The Tale of Junazahite: Dance with the Devil

Chapter Three: The Boiling Blood

3. Junazahite, a being of immense power, holds the fate of humanity in its hands. The salvation or annihilation of people lies at Junazahite's discretion, intricately tied to the sincerity of mankind. We hold the power to determine our fate, choosing between the path of redemption or abomination.

John would give anything just to have one moment for himself to think. As always, he spent his time at work watching the Absorber's temperature. If it went high, it would explode and waste so much water and material. If this ever happened, he would be sentenced to death.

Mr. Nial was celebrating, singing religious songs, and forcing others to be as joyful as he was. It was really offensive, ignoring all the deaths on the Founding Day, but he was too thrilled about Junazahite's rise to behave. John wondered if Mr. Nial knew anything about the government wanting to kill Junazahite. If he was aware of it, he was perfectly hiding it.

John tried not to think about what had happened in the morning. He had been woken up by his mother's screaming. He believed he would never forget those haunting sounds. While Monia moaned and screamed in pain, she was calling for her daughter, her tears making her wounds burn. David couldn't bear to change her bandages; instead, John did. He didn't want to admit it, but her face was monstrous. He felt guilty that he didn't want to look at her, his mother! Life was actually hell, and he had no idea how to survive this. Maybe he had to end it. Perhaps this was the best way to solve everything.

"Don't be so grumpy!" Mr. Nial said to John, smiling widely. He had been sweating from the continuous walking, singing, and clapping. Truth be told, he danced a little bit, too, not caring about wasting his body water. He must have thought that Junazahite would come and give them as much water as they wanted, bringing back the Earth as it used to be.

"How?" John murmured, trying to control himself, his hands clenched into fists, trying to stop shaking.

Everybody was furious, even the religious ones. They all had lost one or two relatives. Some of them were injured, but they all had to go to work. The government never let them rest.

John wasn't sure if it was him or if the atmosphere was really thicker and tenser. He felt like the workers were ready to burst. The smell of body odor mixed with warm oxygen had made all of them impenitent.

"Junazahite has risen!" Mr. Nial screamed out of joy.

"Screw him!" some of the workers barked.

John couldn't recognize who had the audacity to say such a thing. Thankfully, neither could Mr. Nial.

"Who said that?" Mr. Nial shouted from the top of his lungs, his face turning redder. "Which one of you bastards said that?"

John could only see his silhouette in the dark room. Everything seemed unreal and also dangerous. John stared at Reymond, horrified. He looked back, bruises and scars all over his body from yesterday's accident. John glanced at the other workers who had stopped working. This wasn't leading to something good at all.

"We all have lost people, sir," John mumbled fast, worried, his heart beating relentlessly. "Some of us can't think properly right now."

"Oh, shut up!" he snarled, clenching his jaws. "Do you think I care?"

He walked toward John, his face so close to John's that their noses could easily touch each other. John observed him and found nothing but hate. How much he hated him couldn't be described. The fear was gradually fading away, and loathing replaced itself.

"Your lives are worthless," he whispered angrily. "They deserved to die! They weren't worthy enough to see Junazahite's future world!"

Anger. Hatred. Warth. Bloodthirsty. Madness. John couldn't think straight anymore. All he wanted was agony for Mr. Nial and everybody like him. The desire was irresistible.