Beneath The Surface

Act 31 - You didn't do anything wrong.

Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia

Astaroth's POV
Where am I... Am I dead?

Smog didn't fill her lungs. Her head didn't buzz incessantly. Neither did she hear the angry cusses of a certain old man. For once, her mind was truly empty. She's left to her own thoughts and only hers. Astaroth didn't have to share it with some traitorous symbiote and unhinged couple. So that must mean she's dead, right? The fire must have incinerated her to ashes, right???

Astaroth opened her eyes, coming face to face with an open grassy field. The sun showered its warm rays, heating up her cold fingers. Beneath her, grass swayed in the cooling breeze. It's been a long time since she last saw this familiar scene. Recently, all her nightmares have been about a certain detestable night. This must be fate finally pitying her. Since she had completed her revenge in such an immaculate way, it had decided to grace her with an illusion of this peaceful period.

Dying isn't so bad.

Tidying her tousled black hair, Astaroth whirled around in search of her faith. She wanted to see her brilliant smile again. Not the pale expression.

"Asta."

She instantly reacted to the voice, dashing straight into her sister's open arms, "Sister, I did it!"

Unlike her nightmares, Sister Luna was still strong and energetic. Her complexion was fair, her lips a healthy pink. Her hands no longer felt chilly. It was toasty. Even warmer than the boring sun. To her, her sister was the real sun. Only with her presence would she finally be able to feel warmth and the pleasant emotion called happiness. It felt so good. Her fingers tingle as euphoria coursed through her veins.

"Sister, I finally took back your mana core! I did it! I crippled that bastard! So praise me!" Astaroth joyously reported, happily nuzzling her shoulder.

Oh how she had missed her warm embrace. Her scent. Her soft touches. Everything. She had missed her so much. If only Astaroth had the beautiful mana core to show for.

"Sister, please believe me. I really did snatch it back. Praise me. Praise me," Astaroth begged like a naive child.

She wanted her sister to compliment her. Say how good she was. How obedient she was. Like this, she won't have to feel that debilitating sense of guilt and regret again. She wanted release. As long as her goddess acknowledged her efforts, she could die happy and content.

Her sister smiled sadly and caressed her head, "But you hurt yourself in the process."

"No, no, no. It doesn't count. I didn't feel pain. So I'm not hurt. It's just my body. Anyway, I'm dead now. So it doesn't matter. I can be with you."

The goddess only shook her head, touching her cheeks tenderly, "You don't feel pain, but I do. Every time I see you hurt, I feel pain. I feel sad."

Astaroth was tongue-tied. She couldn't argue with that. Because her sister did indeed say this before. And Astaroth even promised to take care of herself. She had broken her promise. Just like that traitor. Astaroth fidgeted uncomfortably as her hands grew clammier. She looked down at her feet, terrified of seeing her goddess's disappointed look. Did she mess up again?

"I..."

"Did you argue with your friends?" her sister suddenly changed topics, and to one she's even more uncomfortable talking about.

"Huh? I don't know. I don't understand. I have no friends. Who told you this?"

I will fucking skin that piece of shit alive!

But her goddess didn't reply, only continued grilling Astaroth for answers, "You argued with Akali, didn't you?"

"N-No..." she stuttered guiltily.