-﹞

Before Lumin can finish his sentence, the brown-haired boy swings the pipe in a wide arc.

﹝Left shoulder.﹞

Clang!

"Argh!"

Lumin cries out in pain as the force of the blow sends shockwaves throughout his entire body. A savage symphony of agony.

He crumples, his knees buckling beneath him as he slumps onto the cold, damp concrete. His breaths come ragged, each feeling like a thousand tiny daggers in his lungs.

Even as he tries to recuperate, the iron grip of a goon hauls him back onto unsteady legs.

While Azathoth remains a silent observer, watching the ordeal unfold through Lumin's eyes, offering no comment or assistance.

"Hehe, that was easy. Guess ya don't have any fight in ya," remarks the brown-haired boy, enjoying himself as he brandishes the pipe like a trophy. Swinging the pipe around again.

﹝Right ribcage, I will not make it.﹞

Lumin tries to defend his ribcage. But the harsh reality of pain slows him down, the pain from the previous blow still reverberating through his body. He's too slow, too late.

Thump!

The sickening sound echoes in the narrow confines of the alleyway, a metallic aria to his suffering. The blunt force of the impact causes Lumin to taste iron in his mouth. His vision blurs, and he feels his entire body numb from pain.

"Hold him up, you guys!" shouts the brown-haired boy. The command is sharp, cracking like a whip.

The brown-haired boy's goons grab hold of Lumin, keeping his arms behind his back and rendering Lumin defenceless.

"Why don't you say somethin, huh?" As the brown-haired says with a mocking sneer. Handing the pipe to his friends.

﹝I believe you can see why-﹞

The thoughts die as the brown-haired boy rams his fist into Lumin's stomach. Causing blood to flow out of Lumin's mouth, onto the boy and down the sides of his chin. He spits out a small glob of blood on the concrete.

As Lumin looks down at the floor, he sees something wet and red. A grotesque mixture of rainwater and blood pooled at his feet.

"Argh, you bitch! What the fuck you got to say for yourself!?" shouts the brown-haired boy due to the blood pooling onto him while Lumin continues staring down at him.

The goon holding the pipe grows nervous, his eyes darting around as the gravity of their actions starts to weigh on him. "Hey man, be careful, can't rough him up too much."

"Fuck it! He got blood on my clothes!"

As they argue, Lumin pants heavily from the inflicted damage. His lungs strain against the relentless pain coursing through him while Azathoth deliberates on the situation.

"Haa... Haa... Haa..."

﹝... This will be difficult to explain to mother.﹞

Unfazed by his friend's caution, the brown-haired boy beats down Lumin. Unrelenting in his assault.

"Urgh!"

Lumin struggles to maintain his composure as the boy continues to beat him. Reeling from each successive blow, each one more savage than the last. Making sure to hit Lumin where the injuries will not be seen. The pain is becoming unbearable as he weakens.

Daring to look up, Lumin sees the brown-haired boy's triumphant grin.

"That all you got?"

He taunts Lumin, enjoying the anguish he has given him.

Lumin, unable to stand up to this attack, unable to protect himself, unable to do anything but look at the brown-haired boy. Equipped with a slight grin looking at the marvel of his work.

"How much you got on ya? Give me your wallet, phone and anything valuable." the brown-haired boy states in a threatening tone.

The truth of the situation crashes like a cold wave as Lumin realizes he is at the mercy of these teens. At their mercy to steal from him, hurt him and make him feel powerless.

﹝Damn, this is bad. Really bad. Think Lumin, Think!﹞

His mind races as he attempts to think of a solution. Azathoth is having a dilemma. Realizing this situation is no different from the one with his mentor, VIrzod.

{"Silence in the face of injustice is complicity with the oppressor." Weird, why did I think of that?}

In Azathoth's vision, he sees a bleeding effect as Lumin looks up and sees the boy's face. Virzod and the boy both with the same small grin. Eerily similar in their enjoyment of others' suffering.

Azathoth begins to boil like scorching magma. His anger rises as the two faces overlap, sharing unfathomable similarities as if they were one. The merging images of the boy and Virzod stoke his rage. The eerie similarities between the two pushes him to the brink.

It forces him back into his past, traversing the painful memories beyond Virzod.

⁎⁎⁎

"Mama, why does everyone hurt me?"

As dusk descended, the sky blushed a deep crimson, its fiery glow reflected in the tranquil waters of a nearby lake. Young Azathoth and his mother were seated on the bank underneath a tree of ash.

Young Azathoth's voice is small, his innocent question hanging heavy in the air. His mother, cradling him close, answers in a voice as soft as silk.

"Well, darling, sometimes demons do unkind things."

"Unkind things? Like when Papa makes you cry, Mama?"

His honest question sent ripples across the stillness, like a stone thrown into the calm lake. His mother's pause was filled with the quiet lapping of the water against the shore.

"Yes... something like that. It's a bit complex, so let's put it this way: some people bring joy, while others bring pain, okay?"

Azathoth nodded, his small hand playing with the hem of his mother's dress.

"You're a special boy, my love. And you have a heart so full of kindness. I promise I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. And if, for some reason, I can't keep that promise, remember there will always be someone else to stand by your side.."

Her promise, whispered against the backdrop of the captivating red sky and echoed in the soft lull of the lake, surrounded them like a comforting embrace.

"Remember my words, Azathoth. Never lose hope, never stop fighting, and always keep moving forward. One day, you'll become someone indispensable, someone cherished."

Looking into his mother's light pink eyes, warm and gentle like the lake's surface under the scarlet sunset, Azathoth felt a surge of strength. Her faith in him became his anchor, a lighthouse guiding him through the roughest storms.

"Mama..."

⁎⁎⁎

In the blink of an eye, Azathoth is thrust back to the harsh reality of the present, the echoes of his mother's comforting voice still resonating in his mind.

Time had become an illusion momentarily disregarded. His mother's words replay in his mind, drowning out any sense of urgency.

"You're being awfully quiet over there." jeers the brown-haired boy. He takes a deep, exaggerated breath, filling his lungs with the cold evening air as if refuelling his body to continue his merciless game.

"Man, you've got me all tired out. Hand over everything you've got," he demands, stepping closer, his shadow looming ominously over Lumin.

The sight of his assailant's overbearing presence stirs within Lumin. He feels the chill of the cold intimidating him, making him feel like nothing.

As Lumin looks at the lead goon, he sees a dark shadow cast upon the boy. His head begins to throb from the pain he endured as he tries to get to his feet.

﹝What to do? What. do...﹞

The world begins to spin around him, his consciousness teetering on the precipice of darkness. Determined to stay awake.

The world begins spinning, and Lumin's mind becomes foggy, trying to stay awake.

Emboldened by Lumin's weakness. The teen prepares himself for the next attack, raising his fists in a striking motion. Ready to strike Lumin's head.

"...Pathetic."

The word, a declaration rather than an insult, detonates like a flashbang within Azathoth. And as if ignited by its force, Azathoth runs amok.

"ENOUGH!"

Lumin's hand moves forward, unexpectedly striking the face of the boy in front, connecting with the surprised face of the teenager. The impact reverberates up his arm, mingling with the pulsing pain from his wounds.

The goons step back, surprised by the sudden retaliation. Lumin, with Azathoth now in the driver's seat, steps forward, his posture betraying no hint of the injuries he's sustained. However, within his mental confines, Lumin howls in anguish.

﹝Argh! My body!﹞

At the same time, Azathoth overrides Lumin's control over his body without much resistance. His wrath flushed on Lumin's face as Azathoth disregards Lumin and his circus of cries.

{Stop whining. Your cries get on my nerves. Now, be quiet.}

"What the he-"

The brown-haired boy's words are abruptly cut off as a firm strike is planted on his face. He recoils backwards and buckles his knees. He then shouts.

"Guys, Guys-!"

As a demon, Azathoth talks with his body. He swiftly delivers a roundhouse kick to the head of the brown-haired boy. The impact sends him sprawling, shattering his sense of dominance.

"Heh heh," Azathoth chuckles, revelling in his triumph.

The brown-haired boy crumples onto the asphalt, face-down and horizontal to the wall. Dazed from the blows to his head.

﹝Aah!﹞

As Lumin internally writhes in pain, Azathoth throws a disdainful glance at the unconscious boy, then shifts his gaze towards the remaining gang members.

"You gonna finish the job?"

He challenges the goons with a cold, impassive stare. What they see in their eyes is not a victim, but a predator.

"R-r-run!"

The one with the metal pipe shouts as he drops the pipe before they all scramble to escape the scene.

"Hey, you guys-"

Thump!

Azathoth interrupts the boy's futile call with a kick to the back of his head. His words die in his throat, replaced by an animalistic grunt as he's abruptly robbed of his consciousness.

"Aah!"

Exhaustion finally catches up to Lumin's body, his knees buckling under the strain.

His breath comes in ragged gasps, the physical exertion from the previous encounter finally catching up with him.

"Haa... Haa... Haa..."

{His body will serve well.}

Before hitting the cold, wet ground, Azathoth quickly decides to use the unconscious boy's body as a makeshift seat, giving the boy a purpose in life.

Propped against the graffiti-ridden alley wall and comfortably seated on his defeated foe, Azathoth finally relinquishes control.

Though not even a moment later in their minds.

Ding!