Superior

Source of Calamity

<In a small tribe in Vacuo>

"Push, Aran! He's almost here! Our son is almost here! Just a bit more!", a man in simple clothing could be seen holding his wife's hand, trying to help while the midwife was tending to her.

With a final agonized scream,  the child was brought into the world. The old midwife took one look at the child and turned away from the father, hiding the child.

The happy father was puzzled. "Esteemed Lady, why do you hide him? Let me see my son!"

The midwife tried to hide it, but the father caught a glimpse of the child anyway. The child had none of his characteristics. Or his wife's. 

Not their dark skin, as the child was pale as bone. 

Not their black hair, for the child had tufts of  pale blue hair on it's scalp. 

Not their hazel or green eyes, but an unnerving shade of gold was visible as the child opened its eyes.

The father felt his world crumble around him. "A-Aran? What's the meaning of this? I-I must be tired. Yes, that's it. When I look again, it will be my child looking back. Yes that's exactly it."

He looked again, and the child remained foreign to his eyes. 

Aran was shouting frantically despite her exhaustion, about how she  had been faithful, and how she had never slept with another. 

The midwife pleaded frantically for him to calm down.

All their words fell on deaf ears. The man strangled his wife to death, and then smashed the head of the village's elder.  

He looks at the child, the testament of his wife's unfathfulness, gritting his teeth. He shouted, "YOU! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE BORN?! IF YOU WEREN"T HERE, ARAN WOULD HAVE BEEN ALIVE."

His misplaced (?) rage led him to grab the child by the leg, before slamming it on the ground. It's head bursts open, showering him in the brains of his child. He kept smashing the child on the hard ground, not noticing that the child healed from every wound, the moment they were made.

Finally, the man fell to the ground, dropping the gore covered child in his hand. He simply sat there, the weight of what he had done finally catching up to him.

As he sat there, broken, a tiny voice was heard, "How did it feel, Haye? Killing your wife? The one who loved you with everything she had."

He stammered, "N-No! It's not my fault! S-She was unfaithful! That bitch!"

The voice is heard again. "Really? How would she have done that? During the day, she tended to you and your parents, doing the chores required, went to fetch water, and worked in the healer's tent, and at night, she remained with you. Every year. She followed this routine faithfully.

 You know, no such foreigner bearing these characteristics has appeared. You knew she was innocent. You were aware she did everything for you, and yet, you killed her."

Haye was breaking down, "T-That can't, That's not- But-"

"You enjoyed it didn't you Haye? When the love of your life begged for her own? You killed an old lady, an esteemed elder of the tribe. You don't deserve death, Haye. "

"You deserve much worse."

Haye didn't notice that the child 'corpse' he had thrown earlier, was standing eerily, now looking older, about three or four. 

It whispered in his ear, "Murderer. Kin killer."

Haye had gone limp, staring blankly into nothing. 

The child grabbed his head from behind and said, "Don't worry Haye. You will atone for it."

Then, it giggled. It's hair changed, to Haye's lustrous black. His eyes to his Aran's green. "Take a good look. This is what I was going to look like. However, I felt that it would be too boring that way. You were great entertainment for me, Haye."

The child reaches through Haye's body, and directly touched his soul. First, he removed the excess anger he had generated in Haye's soul beforehand. Then, he changed the structure of his body, through his soul.

Haye tried to scream, but couldn't as his throat turned into his stomach. His entire body cracked and lengthened . 

In his place, stood a grotesque being with long gangly limbs, a tiny head, and a mouth that stretched down to it's stomach. 

"Now, Haye. Before your end, entertain me again."

The monster screeched, before rampaging through the tribe.

A child, looking around five years of age, walked away from the screams of people being slaughtered by their fellow tribesman.

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.

.

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"How fun."