"Shit..."
Though the boy did not talk much. He felt the weight of the wickedness slowly sinking into his frail body. Only recently had he been promised safety, so who was he to endure this?
Like many of the others, Konrad would have been kept away from the rest of the world. Never venturing outside their housing... Although, in his defence, Konrad wouldn't have had anyone outside of the housing to rely on, therefore he would never doubt the dangers.
"To appease to other's in this world", that would be the only way. Illuminated in bright lights--fall down and kneel to those above you. Believe in the Church Lords and you will be free.
And Konrad was a loyal dog to those above him--wanting to please them with all of his heart. Yet his heart would tremble, for some reason, imbued with a tragedy from his youth, an unwavering hatred for the world--it was rightfully so.
He did not know any reasons for his nonsensical hate.
He wished for a simple world. He wished for a better world--for this was an insidious, barren and decrepit voided world. A grey cloud enveloped the world. His hatred would seem desperate--like a wild animal.
The boy was frail, he had dark brown hair and he wasn't the tallest.
His insistent and stubborn attitude must have made him a trouble--if not a tad bit annoying to his elders.
But... to send him into the barren wastelands? That was a death sentence!
The housing could not keep track of him--no. The boy hated the outside world, but he showed hatred for the housing which "protected" him too. He didn't believe in the lies told by the Church Lords, which he insisted were lies. But he didn't have another truth to believe in either. So it was difficult to keep track of the ever-changing and ambivalent boy.
Even for those who had raised him...
They long argued over the boy--namely, what to do with him.
Eventually they came to a conclusion...
He was confused, the boy. Konrad stood outside of the housing, not even attempting to crawl back inside. Instead he fiddled with a few pieces of belongings stashed in a leather pouch graciously offered to him.
The facility (the housing) where he had lived, was his home--he had lived there his entire life. To him, this whole "abandonment" seemed wholly anticlimactic.
Looking around himself, he attempted to make out the shapes in the distance. To his surprise, it was difficult to make out even a single shape in the distance.
His only choice was to follow the decrepit street which slowly faded into the wilderness. Thick cracks ran along it, until eventually there was nothing that seemed like a structure anymore.
When that happened, he could finally see everything clearer...
In some ways, he was proven wrong to doubt the "lies" of the Church Lords. For the world he saw before him was not as he hoped...
It was quickly brought to his attention that there was something inherently wrong with the world outside...
A thick and harsh miasma seeped into lungs and made it difficult to breathe. The air seemed to lack all the mirth of oxygen, only the harsh breath of cold or warm wind.
He struck his hand into his leather pouch with haste, taking one of the items, twisting a part of it quickly, then lifting it above his neck and striking down towards himself with force.
He was told do to this with one of the "Suppressants."
Then Konrad would take a deep and relieving breath of pleasant air.
From what Konrad had heard from the Church Lords, the world had been rotted from the inside out, an infection of the earth, a plague brought from the heavens. This was something regularly taught in the housings.
The people of earth would slowly become placid, not wishing to hear more of the infection. Gradually, children stopped being born. Those who were born were either abandoned, or taken by the Church Lords. This was not done in wickedness. Merely that those who are unfit for the latter generations will kill them.
So seeing the world clearer, Konrad could make out how the earth had changed. Clear before his eyes the vivid and lucid shapes of a rotting earth before him visible.
The light of the day, the sun growing stark with red hues, shining upon the surface of the earth making it seem less alive. Slowly the heat would become unbearable for Konrad.
Konrad wore few clothes, he owned few from the housing, and now there was nothing he could do but endure.
The ground below his feet were covered in fine sand, such sand that is only produced by the most harsh of climates. But as he walked through it, the sand would not move at all, almost like it was glued to the ground.
To his sides he would see these growths sprouting from the cracks of the ground. These growths would move as though they were alive. Beating like a heart, the fleshy shape would tremble, da-dunk, and then the ground would shake.
The skies were dull, and all greenery had disappeared from nature.
He would doubt the sights before him, but as his eyes couldn't be lying to him, he would assure himself of the terrible present.
***
He had brought with him three things; the suppressants, some water and a knife. The knife in particular were of steel, and dulled as to not hurt him.
The Church Lords would have sent him to his death, but as they were kind, he would be sent along with three-days worth of suppressants.
They were something Konrad knew the importance of, but clearly not the reason why. Nevertheless, with suppressants or not, the wasteland would be a difficult place to trod on.
Yet it was unclear whether he was walking towards a certain death.
Using the last of the suppressants, Konrad would take the flat edge of it, lift it above his head, then smash it towards the base of his neck. A sharp and quick pain would radiate through his body, and his breath would become easier.
What Konrad was told about the suppressants usage in the wastelands was to use one whenever his breath and sight became hazy, and as it would happen quite frequently, not even a day had passed until his supply dried up.
Gradually, he became curious of the idea.
Konrad approached a streetlamp, but even if they lit it up, even if it had the electricity of a time past. The light would still seem scathing.
'Pain...'
A part of Konrad would dislike the heat. As the pitiful miasma of the rotted earth became clear to him. Approaching from all around, he would not attempt to flee from it.
Gradually he would submit to the infection.
He drew upon the cold and sharp air, sinking it deep into his lungs. Konrad felt a need to cough, but he forced himself to remain still. The miasma sinking deep into his lungs, whether it was an illusion or not. It seeped into him, like a creature taking root.
The fog covered his sight--slowly everything he saw became obscure, as though some miasma had covered his eyes.
All that was left in front of him was some transcendental imagery. Something heavenly and celestial in spirit. Lights escaping, bouncing around in front of his eyes. These bulbs of light, something entirely unknown to him.
"Agh!"
He would cough. His mind would be visited by all these lights, and a single thought came to mind. He said to himself, he said to the light, he said to someone.
'Remind me of it, so that I do not forget what it's like to be a human being...!'
The suspense launched into this wickedness. Hearing all the sins confessed. They would cry in the streets of the hateful nature of the world. Hearing their hopes, their voices - but Konrad was not an altruist, his own nature prohibited him from ever thinking about someone other than himself.
Then Konrad would stop breathing, falling unto the street. He would not be able to breathe, and his body would violently attempt to regain oxygen. It would be futile.
Sinking deep into this grand vastness of the cosmos above or below him.
For Konrad, all he could see was an absorbing, oppressive darkness approaching all around him. Something was watching him...