Untitled

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+CHAOTIC

+BRUTAL

+ANARCHIC

Coins flipped into the air as they dashed away from the approaching group of streetcleaners, with one finally leap with the speed and agility they have so far displayed as they carefully aimed their pistol towards one of the coins before opening fire on it.

The laser made contact with the shiny surface of small rounded metal as it bounced off it it, and then onto another one, and another, and another and another-

BOOOM!!!

+ULTRAKILL

The laser went through all seven canisters the Streetcleaners had on their backs exposed, leaving all of them completely vulnerable to attacks from behind the streetcleaners.

They had ranged the coins perfectly to be somewhere between these robots as they all explode in a splatter and rain of red from where they were all standing. Braided hair flowed through the air as they pushed their legs outward, bracing themself for a landing back on the ground, all eight wing-like appendages fan out on balance.

The metal caps at the end of which braid clacked together as they land, two of the braids wavered and drooped to cover one of their glowing, searing yellow eyes as they lifted their head up to survey the damage they wrought, covered in more blood than usual but they didn't mind.

The grid-like battleground was covered in torn and popped bodies as their crimson red decorating the walls and floor.

They saw nothing but another day of cybergrinding for points.

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"So far, they are showing great promise," one scientist commented, mesmerized by the vivid images flickering on the screens. The simulated battle area came alive with bursts of vibrant colors and intense flashes of light.

"I guess they had improved a lot over the week after the previous test, won't you agree?" He turned to face the lead scientist, an older but cold man who emitted an air of indifference, his face revealing no trace of emotion, only a faint hint of boredom.

"It was quite… Efficient," the lead doctor spoke after a minute, his voice tinged with a hint of detachment. The scent of sterile equipment and antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of anticipation. "But despite that display of brutality, it still needs more work."

The man's brows furrowed, a mix of disappointment and frustration etched on his face, as he grappled with the disregard of the Prototype's performance, another setback in the pursuit of perfection.

"Please, you had them doing this for over three months now-" he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

"It's not a 'they', Doctor Carlson, it's an 'it' to our research," the lead scientist coldly corrected, his words resonating with clinical detachment.

"At least it was trying so hard to meet your standards." Doctor Carlson interjected. "Trying so hard to the point of mental and physical exhaustion just to meet the standards of the council on dealing with this virus from the middle ages and the war coming to our doorstep!"

"Oh please." the lead doctor rolled his eyes at this. "You are making my criticisms look like it was the end of the world. It's not like that I would approve of this."

Taking a deep breath, Carlson spoke up finally after calming down. "It- They were just pushing themselves just please you out of all people."

Carlson then looked at the tempered glass, seeing where V1 was hooked up too; their braided hair was loose hanging off either side of their head with strange type of portable headset over their eyes and ears, black breathing mask over their mouth and nose as all of their limbs were bind into the large, metallic cuffs to took up their forearms and calves with their legs clamped together under a steel brace while a metal belt-like brace had also fasten across their waist, leaving them pinned to a rack, completely immobilized in place to prevent escape.

"I know they do but they-" The lead doctor mockingly used the word in his sentence, "-are holding it back; the instinct to survive, the knowledge that a perfect soldier would use to it's disposal with only its hands, show no emotion when it comes to slaughtering the infected monsters and machines."

The lead doctor pointed at the sight before Carlson as if to prove his point. "Let's not forget that you willingly used your own DNA to create a clone of yourself artificially for this project, quite surprising even for me to know this fact. Don't forget who will have your life destroyed with just one ace up my sleeve."

Carlson flinched a little, squirmed in his seat. This did not help matters when the older man had placed his hands on the arm rests at either side of him, leaned in close in his face, face bore a scrawl.

"Tomorrow around this time of day," The lead doctor spoke in a threatening manner, "Try again, and this time, have THEM..." pointing at V1. "Do it right with better results. Understand?"

Silence fell over them with a fog of uncertainty, out of options to win the fight, Carlson had no other choice but to nod to his demands.

The lead doctor said nothing but nodded, content with the younger man's answer as he shifted his body back to standing upright once again as he adjusts the wrist cuffs with closed eyes. Without no more word being said, he turned and then walked out of the red-lit room, door lifting upwards and then downs, closing behind him.

Doctor Carlson, remain silent for a long moment, staying still as he took in what had happened today. Exhaling the breath from his nose as he turned towards the computer, inputting a code before standing up and then headed for the door that leads into the room V1 was in.

The headset on V1 shifted; split down the middle and the pieces slid to either side of their head, opening their sight after a while in them as they shut their eyes tight, trying to keep the light out but sensed someone in front of them as they opened them, looking at Carlson once more.

The prototype, a carbon copy of Doctor Carlson but with defect; the braids of their hair was blue and black compared to his natural one.

"He had failed you again." Carlson delivered, his head hung low in disappointment, V1 couldn't say anything, ether they can't due to not know how to or the mask they are breathing in had prevented them from doing so.

"We wants us to try again." Carlson then at last looked at V1, anger but determined expression on his features. "And we will try again tomorrow, and this time; we'll show him, V1."

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Train, rip, tear, gun range, simulation, results, repeat.

It goes on for hours that bleeds into days for V1.

Are they allowed for breaks after results?

No.

No they don't...

Train, rip, tear, gun range, simulation, results, repeat.

They were allowed to sleep upon the day's other failure as they once again did not match the lead researcher's expectations. They were granted only a few hours of sleep before being woke up by the guards, ordered to drag them back on their feet and then prepare them for the day.

It would usually be Dr. Carlson to wake them up but on the days when he's not, the lead doctor would demand that they will be literally pulled out of their cot just so there won't be any absentness.

Train, rip, tear, gun range, simulation, results, repeat...

It seem to be getting to them with a few things they will admit: they HATED the head doctor so much. They hated to see the same results of their blood, sweat, and tears they poured their best into but only to be meet with "Not good enough," "That's not what we were hoping for," "Is that what you got?" "Good work but it felt meaningless," "Are you trying to make me angry?!" and "This project will be all for nothing. Try again."

The words and sentences swirled and twisted in their mind, days of minimal sleep and mental turmoil taken its toll on them as they were thrown back into their room, windowless and dark safe with a cot and a few drawings etched into the floor and wall with one pencil.

They are giving it all they are worth into these tests.

Train, rip, tear, gun range, simulation, results.... REPEAT

An enraged fist was thrown into a wall, the pavement cracked under their strength and pain was the second to introduce them. Breathing heavily, they pulled back their hand from the dent they made and inspect their knuckles and sure enough, they are bleeding with fingers twitching as if they were forced to run a marathon.

They snarled from the pain and anger at this, only encouraging them to punch the wall once again but retched back with a strangled yell of agony once the pain had hit them once again twice as much as punching a wall again.

Holding their hand to see the damage with little light they have from their wings. Yep... It was too much.

Hunger nagged on their mind and no one's going to get them blood any time soon if it wasn't limited to training so as a result, they brought their bleeding knuckles to their mouth and began to lick.

Licking their own blood to sedate the hunger, they are being watched but in that moment, they just don't care anymore.

Train, rip, tear, gun range, simulation, results, repeat...

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For the first time in almost several years, they were granted some sleep. Just sleep at last.

They had been told that they will be performing one last test before the project is cancelled. They do recalled being placed in the simulation, recalled being delirious during that time but they do find odd that they were not forced to go to training and gun range as usual. In fact, they can't seem to see Dr. Carlson anyway.

The lead doctor stated to his researchers that Dr. Carlson had been 'retired' from the project from what they heard but... The way he said 'retired' is concerning.

They were slipped into the rack one more time as a mask was put over their nose and more with the headset over their eyes and ears, robbed of both sight and sound before they smelled a sweet smell invading their senses and before they knew it, they had fallen into a peaceful slumber.

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Eyes are fluttering open; the smell is gone, their throat dried up but still working oddly as their mind had registered it. The headset had also vanished, fully freeing their eyes and ears as the sounds of sirens blaring as their vision was blurred but red and white flashing before hearing voices saying over their regaining senses.

"V.... restaints.... what hav.... they are.... waking up....!!"

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IT BURNS.

He thrashed around, blinded by panic and pain-

IT HURTS IT HURTS IN HURTS

He can't recall what those things he was throwing at the seemingly squishy surface, four appendages with five numbs for each one-

IT BURNS IT HURTS IT BURNS IT HURTS SO MUCH THAT IT FEELS, IT WAS LIKE HE WAS STRUCK BY LIGHTNING

With a strangled half-grunt mixed with a short scream and bubbles floated out of himself, he managed to bursts though the surface. He panted and writhed from the sudden adrenaline rushing through his veins and heart. He curled in on himself and shut his eyes tight as he breathed in and out too fast that he can't process what was happening all around him. He was suffering from a panic attack due to bursting himself out of that egg but why?

Why Why Why Why Why why why why why why why!? Why god-!!? The thoughts had suddenly stopped in their tracks once he felt something else besides what he is feeling at the moment. It took him a solid second or longer that it came from back of his head. A hand. A hand that is pleasantly warm.

"Can you hear me?" A voice questioned him, it was fairly gentle and filled with concern. "I am here." He wasn't sure if he can look at... Whatever its paw belong to at the moment, his lungs were being abused by his own breathing before that first gentle touch had came onto his head. It slowed a little but still fast. "Breathe slow, let us calm you down."

Was that an...? What is even the voice is asking him him to do?

He wasn't sure but he did tried to but a sob and hiccup had left him as his body was now beginning to process what had happened to him.

He thrashed in a blind panic and a half-shout. The voice was startled as he heard it shouted "Be careful, child! Oh Father have mercy...!" before feeling that hand and another hold onto his right shoulder, possibly to hold onto him or pin him down or what it can do but he was strong yet gentle.

It was ragged and harsh at first but then he felt air enter his lungs and left him as he breathed through his nose and then mouth and then nose again. The shaking he was producing had crawled to a stop saved for a moment of shudder crawled up his spine. That feeling was gone but it still lingers. His eyes turned towards the person who helped him. This "face" looking at him back has only have one eye. •─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Much he had learned from the angel that helped whom he learns that the angel was a seraph who was famous around this strange realm he was born into.

Nine spheres of Heaven or simply called Heaven. Why he was famous is that he can raise the morning Sun up on the spheres and the empty sphere filled with water and dry lands decorating it. The Morning Star was named Lucifer. "I am sure that you have many questions." Lucifer looked at him after he covered him with a blanket as they both sat on the most comfortable pillows. A long trip to his personal bed chambers was tiring for the Seraph as he was tasked to bring him, whom the strange being who he calls "the Father" which in return called him "Beelzebub." What does that mean?

Was it a term? Was it a name?

He looked at Lucifer as he gripped the blanket tightly as if it was his life line. He was born with such a traumatic way was one thing but it stunned him further once he realized more about himself. He wasn't born with two arms, he was born with four of them. He wished that he was honest with himself but he doesn't wish to look at them, all of them, he just rather hide inside the blanket and look at Lucifer with polite more than respect of the Prince of the Heavenly Hosts. "I..." It was the first time he talked. His voice was horse from what happened. "I am afraid I have too many." He apologized, he lowered his head down, letting his eyes closed at once. "This is all just..." he stopped himself with unease. "This is so much to take in."

He then looked up to the Seraph. "Just... why am I called Beelzebub?"

Lucifer held his tongue for a moment, basically thinking a way to answer his question to which he does so right away for this weary Power. "It is your name." Lucifer answered reassuringly as he raised his hands a little bit. "Given upon your birth as I was the First."

"The First?" He cocked to the right. "You were the First?" "Yes, I am the First to be born." The Seraph hummed notedly with a nod. "I was born by His hands, giving a part of Himself for I shall live a life as the Light Bringer."

"What is Light Bringer?"

"I who brings Light to all, the Father wished this for our universe." Now it is Beelzebub's turn to held his tongue of his own. Turning over the words he spoke for a moment with curiosity. "Then why am I born to His realm?" He spoke his new question to the Morning Star, straighten his head upright. "What is my purpose here?"

"Well," He hesitated for a moment, recalling the talk between him and the Lord, "I was told that you will serve as my Guardian." He answered lightly as possibly. "In fact, you are the 34th angel to be born this year. So," He placed his hand over to where his mouth should be and lets out a chuckle. "You are quite in last place as I was in lead of the race, aren't you not?"

Beelzebub said nothing but stared at him, rather confused to why he sounded like that.

Lucifer took notice right away.

"It was a joke, my friend." Lucifer explained himself, he now recalls that he was new to this life as he tilted his head to the right. "I have merely forgotten you are just recently born."

"I do not know of the "Joke," Lucifer." Beelzebub said with a shrug. "I have still have so much to learn. Much like my role as your Guardian, what is Guardian?"

Lucifer looked at the Power, with patience, he said "Well, a word guardian is someone must protect something or someone important, we may never or already know that it or they may be something of great significance to political or religious standards." he then looked at him slightly. "Are you understanding any of this?"

Beelzebub nodded.

"I do."

"Very good." Lucifer smiled. "Do you have more questions?"

"I afraid I have more to count." He regretfully answered, hung his head before his holstered it back upright to look at the Morning Star once more. "What is the Father? Who is the Father? Where did He come from?"

Lucifer stayed silent for a moment. "It was..." He started to say, a little taken aback by it with surprise. "They are quite interesting questions I must admit." He placed his hand on his head, seemingly trying to think up an answer to say for this curious Power. "You see, I have asked those very same questions to the Father when I was first born from the fires of pain but love and adoration."

"You did?" Beelzebub was interested right away, looking at him further. "What did he answer you?"

The Seraph paused for a moment, he had never had this angel in his presence before but this is going to be an interesting evening. "The Father had ran off from His own home universe in the void, he wished to have one where the Light and Dark will co-exist with these Spheres. But His family..." He trailed off for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as if he was worried to finish the rest before ultimately decided to do so to satisfy the Power's curiosity.

"His family, more talented in created realities far more grander and more terrible than the last, laughed at this idea and doubt Him. He had spoke more of His story but if I had to cut this story short; His relations with His people had ended on a sour note." "It has?"

Lucifer nodded once with a closed eye. "It was bad but He was able to prove them wrong further but I will explain more to you later." He studied him after revealing the backstory of how all things came to be, taken notes of his body movements as one who is tired. "You looked tired, my friend."

"Tired?" He yawned, he sounded defiant to Lucifer's words. "I am not tired, Light Bringer."

"Than why did you yawn?" He shot back, a knowing glare with a half-shut eye, if he has eyebrows, no doubt that one will be raised to somewhere higher than Heaven itself.

"What is "Yawn?"" He asked, trying to act like he does not acknowledge it. "It usually means you are tired. That is what." Lucifer pointed it out, a slight dinge of amusement towards the Power's disregard of his state. Defeated, his face-wings tilted downward as he looked pity.

"Ah."

Lucifer shook his head with his eye shut gently, his dark 'mask' seemed to be a bit mischievous. "I shall tell you more of this yawn in the morning, my friend."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The morning was... Pretty eventful.

He had woke up to the song of the heavenly voice calling out from the outside the still-darken sky of the Eighth Sphere of Heaven and having caught his attention when he noticed the balcony. He got out of his bed which was the floor turned into a big bed for guests, mostly newborn angelic choirs due to the Father's creations.

He stopped short once he stood near the railing when he noticed a hint of light over the horizon before the sun rose upwards and with it, a small dark figure with burning wings with arms raised with such talent. Morning has come and he had a front-row seat of seeing it happening before him.

Looking closer at the flying figure coming closer, he realized that it is Lucifer. He took a few steps backwards to let the Seraph make a graceful landing on the railing with two feet and hands settling onto it, like a most beautiful creature ever created by God.

"Have I disturb your slumber, Beelzebub?"

The Power blinked a few times before he shook his head violently, letting the question settling in with a stutter.

"Um... No really, Lucifer." He answered, placing one of his four hands settling on his head, tenderly petting his flames resembling an insect fur with closed eyes. "I have just woke up."

Lucifer cocked his head to the right, seeing through his lie but he did apprentice it. "I hope it wasn't too tiring." he said as he setting his first foot down and then the second, sitting on the railing with his hands on either side of his form. "I assume that you have come to see what I, the Morning Star, have brought forth."

"I have seen it, and no wonder why the Father had called you the Morning Bringer, thy Prince of Heaven."

Lucifer chucking, admiring the praise. "Oh thank you, Beelzebub. At ease." he lifted his hand slightly to ease the Power to which he does so. He assumed that the Guardian role is settling in already.

"Why did the Father fit you the role of raising the small ball of fire?" "The sun, you mean?" Lucifer looked at him quizzically. "The Father had no means to raising it when he first created everything, he did try but failed to do so but after being the first angel ever born and seeing that I was able to with my power of His Light, he had appointed the role onto me with the mantle of the Prince of the Heavenly Hosts."

"Interesting."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Beelzebub learned more behind Lucifer's birth since he already had told him what happened before his birth, but he learned what had happened afterwards. The mantle of Prince of Heaven created for Lucifer, the creation of a few more angels a year after, creation of fountains of light, teaching other newborn angels, the failed attempts to have a helm over his 'face' via Light fountains, the building of the cities in Heaven.

Tea was something to calm the nerves is something he like to look forward for after being taught by the leader of the several angelic knights, Azazel.

"It must've been tiresome," Lucifer had said the other day after training. "You are getting better at discipline everyday."

It is true, it is tiresome but it must've been the same for Lucifer as well, raising the sun each day with artistry and love.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Something had took his interest, while walking home one day, he had noticed two angels in private alone in a dark corridor of the palace. Man and woman.

The first one was dancing first, wings on display as they fluttered and spread to reveal a glow of pink and white. The woman did the same. The look in their eyes is saying something, recalling what he was taught in training with Azazel: Study your opponent, find a weakness.

Weakness usually ranged from a crack in armor to emotional.

From what he found, it was affectionate, care, and... And love.

He wasn't sure about this dance or what it meant but it shared a same traits with Lucifer. Artistry and love.

He wondered if...

No, no it is not right. He shouldn't meddle with the higher authorly of Heaven, and on the safe side, he could ask Lucifer about it himself with gentle question if he asked how his day was.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

He can tell when the Prince of the Heavenly Hosts is troubled, from the way he talked about the current affairs' of the Nine Spheres and his body language. They said it all.

Lucifer had said that the Father appeared to be more tired than usual, like a dimmed candle light flickering, threatening to go out completely. He spoke whenever he talked to him, it seems like it was catching up to him and to make matters worse; more unfinished stars have exploded to where they are.

Beelzebub had to shield the one he had vowed to the Father to protect from the falling debris but Lucifer would've used a halo to shield them both but Beelzebub, oh so persistent, prevented him in doing so, a few sharp ones landed on the left side of his back, near to the spine by an inch and the other to the shoulder.

Only five of the unfinished, unstable stars exploded. That's all.

"You are an moron, Beelzebub." Lucifer scolded him with mixture of annoyance and worry for his guard. "You truly are one. You hear me?" he spoke further as carefully placed a warm clean wag on his shoulder, cleaning off the blood. Other Beelzebub's arms had helped out on holding a few bandages and gauzes as they self-bandaged himself around the waist and half his chest.

"I had made an oath to protect you." He defended himself. "That is what I have only done." As his helm looked at his one-eyed visage. Lucifer rolled his visible eye. "You know that I could protect us both but why prevent me from doing so? You've got yourself hurt." His gaze soften lightly. "You could've died if I didn't threw my halo over our heads after your hold had weaken."

"I didn't died because of the halo that has your handsome face on it had shield us."

Lucifer glared at him but there was a hint of mischievous in that glare. "And you think that my lovely appearance can't take on a few scratches?"

"You would be a prune flat if I become one before you." Beelzebub eyed Lucifer for a little moment. "You are too beautiful to have that face broke into three pieces if I didn't interfere."

Lucifer responded by smacking the bug in the face with the bloody wag, dirtying it a little. "You truly are the moronic angel that had ever graced this universe."

Beelzebub chuckled lightly, just as Lucifer had begun to clean his helm almost immediately out of regret of his action. "But an moronic angel that was tasked to be by your side as a guard."

Lucifer chuckled softly under his breath, his flames have a soft shade of pink in it; maybe a little more pink than usual.

"I cannot argue with that."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Beelzebub had came to realized that Lucifer had left, a seraph that had stayed here before leaving had explained that the Father needed him. This time, to help him make new angels.

Beelzebub wondered why God had requested Lucifer's assistance but he should go after him but the law of the Father had requested that only Lucifer must be present to Him.

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The way air was rushing by is filling his ears, neon colors shining and blurry white that was surrounded by them as goggles rested neatly over his eyes as short cyan blue hair flowed wildly with the winds as motorbike ran as far as it carried him. Seemingly like he has somewhere to be than on the road with other grounded vehicles in the slum part of the city.

Hover cars are considered the property of the rich of the higher class above as he spotted something to his left, he turned the bike by the handles and soon he was on a truck with the back haphazardly lowered to nearly touching the asphalt, it acted as a makeshift ramp as he jumped over the lane that was being crowded by other cars and there could be no room for a motorbike to squeeze through if he haven't thought quite quickly.

One destination is on his mind right now. He doesn't have a name long since he lost the right to have one after a mother and brother of his were killed off by the High Heaven Council due to his mother's "treason" against the Law. He knew since as a child, she was speaking out the proposed genocide of the slum for population control because she was a human rights activist but it was sin that broke the Law in their eyes.

Reason why he was the only one left alive is because a man of the Lower class had managed to stunk him out of family home and found refuge in an underground society: People of both higher and lower that doesn't have very good words to say about the council who were formed by the First King after the Malaise outbreak had broken out. And since then, it was corrupt to him and the Resistance but pure in the eyes of the People. He was given a word that he cannot count as a name but will be referred to as.

The Drifter.

The Drifter does not want to spare time to recall the death of his family that took away his childhood or the very recent death of one of their own and body disposed off somewhere far away from this shithole of a City. All he desire is going to the place where he will make a dent to the High Heavenly Council but he had been warned that there might be an obscure in the way.

A few guards here and there but they will inform the Righteous Hand of the Father if they spotted something out of the ordinary. He had looked on the blueprints of the building he was going for and after a few hours of research, he had came up with a way to get inside without being seen.

The sewers. the building is connected to the sewers, Many of this city thought that building was a waste station for trash or, most likely being used as a disposal to destroy the bodies ridden with an aggressive, mutated form of the Malaise virus but he knows the opposite use of it.

The Drifter then made a sudden turned into an alleyway and then stopping once he got to the end of the line. Right where a sewer lid is.

"You stupid mother-" Bobby grinded his teeth as he spoke through them once the hook had missed his mark. Again. For the twenth time in a row. It had been a long time after he learned how to be a rouge from one of the human inmates if he wanted to escape the first time besides taking his own life.

He didn't choose it, it choose him.

He planned to get out of the dungeon and THEN find a way to officially shuffle off of this mortal coil that is his immortal life as he re-lassoed the rope yard by yard until the hook is in his hand again. He looked down at himself as he saw himself in a puddle of water with an only functioning eye.

A dark gray aged-cloth covering the eye socket. His hot-pink hair really do flowed like fire, the brown worn pants he took off one corpse is in mint condition and shoes made from leather.

He took a deep breath and lets it exhale from his mouth with his chest heaved for a moment before returning his gaze at the cave opening just 14 feet tall in the ceiling, the same hole where the body was lazily dumped into. Whoever had did that to the body whose body was left to rot, he will get to thank them for helping him gaining that opportunity to escape back.

As he screwed his face in concentration, he does recall the times when left the cell and did everything he could to escape the hellhole that is a dungeon. Even he planned out which escape attempts carefully before they backfire on him.

Dying by the hands of the knights who claimed it was in the name of the demon King or claws of rotting hands of the undead to accidentally getting killed by doing something stupid or whatever the universe disrupting him at every turn by enjoying throwing a wrench into his plans.

But considering the fact that everyone; the guards, doctors, and prisoners are all dead and none of the zombies or mutated monstrous victims of the Malaise are around so now, just now FINALLY there's nothing and no one here to stop him as he lets the rope slid down until it barely touched the limestone floor by an inch.

His sight settling on his target. He then started to twirl and spin the rope with the makeshift hoof faster and faster until it got the particular speed needed.

He gritted his teeth, squinted his eye before he tossed the rope up, up, up towards the entrance with his strength before an audible clink, clank until it came to rest on a big root of the tree and came to grabbled onto, securing rope in place.

He lets out a small yell of victory quietly with a smile as he clenched his fist tightly and shook it lightly.

Now for the other part: Climbing up the rope to get to the surface. The body he had pocessed is well-built, had the strength to do so right away without problems and he had climbed up many a rope to know it will take effort until it will be all worth it in the long run.

Not like the Beheaded had cared anyhow. Freedom is close, close enough that he can almost taste.

It is now time to climb and get the hell out of this dungeon at last. The rope creaked as he climbs upward, feet dangling and swayed under him as thrusted another hand up above the previous one, getting closer to the exit by every 2 minutes.

Heaven never felt closer than the moonlight before him as he grunted and gasped with slightest jerk that he made him think the root is breaking but it never did much to his relief. It wasn't long until his fingers grasped at the root and dirt covering it, heartrate elevated by the degree as he used his free hand to let go of the rope to throw it higher above and grasped the root before he pushed himself upward frequently and he started to climb out of the hole.

Freedom is just a minute away. It is calling to him like a seductive lover, it sounded wrong but it felt so right at the same time as he crawled out of the opening located at the base of the tree with a hand grasping at the dirt and grabbing a handful of grass like a fox crawling out of the hole.

Speaking of foxes, he was crawling on his belly with increasingly rabid pace until there was an healthy distance between him and the entrance to that damned dungeon. His chest rose and fell as soon as he stopped as he rolled onto his back, one hand on his chest and the other laying on the ground as he closed his eye before opening it up once again.

The sky. The dark sky with a few stray clouds flying overhead with a few stray birds soaring across above with trees and their branches barely covering it.

Just as he imagined it being.

"Free…" He spoke raspy, smile creeped on his lips. Before letting out a manic laughter and hands flying upwards, clenching into fists and shake them triumphally like party favors. "Finally f***ing free! FINALLY!" He shouted loudly as if Heaven didn't heard him the first time and shouting it the second time will surely hear him as he lets his arms fell at either side of himself, letting himself take a breather and process the wait for this night he had been plaguing for the first time in a long time.

He lets the last part of that thought sank in deeply in his sub-conscious.

After so long in the dark, finally able to see the world around him once more since... Aaw, to Hell with it! He thought. He will figure out the details on his old life later.

For now, he needs to figure out where to go to next. "Where to run off to?" he spoke his thoughts aloud as he got on his elbows as he turned his head left to right with a brow raised slightly. It was a moment of triumph in over a century that he had never had experienced until tonight but in the aftermath, he actually forgotten what to do next now.

Oh yes, find a way to civilization actually to find someone that will help put him and his soul to rest for good, find the cure of this immortality. Without delay and with renewed sense of determination, and a smile drawn on his face as well, he got on his knee, on hand resting one it before he fully stands upright on his two feet before proceeding to walk towards the direction, he is not staying in the area where that dungeon is; like he thought before, to hell with it.