Wasn’t This a Night Game

I’ll Plagiarize a Bit! (Revised)

When another pair of arms began to sprout from beneath his own.

Perhaps it was from then on.

That his mother and father decided to abandon him.

Barely three months later, finding those lower arms grown out in an instant, his father and mother tried to cut them off.

They bound him and tried to forcibly chop them away.

The moment father’s saw dug into her forearm, the terror, the agony, pushed magic from her without her even knowing.

Father and mother flew off, slamming against the wall.

Father was hurt, mother stared, a shriek escaping her lips.

Should never have birthed a thing like you.

That, she remembered clearly.

She remembered her parents, kitchen knife and sickle raised, screaming ‘demon’ and telling her to leave.

Sobbing, she begged to stay, but a swing of the knife left a gash deep in her arm, and only then did Erpa flee the house.

If that was family’s reaction, strangers wouldn’t be any different.

So Erpa was forced to live in the forest.

Thankfully, her genius-level magical talent allowed even a child to survive there.

Four arms meant she could work twice as fast as anyone else.

And around her twelfth year… well, on her left cheek, one by one.

Eyes began to sprout.

Even to herself, she was a grotesque sight.

So she kept half her face hidden with leaves.

In the forest, she wielded all sorts of magic freely, though no one had taught her.

A single word, and flames ignited, wild mountain beasts met their end, and meat was carved, cooked to perfection, and laid before her.

But despite being able to do all that, her hideous arms and face remained unchanged.

One day, after dreaming again of the moment her parents abandoned her, Erpa steeled herself and decided to rid herself of her lower arms and left side of her face.

Fainting and waking, fainting and waking, Erpa hacked off two of her arms and scraped away at her left cheek.

Seared on the left side of her face, her severed forearm bound, she was slick with cold sweat, wishing she’d wake up tomorrow morning, normal again.

But her body betrayed her hopes.

The next day.

When she rose again.

She realized her arm and face had returned to their original forms.

The arm had grown back, and the eyeballs, each plucked out one by one, were regrown upon the hideously twisted and discolored skin, mocking her, as if scorched into place.

Those hideous things, whatever they did.

Whatever magic they used.

Would never disappear.

For the first time, a true desire to learn proper magic bloomed within her.

She wanted to wield more powerful magic.

So that she could erase this arm, these eyeballs, and live amongst people, she hoped.

This was why, when Tuidel found her living in the forest and offered her a hand, Erpa hadn’t refused.

And with Tuidel’s help, Erpa studied with a feverish intensity.

Studied and studied and studied.

About how to wield stronger magic.

The Trichromatic Research was the result of that obsession.

Maximizing the power and efficiency of magic.

Research that would help control magical phenomena on a scale humans couldn’t manage with the mana contained within their bodies.

Through this research, she aimed to wield far greater magic, to return her body to normal.

And when her body healed.

She’d meant to show it to Tuidel, startle him with the reveal.

She’d meant to…

“Ugly witch!”

“Makes me wanna puke, seriously!”

“Uweeaaaghh!”

Through vision still hazy with the anesthetic’s pull, she sees mud and stones flying.

She hears the insults, the curses of the crowd.

Even if she returns to normal.

Will those people accept her?

They’ve already seen her hideous left side, even if she appears with the face of an ordinary human.

Will they try to treat her as ordinary?

Why?

Because I’m ugly?

Because I’m ugly, that’s why?

Just because she looks different from them, just for that reason alone, they’d reduce someone who did nothing wrong, committed no sin, to this?

Rage seizes her body.

Slowly.

The immense mana within her, the overwhelming genius of her talent, begins to single out those who will feel its fiery wrath.

Because the mana suppressant still lingers in her system, forcing her mana would burn all the circuits inside or run mad.

But Erpa, she paid it no mind.

It was over, anyway.

What was there to fear in this ruined state?

If she combined the fruits of her tri-color research with the mana simmering within her, perhaps the entire capital…

Nay, the whole empire could be swept away.

She was weary, now.

All those years spent thrashing, desperate for their recognition felt foolish, and she no longer wished to live.

Not with this empire that had given her only wounds.

Not with Tydell, who betrayed her.

She intended to burn.

The mana began to boil.

Despite the interference of the magic suppressants, mana so intense gathered that the miracle of suppressing her very being could be shattered in an instant.

Now, all she had to do was unleash it.

Unleash this magic, and burn with everyone until it was over.

Just as she thought this…

“Stop!! I said stop!!”

“It’s the Saint! It’s the Saint!”

“Don’t throw anything at the Saint, you madmen!!”

A strange sight entered Erpa’s hazy vision.

A single man…

He was walking towards Erpa, slowly, staring straight at her.

*

You goddamn morons!

Why don’t you just tap dance on a fucking nuclear bomb!

You sons of b*tches here. Got a death wish today, including me??

A Darwin Award, for the whole lot of us.

I saw the White Order priests, bewildered by the mud and objects flying from all sides, and the four-armed witch, subdued and being dragged amongst them. I bolted into the road, horrified.

The roads of this era were choked with mud.

Cars and trains moved about, but even radios weren’t nationally widespread yet. A violent age where, from a modern perspective, romance and savagery lived and breathed raw.

Without a hint of guilt or conscience, chuckling as they hurled filth-covered mud, stones, and bottles, I cut through the crowd, towards the roadside, and began to approach the witch. Naturally, stray shots began flying my way too.

Mud, a mix of shit, piss, and vomit, flew and splattered on my clothes.

Some idiot’s thrown rock, or maybe a bottle, hit my head and bounced off.

Blood, soaking my hair, trickled down my cheek and dripped onto the roadside.

Seeing this, the Sun Order paladins, the police, and the paupers I’d been treating finally rushed out, trying to stop the crowd.

“It’s the Saint! The Saint!”

“What are you doing! Stop this at once!!”

“Don’t harm the Saint!!”

A massive number of paupers seized the street in an instant, and no more filth or stones flew towards me or the witch.

Terrified that the witch might explode any second, I slowly. Mechanically. Advanced towards her, without even the spare moment to wipe the blood running down my cheek.

“Stop! That one is an Abomination!”

“A calamity-bringing calamitous one!! Stop! Don’t come any closer!”

“If you come any closer, we’ll attack!……”

The white order’s clerics raised their hands toward me, but their words were promptly cut off by the sun order’s holy knights, who encircled me.

“What blasphemy are you spouting at the saintess whom the Graceful Goddess herself sent to this world!!”

“You followers of the Annihilator, show some respect!! She is a saintess chosen by the gods!”

But that’s not it, you see!!

I have zero connection to the Goddess Lilia!!

Never even spoken the “Li” from Lilia’s name!!

Why are you spreading these rumors!!

I wanted to scream, but if I did, I was afraid I’d unnecessarily provoke the witch and she’d explode. I couldn’t.

I slowly approached the witch.

“D-don’t come closer……”

Seeing my face, frozen stiff with fear before the bomb about to detonate any second, the white order’s clerics seemed to misunderstand something again, and retreated in fear and terror.

As they retreated, naturally,

the miracle holding the witch in place dissolved.

As the miracle dissolved, and the witch was about to collapse onto the dirty mud ground, I carefully supported her.

Wow.

Fucking terrifying.

Seriously, terrifying as hell.

Even when I threw a grenade for the first time at training camp in my past life, I wasn’t this terrified. Seriously.

For a bottom-feeder like me, this is one hell of an ordeal.

But what can I do?

If I don’t do this, everyone here is as good as dead.

Myself included, mind you.

Slowly, I pulled the witch into my embrace, started wiping the muck and filth caked on her face and body.

It’s… what you might call.

Similar to the soothing touch you’d give a cat before its neutering.

Easy now.

Good girl, eh?

Please don’t pop.

Fuck…

Please, just don’t pop.

“You okay?”

Before I knew it, my voice came out all watery.

Shitting bricks, is what I was.

Too damn scared.

I was holding it all back, barely keeping it together – the piss and shit that wanted to come bursting out – and just managed to turn it into tears.

I don’t even know what kind of mind I was in, but I managed to wipe all the mud and grime off her face.

And the face that was revealed…

Oh, damn.

But I didn’t give a damn.

I had a serious tolerance to that kinda gross-out stuff.

Back in my past life, I used to kill time watchin’ Japanese anime and gory flicks.

This much is, like, horrifying and shocking to the unevolved people of this era, but to me? Nah. Barely different from those monster girl Arachne lewd pics you can find with a little internet searchin’.

“…Do you also… find me ugly?”

The witch girl in my arms, her gaze unfocused and blank, looked up at me and mumbled a bit awkwardly.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

This ain’t lookin’ good.

Is she about to blow up?

No way!! I don’t wanna burn to death!

What do I do!

Come on, head! Please!

Think of somethin’!

‘Cause I was a forever alone virgin who couldn’t even hold a girl’s hand in my past life, I was completely clueless about what to say when a girl acted like this to make her feel better.

A situation where I had to do somethin’ right now.

The choice I reflexively made was this.

Slowly.

I bent my face and pressed a kiss onto her left cheek, a visage as wretched as they come.

A plea, silent but fierce, begged her not to explode.

The witch’s body flinched beneath my lips.

Then, a shudder ripped through her, relentless.

Shit, fuck, balls!

Was this a mistake?!

Was she gonna blow?!

Right!

Out of the blue, a stranger planting one on you, you’d be pissed, right?!

Dialogue!

Gotta spin some yarn!

Lines that’ll floor her!

Something goddamn impressive!

Anything!

All I’ve watched are Japanese cartoons and gore flicks, so my brain’s scraping empty, god DAMN it!

They say your mind sharpens when you’re pushed to the brink.

Finally.

One line flickered to life in my head.

Forgive me, old man Miyazaki!

Gonna lift a little something!

“You’re not ugly.”

I held her tight.

“Live.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her face.

The moment her face twisted even a little, I felt like all bets were off, all this pretense would crumble and I’d faint, pissing and shitting myself.

Is this what it’s like to dance on a knife’s edge?

My voice was so choked with moisture now, soaked with terror and dread, there was no hiding it.

“Thou art beautiful.”

Please.

Please.

Don’t snap!!

Don’t snap!!