Tibaut suddenly found himself face to face with Satan. The boy with the face of his beloved just about reached Tibaut’s chest in height. They were still in the void of his mind, though Tibaut was now substantially less lively.
Tibaut's eyes were glazed over, still sulking in the reality of the Bishop's strength, though seeing his past did ease the pain somewhat.
“You fucking idiot…” Satan remarked as he held his head. There was no anger but simply disappointment in his words. “(Though I am somewhat to blame for indulging him… Ah, whatever, I got to have some fun with it and see that wonderfully pathetic face so it doesn't matter. I can show him his past some other time.) Because of your foolish attempts to take on the Bishop in this place, you've wasted too much time to go in-depth with your memories.”
Tibaut silently turned towards him. There was no fire in his eyes and he had no rebuttal. He vacantly stared at him, but his mind had taken too much of a hit after seeing how formidable his object of vengeance truly was.
(“Ah, dammit I need to hold myself back, if I keep seeing you in such a pathetic state, I'm not sure I'll be able to hold back for your true purpose.”) Satan mused as he gleefully rubbed his hands watching Tibaut.
“Sigh… so I'm waking up now, right?” He asked the unnaturally happy boy standing in front of him.
“Correct, so we'll have to continue this another time. But aren't you curious boy? There were many shady people in your past in that country.”
“So you're saying it's likely I've met that Bishop before when I was a kid?” Tibaut responded, in a dreary tone.
Satan raised an eyebrow. (“Tch, you just had to ruin such a pleasing sight.”)
With just a few words spoken, it seemed Tibaut had managed to rid himself, externally at least, of some of the dread and hopelessness that had taken him over moments earlier.
(“I imagine the mental turmoil he's been through ever since the death of his parents in this world, has left him less susceptible to these sorts of things. Hmm, then maybe I can go a bit further. He isn't a toy that will break easily after all.”) Satan thought as Tibaut walked towards him.
“Ew, wipe that look off your face.” Tibaut disinterestedly stated. “But, I suppose it makes sense since he talked about my parents and me like he knew us.” He grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up.
“Quite disrespectful aren't you?” Satan calmly stated as the duo looked into each other's eyes.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Shut up,” He said in a tone that would be more suited for a librarian than a man seeking answers. “So who was it?”
“You'll have to find that out for yourself. Frankly, it doesn't change anything now does it? You'll have to kill him eventually.” Satan said with a smirk.
Tibaut threw him into the air and instead of landing face-first on the void’s ground, he dropped into it like a pool of water, splashing Tibaut with some of the void's darkness.
The void’s darkness soon began to engulf Tibaut as he looked on in disinterest.
The boy with red eyes paddled himself to stay afloat and waved at Tibaut as darkness consumed more of his vision.
“See you soon!” They said, their voice slowly fading from Tibaut’s ears.
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His eyes opened to a familiar image. It was the roof he had gotten used to seeing for the past several months, yet it was a sight for sore eyes as he hadn't seen it in nearly a month thanks to a certain group in the parish.
He breathed a long sigh, remembering what happened before he went unconscious.
(“Ezekiel and Mr. Bentley… Shit Ezekiel! I remember seeing Tina with him but… fuck, did he esca-”)
He tried to get up but his body felt unnaturally heavy. He also felt incredibly sluggish. It was like he was moving through water more than any air. He quickly got up to see his face in the window. And nearly choked on his spit when he saw what looked back at him.
“...Right, Satan mentioned something about the ki, didn't he?” He said as he rubbed a hand against his cheek.
Just like the aftermath of his fight against Albus, he was now as thin as a stick. His cheeks were so sunken you could fit a decent-sized rock in them, his arms looked like they consisted of nothing but bone and skin, with the skin looking like it was vacuum sealed around the bone. You could probably find healthier-looking mummies, compared to the man that awoke in his bed.
He immediately felt like his stomach was going to rebel against his body after a few moments of consciousness. Not just his stomach but his entire body, he felt like he was immediately going to pass after regaining consciousness.
He held his head in his arms and groaned like a ghoul.
(“Gah, FUCK DON'T TELL ME I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THI-”)
He was interrupted by an arm on his shoulder. He quickly turned back, and saw…
“Excuse me, you probably need this.” The blue-haired man said.
Who was he? What was he doing here? Tibaut had no idea but the man was handing him a bowl with a porridge of some type, likely wheat. It was covered in assorted fruits, nuts and herbs but Tibaut paid no mind to those, immediately grabbing it out of his hands and gulping the whole thing without so much as a chew. It had the consistency of plaster but in his current state, he could down it like a glass of water.
He quickly wiped his mouth off and looked into the stranger's eyes.
“More.”
“F-firstly we should pro-”
“MORE!!!” Tibaut shouted. He sounded like a demon demanding a blood pact.
The man quickly pulled a bowl from the ground and Tibaut grabbed it out of his hands without so much as a thank you and swallowed it. He turned his eyes to the floor and saw several bowls lying about. He moved to the floor like a snake and emptied each he could get his hands in no more than seconds.