🌐 Language / 言語
🇺🇸 [English Edition]
🇯🇵 [日本語版]
One night, the man Gilzenth called father crawled into her bed. His breath, usually gentle, was ragged and heavy. As his hands groped her, she couldn’t process the reality that her guardian was consumed by lust for her. Her body locked in terror; her voice died in her throat. The violation escalated. At barely fifteen, Gilzenth had no means of resistance. His frame was too large, his strength too absolute to push away.
Days of agony and repulsion became weeks. Her biological mother, far from being a savior, looked upon her daughter with jealousy and loathing—seeing her only as a rival who had seduced her man. In the secluded mountain village of the Varney Republic, there was no one to turn to. With nothing left to cling to, Gilzenth prayed to the only deity in the village: Ioks, the God of Wisdom.
The Fane of Ioks taught that one must not reject opposing forces, but rather internalize and understand them to achieve true harmony. Could she understand a father who repeated such abuse? Could she forgive a mother who abandoned her duty? Her questions only grew into a hollow void.
“You look troubled, child. Why not confide in me?”
As Gilzenth prayed fervently one afternoon, the Priest spoke in a soothing tone, placing a hand on her shoulder. But his eyes were oily, sliding over her skin with a predatory hunger. His breath hitched.
He is exactly like my father.
Gilzenth felt her soul go cold. Even the gods had denied her sanctuary.
Meanwhile, her mother and father had stopped speaking entirely, their relationship a frozen wasteland. What was the sin? Why had it come to this?
Two years into the nightmare, the Revelation finally descended. As she lay curled on her bed, a soft light bloomed within her heart. A warm surge of energy radiated through her veins. Even after the glow subsided, she remained submerged in a sea of terrifying euphoria.
The world changed in that instant. Even with her eyes closed, she perceived everything. Her sensory Divine Pulse was an anomaly, capable of mapping the movements of anyone within 50 meters (164 feet).
The wood-chopping axe in the garden had once been too heavy for her to lift. Now, with a mere thought, her psychokinesis sent it spinning through the air. It buried itself in the shed wall with a violent thrum. Gilzenth took a deep breath, steeling her resolve, and opened the front door.
“There you are. Strip and come to my room,” a viscous voice commanded. Her father leaned against the living room doorway, his greasy gaze fixed on her chest. Her mother sat on a couch in the shadows, glaring at Gilzenth with bitter resentment.
“Families should really get along, don’t you think?” Gilzenth whispered, pointing a finger at the ceiling.
Their bodies suddenly drifted into the air.
“Wh-what? Hey! What’s happening!?” “Put me down! Is this you, you brat?! Put me down this instant!”
They thrashed in the musty air, their fates now held in the palm of her hand. Gilzenth yanked them apart and then slammed them together at high speed. A dull, sickening thud echoed as flesh collided with flesh. Her mother’s nose erupted in blood with a strangled shriek. Her father’s face was a mask of gore, though it was impossible to tell whose blood it was.
“Wh… what are you…” He couldn’t comprehend the nightmare. His broken front teeth clattered to the floor.
Gilzenth pulled them apart and slammed them together again. And again. And again. And again.
“Ugh… stop…” “Please… mercy…”
The blood-drenched pair groaned in agony. How could they stop rejecting each other? How could they truly understand one another and become one?
“I’ve thought of a wonderful solution,” Gilzenth said. She extended her hand and twisted it, as if wringing out a wet rag.
CRACK. SNAP.
Bones were forcibly splintered and wrenched out of place. Their exhaled breath sounded like a low, guttural flute as their throats collapsed. Crimson spray painted the ceiling and floor a vivid scarlet.
The masses of flesh that were once her mother and father were twisted into a single, mangled heap in mid-air. Those who had been so cold to one another were now perfectly blended. No more bias. No more conflict.
“Ah… how beautiful.”
Gilzenth twisted her own body, shivering with a forbidden ecstasy. Her knees buckled, trembling with the rush of it. Those who had tormented her were now toys for her to break. To tear, to wring, to remake at her whim—it was all her choice.
Her lost emotions flooded back, reshaped into something dark and jagged. In the center of her bloody masterpiece, Gilzenth began to laugh—a wild, broken sound that echoed into the night.
NEXT
