Guillotine Of Obsession

Kita Ward was dyed red beneath the crimson rain.

“If you wish to stand between us, then I must cleanse you.” Kurose pointed at Sarai after snapping his finger.

Crack! The canopy beneath which Sarai hid fell to the ground, torn through by the sharp raindrops.

Fuck. Sarai’s calves bulged as he dashed away in a blur of motion.

Skritch. Skritch. The sharp raindrops tore numerous holes through Sarai’s clothes, adorning his skin with countless bloody scratches.

They tore through the rooftops, glass, cars, and even those who failed to evacuate.

What does the BND want with me? And why would a government agent cause such destruction?

Sarai threw his cotton coat aside. He drew a deliberate breath and screamed amid the slicing raindrops.

Across every nook of his body, mana pooled beneath his skin before crystallizing outward and into overlapping layers of segmented, purple skin.

The scorpion’s skin blossomed across Sarai’s arms and torso, leaving only his lower half unarmored to preserve his speed, while the tail thinned, stretching to triple its length. Its stinger sharpened, resembling a natural grappling hook.

From within the sigils on his neck, tiny scorpion tails erupted, wrapping around his face, head, and hair as if he were a sealed mummy. They loosened around his eyes so that his gaze remained unharmed.

As the smell of wet dirt flooded the atmosphere, the pendulum hanging around his neck couldn’t have shone brighter under the crimson rain.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Each droplet of rain that collided with Sarai’s steel-hard skin felt as heavy as an anvil.

My mana is limited. I need to weaken him and escape. He exhaled.

A few hits and I’m dead.

Sarai’s muscles coiled into a crouch, tensing like springs before sending his body vaulting through the storming sky like a human bullet.

Now, flying above Kurose himself, he lashed out with his tail in a blurring arc through the air.

Ignoring the supersonic attack, Kurose only took a single step.

Very slowly, his winter boot tapped a frozen raindrop, and at that instant, Kurose vanished from sight.

Okay, what the hell? Sarai dragged his tail in a brisk motion. As he fell through the air toward the ground, he looked around him for Kurose, eventually raising his gaze upward.

And there Kurose stood, aiming his black umbrella at Sarai.

As its handle thrummed in his grip, he spun the umbrella in a blur, causing a cascade of raindrops to gather around the slowly falling Sarai and swirl in a collective dance, slicing across his scorpion armor.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

…

Sarai, or what remained of him, had long fallen to the ground. His pants were shredded, but that mattered the least. As for his armor, it no longer resembled armor at all.

His skin was peeled in many areas, and his face was drenched in blood as red as the rain that had reduced him to such a miserable state.

It traced his entire body, which was mostly exposed to the hissing cold.

Yet luckily for him, it had been a minute since the rain stopped, marking the end of a red winter, or, in fact,

the very beginning.

Thud. Thud. Kurose stepped onto the ground for the first time in this one-sided battle.

He stared deeply at Sarai, not moving an inch, as if awaiting an event to occur.

Which it absolutely did.

Sarai’s fingers twitched as he desperately attempted to stand or even just crawl.

Either way, he failed. Quite horribly, actually.

On the other hand, watching a scene that reeked of such pity and humiliation, Kurose’s heartbeat was caught in the waves of both excitement and fear.

He had known, immediately, that beneath the facade of the man before him was what he had looked for all this time.

The purple-haired figure was only a face away from his grip.

A face he had to tear apart, and that he sought.

Opposite him, Sarai heard the distorted footsteps of Kurose. They echoed through his ears as he slowly raised his gaze.

“W-Wha—What do you want with the... scorpion?” He whispered.

“Sarai Kanazaki. You’re a weird kid.” Kurose muttered. “In fact, all of you deity vessels are.”

“I-I’m no vessel…” Responded Sarai.

“None of you are worthy of being vessels of deities. A pack of murderers, that’s what the Faithful tend to be.” Kurose shrugged.

“Murderers? I didn’t murder anyone…” Sarai’s eyes bulged.

“It was… the Scorpion…” He added.

Kurose chuckled. “No, I’m not talking about the mafiosos. I’m talking about the dead orphanage kids in the cave.”

“After weeks of examination and research, it proved correct.” He sighed. “There was not a trace of mana in the murder of the children. Nor were they shot with guns.”

“It was all done by a kitchen knife stolen from the orphanage.” He smiled with disgusting satisfaction.

No.

“Kanazaki-kun, you are the man who killed the orphanage children at the cave.” Kurose pointed at Sarai. He clapped his hands. “I’ve come across many murderers, but for a teenage boy to go that far. You’ve impressed me.”

No.

He laughed. “Now, let’s see the facade crumbling.”

Upon hearing the words, Sarai drowned himself in obscurity. He wished not to think and so gave himself up to what resided within.

His flat, wet hair blossomed with a muted violet as his eyes sharpened with malice and a striking arrogance.

On the other hand, having witnessed this twist, Kurose was at the apex of excitement. His heart hammered against his ribcage, and he struggled to suppress himself from talking.

After all, before him was the purple-haired figure he had wished to find all along. A deity whose knowledge had inspired him.

The same entity that had murdered the mafias and, most attractively, deleted bodies, traces, and proof from the face of existence with one sting of its tail.

The Scorpion.

This is it… This perhaps is the day I was born for.

I can’t take this anymore… Solving cases so easily.

My passion had long been dead. And now before me lay the key to grant my life a fresh taste once again.

I will ask him to partner with me!

To delete every single proof from existence!

So that being a detective becomes my sole reason once again!

Blinded by obsession, man walks down the path to doom.

And so did Kurose.

In total ignorance of a promise he should have never broken, he stepped forward, approaching the Scorpion. And, sentencing himself for a guillotine execution, he muttered the words, “Say, deity. Would you like to become a detective?”

Silence.

Beside Kurose and the motionless Scorpion, the glass pavilion of a small café reflected a rather horrific image.

Kurose subconsciously turned towards the reflection, staring at it.

It was that same faceless figure he had known for years now.

Gesturing with its hands within the mirror realm, it magically morphed the sheer glass into a vortex-like portal that resembled a swirling lake.

Two white hands emerged from it, white and delicate. Following them, the entire figure stepped into the arena of chaos.

Dressed in a black cassock that lacked a cross, the beautiful man rubbed his white hair while allowing his mesmerizing purple eyes a shot of the crimson liquid flooding the battlefield.

It was the priest from Saint Anaklásmatos Holy Cathedral.

He approached Kurose in indifferent, relaxed steps.

“Heh, Kurose,” he sighed, then tapped Kurose’s shoulder.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! Instantly upon contact, hundreds of immense mirror shards erupted from within Kurose, slicing off his arms and legs.

“You promised to keep the balance.” The purple-eyed man’s voice deepened terrifyingly. “Why do I see you dealing with Satan himself?”

Now, collapsed on the ground, Kurose resembled a corpse more than a man.

One or two more coughs of blood were the final breaths of a detective whose obsession had sentenced him to a tragically nonthrilling doom.

It was worth the attempt... His eyes lost their light.