I have followed this crazy woman all my life. I feel like a helpless dog led by a leash. I love her too damn much.
I'm in the pits right now, waiting to be summoned up into the arena where the divers and ghouls duel.
They asked if I needed any weapons and I refused. Dior suggested I take her spear, although it was a kind gesture, I am not adept enough to learned weapons on the fly.
My arms are built of steel and have enough sheer strength to penetrate any ghoul I would come across.
After what seems like hours of chants and cheers above me, the pit I am in elevates and the darkness dissipates when I enter the ring.
Blaring lights illuminates every surface and the crowd boos when I awkwardly squint to gain my bearings.
I am wearing a sleek black diver suit without armor or the full mech gear. I want to feel light and nimble.
Most likely I will be covered in blood and scratched up by the end of the scuffle anyway.
I need to make myself seem weaker than I really am. I can't have too extravagant of a performance.
Attention is my least favorite currency. I'd rather receive information.
My game plan is to extract as much info on what kind of sick demented circus they are running here and hopefully blow this shit up in their face in the end.
I just need to practice my patience and not be swallowed up in the moment.
I look away from the blinding lights and see a towering figure a little distance away from me.
The ghoul looks scared. I stand still in the middle of the arena. The crowd is going wild. I feel like a spectacle. A prop to entertain the masses.
These ghouls are synthetic, nothing about them seems dangerous. Their physical attributes may be intimidating but their heart is feeble. Bred to be led into slaughter. They are sheep wearing wolf skin to seem menacing, when really they are just beasts used for show boating.
I look into its gentle eyes. I know that all of the actions proceeding this arena comes from fear. The ghouls is afraid of what will happen if he doesn't fight. If he doesn't kill, he dies.
It is an albino bear crocodile. When it stands on its hind legs it looks like an oversized platypus. It has a beak for a maw with razor sharp teeth, and its skin is a mix of patches of fur and scales.
I shudder at its grotesque sight, but when I look into its soulless eyes, I see a spark. One filled with fear. It is a poor thing forced to fend for its life.
I don't even flinch when it swings for me, instead I stand my ground and absorb the impact of its claw on my arms.
I exaggerate its force and summersault backwards. The crowd grows silent. They are all attentive all of a sudden.
I get uneasy and try my best to seem disorientated to sell my weakness to the audience.
"He doesn't wield a weapon? Where's his armor? Is he crazy? How did he block that and survive with no equipment to back him up? He must be a powerful vessel..." I hear several of these remarks from the crowd and my unease grows.
I need to be weaker, take less risks and be less confident. I need to tap into timid Tyde, the little pathetic Tits of the abyss that Dior used to tease.
I need to get back into the mindset I was in before I met Death, before I drowned in the oasis, before I knew the truth of my past trauma.
The weak, feeble minded, coward; I must summon him. I close my eyes and hone in on that version of myself.
When I open my eyes I see that the ghoul has closed the distance and is centimeters from my face.
I flinch in terror and scramble to my feet. In a frantic clumsy maneuver, I duck under its deathly jaws and roll between its legs.
The crowd cheers for me but just as I get to my feet, I slow my pace down, allowing for the ghoul to toss me into the air with its hind legs kicking into my chest.
I fall hard onto the arena floor and curl up in a fetal position. Snot and spit drains from my face, and I am covered in my tears.
I feel no pain. I feel no danger or threat. I am at peace, but I let everyone else know that I am pathetic.
I am worthy of boos, I want them to talk down on me. It's not a kink, it is a necessity to make them believe my lie.
And it works. The crowd laughs at me, mocks and taunts me. I have to stop myself from grinning, being too proud of my acting skills.
In the midst of the crowd I hear Soza and Dior. They're the only ones rooting for me. I hope Dior doesn't think this is real (I highly doubt it).
Soza is a real one for still rooting for me even when she doesn't know of my blessing.
The ghoul makes its way towards me, driven to kill, pouncing at the opportunity to survive another day.
I roll out of the way of its path and side step its attempt to bite down on me. I smear my snot and tears all over my face to dramatize my deplorable state, but I keep my eyes trained on the beast.
I feel pity for it even now. When I look into its eyes I see the depths of its pain. The misery it is currently going through.
It charges at me at full speed. I plan to duck under it and wound its abdomen. I need to figure out a way to do it by accident, I can't make my movements look calculated or intentional.
Just as I zone in on my tactics I lock eyes with the creature. It's saddened eyes glisten in the arena's lights. The roars behind me fade and all I see is the broken soul of a battered and beaten animal.
I see Panpun flash in its eyes. My body freezes and I lose sight of my purpose here. I have no ill intent in my heart towards this innocent creature.
I am at a loss for action, I do not know what to do. Within in instant, it approaches me with its maw wide open and swallows me in the darkness of his guts in one large chomp.
I am brought back to my senses when I feel the bile in its stomach. My immediate reaction is to barf. I swim in the contents of this ghouls intestines and my own vomit, desperately gasping for air.
I do not need to protect myself from the acid in its stomach, but every living creature needs air, including myself. Although I have enhanced lung capacity I was lost in thought at the moment it swallowed me and during that time I had forgotten to breath.
Without breath my carnal instincts kick in and I claw desperately at all sides of me to gain air back into my lungs.
I tear open its stomach and emerge from a fountain of ghouls blood, gasping for air. The gruesome view is on full display of the lights within this illuminated arena.
The air is silent. The crowd stands still, in awe of the sight. All that can be heard is my breathing, and the blood dripping from my hair.
I look down at the mangled body. The corpse of the poor ghoul. It's diaphragm rises and falls indicating that although I had ripped open its intestines, it is still alive.
I slowly trudge through the puddle of blood and walk up to its neck. It's grim eyes follows me as I approach.
It is begging me to end its misery. I can sense it. I kneel beside it and whisper a comforting prayer in its ear before snapping its neck.
I stand over its dead body, mourning the loss of a ghoul that could have been another Panpun to someone who cared properly for it. It makes my heart heavy and I forget where I am for a moment.
I snap out of it when I notice the eerie silence in the crowded arena. The crowd slowly erupts in cheers and showers me with praise. They begin a chant for me.
"The mighty! The ferocious! The Ghoul Whisperer!"
They repeatedly chant my new nickname in three syllables.
"Ghoul-Whis-Perper! Ghoul-Whis-Perer! Ghoul-Whis-Perer!"
I shiver at the sheer volume of the rooms ambience. The vile lust of this crowds craving for violence. I am a monster.
The ghouls are locked in a cage with a demon that slaughters them without cause.
I am no whisperer. I reek of insecurities. I blare out sounds of malice and ill will towards anything that threatens my life. Death has touched my heart and now I bring its touch wherever I tread.
This arena does not know of the weak feeble child of the abyss I intended to sell to them. They know me as the mighty, ferocious: Ghoul Whisperer.