Chapter 19: More Work.

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"If there is no struggle, there is no progress." — Frederick Douglass. ℯ

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"I’ve made a lot of progress," he said, as he remembered his earlier performance. "So if I keep working, I will get better."

But then, as he was removing his trousers, he chuckled and said, "Who knows? Maybe I didn’t get better because of hard work. Maybe I’ve only gotten used to the taste of food like Tessa said might happen."

When he was done undressing, he dropped into bed and lay on his back.

The worm in his mind was unusually silent. It wasn’t clamoring for food like before. It seemed content to make him feel hunger, instead of badgering him for food.

He appreciated the silence because the lack of mental disturbance and the fact that he was exhausted made it easy for sleep to encroach on his consciousness.

As his eyelids drooped, he thought, ’I should learn how to become a Tyrant.’

His thoughts slowed down from then on. He thought less, and the few thoughts he had formed were slower than usual.

His last thought was why Tessa had a scar on her face if she could heal all her injuries. He thought this was important because he didn’t have any scars despite all of the beatings he took from her.

In fact, all of the scars he had before his body transformed had also healed. Plus, he hadn’t seen any other Apostles with scars. So he was confused by the scar on her face.

But he didn’t dwell on this too much. His consciousness faded to black as he fell asleep.

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There was darkness for an indeterminate amount of time. Then there was light.

The light was golden, and it came from a black star. When the black star fell on him, his entire existence began to unravel bit by bit.

He felt every moment of it. But perhaps the worst part was that the pain seemed to last forever.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" he screamed hoarsely.

Awakening returned with pain. Fortunately, the pain receded like the low tide, allowing him to recover his senses.

As he looked around, he saw that he was on a bed in an unfamiliar room.

"Where am I?" he asked, confused.

Then he saw the clothes draped across the nail hangers. The clothes reminded him of what had happened the day before.

As memories of yesterday’s event rushed into his mind, he also became aware of something in his mind, crying and saying, "Too much. It hurts. Stop it."

The whines of the worm in his mind seemed to add the final piece of the puzzle to the mystery of his current situation.

"That’s true. I’m an Apostle now, and there’s going to be restraint training today," he said, rising from bed.

In his underwear, he walked over to the door and saw a Squire there, standing guard.

He said to the Squire, "I need to have a bath."

The Squire didn’t say anything, so he shrugged and went in the direction of the bathhouse. The Squire followed him diligently, always one step behind him and with his hand on the sword.

His day started like that. He bathed while a servant cleaned his room. After cleaning his room, the servant took away his clothes to wash them.

After his bath, he got a new set of clothes. Then they ushered him to the mess hall for food.

This time, he didn’t lose control when he smelled the aroma of meat before entering the log cabin. He also didn’t lose control when he saw all of the weak mortals.

This made him smile and think, ’Look who is well-behaved today.’

’No talking,’ the worm said, shushing him.

But Alex shook his head as he thought, ’Unfortunately, I can’t. I feel like thinking loudly to myself today. If it causes mental pain, so be it. At least, now you know how I feel when you mess with my head.’

The worm seemed to be struggling with today’s nightmare and wasn’t in the mood for mental hijinks. It didn’t even compel Alex to eat everything in sight.

In exchange for being so reasonable, it only asked for mental silence. Unfortunately, Alex refused to give it even this much. He even began singing in his mind.

He hummed as he sang, ’Needless to say, I keep it in check. She was a bad, bad, nevertheless (yeah). Callin’ it quits now baby, I’m a wreck (wreck). Crash at my place, baby, you’re a wreck (wreck).’

’Then you’re left in the dust. Unless I stuck by ya. You’re the sunflower. I think your love would be too much. Or you’ll be left in the dust. Unless I stuck by ya. You’re the sunflower. You’re the sunflower.’

Each note and every line was like a hammer smashing into the worm. It cried again and again, clamoring for silence like a drunk roommate in his head. But Alex seemed to enjoy it, so he continued.

He was still singing as he sat at the table in front of Tessa. Before him was another human corpse. The sight of all of that meat riled up the worm, motivating it to stir. Soon, his tongue was salivating, and his stomach was twisting with hunger pangs.

"You’re early. That’s good," Tessa said to him.

"I am not so sure it’s a good thing," he said, trying to look at her and only her.

He was trying, but his normal eyes wandered over to the corpse once in a while. As for his extra pair of eyes, they were perpetually glued to the table.

"No, it is a good thing," Tessa said, shaking her head. "I know it feels bad because you’ll have to spend more time battling the temptation. But it is good since it will fortify your mind."

"Either that or I succumb, right?" he asked, chuckling.

"Right. This could be bad for you," she said, nodding in agreement. "But the outcome will depend on you and how strong your will is."