Months after recovering from his bout with the chimera and ridding himself of variegated fantasies about its final form, Pinocchio's gaze rose to an aerial, churning sea of locusts bred by Italy's poor! They had selectively bred the insects for ferocity and size! His heart racing, Pinocchio trembled with terror, unable to face the horror consuming his hometown of Collodi! But Geppo Morto stood beside him, its teakwood and silver oakwood body postured stalwartly!
"Face them, my son," the reanimated puppet demanded, its voice a refreshing breeze in the boy-puppet's mind. "Together, we shall confront this terrore… then kill EVERYONE here!"
Pinocchio hesitated, his wooden fingers digging into his palms. The locusts' droning filled the air, a cacophony that seemed to penetrate even his silent world. He thought of the town that had once been his home, of the people he had known in his human life. Did they deserve this fate?
But then memories of his suffering, of the cruelty he had endured, surged forth. His wooden features hardened, resolve replacing fear. With a silent nod to Geppo Morto, Pinocchio steeled himself, his resolve stirring like a tempest within!
Together, they launched into action. Geppo Morto's martial arts capacities, guided by Pinocchio's frantic thoughts, clashed with the swarm in a blur of motion! Pinocchio's own powers surged forth, manipulating the wood around them to create barriers and weapons against the insect onslaught.
For what seemed like an eternity, they held their ground, the locusts' deadly grasp at bay. But as the hours wore on, even their superhuman endurance began to flag. The swarm, endless in its hunger, pressed in closer.
Pinocchio watched in horror as Geppo Morto's movements began to slow, the animated puppet succumbing to the relentless attack. With a burst of desperate energy, Pinocchio tried to protect his mentor, but it was too late. As the swarm closed in, Geppo Morto's doom became inevitable.
"Forgive me, my son," Geppo Morto's thoughts echoed in Pinocchio's mind. "Continue our legacy."
With a final, powerful burst, Geppo Morto's body exploded into a thousand splinters, impaling many thousands of locusts and buying Pinocchio a fleeting reprieve! The emotional impact literally splintered Pinocchio's wooden heart, grief and shock momentarily paralyzing him.
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In that moment of vulnerability, the townspeople struck. Driven by vengeful bloodlust, they brutally set the distracted and depowered boy-puppet ablaze! Pinocchio's world erupted into agony as the flames licked at his wooden body. He felt himself changing, the curse that had transformed him into Pinocchio beginning to unravel.
As his body contorted and shifted back into the vocally empowered (and very real) teen boy known as Nico Paolo, his screams traveled through the streets like a blizzard! The pain was unbearable, but beneath it, a spark of his old self flickered to life. For a brief moment, Nico Paolo–not Pinocchio–looked out at the world through human eyes once more.
But the townspeople showed no mercy. With brutal efficiency, they beheaded the still-burning teenager with iron then kicked his head into the fleeing swarm! The victorious humans then piled the boy's corpse with the herbs and arcane scriptures they'd found in his coffers, letting them burn with it!
As life ebbed from Nico Paolo's body, a strange calm settled over him. He had lived two lives - one as a gifted singer turned dark manipulator, another as a cursed puppet of terror. Now, as both those lives came to an end, he felt a sense of release.
But his story was not yet over! The burning of Nico's body, infused with the magic and darkness he had accumulated, had an unforeseen consequence. As the flames consumed his flesh and the arcane artifacts, they released a surge of chaotic energy into the air. This power, born of suffering and revenge, found new hosts in the swarming locusts.
The insects, already bred for ferocity, became imbued with a nightmarish hunger and killer instinct! Now driven by this renewed ferocity, the intact locusts resumed their assault on the village! The very people who had sought to end the threat of Pinocchio now found themselves facing an even greater horror!
As the swarm consumed the crowd, their screams echoing through the streets, the darkness deepened. A mist, reminiscent of the one that had so often clouded Nico's vision, mournfully shrouded the region. It was as if the land itself was lamenting the tragedy that had unfolded.
High above, unseen by mortal eyes, Geppetto's ghost watched the chaos unfold. His humane eyes, no longer bound by wooden constraints, filled with a mix of pride and sorrow. His legacy, and that of his protégé, was forever sealed. Their names would be etched into the annals of horror, a cautionary tale of the consequences of unchecked darkness and the cyclical nature of vengeance.
As night fell on Collodi, the sounds of destruction gradually faded. The locusts, sated on flesh and chaos, dispersed into the countryside. What remained of the town lay in ruins, a testament to the power of hatred and the unpredictable nature of magic.
In the years that followed, whispers of the Wooden Singer and his terrifying transformation would spread throughout Italy. Parents would warn their children of the dangers of giving in to darkness, and the name Pinocchio would become synonymous with silent, creeping terror.
But in quiet moments, when the wind whispered through the trees just so, some swore they could hear the faint echoes of a beautiful, haunting melody–a reminder of the gifted boy who had once dreamed of nothing more than to be real, to be loved, and to find his place in the world.