Beyond the path where time and reality seem to halt, or to bend in together to create a distorted picture for those who haven't had enough of its embrace was a golden shine. Golden, or was it simply sun-glistened sand, or perhaps a pool of metallic red with a hint of purple—Though the word of metallic red may give the image of a color akin to a rusty tool, or maybe even dried and chunky paint... The way it laid a surreal and almost impossible tint could tell one that such a thing could not be an art in the most mundane of definitions.

It would be described that such a substance was more akin to that of an artificial type; synthetic... and after a while, you would feel as if something about such a 'thing' seemed a little too unnatural.

That's sort of the same impression the purple was, to that very image—Of a sticky, clear substance with no shape, but with such a disgusting quality to the color and a terrible aftertaste to follow when inhaled in that said substance. It was far too natural to have been 'born', or else you would believe its existence as something truly unidentifiable.

One would consider something so deceptively simplistic, an anomaly, if not in the most normal of cases.

...Or, perhaps, one is simply projecting.

Maybe this 'simple and seemingly odd concept' is one that one could take back to a deeper level and create something out of it; create something where even the most obscure would take interest in it. Perhaps a crazed psychopath or a novelist who has spent over thirty hours, slaving and scraping through pages just to achieve one goal; One ambition.

But not everything has a happy story, now does it?

The intricate behaviour is how these things go, and the will of their power...

Ahah. No, that isn't right...

The imagery will slowly shatter to a distorted image, not because your brain can't handle its beautiful texture and colors, but it simply has its limits.

Oh. Wait.

My mistake. It doesn't.

But it does, because...

Well.

You were never a living thing.

That's what the common infinity is.

Does that make the dead truly dead?

Perhaps, and perhaps not.

Your choice.

Your desire.

...Your words and their intent.

Yet they never were.

— The second Anarchist

"....'s....'s............'s.." A beautifully blurry noise managed to penetrate through the clutches and forces of nothing. The surroundings that were once blurry and incomprehensible slowly turned sharper and sharper as his 'vision' came clearer by the second. "..."

"Boyo? Hey, hey, hey-."

Onofre's voice was clearer, louder and not at all unpleasant in that regard. He still felt numb, but was able to make his head move by a millimeter and his 'eyes' turn just a small fraction of a fractal degree towards the direction of Onofre's gaze. There were several sensations in his hands; feeling the texture of some damp, rigid material with no real mass, while in a different part, he could not even tell whether he had hands to begin with.

His 'vision' would often feel as if he was hallucinating, as sometimes everything would be distorted in some manner, be it too dark and filled with muted noises from somewhere unknown, and sometimes it would have the texture be similar to that of an actual painting; beautiful in some abstract form. The way his body perceived things and acted was sometimes in an extreme of sorts.

"Can you hear me, now? Boyo? Can. You. Hear. Me." Onofre's words could be heard.

Yes, he would respond, or maybe he did; either way, Onofre was there, just kneeling beside him and making him go a little bit insane, just through her presence.

'How nice... How... how much did I really sleep, again?' He was still so sluggish, not even able to feel his neck to move in the first place. The pain he was feeling, no, not the physical one, but the kind that made his nerves feel like he was touching a live-wire, was ever present and growing in magnitude. 'Agh!'

His emotions could not be contained with his vessel, and so they popped like small bubbles—The meaningless ones, the ones that could never come back, they vanished with no resistance and no concern for Zabulus. The kinds which the sensation is like to stand atop a glass platform in your worst fear; That you will never die and you will live through the nightmare.

'All, just, all of these emotions that come flooding through me... could someone else's memories be making it that much harder to survive? Hah, why am I here again? That damned thing that brought me to that place... I'll get my revenge on you...' He declared to himself, to serve as a reminder as to what his thoughts and wills were at the moment.

But his emotions were going haywire; the memory of that naked man from hell still resonates throughout his vessel.

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"Boy..."

"Ah." His expression turned stale. "Uh..."

"Open up your windows! For it has been so long since you woke up, hell... we're only 24 kilometers away from the Kingdom, boyo!"

And he wondered; how does she always know the exact measurements of everywhere they've been through? Is she counting the steps, or perhaps does she use something like a ruler, a measurement of some kind... What does that mean? That she actually owns a ruler that long, or that she could take her footsteps out and put the inches to the foot—Was that her kind? Maybe? But no, he knew that all 2.54cm per 1 inch, but the actual scale for feet, how would it work out? He didn't want to do all that mental math.

"So... ready to finally get there and not look like a damn dead corpse?" She patted his shoulder with her delicate hands.

"Yes... just, don't say anything too much, just yet. Still feeling a little sick, a bit numb." He moved himself to the left, using both arms as he could make use of the rest of his body in the process. The sound of tiny shovels breaking apart mud was in the area.

"Get off your butt already and stop talking!" She helped him up by lifting the arm towards her and putting herself underneath.

"That hurts, and doesn't feel any different..." He looked at Onofre from the corner of his 'eye', and she only responded by rolling her eyes , then grinning from cheek-to-cheek and letting the corners of her lips curve upward. It's something she's been doing for quite a while, as well, it wasn't some weird skill of hers to just naturally look cute on the spot, but she was never shy nor afraid to show off a sweet, confident smile.

"Bah." Her eye rolls kept going with more attitude.

"Uh." He continued.

They walked onto a rocky path for a while, the smell was revolting and the environment itself was hot enough to the point where they were both sweating—But Onofre couldn't care any less as she focused on just walking through the place. "Boyo, hey."

"What is it?" He gazed at Onofre again.

"Let's be friends, shall we? Don't need to talk right now, I got some fun news to share. Cool with you?" She stared into Zabulus eyes with the intensity of a million stars.

"Uh, sure." He replied in an indifferent tone.

Onofre wasn't fazed by it, she simply gave her thoughts. "You'll never truly know me; heck, this may be the first and only time we'll meet. Do you think there are infinite worlds, each and every possibility with us in it? If so, then I can meet as many versions of you as I want, wouldn't you say?"

"Uh... yes?" He could never read her mind, no matter how much he tried. He knew nothing about the creature he had allied himself to. He looked at her like a fool, knowing he could have asked, but didn't dare ask until now. 'Ally. Ally? Is that the right word, would that be the one closest?' He laughed inwardly. 'She could've killed me at any time... Probably.'

The light seeped into her pink hair like a drop of water in a bright pond. The appearance was closer to a luminous yellow, almost translucent in that it appeared nearly unrealistic and nothing of any material nature.

Their walk continued in silence...

As well as the continued thoughts on 'how strange and confusing the entire scene and conversation is to him'.

Then she giggled, not giggling from embarrassment, nor laughter, just simply... a giggle. "I mean it—I'll show you a friend, a true one! I bet you were the kind who has never truly experienced one, ever."

'It's strange,' He mused to himself as the distance of the trip felt further and further away. He realized the look on her face as she spoke, and wondered. 'Am I making friends with a stranger, really? What happened to my old self? Wasn't I—'

His train of thought was quickly interrupted.

"We're almost at the borders of the kingdom! Just a few more paces..." Her pace picked up a bit.

A man carrying a sack filled with apples, one who looked like a beggar with old clothes on him but walked with pride, one whose thoughts were hidden. He noticed Zabulus from afar and smiled as he waved. Then Zabulus' vision shifted downwards, the black aura spiking and invading.

Black was his color, black was his destiny.

What was that?

Could nobody else see it?

"Hey, uh..."

"Onofre, it's O-no-fre!" She corrected him as fast as she could.

"Right, Onofre. What is that black... thing I'm seeing over there?" He pointed at the spiky aura that hovered over the beggar's body.

Onofre scratched the back of her head for a good three seconds, before simply opening her mouth and saying "Huh?", giving an extremely confused face to the one speaking.

She continued on saying, "And, what exactly, do ya think ya mean by 'seeing' the black thing? Where does this 'sight' of yours happen to see, if not from an eye or such-like organs?"

"...Nevermind. Do you know what it is, then, instead?" He questioned.

Onofre sighed in a disappointed, yet exhausted voice as she shook her head slightly, "I don't know what you're talking about, that man is just a poor old lad without much going on his life, no family, barely any money and not much life left to see."

Then Zabulus snapped his head towards Onofre, stopping dead in their tracks. "How did you know that?"

"Boyo, don't ya know better than to look at a stranger like that? They might think that you want to pick their pockets, hah! And... well, in truth, I suppose I should tell you something important..."

Her gaze shifted back from the beggar, as he waved a final goodbye with his wrinkled palm.

"I'm kind of... the queen around here? Been that way for a couple years already and... that's how I knew, I wasn't just a simple nurse with too many coincidences in my life, no; I was the head nurse who controlled everything when I had the time, so—well. No wonder I looked kind and humbled, right?" She joked as she pressed forward, closing the distance between her and Zabulus.

She looked back at him again with a forced, nervous smile.

"You seem conflicted on the decision to make, what do you think I'm going to do, kill you? I don't care if you're queen or not. Your hidden truths or lies won't change the fact I'll keep talking to you either way, I need your help after all, I figured. Should've expected as much from you, anyways." He said as he quickly began to regain some sort of emotion other than utter shock. "If I had my guess, I believe you will give a reasonable amount of trouble, is what you're thinking? Well, no shit, but I would be glad to accept as long as I can achieve my own ends, I will accept my part as well, then."

She seemed happy—Relieved, more like it. Her shoulders lowered. She slowly stepped in a little closer towards him and...

Embraced him.

"Well, I guess you can't give me anymore shit after a couple surprises, huh? Maybe... maybe I'll bring ya some surprises tomorrow, but that won't mean ya get to hang with me, unless ya don't really mind uh... a bit of life-or-death combat."

'So... this is what friends would do to express their emotions? That doesn't feel right...' He shook the feeling out of him, remembering his former companions had been the ones who abandoned him. Though... that might as well have been his fault.

He hugged her back, but not too hard or it could lead her to think he cared more than he actually did.

"Ok! Okay!" Onofre was seemingly thrilled to pieces, nearly hopping.

On the other hand, Zabulus felt... he didn't know. A little angry, maybe. A little embarrassed. A little happy... all the parts within him experienced something different.

"Come on." Onofre pulled Zabulus by the arm, and his emotion slowly settled. "Let's take ya to the castle!"