The Whisper of the God of Love (Part 3)

“This is your love too, isn’t it, Master?”

Elka’s severed head, resting serenely in a pool of her own blood, looked as if it had just grasped some profound, universal truth. Her features relaxed into a look of pure, unadulterated bliss.

“As expected of you, Master. I tried so very, very hard, but you are always one step ahead of me in your understanding of true love.”

“What…”

Anne retreated until her back hit the cold wall, unable to hide the raw, primal terror in her heart.

In this world, could a person really remain alive, and talking, with only their head?

“Oh, this?”

As if sensing her shock and confusion, Elka’s head began to roll, tumbling through the blood until it came to a stop at Anne’s feet. It looked up, its eyes crinkling in a cheerful, girlish smile. “You don’t need to be afraid, Master. This is the power of love! With love, anything is possible!”

“Anything is possible… you mean the power of an Evil God,” Anne gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain calm. “To allow yourself to become this… are you truly content with this, Elka?”

“Content? Why wouldn’t I be? Isn’t this wonderful? I’ve never felt better in my entire life!”

“Alright now. Since you’ve shown me the true meaning of love with such sincerity, Master, I can’t possibly let your profound efforts go to waste.”

Elka’s mouth suddenly stretched into a wide, ferocious, and utterly insane grin, her eyes glittering with an unholy, demonic light. “Now, Master, it is your turn to feel my love!”

Gurgle. Gurgle.

The moment she finished speaking, her severed limbs, scattered across the floor, began to writhe and grow with a sickening, visible speed. But the limbs did not reattach themselves correctly. The severed, bleeding ends did not meet. Instead, from the raw, gaping wounds, deformed, twisted appendages began to sprout. Flesh and bone regenerated in a chaotic, cancerous bloom, sticking the old limbs and body parts together, stitching them into something that could no longer be called human… a “monster.”

The grotesque amalgamation picked up Elka’s head, but it did not place it back on her neck. Instead, it pushed the beautiful head into its own bloated, grotesque torso. The flesh writhed, swallowing the head whole. And just below where it had been absorbed, two other faces began to surface, their features twisted in silent agony.

Her parents’ faces.

The three faces, now embedded in the monster’s abdomen, created a sight so unspeakably vile it made one’s stomach churn.

A true family is always together.

“Ah, I can feel it… a love I have never felt before!”

A twisted, orgasmic flush appeared on Elka’s face. The nauseating monster extended a deformed limb with more than a dozen twitching fingers and lunged at Anne.

“I love you, Master!”

“Don’t touch me!” Anne hissed.

A massive scythe of solid metal condensed in her hand, and with a single, clean arc, she severed the attacking limb. At the same time, a metal cylinder shot forward, piercing the monster’s torso. Then, under her control, it instantly erupted into a thousand hair-thin needles, piercing through the flesh from the inside out. The monster now looked like a giant, grotesque, and very bloody cactus.

But even after being impaled from within, the monster’s vitality showed no signs of waning. Elka’s two eyes, though pierced by the metal spikes, continued to dart about restlessly.

“Ah… it seems it’s not enough…”

“This little bit of love… is not enough…”

“I need more, more…”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A sudden, heavy, and rhythmic pounding came from the window.

Crack.

With a loud, sharp sound, the window shattered.

Figures in simple villagers’ clothes began to pour in from outside. Through the gaps between them, Anne could see that in the quiet little fishing village, door after door was swinging open. Figures were stumbling out, walking with the lurching, mindless gait of the living dead. Their faces were pale, their expressions either numb or contorted in silent, weeping agony. And yet, on every single one of their lips was a blissful, ecstatic smile.

“I love you…” they all said, their voices a horrifying, monotonous chorus.

And then—

Like beached fish struggling to return to the sea, they writhed and crawled, squeezing through the broken window, desperately, eagerly throwing themselves into the monster’s expanding, pulsating flesh. Old limbs and new limbs twisted and merged together, forming an ever-growing, indescribable, and utterly obscene mass.

“Woof.”

Anne heard a familiar bark.

She turned and saw the naked man crawling in from the other room, step by agonizing step, toward the monster.

“No.”

Anne instinctively reached out, wanting to stop him.

But the man suddenly twisted his body, dodging her hand. He turned back.

“GRRR…”

He bared his teeth.

Like a real, feral dog, he was threatening a stranger who had gotten too close. And then, taking advantage of the moment she recoiled, he scrambled on all fours and leaped into the monster’s body.

“Ah, my darling, you’ve come,” Elka’s voice cried out in pure, unadulterated delight. “Let us… become one.”

“How… could this…”

Anne suddenly realized that there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t kill Elka, and she couldn’t stop what was happening. She could only watch as the monster in the room, fed by a steady, endless stream of fresh flesh, continued to expand, and expand, and expand, until it filled the entire room.

Just like Elka’s endless, all-consuming—

Love.

……

“Ah, the mountains.”

“Ah, the water.”

“Ah, the warm, gentle, early autumn sun.”

“Ah, and the sweet, sweet air of freedom.”

“This is the damn life.”

Under a clear, brilliant blue sky, by a crystal-clear, babbling river, Ewan sat on a large, flat rock, holding a homemade fishing rod, leisurely, blissfully enjoying this rare, precious moment of peace.

“No yandere maid chasing me, no disgusting gay perverts, and no need to worry about being poisoned, ambushed, or imprisoned. A life like this… is so beautiful. I wish it could last forever.”

“Maybe I should just become a hermit and live in the mountains.”

Ewan took a bite of a wild fruit he had picked from a tree. The sweet, clean taste filled his mouth, a sensation so blissful it almost brought him to tears.

“Ah, a bite!”

The simple, handcrafted fishing rod in his hand suddenly dipped heavily.

He tossed the fruit aside, took a deep, centering breath, and began a life-or-death battle of wits, strength, and pure, unadulterated dignity with the fish in the river.

The fish was quickly, and triumphantly, reeled in.

“If only I had a camera. I’d love to take a picture to commemorate this glorious victory.”

Looking at the large, several-pound fish in his hands, Ewan felt a deep, profound, and almost primal sense of satisfaction. For a fisherman, was there anything more exciting, more life-affirming, than landing a big one?

“I’ll roast it.”

After a moment of thought, Ewan decided the fish’s fate. A cheerful campfire was soon crackling, and the fish was skewered on a branch. Watching the flames kiss the flesh, the fragrant, mouth-watering aroma of cooking fish beginning to fill the air, Ewan’s heart was so full of happiness it was about to burst.

The years were quiet and good.

Ewan hummed a little tune, a wide, contented smile on his face.

“Right now,” he declared to the empty, beautiful wilderness, “I’m afraid even if a meteor came crashing down from the heavens, it couldn’t possibly shake my joyful, blissful heart.”

—The moment the words left his mouth, he heard a deafening, terrifying roar from not far away.

Something had suddenly, and very violently, flown through the air and crashed into the small hill behind him.

Smoke and dust filled the air.

“…” Ewan stiffly, mechanically, turned his head, his mouth twitching uncontrollably.

Seriously, Mr. Meteor? I was just kidding! You didn’t have to actually show up!