Operation S.A.D. Chapter 9: A Root Of True Evil

After minutes of trying to get the black off of his hands, the white man gave up, and succumbed to wielding whatever these black spots are.

He looked back at the corpse. A disgusting, dead body killed by another disgusting person. What more should be said for an hour such as this? The young Silhouette calmed down, and knelt over to the corpse. A shadowy body, now coloured in its own red, laying on the ground like a slashed carpet. Silhouette has killed many people before, but none of them had appearances such as this one.

Suddenly, and literally, the deceased body melted and evaporated in black smoke. The smoke rose to the air like the gigantic beanstalk from Jack And The Beanstalk. Amazed by the view, the young man looked at the rising smoke, slowly fading into the clear, windy sky. He was very intrigued. His hands reached for the sky, imagining that they could have a grasp on the smoke that completely disappeared.

The hands clenched tight.

Then, something appeared just above Silhouette. It didn’t just appear out of nowhere. It just… grew, and expanded. The man, surprised by this, dropped his fists, causing the thing to disappear. The thing, that was just there, was nothing but a simple dark portal. Leading to where? Silhouette didn’t know that.

Maybe, the disciple wasn’t attacking Silhouette. Maybe, it gave him a gift. A gift that could help him on an unlikely, unexpected road…

This was Silhouette. At a time when he didn’t wear that damned clown mask which its paintings have resembled his arch-victims. A time where he didn't wear a dark cloak. A time when he was surviving by himself, murdering anyone who were considered to be his enemies, further drowning himself in sorrowful madness. Things became a lot worse when he tried human flesh. He loathed it: he disliked it; he loved it, he absolutely adored it.

Young Silhouette looked at the brightening sky, and brainstormed an idea. He lifted his hands once again, summoning the dark portal for the second time. Hesitating at first, the man had mixed feelings, but he made more portals to cope with his newly found ability. He smiled. The results have satisfied him.

But he didn't stop just there. No. This was just the beginning: he craved more power. More, more and more.

The portals were still exposed in the open, so he took the chance to step through. This led him to entering new, intriguing worlds of different materials and different people. As he trekked, a feeling of hatred angst, and joy overwhelmed his mind, soul, and body, reacting to the catastrophic experiences he had earlier with the humans. A need for flesh, a need for unreasonable murders.

This young man agreed with the feeling, and continued to make massacres for many citizens. It didn't matter if he knew them or not, he just wanted to kill. As he did this, he distanced himself from the glorifying hands of salvation, turning murder into some sort of traditional art. From tearing out organs in a forest, to crushing bodies under buildings, this man became an effect of armageddon. During his lifetime, he sought for more power, and, somewhat, stole them from the deceased bodies of his victims, all of them at the cost of his face. Despite his inability to develop them, he figured out strange ways to combine them for combat. The more power he gained, the worse his obsession for blood became.

Ultimately, he grew hatred for the universes he scavenged, knowing that everything can't and won't be perfect and loving. Wishing for nothing and bringing devastation to everything, he became something people never expected, never believed in, never knew.

He became the Genocide Messiah.

Now, we come back to the present, where we see him laying on the soft grass. Feeling numb, the messiah took three breathers. After having a well-recovering rest, the man steadily got up.

"I think it's time...", he thought to himself, "A final showdown between me and the last Observians..."

To Be Continued...

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