Out With A Bang

The mental exhaustion must have been taking a toll on Sasaki, for he only woke after the cultist had started their work for the day. They were already drawing a new, slightly altered circle. Sasaki’s eyes stung, either from his tears or the blood that pooled in them yesterday. He laid them upon Celes. She stared blankly, as she had before; whether she slept or not was unknown.

The finishing touches were made, and the cultists stood up, ready for their next experiment.

“Perfect,” the leader sings. “This might be the last one we need. If this is a success, we’ll be able to set out to the capital tomorrow.” 

He turns towards the cells.

“Now which one shall be my sacrifice?”

Sasaki perked up at this info and saw an opportunity. He pressed his face to the bars.

“Take me!” he demanded. “Take me and let her go. You just need one more, right?”

​The leader smiled devilishly, enjoying the desperation of the poor village pastor.

“Not quite, shepherd. There’s no reason to let a good meal go to waste. My last two Miracles will be performed here, and neither of you will be leaving this basement to tell the tale.”

Sasaki deflates. He thought he might have a shot at saving just one of his friends.

“But since you asked so politely.” Sasaki’s face perks up for just a moment at the prospect. “You can be my final act.”

With that, the cultist nods toward Celes’ cell. The thugs approach her.

Celes doesn’t even notice them approaching until they open her cell. But when she hears the metal door creak, it is as if everything rushed back to her. She begins screaming and thrashing wildly against the men as they pull her out.

“No! Stop! Leave me be! Help! HELP ME PLEASE! OH GODS, PLEASE!” she screams.

Sasaki, hoping to save just one person, begs for him to go instead. But his cries fall on deaf ears as she is yanked out of her cell and thrown onto the ground before her. Celes screams wildly and yells incomprehensibly, trying with all her might to escape. She tries to get up, but her legs are grabbed, and she falls face first on the ground.

Before she even has a chance to lift her face once again, the cultist quickly impales her throat, wasting no time to prevent another incident like yesterday. When her head lifts, the light in her eyes is almost gone. She takes one last breath and lies limp.

Sasaki screams out in despair. Just as sure as she was beside him seconds ago, she now lies dead in a pool of her own blood.

​“This one will take a couple of hours,” he chirped. “So, I’ll let you two have some alone time.”

Sasaki’s misery amuses the cultist, as his face falls into anguish and sorrow. Without another word, they all exit the room, leaving just Sasaki and Celes’ body.

The only sound he could hear was her blood slowly trickling onto the floor. The candles were left lit so Sasaki could witness the sheer horror. Celes’ head is pointed towards Sasaki, her lifeless eyes seemingly condemning him for his inaction.

As time passes, Celes’ body grows paler, and her eyes sink deeper into their sockets. Her hands, which were once full of life spinning yarn and sewing clothes for the children, now seemed frail and crusted.

The smile that he'd always seen upon her face was now agape, showing the stillness of her tongue. Her remaining blood pooled within her body, and soon settled as large black bruises beneath her. It was indeed hours before the cultists returned, rubbing their hands together as if they'd just come back from a break from hard labor.

“Are we all ready to get back to work? These results should be fascinating."

The cultists gather around Celes’ body and, on the count of three, slam their hands down together to perform the ritual Sasaki had come to see again and again. The light envelops her body, devouring it in seconds and, in turn, transforms it into balls of fire.

“Three,” the cultist grumbles. “They really won't last long then.”

He scratches his head with the handle of his brush while the rest of them scribble in their notebooks.

“No matter! It’s about the sales tactics in the end. As such, I think we have everything that we need.” The crowd of people clapped in celebration.

Sasaki, mentally weakened, laid his head against the bars and stared at the monsters who had taken the lives of his closest companions; their beings used as a measuring tool for an egotistical madman instead of for the enrichment of the land and people—no mourning, no reason, not a single prayer given towards their sacrifice. And now, Sasaki was alone. He couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Was his devotion not enough? Did the gods abandon him? He thought about his first day trapped in this cellar. When Nozomu was killed, Sasaki didn’t look towards the gods for salvation. Was this now his punishment? Were they always destined to die, or could he have shown more faith and, in turn, saved their souls? Sasaki’s head was full of turmoil.

He had spent his whole life believing in a greater power. One that watches over him and those who pray to them. Miracles, the blessings from the gods. How could they allow such misuse of their powers? Unless it was always designed that way. Who is he to judge the whims of the gods? Perhaps Sasaki didn’t know as much as he thought.

The excited chattering of the cultists subsides, and the leader of the thugs speaks up.

“So, what are you gonna do with the last one? I’m still getting paid for five, right?”

“Well, yes, I’ll pay for him,” the cultist replies. “But we’ll need to talk about what happened with the big one.”

The thugs’ leader rolls his eyes.

“But!” the cultist continues. “We're not gonna let a sacrifice go to waste. I’ve got a spell that’ll create a beautiful spectacle of flames! A sort of firework show to end our project here. I believe you and your compatriots would love to join us.”

The thugs’ leader was about to refuse, but looking upon the excited expressions on his men’s faces, he changed his mind.

“Alright, but we want to set off early tomorrow, so no dilly-dallying.”

“I'll be able to make a spectacle out of his life. There’ll be dancing sparks up the walls and twirling beams on the ceiling. We'll have fun with this one.”

Catching the thugs' intrigue, they began speculating among themselves, roaring with laughter and glee as they left the room. Sasaki was truly left alone this time.

Sasaki wanted nothing more in his life than to be something. His pride and aspirations lay with the people. Their smiles became his own, and their struggles were problems for him to solve. He wasn’t supposed to die here; to fizzle away without anything remarkable to his name; to be used only for the amusement of sinners.

Sasaki’s life was worth nothing. But he couldn’t let it end like that. He thought about Robbi. Sasaki may not have the strength nor stature to fight back physically, but he did have knowledge. The ritual circles from those cultists were not unfamiliar.

The symbols dotting the edges were supposed to be a message to the gods—a prayer for their power. But Sasaki saw that when altered, so too did the flames' effects. Some brighter, some hotter.

He began wondering what would happen if those symbols were changed, even slightly. Sasaki wasn't gonna give them the satisfaction. He wasn't gonna let them win. And so, Sasaki stayed up all night.

He thought about the patterns and sigils. How do they work? What effect does each one have? And what do they truly mean? Sasaki pondered as long as he could. Hoping that with enough time, he might be able to leave some sort of mark.

Time was up. The voices of the thugs and cultists grew loud from the hallways. They entered the room, crowding together so everyone could witness whatever the leader would show. All the cultists and all the kidnappers were gathered in this one small room. They had bags slung over their shoulders, and it seemed like they could take off at any second.

The cultists immediately got to work painting sigils on the floor. Sasaki stared at each and every brushstroke, absorbing and digesting the info as fast as he could. The cultist didn’t lie. Sasaki’s life was to be used as entertainment before they set off towards the city.

This ritual was much different than before, but not unfamiliar. Just as they finished writing, the cultist ordered,

“All right! Get him out.”

The thugs approach the cell, and Sasaki scoots back against the wall. He had noticed this before, but a bit of rusted metal was sticking out from the bars behind him. Just as they open the cell, he takes his hand and drives it deep into the metal.

The thugs grab him and unknowingly pull him off of the stake. Sasaki grabs his hand, trying to hold the blood within the wound for as long as possible. He is unceremoniously flung into the middle of the circle, landing roughly with a thud.

The cultist was happily chatting away with the thugs’ leader, leaving Sasaki to sit in the circle awaiting his supposed demise. But Sasaki had other plans.

He looked upon the floor and scanned the ritual circle for sigils he could recognize.

“If I can change the effects of the ritual, maybe I can create some sort of backlash,” he thought. “One way or another, they won't get what they want out of me.”

He ponders. Just adding a few extra lines to this sigil may allow the light to flow in an unexpected direction, creating an adverse effect. Whatever happens, Sasaki will be happy as long as he can get one triumph over them.

The cultist slinks over. He looks upon Sasaki with disgust.

“You know. I’ve always hated you religious folk. You think you’re above us just because you believe powerful creatures live in the sky. You cast out those who aren’t ‘pure’ enough; those who don’t have pristine morals.

“We’re all human! Who are you to say my methods are unjust? The church can take lives, but I can’t? Where’s the sense in that? All because ‘god would not approve.’ Well, if he has a problem with it, he can tell me himself. After all, Miracles are just a man-made invention.”

The cultist unsheathes his sword and looks upon Sasaki with an undisposed fury. This time, something more crosses the cultist’s face as he holds his sword. He raises his sword mentally against an unknown foe as he physically points it toward Sasaki.

“Unlike them, I’m a gracious man. I’ll let you say your final words.”

Sasaki raises his head to meet the Cultist’s gaze. His eyes hold red-hot fury towards the man, something Sasaki had never felt before. Sasaki wanted him to suffer. Suffer as his friends did. He wished to take that sword himself and impale him like a stick-roast.

But just as his rage reached its precipice, it melted away, leaving Sasaki in an unnatural peace. Sasaki turned his head towards the ceiling, staring as if he could see right through it and into the sky above.

“My friends… I wish to be with you.”

The cultist smiles, assuming Sasaki has accepted his fate, but that was far from the case. Sasaki opens up his wounded hand and dips his fingers in the blood pooling in his palm.

“But I’ll be seeing you in hell instead.”

Everyone in the room laughs at Sasaki’s declaration. But their laughter ends abruptly as Sasaki takes his dyed finger and strikes through the sigils beside him, causing the ritual circle to light up beside him.

The cultist notices the growing light and panics.

“What did you do?” he screams.

But just as he moves to approach, the light surges through the entire circle, sparked by the strikes of blood on the sigils. Quickly, the light rushed throughout the entire circle. Bright. Blinding.

But Sasaki has accepted it. He closed his eyes and looked upward again. He may not have done so before, but at that moment he prayed. Prayed to be seen, prayed to be forgiven. Despite his lull in faith, he hoped that with this sacrifice, he would be allowed into the heavens.

To be up there with the gods and meet his pastor and friends one more time. But if not, he accepts being dragged down to hell alongside the monsters before him.”

Kaboom!