Horror Game Developer: My games aren't that scary! Chapter 595: Exposing the Madness [4]

"Hahaha."

I didn’t mean to do it deliberately.

Somehow, it happened anyway—I exploded into laughter right before the whole world. Leon’s expression struck me as utterly hilarious.

But no.

This still fell short for me.

Paimon was the one in control, not truly me. Seeing him that way brought satisfaction, yet it wasn’t really me.

My chuckles didn’t go on much longer once I sensed every eye in the arena fixed on me.

Dabbing at my eye’s corner, I simply gazed at Leon.

He glared right back, though his face showed anything but calm.

In the quiet hush, murmurs began to rise.

"No way."

"It can’t be real. There’s no way..."

"Why’s it turning out like this?"

"It’s fake. Gotta be a lie."

The whispers grew, fueling my urge to laugh once more. Though I couldn’t see myself, I must’ve looked strained holding it in.

Laughter couldn’t continue though—the video kept playing.

The view switched angles again.

With Leon stepping away from the group, suddenly it focused on me.

Arena noise dropped sharply, voices murmuring, ’Hold on, how’s this happening? Wasn’t he dead?’

I wondered the same, but truth was, I’d never actually perished.

—A trick. Right... it has to be some trick.

Everyone witnessed my mental collapse right there.

—I won’t die. I refuse to die.

I saw myself yelling at the dangling corpse before me.

—No chance in hell!!

People’s gazes toward me shifted noticeably. My squad mates eyed me with concern as I glued my stare to the screen. Back then, it all blurred together for me.

I recalled little of it, or rather, I’d wiped it clean from my mind.

Finally, the view returned to the outdoor celebration.

Esteban and Drake showed up again, indulging in wines and treats. They appeared drunk, lost in bliss, as Paimon neared me—his voice booming everywhere.

—Why fight so hard? Don’t you crave a life free from that tormenting illness? Right now, you’re liberated. No more chains from the disease.

Details got skipped, but my illness’s harsh reality remained exposed.

My mouth parted, yet words failed me.

—You’re finally seeing clearly, Seth. I’m thrilled you grasp the truth.

—...Let go. No more pointless resistance.

—Enjoy yourself.

Paimon’s gentle tone echoed around, making many swallow hard while staring dazed at the display. Absent in person, his murmurs still pierced the viewers.

Like arrows hitting their deepest cravings.

That’s Paimon’s eerie power. He never dragged me there by force.

He never compels anyone.

He... merely persuades them to remain.

Next, I lifted my wine glass, toasting with the crowd. Revelry erupted, laughter ringing out. Gasps filled the air then; the stares at me grew more piercing.

It intensified as they saw each following exchange, watching me gradually shed my name and self. Some yelled, ’It’s so clear! Why don’t you see it!?’, others hid their faces.

Yet those outbursts soon quieted.

—Spurt!

Especially when I gouged out my eye.

Sound vanished. Silence so deep a pin could echo. Some grasped my reasons, others viewed me as insane.

But that was merely the beginning.

Shortly after, I slashed my wrists.

Paimon’s voice floated through the stadium for all to hear.

—Why flee now? You were so at ease moments ago. What drives you from this haven? Does death itself terrify you?

His tone stayed soothing, irresistibly alluring.

Yet I resisted his lures every time.

Each round, I offered up something fresh.

—Akh!

My agonized cries blasted across the arena, causing flinches everywhere.

Some shrieked.

"T-that’s... Squad Leader."

Anxious murmurs from nearby reached me, but I remained still, eyes locked on my on-screen torment.

Viewing it from outside felt strangely detached.

Cracks soon marred my face.

—But will they truly falter without you?

—...They won’t.

Ah...

This scene stuck vivid in my memory as I pressed my lips tight.

As anticipated, not every ’gift’ proved beneficial. Paimon skipped plenty, but preserved key parts in the clip.

A King like him knew nearly all about me.

He grasped exactly what would unsettle my comrades.

—You know it, don’t you?

—I know.

I sensed a faint change from Joanna and the rest, yet avoided their eyes.

My focus stayed on the screen.

—Ariel handles what you can’t. She’s far better at guiding the squad. Under her, they’ll soar beyond your limits. So, what’s your role?

—Will anyone mourn your absence?

—No.

—Then why persist in the fight?

Then—

—That’s wrong. I’ve... never worried about them without me.

I shut my eyes briefly.

’What’s the point of airing this? How ties to the Congress?’

Eyes reopening, I fixed back on the screens.

Brutality escalated from there.

Fingers. Toes. Arm. Leg.

Hunger.

Starvation.

Step by step, I relived the horrors I inflicted on myself.

Though spanning hundreds of days, editing compressed it into mere seconds.

Still, that was tons of footage...

Indeed, this seemed the genuine resolution.

Probably, time dilation got stripped away.

It hardly mattered.

Watching my self-inflicted agony, I’d already noted the arena’s hush. Stifling stillness enveloped all.

Only my speaker screams pierced it, fading eventually. Later scenes turned gruesome, eyes averted by some.

Protests even arose.

"How much longer?"

"Stop it now."

"Make it—"

It halted.

The footage ended.

Blackness swallowed everything.

Briefly, at least.

Cameras reactivated from a new viewpoint.

Blood sprayed once more.

Not mine this time.

Drake’s—as a shadow plunged a blade into him.

"Eurk——!!"

His choked cry echoed, body convulsing. Gasps rose, then silence as the figure sharpened: me, looming over Drake, bloody hand sealing his mouth.

—Time... to awaken. Ke...

A raspy, fragile voice filled the air.

—...I’ve got it now. Kek... How to conquer this.

That marked the instant all beheld it.

The insanity.