Chapter 1: 00: awakening

00: awakening

 

The monster comes out of nowhere. There is no music cue, no snarling or growling. No shattered glass or broken doors. No smarmy alien overlord come to announce and delight in humanity's destruction. 

On a bright, sunny Saturday in April, when Ashe is fourteen years old, a big, hulking nightmare made only of muscle and jagged teeth suddenly appears in their living room, lunges at his mother, and rips her head off. 

Her headless body creates a wet, squelching sound as it slaps against the hardwood floor. 

Before their father can even react, a different monster tackles him from the other side and tears the skin off of his throat. He gurgles unintelligibly as the monster eats him alive, choking on the lack of air and the frightful horror.

Ashe watches, transfixed, as the blood gushes out, and the noises stop, and his parents turn into piles of skin and guts and gore, a feast for the beasts. Only moments ago, they were standing there, joking and laughing and teasing his sister about her crush. Now, they're not even recognizable as human beings. 

A buzzing static starts to build in the echoing silence, cresting his heated denial.

 

[Player Ash̨͖͔̏̃̐͘͜ȩ̩̜̟̌̍̆͘͞ͅ ̹̭̝̊͆͠Ẻ͇̲͔̼̹͆̅͗͞merson has the potential to͖̬̟̒̋̈ ̢̨͔͉̱͋̀͆̏̆à̧̞͍͔̼͋̕͘̚w̼̥̞̐̃̂̒͘͟͜ȧ͔̝̭̝̲̐̈́͠͠k͓͈̤͖͍̔͆̍́͝ẹ̻̣͍͂̃̒̅͘ͅn͓̹̬̜͍͋͆̀͐̌.̧̟̘̯͊̃̈́̉͡ͅ]̲̞͖̯͐̈́̄͜͞͠

 

A third monster circles around from the right, ignoring the two dead as it sets its sights on Ashe. Slobber drips from its open mouth, and there is a mindless hunger in its beady red eyes. 

He knows he should move, run away, do something to save himself, prevent himself from joining his parents in their ignoble ends, but he's still too shocked to move, stunned stupid by the events of a horror movie happening in real life right in front of him, white noise drilling inside his brain and drowning out conscious thought.

 

[P̢̡̛͓͞͞ḷ̢̟̀̇͊ã̙̺͓͕̠̈̓̎̾y̛̤̣̒͟͠e̢̱̤͌̒̌͐͢r̫̐ ̟̮͛͘Ashe Emerson is on͖͖̖̪͂͐̒̽ ̪̿̅͢t̡͙̟̞̻͌̾͂͂́h͍̦̐̀̕͜ȇ͍ ̭̕c̩̪̦̥̿̏̽͡ũ̧̡͇̪̀̄̒s̩̺͖̋͌͡p of his Awa̦͑͛͜k̭̣̥̀̀̓e͇̞͊͞ṉ̢̫́͒͒ing.]

 

Then his sister screams, breaking through the illusion. 

Adrenaline surges, and Ashe jumps behind the couch, just barely avoiding the monster's deadly bite. As it crashes through the window, glass and curtains flying, he looks up. Ashton has escaped to the stairs. Her terrified brown eyes sear into him and successfully shake him out of the last of his stupor.

"Ashe," she mouths, face pale and whole body trembling with her grief and terror. 

Then her gaze turns abruptly toward the right, and he instinctively copies her, whipping his head back around to find what grabbed her attention. The beast jumps back in through the window, and it's clearly gearing up for another charge, crouching like some bizarre parody of a dog stretched out at all the wrong angles as it goes in for the kill.

Ashe rolls to his feet, thinking quickly, trying to come up with a plan. If he runs to the kitchen, he'll pass the other two monsters, and then he might have three of them on his tail. He can't run to the stairs either, though, because the monster is blocking the only other path. If he hadn't frozen like an idiot, he could have already escaped, but- Shit, that's not helping! What can he do? Fucking think!

But it's too late. 

The monster leaps, and Ashe closes his eyes, knowing there's no more room to dodge and not wanting to watch himself be eaten like his father had-

"No!" Ashton screams again, furiously distraught, and a powerful gust of wind bursts forth from her direction, throwing both Ashe and the monster to the side in one big heave.

Having been the target of her rage and despair, the monster flies farther, crashing through the wall and into the kitchen, caterwauling loudly enough to wake the dead. 

Ashe hits the ground and keeps going until he slams into what's left of the wall. He throws his hands up to shield himself from the kicked up dust and debris, coughing into his elbow, and then he rolls to his feet again only to make eye contact with the monster that had just murdered his mother.

 

[͔̟͓̒̒̇S̺̀c̗͕͑̎ä̞nning Player Ash̺̫̎͋ȩ͌͋ͅ ̣̽Em̻͇̀͊e͇̜̊̽r͇̼͂̋s̠͘on for͓̖͊́͠ͅ ̧̤̱̓͂̿ṭ͝he most suita̛̘b̯͐l̟͉̆̏e̟̎ ̮̾ă̼̻͌b͍̘̓̀ȋ̹̻̿l͕̥͌̓it̽ͅy͖̍ to ̞͉̯͐̅͠a̳̼̍̒w̢̭̜̃͘͞ä̺̝̬́͐̇k͇̫̼̅̉̚e̹̞̒͞n̯̳͆͞.̦̰͂̉]̡̦̼͍̣̗̋̍͒͐̕͞

 

The beast licks its bloodied lips. Ashe stares at its feet and finds only shards of bone and scraps of the jeans she had been wearing amidst the puddle of blood.

 

[͇͎̈̂Ě̜R̨̧͙̍̉͂R͔̟̋̈́͢͝O̞͍͋͞R̦̰͛̚!͇̔̕͜͟͡]̰͞

 

Those were her favorite jeans, the ones with the holes in the knees. A cashier at a store once told her they make her look younger, so she jokingly calls them her lucky jeans. Ashe had always called them unlucky because no fourteen year old wants strangers hitting on their mother, but when pressed, he would agree that she pulled them off. Only the jeans are left now, with rips and tears in them that have nothing to do with fashion. His mother is gone. His mother is gone.

 

[Scanní̹̯͇͐̎ṋ̡͎̳̐͐̐̈́ğ̜̖̜͐̈́ ̤͛P̬̻͙͌̀̀l͔͓̙̓͗̒a͍͕̫̩̹͛̊͂͝͡y̨̱̮͉͛̍̃̌͢͠e̤̾r͙̈ ̛͉̥͕̋͛͌ͅAshe Emerson for the ̨͂m̥͖͓͗͒͛ȍ̟̓͟s̫̰̻̀̅̿͜͞t̛̯̲͂ ̬̍s͚͇͂̓́͟u̲͐i̥̙̟̾̈̏͘͢͟͡ţ̟̥̃͘͠á̡̹̥̯͎͊̐̀͑b̦͓̑̀l̢̙̫̟̈́͆͒e̹̳̺͒̇̔ ̣̘̳̘̲͆͑̄̈̅ǎ͖͇̈́͌ͅbi̲͈̻̮̯͂̍͗͊͝ḽ̱̱͊̾͑i͉͗ț͈͌̓y to awaken.]

 

He looks at the monster, and the static starts to build up in his head again, blocking out absolutely everything else. This can't be happening. It can't. There's no way. It's wrong. It's fake. He doesn't believe it. It didn't happen. It's a mistake. It's WRONG. He WON'T ACCEPT IT. This ISN'T REAL. It CAN'T BE HAPP̙̲̠̼̼͆̈͋͠͝E̛͕̩̘͉͋̋͘N̼̺̼̼͓̔͐̇́̈́̂̃͜͢I̼͓͈̙̓̚͠͠N̖̥͉̹̗̆͐͗̉̚G̨̢͔̽̄̈̚͟͜͡.̨̟̤̺̖͚̾̈̏̋͂̕

[̻̠͖͌͛͝Ę̝̒͌Ŗ̙̬̊̎͠R͔̰̽͡O̡͚͕̔͋̿R̯̉!̝̗̔̚]̨̽

[There has ̠̳̕͞b͕̫͈̝̣͂͒̀͐͆e̺͔͈̼̱͂̈́̆͂̓e̛̟͈͝n̢͖̳̜̒̐̂̂ ̫̟̥͗͋̿̕ͅą̳̜͇͒͂̉͊n̼̫͖̔̿̉ ͈͙̞̀̾͝e̥͉̔̇r̼̭͋͡͝ͅr̬̗̅̋o̱͋r̾͟ regarding the Playe̹̺͗͡r͇͖̤̼͈̊͌͒̾́͘͟'̜̬͐̀͘͜s̟̳͍͉̈́̎̒̚ ̲͕̫̋̎͘A̲͕̍̐ẇ̨̭̦̜̘̿̀̏̂̓͟a̲̎kening.]

You are reading story [BL] Fluke of a Villain at novel35.com

[̖͕̣̹͓͇̰͋̾͊̌̈͊͛S̗̮̞̯̭̾̀̆͆̀͋͘͢͢c̯̟̞͓͎͙͍͋͋̍̔̈̿̄͟͝a̫͈̼̟̬̲͆̊̈̑́̚͟͡n̛̫̠̭͆̄ning Player Ashe Emerson for the caũ̩̲̐s͎̺̪͔͌̄͂̔̕ͅẻ̘ ̘̊ō̜̦͔̭̽̓̔͢͠f̧͎͖̙́́̿͑͐͢͢͠ t̰̤̹̠̬̆͐́̉͂h̹͚͌͊̕͜ę̛̙̩͔̙́̏̈́̀ ̹̜̝͖͔̈́̒̏̃͛á͔̙̜̥͐̄͂͘͜n̦͎̘͊̇̉o̧̙̞̬̯͌̈́̅̒͟͡͠maly.]

[͉̱̝͇̯͌̂͋̇̚Ȩ̦͇̂́͞R̳̘̱̈́̄̇R̨̹͇̊̐͞O̤̿R̦͈͑͠!͙̭͈̟͈̾͑̔́̚]̻̺͔̽͛͋

[Unable to ͍̺̿͋͘͢i̧͖̩̋͗̑̕͟de̢̼̱͊͂̓nţ̊i̜̥̊̂f͕͕̼̆̈̇ý͍̼̲͈̒͑͠ ̪͚̔̾t̥̣̝̓̄͞ḫ̩̠̀̂͞ȅ̺̺̦͛̏ ̞͙̲́̅͞s̢̭̣̳̑̓̂͝ou̡̧̺͔̼͑̍͛̀͝ȑ͔̙̰̮͑͆̔̕͢č̠̰͔̊̓ė͍̲̠̝͔́̉͊͘ of the error.]

[̧̝̔͊T̨͓̮̀̑͂e̢̛͇̋̋̿͟ͅř̮̞͕̭̈́̏̿͋͟m̡̧̭̞͙̱̐̉͛͊͘̕ỉ̫̱̟̩̋͘̕ń̛͙̬at̟̩̻̖͉̗͑͆͊͆̌͘ï̠̰̭̻̲̓͛͘͜͠͠ń̡͚̲̱̜̻̔̑̈́̇̚ĝ͉̬͕̤̱̓̿͂͞ ͈͙͎̯̮̞͑̃́͛̈́̚ḷ̗̂̕i̢̎̀͜nk with Potential Pla̤̅y̨͂e̝̠̹̫̘͆̂͘͡͠r̨̹̮̕̕͞ ̜̮͉̆͒̾A̮̘̹̤̓̓̀̈́s̰̼̬̫̯̄̉̆̕͘he Emerson.]

[͉̻̹̖̆͒͗́̔͢Ȩ̖̼̜̏̑̄̌R͔̘͖͎͇̤̿͐͆͐͂͡Ṛ͎̪̲̎̓͊͠O̥̖͚̟̞͑͐̽͞͡R̡̛̪͓̪̃̇̀!̰̐]̡̗̞̿͒̍

[Unable to termi̯͔̥͇̥̬͋̈́̉̓̈̚n̲̠̹̮̼̐͆̀͒̈͛͟ȁ̰̥̰̀̈͗͜t͉͉̫͓̤̱͑̋̂͗̈́͐è̫ link.]

[͇̪̦̹̃͂̓͠È̢̡̦̭̥̤͖̝̼͒͛̃̐̎̂̑̂R͕̝̳̮̺̥̦̺͒̒̍͊̆̆̐͝R̬͍̩̹̗̘̎͑̒̑̄͞O̙͖̖̫̓̌͒̕͞ͅR̛͙̯̦͈̦͇͖͚͌̽́͑̇̒̊͒͟͢͞!͈̰̞͓̳̹̲̣͛̔̃́͑̐̔̕͜͠]͍̞̰͔̭̮̩̀͑̎̽̃̚͡

[Unabl͓̙̼̺͕̊̾̒̍͗ė̲ ̠̫̊̚͜͞t̢͓̝̀͒͝o terminate l̙̩͖̆͡͝i̡̭̯̾͂̍n̜̻̹͌̒͆́ͅk̟͉͕͍̄̍̃͒.̡͔͎̞͕̀̈́̄̀]̧̱̰̗͗̽͋̚

[͙̬̩͎̝̥͈̫͋͆̆̇͂̽̓̌͛͜͢͡E̡̦͎̟̪̱͑́̑̎͑̊͢͞R̨̛̪̖͈̱̣̬̰͖̗̦̣̖̖̒̃̈́̄̓̓̑̀̀̿̒͘̚R͙̦̰͙͇͎̺̗̬̭͔͌̔̉̃̇̐̂̅̓͐̌͝ͅO̡̨̡̧̘̤̗̱͎̣͕͇̊̿̄̎͌̅̑͑͌̔̅̂̕͜R̢͇͉̜͔̯͖̲̣̞͈͍̽̽̊̈̆̀̀̐͊͐͘͟͢͜͝͝͠͡!̧̢̞͈̙̹̖̘͉̃̓̆̽́̐̚͝͡]̛͚̫̬̩̩̦̜̦̾̌̆̒͌̊̄̚͢͟͞

[̡̛͈̫̣̼̪̼͉͖͎̝̼̃̄͛̓̾́̄̑́̾̕͢͝Ḛ̢̜̳̙̤̗̑͌͊͒̒̎̿̎̕͟͟Ṟ̡̛̖̫̫̪̺̈̈́̏͡͞͞R̨̛̘̹̘̹͍̲̪̼̻̔͛͊̅̒̏́̿̀̅͢͠ͅƠ̧̼͙̱̬̺̰̘̣̯͖͙̓̒́̓͐̒̊̑͐̕͞R̰̩̮͖͙̳̐̈̽́̓͞!̭͙̘̲͍͎͆̃̑̈͋̄]̢̧̧̛͓̭̖̤̦͚̰͇̜̼̤̬͐̌̈́̐̀̃̒̔͐̎̎̄̎͆̊͜͟͡

[̡̢̧͕̰̼̱͓̮̦̦̥̰̓̅̽͊̾̍̈́͋͐̈̚̕̚͢͞Ȩ̡͉͓̳̼̜͒͊̀̀͋͋͠R̨̨̻̻̗̤̮͎̳̯͕͈̟̟̹̩͔̒͑͛̓̌͐̔̋̄͋́͌̽̍͊̾͜͝͠R̼̰͙͔̠͎͓͈͐́̓̐̉̀̀̐͜͞Ơ̰̜̗͇̺̲͖̯̙̭̞̭̯͍̩̠͒̒̉̇̂͐̏͆̓̈̒̇͗̈́̔͘͢͜͠͠ͅR̨̢̰͓͇͍̼̍̏̇̅͗̑̚!̛͉̞̫͖̭̜̭̮̲̥̘̯͕̓̓͑͊̽̂̊̀̂̾͑͝]̡̹̥̗̲̳̳͚̯͇̺̭̞͈̳̋̈́̔͊̅̆̍̓͛͆͐̽̕͟͠͝͡

[It has been determined that there is no error with the A̢̞̲͂͘̕w̨̦̩̦͋̓̈́̒â̻̼̺͚͉̋̏͂̓ǩ̛̩̱͖̜̂̽e̗̬͈͑̏̑̂͜n͓̹̘̙͛̈́̿̕i̩͔̙̐͑̀n̜͎̙̉̐͝ĝ̤̖̫̻̿͑̑ process, and so it shall proceed as normal.]

[̧̛̹̞̳̭̠̮̬͉̼͊͋̏̀̀͂̉͆͝E̢̡̧̨̡̦̪̯͍̳̤͉̮͍̤̩̳̮̠̠͙͗̆̈̽̾͒̍̾́̓̊̃̂̌̎̃͐͗̓̽͊̃̔̕͜͜͢͞ͅŖ̢̨̛̛̣̹̠̜̩̫͔͉̩̣͔̙͖̙͚̱̰̠͎̻̹͖̦̊̎̒̋̀̽̏̇͐̓͋͊̎̃̀̊̍̃̄̏͋́̋̃̔͟͜͟͠͡͞ͅR̨̛̛͕̪̼̘̖̣̭͎̞̫̟̽̿̀̄̒́͆̋̔͝Ó̢̧̧̢̟̮͙̘̣̲̘͓̞̺̯̙̦̖̼͎̺̫̳̑̊̐̇̾̌̑͂̽̾̿̊͑̀̒͑̔̉̅̏̉̃̕͟͜͝R̨̡̨̛̪̲̪̪͚̙͇̳̖̙̗̥̯̘̳̥̦͓̾̎̓̉̆́̈̏͂́́̃́́̄̂̏͛̂͌̕͟!̨͉̰̖͇̟͎͖͖̲̻̠̓͂̌̉͊͊̔͛͑͌̀̋͛͘͟͢͟͝]̛̠̬̤͎̦͇̻͇̥̗̿̓͆͋̌͒͑͡͞

 

The white noise builds into a crescendo, until it becomes too much to bear, until it feels like his brain has turned to mush and is dripping out of his ears, until he thinks he's going to die from the pain of it before the monster even touches him, and then-

It stops.

And in the abrupt but somehow ringing silence, Ashe-

He is flooded with understanding. Inundated by it. Knowledge burrows its way into his head, and it's even more painful than the endless building pressure and noise that had preceded it. He knows things a fourteen year old shouldn't, things nobody in the world should know. His ignorance has been cracked wide open, and clarity has been forced upon him. He sees the world as it is, as it was never meant to be seen, the very edges of existence laid out before him like the pages in a primary school book, and it's frightening to behold. He almost goes mad from the knowing.

But the very thing that thrusts knowledge upon him also prevents him from being overcome by it. He is both sheltered and shattered (and sheltered and shattered) by the universe that thrums through him like heat through a conductor. It is agony. It is a suspended hell. It is worse than watching his parents die in front of him. It is worse than dying himself. It is endless. It lasts five seconds.

It's over.

 

[Player Ashe Emerson has successfully Awakened.]

 

Ashe lurches forward, ducking under the monster's assault, but its spiked, prehensile tail lashes out at him quick as a viper as the bulk of it sails over his head. The very tip strikes him across the eye, from brow to cheek, and blood comes gushing forth in a torrent.

After what he has just endured, the pain is nothing to him. He does not even make a sound.

He merely closes the eye, climbs to his feet, and turns to regard the beast with his good eye. It had collided with the other beast in the kitchen, and they snap and snarl at each other in their anger and frustration, senselessly, maddeningly, as if they have not just torn a family apart, as if they are not in the process of finishing the job.

Expressionless, Ashe raises a hand and draws upon the power that had been crammed into a too-small shell, that seems to rattle around inside of him, raring to get out, to break free, like a prisoner pressed against its bars, begging for release. It was never meant to be contained like this. It was never meant to be known. But now that he knows and understands, he can never unknow. He can never pretend to not understand.

He had gotten a glimpse of the creation and eventual destruction of this world. He has witnessed his own birth and death. Ashe has looked into existence itself and found it looking back at him, and in that moment, he became one with it. Even if the connection was swiftly, if sloppily, severed, pieces were left behind, scars and scores of cognition. Of comprehension. And in gaining that insight, he has gained some modicum of control. 

So, too, can he create and destroy. So, too, can he affect change in the fabric of reality. So, too, can he force the universe to know and to understand just what it has laid itself bare and then chained itself to.

"Be gone," he commands, and the universe obeys.

 

[Player Ashe Emerson has activated Skill: "E͈̻̐̄R̓ͅR̛̝̖̥͈͂̆͘Ơ̠̻̚R̫͡ ̤̻̽̽4̭̦̣̞͎̈̑̏͊͠10̮͈̭̭͊͗̊̌͘ͅ:̡̠͒̈ ̮̺͔̦̳̿̑́͐͠G̮̣̪͌̔͡o̹̟̠͐̔͞n͇̥̎́e̛̖̟͠".]

 

And the monsters - all three of them - are erased. From vicious maw to deadly claw, every inch of them is wiped away, scrubbed clean like a particularly ugly stain. As if they had never existed in the first place. 

If it weren't for the remains on the ground and the destruction of two walls, he could almost think all of it a dream. A terrible, horrible dream. 

But even without the evidence of the short battle, Ashe knows that everything that just happened was all too real - and that things are only going to get worse from here. Because one of the truths he now knows is that this world was born from a web novel that begins and ends in tragedy, and Ashe is supposed to be its main villain and final boss.

If all goes as intended, he's going to be the guy who betrays humanity and ends the world.

 

[Player Ashe Emerson's Ability shall be named thus: Ẻ̲̝̬̭̣̻̐̓̑̄͠R͓̘͎͙̀͐͛͘R̜̫͈̦͑̔̂̾̿͟Ǫ̯̭̦͆̿̀̆͟͝R͈̬̥̞͛͛̀̕.]

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