Someone told me that I'm bad. But... I don't remember why or when. What did I do? I don't know. I just remember the feeling. It hurts a little. Is it my fault, guy?

Why am I bad? I try really hard, you know? The shaft of the lance strikes against my head as I knock on my cranium with it, perhaps a little harder than I should. The dull thudding sound rings out, echoing around the empty void that is filled with nothing but chains and dead meat. I work really hard. But I’m still bad. Is that why I’m here on my own? I look around the void, searching for any signs of life. Who told me that? And why? What did I do? And why am I sure that I believe it? Why can’t I remember anything but this familiar feeling?

I blink, staring into the abyss around myself, as the giant chain that I stand upon sways back and forth. Where is everyone? Hello? Anyone?

Anyone? I feel something against my back. It’s soft. The cape. It makes me feel safe. It makes me feel… feel… Reaching behind myself, I grab it and pull it forward and around my chest, playing with the fabric as I roll it beneath my fingers. It’s tattered and worn through. Thin. Frayed. Look. Look, you see these strings? I grab one of the threads and pull on it. It’s all coming apart. It looks like shit. It makes me feel good. But it’s bad. It’s…

I lift my gaze, my eyes scan the vacant space that I find myself in as I search with hopeful longing for anyone, anything to accompany me. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to always be alone.

But there’s nobody here at all.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault. Everyone is gone because I’m bad. I hit myself with the lance again. Mama? I look around at the emptiness. Papa?

Nothing is here but me. All that I see around myself is old, rusting metal and black, foul meat that hangs limply as it is held aloft, suspended over the void like a hanged man thrown off of a cliff. The sum of my parts. That’s all this is. It’s bad. It’s no wonder that nobody is here. It’s because of me. I ruined it. I ruined it. I ruined everything. BAD!

My skull cracks as I hit myself again.

It’s me.

I get it now. It makes sense now. That must be why the dungeon-master gave me a body that is different than any other trash-mob’s. That must be why I have to walk through the empty dungeon all on my own. It is punishment. I don’t belong. I am bad. I’m sorry, dungeon-master. I’m trying really hard, I swear! I don’t want to be bad. Please lo- lo-

My fingers spasm as I let go of the cape, the fabric flowing free as it falls back down behind myself. I feel something grab my fractured head and press it back together, as if two hands were on either side of it and holding it firmly in place, so that a glue could settle and harden.

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That’s it. That’s it!

Punishment. I am bad. So I need punishment. But… but…

I smile, having perhaps found a way past this obstacle. A solution to my problem. Watch me, dungeon-master. Watch me! I’ll do it for you. I’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do! I take the lance and press it down in the gap between two links of the chain that I stand on, wedging it firmly in place in the small, tight space between the two of them with the blade facing upwards. Pressing down a little more firmly, I wedge the shaft of the weapon deeper into the gap, until about the halfway point.

I see it now. I see it now. Wrapping my hands around the shaft, gripping it as tightly as I can, I smile a happy smile and bash my head down against it.

CRUNCH

I feel a vibration run through my body as the blade enters my right socket, the thin bone near my temple cracks off, as the widening lance slides in deeper and deeper into my skull, the tip of the blade touching the very back of the inside of my head.

I’m sorry, dungeon-master, that wasn’t hard enough.

I pull back, feeling as an energy pulses through my body, as a flow that leaks to me through the broken seal fills me with vigor.

CRUNCH

My left temple breaks as I jam the lance into my other eye socket. I feel a fracture run along the top of the front of my skull, running horizontally just above where my nose should be. I’m sorry that I’m bad, dungeon-master! I’m a bad child. I’m bad. But I’ll be good, I swear! You don’t even have to get the belt! I pull my head back. I’ll do it myself! I’ll do it for you!

CRUNCH

I smash my skull against the blade of the lance again. Something breaks and I hear a dry rattling as shards of broken bone fall down into my hollow armor. It’s because I haven’t been working hard enough. I haven’t been trying my best. It’s because I’m not good. I’m not good. It’s my fault. But that’s okay!

CRUNCH

The top of my skull breaks off, so I turn my head to the side and begin hitting that against the blade.

CRUNCH

It’s not working, guy. Why isn’t it working? I don’t feel better. I don’t feel better. I’m trying so hard, dungeon-master! I am! But it’s not working! I’m so useless! I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything at all. Worthless.

CRUNCH

Garbage.

CRUNCH

Degenerate.

CRUNCH

Bad!

CRUNCH

My body is breaking, but I don’t feel better. I don’t feel like I am being punished. Why? Why?!

I stare down at my rattling hands, covered in bone fragments and a thin layer of blue dust. Why don’t I… I…

Oh.

Oh!

I see now. I get why it doesn’t make me feel better. Because I’m not being punished. I’m just half-assing it like always. I’m so worthless. I can’t even do this right. It’s not working, because it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. A punishment has to hurt or it’s not a punishment. I need a belt.

I need…

I reach around, grabbing the cape from behind myself again, I feel the soft fabric in my hands, I feel the safety of the blanket that has protected me so often. It has to hurt though. I need it to hurt.

I yank on the cape, pulling the fastenings attached to my shoulders taut. Bundling the tough fabric together, I run it over the blade of the lance. I cut it. I cut it and it hurts. It hurts. My cape. My cape. I cut it and I watch in agonized glee as the strands pop one by one, as the fabric begins to wear thin, as the sharp metal blade runs over it again and again. With a final tug, I hear a loud rip that runs through my body, that makes me nauseous as if I were ripping off a piece of my own meat.

The torn off cape billows in my hands as I hold it out over the abyss. Punishment. Punishment. I’m sorry, dungeon-master. I’ll do better, I swear!

I feel the pieces of my bone collecting back together, I feel something grab my head and hold it upright as it picks up and reattaches all of the pieces that I had broken off of myself.

Only one thing doesn’t regrow and I open my fingers, letting it fall down freely in the void. Watching, as it floats away. It hurts. It hurts.

Ah, I’m so happy that it hurts.