It has now been roughly one month since the incident at Grimhaven.
I am doing better.
Slightly.
Or perhaps more accurately—
I am simply too exhausted to remain emotionally unstable at full intensity.
Disturbingly, I appear to have been the only person who suffered psychological damage from the entire experience.
Miss DeLuna recovered almost immediately.
Spathian somehow became even happier.
Even High Admiral Kael Dravenholt—the man who mobilized five hundred elite soldiers toward what we believed was a supernatural criminal fortress—spent the aftermath laughing like he had just attended a festival.
This remains deeply concerning to me.
Do people understand how expensive military mobilization actually is?
Five hundred trained soldiers require food, water, transport organization, supply distribution, route stabilization, communication management, rest rotation, equipment maintenance—
and after all that effort Uncle Kael simply laughed until tears came out of his eyes.
He commands the Leviathan Fleet.
He should understand logistics better than anyone alive.
I no longer know what constitutes normal behavior anymore.
Spathian has spent most of this month assisting Grimhaven’s “defense infrastructure.”
That phrase sounds much more dangerous than the reality.
In practice this mostly means increasingly elaborate theatrical machinery.
The explosion systems have been upgraded.
The artificial lightning generators now synchronize with drumbeats.
The smoke projectors apparently produce “emotionally layered fog density.”
There is now also a massive skull installed above the central citadel wall.
Its eyes glow red.
Smoke exits through its nostrils.
And every several hours it releases loud villainous laughter across the dunes.
According to Spathian, the internal mechanism still requires “structural refinement.”
Not one part of these systems is actually capable of harming anyone.
I genuinely do not understand how this city survived long enough to become politically recognized.
Yet somehow—
it did.
Still, I successfully negotiated payment terms for Spathian’s engineering work with Lord Nyctharios directly.
So at minimum the situation remains economically productive.
Miss DeLuna, unfortunately, has become significantly worse.
I truly do not know how to describe what she has become inside this city.
The League of Eternal Darkness is objectively a theatrical club formed by emotionally damaged former outcasts pretending to be catastrophic supervillains.
That should have been the end of the matter.
Instead Miss DeLuna somehow integrated herself into the organization completely.
People now genuinely refer to her as:
“The Fourth Pillar.”
And somehow everyone says this with complete sincerity.
Several weeks ago I witnessed something so catastrophically embarrassing that I still physically suffer remembering it.
Lord Nyctharios and Miss DeLuna were inspecting reconstruction efforts throughout the damaged districts after the earthquake.
Workers were clearing rubble.
Children carried water buckets.
Several homes were still partially collapsed.
Then suddenly—
without warning—
Lord Nyctharios climbed dramatically onto the tallest pile of rubble nearby.
His black cape exploded behind him theatrically despite the wind barely existing.
Then he raised both arms toward the sky and shouted:
“Citizens of Grimhaven!!!
Behold!
Behold your city transformed into a graveyard of dreams!
Broken stone!
Collapsed homes!
Hope buried beneath ruin itself!!!
But I, Nyctharios the Unraveling Eclipse, Sovereign of Eternal Darkness, proclaim this night:
DO NOT WEEP!
DO NOT SURRENDER!
This darkness is not punishment!
This darkness is a calling!
A calling for us to rise from the ashes!
A calling for us to become darker!
Stronger!
More terrifying than ever before!!!
Lift these stones with trembling hands!
Strike these nails with broken hammers!
Rebuild these shattered walls with hearts already destroyed!!!
Because today…
we are not merely rebuilding a city!
We are constructing a monument of darkness that will make the outside world tremble in fear!!!
RISE, CHILDREN OF DARKNESS!!!
Today we prove…
that even from the most ruined ashes imaginable…
we can still give birth to eternal darkness!!!”
The workers immediately started cheering.
Actually cheering.
And before I could emotionally recover—
Miss DeLuna stepped forward in full armor beside him.
Full armor.
Then she raised one hand dramatically and declared:
“I am The Light Bearer.
Not gentle light.
Not warm light.
I am the light that burns within ruins themselves.
The light that forces you to see…
how beautiful you are when broken.
Look at your wounded hands!
Look at your backs bent beneath burden!
Look at your eyes still burning even while this city became ash itself!!!
That is my light.
Do not rebuild this city because you fear death.
Rebuild it because you still dare to live.
Rebuild it because even after the world destroys everything…
we still stand and say:
‘We are not finished yet!’”
At this point several workers began crying emotionally.
CRYING.
Then Miss DeLuna raised her arm even higher and continued:
“Today—
let my light burn away your doubt!
Let my light burn away your despair!
Let my light consume every thought that tells you to surrender!!!
Because even within the deepest darkness imaginable…
I will stand there…
and ignite a flame that will never fade!!!”
The crowd erupted afterward.
Actually erupted.
Tools raised into the air.
People shouting.
Children cheering.
One elderly man collapsed emotionally against a barrel.
Meanwhile I stood there wondering whether I had finally suffered permanent neurological damage.
Even worse—
Miss DeLuna looked genuinely happy.
Not manipulated.
Not hypnotized.
Not corrupted.
Happy.
I think that may be the most psychologically devastating part of all this.
Caravan Master also managed to emotionally damage me despite not even being physically present.
For an entire month I believed the underground structure beneath the citadel contained illegal relics, forbidden weapons, narcotics, smuggling routes, or some catastrophic secret hidden from continental authorities.
No.
According to Momon, the underground vault contains mostly wine.
An unreasonable amount of wine.
Entire barrel collections from multiple regions across the continent.
Apparently Caravan Master invested in long-term underground storage because the temperature beneath the citadel remains naturally stable year-round.
“This is investment,” Momon explained proudly.
Investment.
I nearly lost consciousness.
I think the most exhausting part of all this is realizing Grimhaven functions because everyone involved commits fully to the performance.
Not partially.
Not ironically.
Fully.
Even their trade negotiations sound like apocalypse rituals.
Yesterday I overheard Popo demanding additional lumber shipments by declaring:
“The Abyss demands more sacrificial wood.”
She meant scaffolding materials.
I am tired.
Truly tired.
At this point writing no longer reduces my stress.
It merely transforms stress into documented evidence.
Komentar
Posting Komentar