Agony, For The Murder Of Suffering.

Stench : Of gore. Of nature's most vile natural odors ; Of mold. Of feces, and urine. From every being that has ever existed, and ever will. From every realm that exists, and ever will.

The Blind Painter, long since disheartened, of its thousand deformed limbs, and its thousand mangled bodies ; Of its many eager eyes, would leer upon me. Of its many smiling mouths, would all speak. As one. A thousand voices. A thousand noises, a thousand sounds. All deafeningly in unison, yet a mockery of harmony. Over everything, nothing could be heard, nor interpreted.

Yet, I understood perfectly, as always.

An abstract, framed through the glass behind me ; The gore of a dear friend, still breathing, writhing on the ground in a mix of anguish and wrath, All painted with strokes by my own hand.

I spare him a final glance, then nod.

Everything at once. Blinded, scorched by a star. My eyes burn, bleed, and then, I am blind. Every sound at once. A cacophony pierces my ears and threatens to split my crown from inside out. My ears burn, bleed, and then, I am deaf. I am stripped. Of clothes, of skin, and of nerve. I cannot feel the agony of my limbs being stretched and torn, but I can feel the motion of such, and when they finally sever, I can vaguely identify the loss of sensation. 

For a long time, I have been dead… I think. I cannot see or hear. I cannot smell, taste, or feel, and I cannot move. I believe The House has collapsed, along with the rest of my world. I believe all the other canvasses The Blind Painter has tossed aside have been burned, though I am unsure. I do not know what has happened, what is happening, or what will happen.

I think I may have been abandoned.

───※ ·❆· ※───

I admit, this is quite unpleasant, having two minds in one body. 

Actually, it is all quite unpleasant. I know everything, now. I've experienced everything. I have seen and felt everything . I know every smell, every sound, and every taste. It's all rather overwhelming, and indescribably awful.

You get used to it.

I will. I will bear this.

Everything that was here is gone now. Every universe left in disarray and their inhabitants who held no hope for salvation, yet clung to their lives. It's all gone, now. No longer will they have to suffer...

But I don't feel like I've saved anyone. I've just killed them. Hundreds of thousands of people, all at once. I feel disgusting, yet I know I would have felt the same, had I left them to rot in the corpses of their worlds.

Was it ever about them?

...Another chance. I'll give them all another chance. In a better world, where they can live a normal, fulfilling life. Where they don't have to constantly suffer.

To ease your own mind?

They deserve another chance. To live a full, happy life. I will give that chance to them, and wish them the best.