Bro, I'm not an Undead!

A man with equal portions of black and purple hair sat over this creature, along with another who wasn\'t gifted with such colorful hair, or any hair for that matter. He also lacked hands, as the ends of his arms merely featured two bland stumps.

Neither of the two was concerned by the disability, however. In fact, of the two, the disabled man seemed to be the livelier one. He made animated gestures as he spoke to the man beside him who kept a stoic, firm expression, his eyes looking below where the carnage of the black towers was yet to cease.

Villages were destroyed.

Cities were ruined.

Towns were eradicated.

Human and beasts\' lives were ravaged.

All this was the aftermath wrought in the wake of Guissepo\'s actions. His gaze bore a dull shimmer about it, neither showing joy or remorse at what he saw.

This was the first time he was getting to see the state Pelian was in post the ascension of the Herald; the ultimate result he had seen all the way back then, when the Galemonger broke him out of prison and passed onto the vision from Boron.

How meticulous and fated it had seemed back then.

Guissepo still felt the same way today, but his view was… a little complicated.

"What\'s the matter, Guissepo? You seem less… explosive today. You\'ve been especially reserved. I thought seeing the fruits of your hard work with your own eyes would make you even more unbearably bubbly," the man with no hands said.

"I thought so too," Guissepo said somberly. "I had extravagant belief in that idea, but…"

But there was a clear distinction between a fairytale realized in the very depths of one\'s brain, and one realized in, well, reality. This distinction was starting to become a little clearer to Guissepo now.

In fact, the seeds for it had already begun to show when he saw the enormous figure of the Herald and all her stone-like beauty.

This was the realization of the painfully mundane and generic dream Guissepo had before and after he joined the Evenfall.

The bald, handless man gave Guissepo a questioning look as the flying turtle took a dive, making the wind fiercely beat against both men.

"What then? You did the impossible. You gave us Summoners purpose, a role. You endured solitary months in that stadium through sheer passion. You gathered millions of Blessings for the cause; for Lord Boron and successfully created a way to bring him back. If there was anyone keeping tally of glorious achievements, I\'d say you\'d compete with the heroes of the Grand Wars!" the Summoner said encouragingly.

Guissepo closed his eyes and frowned. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"That…is exactly the point."

For as long as he could remember, Guissepo had been quite religious, as his family had been. His parents shoved down his throat sentiments that the Deities were always watching over them, that each bit of suffering was wrapped in sinews of wonderful, future prospects.

That message turned to hold less and less water when Guissepo noticed that there was an unfair distribution of Deific privilege. Why did some live in luxury, extravagance, rather, while he had to suffer? Why did he have to hope for future prospects instead of getting what he needed now?

What even determined this dichotomy?

Not everyone deserved to suffer and not everyone deserved to live lavishly.

The gospel spread by the Purity didn\'t answer Guissepo\'s question or give him a reason to continue to live on as his naïve family did.

But be that as it may, Guissepo knew more than anyone else that trying to achieve a goal like \'creating a perfect world devoid of suffering\', was impossible. Good things were never made in abundance. There would never be a version of balance or equality that involved handing out riches to all.

That was why Guissepo\'s goal was to create the opposite; a world where everyone suffered equally.

Surely then, those that were promised future good prospects would find that fortune rescuing them, right? And those that had had it easy before then? Well, as long as they proved that they were worth more than their unearned extravagance, they deserved to live.

Yes. This was what Guissepo had yearned to actualize.

But seeing it with his eyes now, he couldn\'t help but think…

\'Did I really achieve all this? If so, why don\'t I feel any extravagant satisfaction from it? This was the work of my hands, yet there\'s no weight to it.\'

Indeed. Guissepo truly felt this way.

Even from this distance, he could see hundreds of corpses, some layered with dirt, some torn pathetically.

He could see dark creatures, Carven of different designs hunting down those that had yet to reach safe refuge.

He saw esteemed beasts fighting for their lives as swarms of these black, stone-like abominations invaded Sacred Forests.

Guissepo had a mighty hand in making this a reality; straining the peace and creating chaos that affected everyone. Worse yet, this was just the prelude.

However, it barely completed the fury he thought he had towards the natural course of life; inequality.

\'Do I feel this way perhaps, because I share this victory with that masked bastard? No. That was a means to an end that I accepted without any reservations,\' Guissepo thought. \'Then is it…?\'

…!!!

It smote him!

\'Ah. That\'s right. That\'s why.\'

 Of course, the reason was that simple.

"What do you think about the Herald, Sipffon?" Guissepo asked, turning his head to the Summoner who somehow managed to make the great turtle swerve around a particularly tall mountain.

"The Herald?" Sipffon asked incredulously. "This isn\'t a trick question, is it? Well, apart from being a little arrogant – please don\'t tell her I said that – she is rather accommodating. She\'s answered every question I\'ve gathered the bravery to ask and she doesn\'t seem to detest us like some of her other fellows."

Guissepo nodded, and then smiled.

"She is accommodating, is she?" he said, much to Sipffon\'s surprise. "It\'s good that you see it in such an extravagantly simple way."

Of course, Guissepo saw it differently. Or rather, he knew that this wasn\'t the case at all.

The Herald was very good at hiding her emotions, and that wasn\'t just because she was a carved stone. She only gave a non-hostile impression because Guissepo and his band of Summoners deserved that much.

Deep down though, she loathed humans with a great passion. Guissepo felt it at times. Her ruby red eyes sometimes gleamed menacingly when she set her gaze on him.

She only held back her revulsion because she was to be the vessel of Lord Boron. She held herself in high regard. Killing Guissepo and the rest awarded no glory or prize anyway.

It was this, paired with the sight of the chaos below that made Guissepo realize that while he truly believed in his goal, this wasn\'t the way he had hoped to achieve it.

The Carven were exacting vengeance on the creatures of the surface for the deeds of the Deities..

That wasn\'t the kind of unfair calamity he wanted to summon.

It was the wrong kind of punishment.

It felt… wrong. Ironically so.

Guissepo scowled and sighed.

"Head West," he said.

"What?" Sipffon was puzzled. "Weren\'t we supposed to meet with the Carven in—"

"Take us West. There\'s something I need to do," Guissepo gave a command with lethal finality.

 ---

[Author\'s Note]

The Mega Mass Release is still on. Hopefully, it will assuage your bitterness. I did say that it will be a surprise, but expect the chapters on X-Mass

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