The doll Beelzebub looked strikingly familiar, yet its body was made of synthetic material, except for the ginormous fake tumor in place of the pig head on its abdomen. It reaches outwards, stretching to attack Arata, reaching over Morgan, who lies bent over, paralyzed by an unidentified emotion.
As the curves it's spine down, further details behind him grow visible, a doll of Selena shown as dead, framed by a cardboard cutout of Basin City. This place was an archive, many of the scenes painted by the layout of toys portrayed not just tragedy for the sake of it but rather history.
Although Arata was not yet well accustomed to this world enough, the extra toys scattered around the space told stories. Showcasing cause and effect to such intricate detail, the only possibility would be that it's real.
Arata quickly blocks with his sword. However, finds himself launched back, his feet scraping against the floor as soon enough, his back foot is pushed back against the lip of the drop chute.
Arata feels his feet stumble when the fake Beelzebub is suddenly stabbed from behind.
“Tch… a fake, this one doesn't even have magic, letdown. Maybe the little girl has magic.” Rachamah ponders slightly.
The fake Beelzebub flails its way out of being impaled, pushing off of Rachamah, it begins to fly upwards out of range. Arata catches it, summoning forth the Cauterizer he cuts a gash open in its ankle.
Original Beelzebub could only handle fire since it could shed its skin. A toy can't shed its skin, besides it doesn't have magic. This is going to be so much easier. Arata watches the toy tumble its way back to the ground, now a hollow husk.
Rachamah immediately snaps her neck around like an owl, spotting Beelzebub's skin shedding and swinging preemptively right into the toy’s mechanical guts.
The clockwork toy begins to tick, Rachamah’s strike is intercepted by a new centripetal force coming off of the toy.
The key… it gets pulled apart from the key, the skin starts shedding from the back. Arata turns to Rachamah when he notices there's no key on the back of that Beelzebub, Arata swings at Rachamah’s back. At that very moment, the clockwork monster flew its way around her.
Arata's prediction was correct, cutting a gash open with the Cauterizer as molten slag wedges its way into the key.
Beelzebub used to be a threat to fight, but with Rachamah being prepared to kill the real one, a fake with more weaknesses would be no issue for the duo.
Even the toy wanted to run away, just like the real thing. It flew upwards again yet it was still significantly slower than the real Beelzebub. Rachamah managed to grasp onto its ankle.
Rachamah, being pulled up along with the creature, takes out a carving knife, she swings, piercing into the toy’s back. Her blade carves out one of the wings.
Rachamah climbs her way into the back of the now falling Beelzebub, pinning its arm down to use as leverage. She steers the toy bug towards the chute, down into the furnace.
Beelzebub tries to use its one good wing to flap towards safety, yet it is too slow. Arata witnesses Rachamah now standing on top of the toy Beelzebub, foot interlocked with the key on its back as a foothold as the two of them swan dive into a pit of molten metal.
A few long seconds pass before Arata watches Rachamah rebound upwards. For someone who's got a poetic name like that… She's terrifying to fight.
Arata thinks back to when she shoved the baku’s face into a meat grinder, how she's got Beelzebub running for its life and records of all the sea creatures Rachamah has killed.
Despite all of that, Rachamah is the first to check on Morgan, “Miss Morgan, are you okay now? To even be dreaming about this… Selena’s death wasn't your fault.”
Selena's death, does it have to do with Morgan's confession and what does Rachamah know about it? Arata tries to reach out to tap Rachamah's shoulder but his hand is swatted away.
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Rachamah speaks, although her eyes are directed at Arata, it is clearly something for both him and Morgan to hear, “Morgan should be the one to tell you when she's ready. It’d be better for her and for you, Arata, if you could hear it from her mouth.”
Arata nods, however, relying on Morgan to speak next in her current state would be futile. Arata, however, felt his body move on its own, the little girl was still there. Arata approaches as she looks on in fear.
“No stay back! Guards GUARDS!!” Yet Arata did not approach with hostility. I don’t want to hurt her I just need to get closer. Can beings be born inside the ripping? What creates them, I want to ask-
Her face shifts, long white ears, a nose like a button, white fur and red eyes as Arata’s eyes go wide. I don’t know anymore. The Ripping confuses me, a space too far from the theater to summon Ravenna, inconsistent laws of reality, subliminal spaces featuring sometimes technology not even from this world. How do I find the answer? I need something written down, a record of this madness… Kill her?
Arata’s eyes blink for a little more than a fraction of a second. In that fraction of a second, his nervous system moves on its own, he reaches into plush cotton.
A cry echoes throughout the hallways, “Papa don’t you leave me in the shithole, I don’t wanna see the gallows- ah it’s you, as you command, master.”
Opening his eyes again, he looks at the little girl’s lifeless form, she lies slouched over in her throne. A small tear streams down from her eyes as Arata directs his eyes downwards. Black tendrils wriggle spasmically from her innards before stopping dead. Her ribcage was ripped open as Arata’s hands are now covered in fur. In his hands, both still inside the kid’s corpse, are both holding knives made from red steel, both of them fused into a pair of tailor’s shears.
As her corpse slouches over and rigor mortis takes hold, the back of the throne is now visible, the head of a tombstone reading, “Rest in peace, Mary Vellion.”
The Old God’s Rot and the King
Written by: ?????
Act XX
X int. Terrarium castle
Morgan (female 15) attends a tea party with her sister, Mary Clubs (female 12).
Mary Clubs
Big sis? Something on your mind? You always come to our tea parties with those boo-boos?
Morgan wipes the tear from her eye.
Morgan
Nothing, it was training with the knights. Father lost the ability to produce a male heir with our mother’s blood and gained a newfound obsession with ensuring we’re strong. You were always sickly from birth and never ate enough. That's why I have to ascend the throne.
Mary Clubs tilts her head slightly in confusion before pouting.
Mary Clubs
Sis, no negativity at the tea party. C’mon, don't you wanna try the cake?
Morgan reaches her hand out for a slice when, suddenly, a man’s hand interrupts, serving a slice onto Morgan's plate for her.
Father
Quite rude to antagonize me. I need you, Morgan. I believe you are strong, my daughter. The training given to you is the same I would give to my son, regardless of whether they were born or not.
Morgan begins to pout slightly at his words but nonetheless takes the slice.
Father (Cont)
For this country to be safe, we need to be strong and if this country is safe, our family is safe. I took an oath to your mother that I'd only leave our security up to myself.
Mary Clubs appears slightly more enraged, her face turning slightly red.
Mary Clubs
No more of this! We're going to enjoy the tea!
The three of them indulge in silence. There was nothing left to remedy the social aspect of the tea party. Yet Morgan still tried to speak.
Morgan
Mary, the New Year's festival is tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?
There was a silent appreciation for Morgan. Mary Clubs nods gleefully.
Same scene later
Morgan wakes up in the middle of the night, wandering out on a whim to see Mary Clubs and father in the hallway.
Mary Clubs
Father? My chest feels tight. It hurts!
Inside Mary Clubs' lungs is the sound of wriggling as father stares down at her with a cold, distant stare.
Father
Sorry, I am so so sorry… the old god's rot got to you again. You may be put down my child. I promise to preserve you.
Morgan rushes back, averting her eyes to the sound of festering, culminating in a harsh rip followed by the swipe of a blade.
Morgan
Ma- ry… no I just got to go back to sleep, everything again will be normal again!
In the morning
Morgan sits up, eyes swollen with tears, having not slept last night when the door opens.
Mary
Sister? What is wrong? We're going to the festival. Thank you Morgan for wanting to spend time with me again.
