If the world was not temporary, I would have killed EVERYONE.
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Defying all logic, the boy stood once more.
In a single, devastating strike, he obliterated the heart of the big monkey.
Then it was a Massacre after that.
The boy inhaled the poisonous vapors— and fucking savored them, as if that were a famous Air Freshener.
But the most shocking moment came when he was struck by the Reality Marble.
This was no ordinary attack. Few could withstand such an assault, let alone destroy it. But it was crude—a desperate effort born of weakness.
The boy not only withstood the attack but shattered it effortlessly with a single swipe of his hand.
As the Reality Marble dissolved, the boy noticed one, then two tendrils coiling around his neck.
The Forest of Graham, a living, predatory entity, was enacting its nature. It preyed on any weakness it could find, attacking the unsuspecting. But this boy was far from unsuspecting. With a sharp motion, the tendrils were severed completely, and the boy leaped skyward.
The monkeys that initiated the attack paid the ultimate price, sacrificing their souls in vain. Had the big leader still been alive, perhaps they would have stood a chance. But with him dead, the smaller ones were little more than inconsequential pests.
It the beast observed all of this with growing amusement.
"Hahahaha... truly something unique has wandered into my backyard."
As it became immersed in observing the boy's next move, anticipation rose what would the boy would do now. Will he rest—now that he had defeated the monkeys, but, No!
The Thing noticed his path heading straight toward the core of Arlam's Atoll.
That's where its essence resided. Was he coming toward it?
A whirlwind of emotions stirred within. Anticipation, curiosity, and even a trace of unease. What would their first confrontation be like? It found itself... excited.
But then—
What it saw next was utterly baffling. The boy stopped, turned toward it, unbuttoned his pants, squatted down, and... pooped.
WHAT THE ACTAUL FUCK?
Just why….
....
......…..
For a moment, there was only silence.
And then, realization struck. As to why the beast got the 4k view of the Poop and only POOP itself. It Was absurdity itself. There was no trace of the boy.
No…
As reality itself cracks…
Wait a minute.
So did her absurdity of the situation, melting away, as it recognized the truth. What it had witnessed wasn't real.
It was an illusion.
Illusions are curious things You know. When you focus too closely on the subject, they draw you in, hypnotizing you with their deceptive reality. But when you pull back and examine the illusion itself, its falsehood becomes glaringly obvious.
As the cracks in the illusion splintered and dissolved, so too did its trance.
Seeing this situation, that thing did not got angry, instead it was amused.
Just what type of monster have arrived at Graham?
The Question? Will soon get answered.
[AN: How do you like You Like it. Comments for your thoughts.]
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Where had the boy gone now? Nobody knew.
What the beast did know was that this would all end very, very soon, and with certainty.
For now, it would wait.
Its senses expanded outward, probing every direction. No leaf, no stone, no inch of Arlam's Atoll would escape its scrutiny. It would miss nothing this time, refusing to fall for the same deception again.
It wasn't anger that simmered within—it was wounded pride.
And the beast wanted compensation.
And The beast would have it.
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As we return to the boy, we see him strolling leisurely through the forest.
Stopping momentarily, he squatted down and plucked a strange flower from the ground. Instead of roots, peculiar tendrils hung from its base.
As he pulled the flower further, the tendrils tightened, straining under the tension until they snapped.
"It seems like everything is connected," he mused.
Grabbing the tendrils before they could retreat into the ground, he closed his eyes and extended his senses through them.
"Like a hive mind," he noted.
And then...
"Intriguing. Someone is obstructing my view from going further," he muttered.
The obstruction was deliberate, carefully constructed. "It's being controlled by someone, and that someone is trying very hard not to let me find the source."
He turned his gaze in the direction the tendrils seemed to point.
Instead of forcing his way through the interference, as most might, he chose another route.
He ate the flower.
"Hmm. Intriguing flavor," he said with a nonchalant shrug, rising to his feet to resume his journey.
The flower was no ordinary bloom. Laced with tiny, razor-sharp crystals, it would shred the tongue, then the heart, and eventually everything inside the body. Once the victim was reduced to pulp, the plant would take root, using the remains as fertilizer.
And yet, all he had to say was that it had an "intriguing flavor." What an Absurd Bastard.
As the boy continued, the vibrant green surroundings began to fade. The forest transformed into an unsettling landscape, draped in thick webs that intertwined in complex patterns.
This time, the air was heavy with silence, an eerie, oppressive quiet that seemed to hold its breath.
The forest is a haunting labyrinth, where towering, skeletal trees stretch their gnarled branches toward the ashen sky. It is evening after all. Every surface, from the crumbling bark to the twisted undergrowth, is shrouded in dense, silken webs that glisten faintly in the dim light. The webs drape like curtains between the trees, their intricate patterns forming an eerie, otherworldly tapestry.
The ground is carpeted in brittle leaves and desiccated moss, their usual vibrancy replaced by shades of gray and brown. Not a single bird sings, nor does the buzz of insects or the rustle of wildlife break the oppressive stillness. The silence is so absolute it presses against your ears, amplifying every hesitant step or breath.
Occasionally, a faint, almost imperceptible rustle runs through the webs, as if carried by a ghostly breeze, but the air is still and cold, almost suffocating. Shadows seem deeper here, pooling in the hollows of the terrain and between the trees, as though the forest itself absorbs what little light dares enter.
It feels abandoned yet alive, a place holding its breath, watching, waiting.
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