Chapter 428 Butcher's Stage

Butcher's laughter was a wet, gurgling thing as he lifted Hermit by his ear, the cartilage tearing under his grip. Hermit's screams had long since dissolved into hysterical, childlike sobs, his body convulsing with each new wave of agony.

"P-please! Please!" Hermit wailed, his once-defiant anger replaced by raw, animal terror.

"I'll d-do anything! Anything! Just s-stop! It hurts! It hurts so much!"

Butcher grinned, his jagged teeth stained with Hermit's blood.

"Ohhh, now you beg?" He gave Hermit's ear a vicious twist, eliciting another ear-splitting shriek.

"Shoulda thought ‘bout that before you got ideas!"

With a brutal yank, he slammed Hermit face-first into the pit’s packed dirt, grinding his nose into the filth until Hermit choked on his own blood.

"Yer weak," Butcher spat, kneeling on Hermit’s back, his weight making the smaller goblin’s ribs creak.

"Yer nothing. Yer slave meat, bred to hurt and bleed and break."

One meaty hand grabbed Hermit’s arm, twisting it backwards until the joint popped from its socket. Hermit screeched, his free hand clawing at the dirt, his legs kicking uselessly as tears and snot dripped into the bloody mud.

"D-DADA! DADA, HELP ME!" Hermit screamed, his mind regressing to childhood terror, his voice the same broken plea his hatchlings had once cried.

Butcher laughed, his free hand slapping him across the face.

"Ain’t nobody comin’ for you, slave. Yer mine now. And I always finish what I—"

A rock—small, insignificant—bounced off Butcher’s head.

He blinked, his grip loosening just enough for Hermit to suck in a breath.

Then—

Another rock. And another.

"P… pepe… pepepe…"

Butcher turned, his grin fading as his beady eyes landed on the source. The hatchling. The broken one. The one with the caved-in skull, the twitching limbs, the mindless, endless chant. It had crawled to the edge of the pit, its tiny, mangled hand still clutching a pebble.

"Pepe… pepe..." it gurgled, it's one working eye fixed on Hermit.

"Pepepe…"

And then—It smiled.

The hatchling—little Pepper, its skull still caved in, its mind still broken—had been crawling.

It didn’t understand. Didn’t remember. But something in its shattered instincts recognized Hermit’s screams. Recognized pain. Recognized fear.

And so, with twitching limbs and garbled, wet cries of "Pepe… pepe…", it dragged itself forward, its tiny claws scraping against the blood-slick dirt of the pit.

It reached Butcher’s foot and bit down.

"HAH! Dis one still kickin’?!"

He shook his leg, but the hatchling held on, its teeth sinking deeper, its single working eye squeezed shut in determination.

Butcher’s grin widened.

"Aww, it loves you!" he cooed, mocking, as he yanked the hatchling off by its tail, holding it up like a squirming prize.

"Lookit dat, slave! Yer stupid worm came back for ya!"

Hermit, half-conscious, his face a mask of blood, tried to reach out.

"Little one… no…"

Butcher ignored him, turning the hatchling in his grip, studying its broken body with grotesque fascination.

"Hmm… where ta start…"

With a vicious twist, Butcher snapped the hatchling’s remaining leg, the bone protruding through skin. The hatchling squealed, its voice high and thin, its tiny body convulsing.

"PEPEPEPEPEeee—!"

Butcher laughed, twisting the leg further, watching as the hatchling’s cries turned into wet, choking gasps.

"Do ya hear it? It sings for ya, slave!" he taunted, shaking the hatchling in front of Hermit’s face.

"Hear dat? Music!"

Hermit sobbed, his claws digging into the dirt, his body too broken to move.

"P-please… stop…"

The Butcher’s grin widened.

"Nah."

He raised the hatchling higher—

—and bit down on its other ear, ripping it clean off.

The hatchling screeched, its voice breaking as blood poured down its face.

"PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Suzuka was silent. She did not move. Did not blink. Her face was frozen, her arms still crossed, her promise unbroken. Even as Hermit pleaded with his eyes. Even as the hatchling’s cries faded into weak, hiccupping whimpers.

She watched. And did nothing.

Butcher threw back his head and laughed, a wet, gurgling sound that echoed off the blood-slick walls of the pit. He held the twitching hatchling aloft by its tail, watching with glee as its tiny claws pawed uselessly at the air.

"Pepe! Pepe! Pepepepe..."

"Lookit dis stupid worm!" he laughed, giving the hatchling a violent shake that sent droplets of blood and saliva flying.

  "Still tryin' ta be hero! HAGHHAGHA!"

With a brutal swing, he slammed the hatchling into the ground like a hammer, its tiny body bouncing once before lying still. Then - with theatrical disappointment - he poked it with a stubby finger.

"Aw, no fun! Wake up, worm!"

When it didn't move, he grabbed a handful of dirt and forced it into the hatchling's mouth, cackling as its body instinctively convulsed, coughing up earth and blood.

"There we go! Dinner for ya!"

Hermit crawled forward, his broken ribs grinding with every movement, his shattered wrist dragging uselessly behind him.

"P-Pepper... I'm s-sorry..."

The Butcher's boot came down on his back, pinning him like a bug.

"Aww, sweet!" he sneered, grinding his heel between Hermit's shoulder blades.

  "Now ya can watch!"

With his free hand, he grabbed hatchling's remaining good arm and - with slow, deliberate cruelty - began to twist.

"Ya hear dat snap? Hehehe... wait for da second pop—"

Suddenly inspired, Butcher's eyes lit up.

"OI! I got game!"

He ripped a jagged shard of bone from his own belt , a "trophy" from some past victim, and stabbed it into the dirt between Hermit's outstretched hand.

"Dis how we play! You pull dis out... an' maybe I let da worm live! HAHAHGHA!"

The moment Hermit's trembling fingers closed around the bone shard, Butcher stomped on his hand, driving the jagged edge clean through his palm and into the dirt below.

"OOFPS! My foot slipped! BRUGHAHAHAH!"

Butcher threw his head back and howled with laughter, his gut shaking, spit flying as he doubled over in hysterics.

Through it all, Suzuka remained unmoving as Butcher used the impaled hand as a footrest. Silent as he peeled back one of Hermit's eyelids to make sure he was watching. Still as he balanced the half-dead hatchling on Hermit's chest.

"Last one ta die loses, stupid slave said! HAHHAHAHAH! And look who's on the ground?!"

The only sign she was even alive was the way her shadow stretched unnaturally long across the pit floor...

...twisting like something hungry.

The pit had become Butcher's stage, and he was a performer drunk on his own cruelty. He stood over the broken bodies of Hermit and the hatchling, his chest swelling with grotesque pride as he prepared his next act. 

"Ain’t this just perfect?" he mused, nudging Hermit’s limp form with his boot. 

The smaller goblin groaned, his fingers twitching in the dirt, his one good eye swollen nearly shut. 

"Ya know, I missed this. Missed you, slave. Ain’t been right since da Cat Boss took me apart—but now? Now I get ta finish what I started."

He crouched, grabbing Hermit by the skin on his head and yanking his head up, forcing him to look at the hatchling—little Pepper, its tiny body curled in on itself, its breaths shallow and wet. One of its legs bent at an unnatural angle, the bone jutting through mottled green skin. Its single working eye was glazed with pain, but when it saw Hermit, it let out a weak, garbled sound—"Pepe… pepe…"—as if trying to call to him.

"Aw, ain’t dat sweet? It still remembers ya! Even after I popped its skull like a grape!"

He gave Hermit’s head a rough shake.

  "Guess love don’t die easy, huh? Too bad I’m ‘bout ta fix dat."

He dropped Hermit face-first into the dirt and turned his attention to the hatchling. With exaggerated care, he picked it up by the scruff of its neck, holding it at arm’s length like a rancid piece of meat.

"Let’s see… dis rat still alive... how ta make dis more fun…"

His eyes lit up.

"OI! I know!"

He reached into the folds of his grimy tunic and pulled out a rusty fishhook, the barb glinting wickedly. Hermit’s breath hitched when he saw it.

"N-no… please… mercy, show mercy... I beg! I beg! I do! I do anything! Mercy! Please!"

"Yer real quiet now, little shit, ain’tcha? Let’s fix dat."

Hermit let out a strangled cry.

"N-no! Stop! He... can't take it... anymore. Leave it be!"

Butcher ignored him, humming tunelessly as he threaded the hook through the flesh of Pepper’s tattered ear, working it slowly, methodically, until the barb emerged on the other side. The hatchling squealed, "Eeeek! Eeeeek! Pepepe! Pepe!" its tiny claws scrabbling at the air, but Butcher just chuckled, giving the line an experimental tug.

"Heh. Works like a charm."

He repeated the process with Pepper’s other ear, then its swollen, broken fingers, even piercing the loose skin of its belly. Soon, the hatchling was a mess of twine and hooks, its limbs suspended like a grotesque marionette.

"Now fer da fun part," the Butcher muttered, standing and wrapping the strings around his own fingers.

With a sharp yank, he made Pepper’s body jerk upright, its head lolling unnaturally.

"Lookit dat! Standin’ all by itself!"

Another tug, and the hatchling’s arm spasmed, its tiny claws raking at its own face in a pathetic mimicry of self-harm.

"Aw, it’s playin’ with itself!"

Hermit sobbed, his fingers digging into the dirt.

"P-Pepper… stop…"

 Butcher laughed, crossing the strings so Pepper’s legs kicked wildly, its broken foot slapping against Hermit’s cheek with each jerk.

"KISSES FROM DA BABY!"

"Eeek! Eeek! Pepepe! Pepepe!"

He made the hatchling 'dance'—limbs flailing, head bobbing—its whimpers growing weaker as the hooks tore wider holes in its flesh. Blood dripped down the strings, pooling in the dirt beneath them.

Then—inspiration struck.

"Oi! Sing fer us, worm!"