RED. As the scent of death lingers in his nose, everything has turned red.
He's barefoot and walking on a pile of human parts, his clothes tattered from the three-night fight, but he doesn't want to stop. He doesn't want to give up his desire to kill every last one of those devourer insects.
As the sun's first rays slowly rise into the sky, they reveal the scene of tragedy behind his fallen back; each unnamed corpse, shredded limbs like minced meats, covered in cruel sticky dampness, and the entire land is left nothing but ground filled with the provoking color of red.
At that moment, the last devouring insect attempting to flee has met his final cries as well as the s***h of his scythe.
18061819 awoke from a nap he had taken following a conversation with his fellow Human Code Subje
