240. Unaccounted Mishaps

S4 was not just a series of desolate urban lands, connected by barren roads and cut off by gaping chasms. The closer one moved towards the bright lights of the City of Spades, the more civilized things became. Escarpment after escarpment stacked upon each other as one travelled towards the holy grail of opportunity.

Wide streets like the City of Diamonds. Tall triple stories homes standing shoulder to shoulder to cram the bursting population. Alleyways ran together throughout the inner heart of S4 like a labyrinth, and the sewers underneath like veins.

Civil life existed here under the order of various Syndicates. They were never united. Blood drained in the rusted gutters daily. Overnight, that same blood was slurped up by the Hungry. Even in the most civilized of places, people will divide themselves. The difference in merit? In virtue? Race? Beliefs? Ideologies?

Funnily enough, hunger tends to divide people further. But compile it with wrath, and they clump together nicely.

Here? There were no boundaries. Everyone was united in mind – and in flesh.

Indeed. The cityscape of endless crimson streets and rundown homes were decorated like a festival of blood. Entrails hung from window to window like clotheslines, dripping with minced innards into pools that drenched the cobblestone streets. There was no shortage of bloodshed. Creeping Ivy smeared across every wall, growing thicker the closer one wandered towards the city square.

Empty cribs. Violated bed. Bloodied bathtubs. Derailed trains. Broken doors, and desperate gibberish written along the interiors in blood. But, most of all was the backdrop where a wall of fire engulfed the putrid hellhole that was S4 –

“Is this the time to be reciting your exposition!?” The Scraper shouted.

“Now, there is never a time unworthy of my exposition!” The Expositionist cooed, taking offense to her.

The Scraper and Expositionist pair rushed along the gored streets. The damp clapping of their leather footwear was the only sound in the entirety of the assimilated city. Kilometers worth of urban land had been infested by the Hungry, and before long the cobblestone was overrun by a layer of fleshy carpet, and the walls lined with giant eyes.

Days ago this place was ran by numerous large Syndicates, separated into districts belonging to their respective groups. Miraculously, the criminal-run city became a safe haven so long as payments were made, and no one overstepped their boundaries. It flourished with a population of over 100,000 in this place alone.

This city was the staging ground for their master, Stir Cube’s Masterpiece.

However, tragedy had befell them, and they became victim to the Hungry and the Librarians; material for the Masterpiece.

“The pair of lovers we had enroute went missing. Those Gear heads can’t get anything right anymore. What’s worse is that we’ll take the brunt of the blame for their incompetence. Tearing pages from us because they got it wrong… How are you not worried that your words risk being erased?” She hissed as they navigated through the red-cluttered streets.

“What words are there to take from me when all I do is recite the world as I see it? I believe the Authors will be lenient~ But it has been an interesting twist.” The Expositionist harped, stomping away at the slimes as they arrived, all the while the woman did her best to avoid them.

“… lenient? You call them lenient after seeing what they did to our families?” She said, humoring him as he observed the city with sealed eyes, knowing of the atrocities they had committed in order to set this stage.

Even now one could still hear the cries of survivors as they had their bodies emulsified with the Creeping Ivy, which encroached into the cracks of homes and beneath the gaps of doors to ensnare the survivors. Families were reduced to slimes. They were the lucky ones. The unlucky had become one with the growing flesh, and the Expositionist made a curious face as they trampled on a carpet made from thousands of living people.

They made haste, but never ran. Their strides caused the flesh to react as tentacles slithered by their heels, nibbling on pieces of their footwear to taste whether or not they were suitable for consumption.

The irony was amusing.

“Mind you, we Expositionists are born from the Library itself.”

“Don’t lie to me. No one believes that legend. Toddlers are smart enough nowadays to tell when their parents are lying. At least the fools over in those golden cradles of civilization won’t buy it.”

“Hmhmhm. I suppose the accurate term is that we’ve been adopted under another library.” He said, holding out a palm towards her. “Does not change we are fundamentally different from one another. For instance~”

She clicked her tongue and slipped out the Healer’s Quill – a beautiful pale feather imbued with the stolen powers of a healer. Then, atop a silver platter, he dabbed the tip of the quill into a vial of ink and wrote the letter ‘S’ on the back of his palm.

In that instant, the wound created by the magical S, which was the equivalent of the Wandering Healer’s Serum S for Salvation, caused a gash to appear along his hand. Snippets of paper flooded out, becoming golden particles as a howling wind scooped them away.

“Healing magic is quite the miracle. It’s a shame that Librarians like myself require this quill~” He said, and began to heal his bizarre wound which appeared like the spine of stack of paper.

“Not so different from Inflow Direct and their reliance on their liquid magic.” The Scraper sighed, glancing around before she uttered: “… Better them than us. They would’ve been killed one way or another. If they wanted to live, then they should’ve struggled harder.”

“I agree. Quite pitiful. Are you afraid that your punishment may have you join them?”

“… We still have time. But what’s worse is that we don’t know what’s happening to the Amalgam. We’re supposed to be removing the flames, so what is that wall of fire?” She questioned, gazing upon the orange glow in the sky.

“We mustn’t question the Authors. Have you forgotten, Ms. Scraper.” The Expositionist said as they finally approached a blood-filled canal and entered a sewage line towards the heart of the Masterpiece.

Creeping Ivy grew over the waterway in the center like a thick moss, capturing worms and all forms of abominations created by the Hungry. Although they couldn’t hear it, they could feel a heartbeat thump from deep within. It caused the observant eyes to shake with each beat, and the murky sewer water to quiver.

This sewer line was artificially widened by the sheer, corrosive mass that plagued its walls. The deeper they went, the more it appeared like the esophagus of a hideous beast. It was very alive, and the woman felt as though they could be eaten at a moment’s notice.

Then, after various turns, they arrived at a vast empty space resembling that of a great ribcage, dripping with slimly fluid. Within was the hideous mass of flesh that yearned to assimilate the star-crossed lovers it had been promised, and the way its bulbous head turned to them caused the Scraper’s eyes to narrow.

Her mind fell into a dark place.

“I’ve never forgotten.” She became sentimental all of a sudden, her eyes shutting as a long sigh left her lips. “It was how I lost everything. One failure, and they took them away. Page by page. Word for word. Widowed and left to rip the stories out from others. A tale as old as time.”

“Ahem. I must apologize for restoring those awful memories.” The Expositionist sincerely spoke, however, his smile never disappeared. “That makes you more ‘alive’ than the majority of Librarians. A rare trait.”

“Rare. Past or present. Doesn’t matter if it can’t change anything. Expositionist. You never mentioned why we returned here emptyhanded in the first place. I don’t remember a second plan.” The woman was curious.

What should have raised suspicion went through one ear and out the other. The Expositionist’s smile lingered as he held out his palm again to return the quill. After exchanging it for the standard, black quill from her breast pocket.

“Oh? But I certainly do!”

Before she could even react, the tip of the pen pierced the side of her neck, the ink invading her bloodstream. She retaliated and knocked the quill from his hands as he swiftly made space, knowing well that he was considerably weaker compared to her.

“B-Bastard!? What – What’s the meaning of this!?” She coughed black liquid, plugging the wound as her veins turned black. “Why – I’ll kill you – So you’re the one that’s supposed to punish me – Kch. Moron… what the hell are you going to take out of me that’s more valuable than those lovers!?”

Suddenly, a deep, inhuman voice spoke from behind the central mass as heavy smoke began to perfume the air.

“Ms. Scraper. Do you believe love persists even after death does you apart?”

A man dressed in a funeral suit emerged, encased in the same smoke that smeared the skies of the City of Spades. His head was that of a metallic skull, and each breath vented the elusive smoke which began to cloud the woman’s mind.

The Expositionist was unaffected by the smoke, and he pardoned himself off to the side out of respect for this individual. He was no Librarian, Hungry, Page, Animal or Heart.

He was part of another recently allied group – the Memento Mori, who were at odds with the Chained Theocracy as the Librarians were with Inflow Direct.

His body underneath his suit was all withered remains, but were encased in glistening steel. The apparel he wore was fascinating, made from the finest of materials, and leather boots with a glowing gloss.

His presence was made known to them all as he stared at the slipping woman with empty sockets, breathing and exhaling smoke as he reached for her hand.

“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust: in sure of certain hope for the persistence of eternal life. Madame.” He said, bringing the back of her palm to his mouth for a kiss as the heavy smoke bubbled by their ankles, and before long, a golden magical circle formed.

He took a step back, and a mangled carcass far too large to be a human; and desiccated to have once been something living, emerged from the circle. This being caused the woman’s eyes to widen all of a sudden. The fear and despair disappeared in an instant.

It was clear that she was under an illusive spell, and without any warning, she embraced the carcass as though it were her lover, her eyes glistening with pure delight.

“I… I thought they took you away from me!”