CHAPTER SIX
The Sea
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
⚠ SYSTEM ALERT
Critical damage detected (cervical vertebrae stress at 89%, carotid artery compression).
The System's voice sharpened.
△ SYSTEM WARNING
Neural pathways may sever!
Abo's mental scoff echoed "Why the panic? I'm already dead. What's she gonna do, kill me harder?"
"Foolish organic!" The System crackled
System: This corpse is your only anchor! Sever the spine and your consciousness has nowhere to go! I lack regenerative protocols. Neural disintegration would be—"
A horrified pause.
"permanent."
Abo's lips twitched, stiff and delayed, his best attempt at a grin. "Wait, are you scared? I thought you were just some fancy ancestor spirit."
x_x SYSTEM ERROR
Subject's primitive knowledge incompatible with system parameters.
Translation: The System is fed up with the dumb host.
The voice pitched hysterically. "You know, normally I peel off the skin and make smart-mouthed bastards like you scream for their mother in two languages. Be grateful I like you."
System: I was initialized mere minutes before your consciousness activation. I don't want to terminate yet.
△ SYSTEM WARNING
Spinal conduit destabilizing, brainstem signal degradation in—
The countdown dissolved into panicked binary as the woman's thumbs crushed deeper.
—3—
—2—
—1—
—PLEASE—PLEASE—
CRACK
Lightning illuminated a man's silhouette as his hand lashed out. A sharp, brutal slap struck the woman's face. She stumbled sideways, her grip slackening. She had been digging through the mud for too long, already exhausted, she couldn't stay upright. Her body collapsed. Abo's corpse-body hit the damp earth beside her as she fell. The man stood over them, chest heaving. His hand trembled where it hung at his side.
"…Well," Abo thought. "That's one way to handle childcare."
✓ NOTIFICATION
Post-mortem viability... restored.
The silhouette stepped into the moonlight: a gaunt man in oil-stained trousers, shoulders hunched, knuckles crooked from too many fights.
"First you drown it for looking like your bastard father," he snapped, pointing at the limp bundle. "And now you're strangling its corpse?" He walked over to where she had collapsed and grabbed a fistful of her hair. You crazy bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"It was alive," she whispered.
With a bark of disbelief, he finally let go of her hair, "What. Are you hearing yourself? It's dead! You drowned it like a fucking rat!"
"It had a pulse!" she shrieked, clawing at her hair. "I felt it with my fingertips!"
"You can't even finish a simple goddamn task," he snarled. "One job. One! Bury it, and even that's too much for you?" He turned away, pacing in a tight circle, muttering to himself. "We need to hide the body, fast. Before anyone comes looking."
"I saw it breathe," she whispered, eyes locked on the baby, her gaze distant and haunted.
"You're delusional."
"It blinked," she whispered.
"You're insane."
She nodded, laughing bitterly through bloodied lips. "I know, you married me for it."
He spat, right at her. "Damn right I did, I needed a dumb whore.."
He took a step closer, voice rising. "Some abandoned bitch nobody wanted. A woman crazy enough to keep her mouth shut no matter what I dragged through the door, and stupid enough not to ask questions."
"And now you can't even do this one thing." His eyes cut to the body. "Bury it. That's all I ask"
He shook his head, teeth clenched. "Fucking useless. I'll ditch you after this. Maybe sell you to some drunk downriver."
He turned hard, stomped toward the shovel, and yanked it from the wet earth. Then he dropped to his knees beside the stone marker and started digging. The strokes were frantic, uneven. Each one landed with a dull, wet thunk.
"I'll do it myself," he muttered, breathing fast.
The woman sat crumpled in the dirt, rocking slightly, whispering to herself. Her eyes never left the undead infant. It lay still, eyes closed, limbs loose, as if it was playing dead. Abo was settling with the weight he'd felt in every body he'd ever dropped; he knew how the dead rested. The System buzzed quietly in his head, masking his vitals just enough to pass as dead. One wrong twitch, and they'd try again. Maybe burn him this time.
The shovel hit something solid. The man grunted, widened the pit, then stomped back. He crouched, one arm outstretched to lift the corpse. But the woman lunged first.
"Don't touch it!" she screeched, hands locking again around the infant's neck. Her thumbs pressed deep. She shook the tiny body like she could rattle the life out of it.
"It's alive, it's alive, it's alive!"
"Jesus Christ!" the man roared, grabbing her shoulder. "Stop. Stop it!"
She wouldn't. He yanked her back once, twice, but she clung tighter, her nails cutting into the infant's cold flesh. His patience gave out all at once. His face twisted, and then he snapped. Without a word, he raised the shovel and swung it hard. The metal edge struck the side of her head with enough force to drop her instantly. She collapsed into the mud, limp and silent, blood trailing down her temple.
Abo didn't move, rather he froze up.
The man stood over her, panting. The shovel quivered in his grip. "…Crazy fucking bitch," he muttered.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he picked up the child's limp form and laid it gently into the grave. But just as his calloused fingers brushed Abo's skin— the infant's finger twitched. He tensed, and tried to reason with himself. It was probably just a nerve spasm, dead muscles sometimes did that. But then he saw the face, tiny muscles shifting under the skin, like the child was trying to hold still, trying not to move.
The finger twitched again. This time, he let out a strangled noise, half scream, half hiccup, and stumbled back so violently he tripped over his own shovel. The sudden scream jolted Abo's eyes open. They stared at each other as he continued screaming. From his perspective, it was straight out of a horror film: pale skin, bloated face, eyes rolled back, water leaking from the mouth.
In reality? It was just Abo's terrified face. The terrified face of a freshly drowned corpse.
System (mildly curious): Why did you do that? You startled your father.
Abo's mental voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, that? I was just trying to scare the guy. The gods wanted a show, right? I was nailing the whole cursed corpse routine. The subtle twitch was masterful."
System: Deception detected. Irregular micro-expressions indicate fear. You were… afraid. Replaying moment of first son-father interaction...
◆ SYSTEM LOG: PLAYBACK — BURIAL EVENT
[SOURCE DATA]
Source: External Visual Feed + Facial Microexpression Analysis
Subject: Abo (Infant State)
Location: Swampland edge
Time of Event: 29 hours post-mortem
Status: Resurrection in progress — approx. 20 minutes elapsed
⚠ POST-RESURRECTION EVENTS LOGGED
Subject throttled by biological mother upon awakening Subsequent domestic altercation concluded with biological father rendering mother unconscious via shovel Scene stabilized
[OBSERVATION LOG]
Observed: Adult Male (Identifier: Biological Father) approaches burial site
Emotion: Agitation
Begins disturbing soft soil by hand. Tone: Impatient. Unsuspecting.
⚠ SYSTEM COMMENTARY
Host attempted to remain corpse-like. FAILED.
A single finger — index, right hand — twitches.
→ Inferred Cause: Overload of internal terror response.
→ Closest available motor outlet: finger spasm.
→ Biological equivalent of screaming internally and farting.
◈ FACIAL ANALYSIS — SUBJECT ABO
Jaw tension: 32% Orbicularis oculi contraction: 41% Brow elevation: 28%
◎ INTERPRETED INNER MONOLOGUE (System Voice Interpretation)
Son of a biscuit!
He's gonna bury me.
He's actually going to bury me.
Motherfather. MOTHERFATHER.
★ Father freezes. Gaze locks onto Subject. ★
[FATHER REACTS]
Response: Emits high-pitched, involuntary screech — classified as alpha-male collapse event
Retreats with full-body spasm. Trips over shovel. Possible coccyx fracture.
◆ SYSTEM ANNOTATION
Stealth Rating: 0/100 Emotional Control: ✗ Critically Compromised Drama Factor: ✓ Satisfying
System: Playback complete. Would you like to relive the humiliation in slow motion? Or perhaps overlay sad violin music?
"What's a vio...lin?"
System: A violin is a bowed string instrument, traditionally made of spruce and maple, tuned in perfect fifths, and capable of—
Abo blinked. "Oh look!" he thought, watching the man slowly approach. "It seems like he's calmed down."
The father stepped closer, grim. His hands hung at his sides, then slowly, shakily, began to rise, reaching forward.
Abo's gaze tracked them with increasing alarm, eyes flicking sideways to follow the motion. His brain screamed red flags. "Okay. Okay, he's either about to accept me as his reborn miracle corpse-son..."A finger twitched."...or he's about to strangle me like his lovely wife did." Abo stayed still, cheek pressed to the soil, eyes locked on those hands as if they were snakes.
"Listen," he thought, words racing, panic bubbling to the surface. "I appreciate everyone trying to kill me lately, I really do. Great effort all around. But I'd rather do it myself, thank you... Though, let's be honest, I probably can't. Still. Suffocation is kind of a lot. It's messy. And painful. And I've choked people before, okay? I know. It's not great."
The man's trembling hands closed around the infant's throat, his pulse pounding as his fingers tightened. "Stay dead, you little shit!"
Abo flinched. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered mentally.
System (dry): Congratulations. In your first twenty-eight minutes of post-life existence, we've logged: two strangulations and one shovel assault. I'd wager arson is next.
"I swear, I only understand half the words you say," Abo muttered.
The man's fingers had just begun to squeeze when—
vmmmmmmm
A deep, mechanical hum rippled through the swampland. Not sound exactly, something deeper, like the world's bones groaning. The air shimmered, and cracked.
Then the man's body… separated. Not torn, not crushed, but cleaved. Perfectly, horribly. From scalp to pelvis. Blood geysered across, one half slumped sideways, the other remained upright for a breath longer, then collapsed in a meaty thud. A gust of cold wind caught the top half, dragging it a few inches before it caught on the ground. Abo's corpse-body lay still, flecks of red spattered across its pale skin.
Beyond the sundered corpse, reality had been split open. A vertical tear ripped through the swamp, like someone had jammed a new map into the old one. On the other side, snow fell in thick, silent sheets, clinging to ground that wasn't meant to be cold. Jagged lines marked where the two worlds had been poorly stitched together. The grass ended in mid-air, and the trees had been bisected. The snow-covered landscape didn't even match the geography of the region. It didn't belong.
System: Spatial-temporal boundary rupture detected…
His thoughts stalled. Nothing witty came, no sarcasm, no scream. Just shock. "System, what the hell was that?"
System: Tampering with the end is no different than rewriting the past. All things obey balance. Action and consequence. And when what's finished begins again… even gods can't predict what might break.
A pause. "This second birth is a curse," Abo finally muttered. "Put me back in the grave."
System: You had that chance earlier, but your fear response overruled it. Not that I'm complaining. Please continue being a coward, host. For both our sakes.
Abo's breath slowed. He steadied his vision, and then, slowly, he tilted his head upward. The sky shimmered again. Light fractured oddly in the air, bending over his gaze as he tried not to blink. In that brief moment, the bloodstains in his eyes caught the refracted glow, twisting red into violet. A faint, otherworldly hue shimmered across his pupils, like the sea itself had stared back.
He saw it.
Suspended in the night sky, vast and impossible.
A sea, floating above the world.
Waves churned upside down. Fish flailed in silence, their silver scales flashing like falling stars. Gravity had failed, the sea hovered in the sky, pressed against nothing. It rippled across the heavens, as if poured onto a sheet of invisible glass.
Behind it, the moon was distorted. Its light bent through the water's shifting mass, broken into uneven shards. And at the center of that impossible reflection sat a lone figure in a narrow boat, line cast into the stars, as if fishing from a dream.
Abo's crimson eyes widened. In all his irreverent, cursed existence, he had never once been truly speechless. "Th-the..."Abo's mental voice shrank to a whisper. "The sea." He didn't blink. Couldn't. He just stared.
✦ ✦ ✦
End of Chapter