Young Writers Society

This world is twisted. Five nations constantly struggle against each other in an attempt to bring each other down, each of them only thinking about their own personal agenda. Of course, as this happens the various people they put in their games as pawns are trampled by their gargantuan egos and tossed aside.

It is because of this that I have resolved myself to personally see to it that this endless war reaches its conclusion. Although I am but a mere soldier in one of their games right now, in the future it will be I who will—

“Ran, stop daydreaming and pay attention!” Sevard yells.

I quickly snap out of my daydream and turn to face him, my legs twisting out of its crossed position and stretching out towards him.

“What happened?” I ask.

A sigh of frustration escapes his lips. “If you would kindly look in front of you, there are currently people who we need to inspect.”

My eyes drift over his shoulder.

Two figures stand behind him, a boy and a girl. Both of them look…

Odd.

The boy’s head is adorned with several messy strands of purple hair. His pupils afflicted with a case of heterochromia—with the left and right being white and black respectively. He’s wearing an extremely bastardized version of formal clothing: Black pants and a black coat worn over a white button-up shirt with a red tie hanging loosely from the collar. A single silk black glove covers up his left hand.

On the other hand (rather, head), the girl’s long silver hair extends all the way down to her thighs. Though, due to her height, the length of her hair would, most likely, only extend down to a normal person’s waist. Her crimson pupils seem to emanate some odd glow, giving her eyes a constant red aura around them. She seems to be wearing the uniform of the kingdom’s magic university—Alyus Academy: a white blouse with a black skirt and stockings.

People don’t usually enter the Labyrinth without wearing several layers of armor. Even mages and rogues have some sort of protective gear. So, it’s pretty strange that these two aren’t.

Eh, whatever. I shouldn’t really care.

“So, what do you want me to do about this?” I ask as I turn back towards Sevard.

“I don’t remember the fucking protocol, man; no-one’s used this entrance in months,” he admits.

What makes you think I’ll remember it, then?!

Well I mean, I do remember it, but you don’t know that. Logically speaking, you shouldn’t have any reason to ask me to do this...

I sigh and stand up from the small wooden box I’ve been sitting on. My feet drag themselves through the grass and towards the pair.

Now that I think about it, how are these two related anyway? Are they friends? Siblings? Perhaps they’re classmates who decided to train together? Maybe they just stumbled across each other while wandering the Labyrinth? It doesn’t really matter I guess.

First things first: Ask for the identification form.

“May I please see the identification form you received?”

The boy’s expression contorts into one of confusion while the girl’s face droops slightly.

“What form?” the purple-haired boy asks.

Oh great. I’m dealing with an idiot.

“When you first entered the Labyrinth, the men at stationed at the checkpoint should have given you an identification form,” I calmly explain.

The boy’s eyes light up.

Phew, I thought I’d have to—

“Hey Sivera,” the boy says as he turns towards the silver-haired girl, “did you get one of those when you went in?”

The girl—apparently named Sivera—nods her head, “Well, I did. But, well...”

The boy’s face darkens slightly as her words trail off, leaving the four of us in an awkward silence.

“The papers?” I ask once more to get us back on topic.

The boy turns towards me again, returns to his neutral expression, and announces proudly, “Neither of us have any identification forms!”

Ah, it looks like I’ll have to dig through years of documentation after all.

“In that case, I’ll have to ask for your names, please.”

The boy’s stares me straight in the eyes. “Are you sure you need our names?”

What? Of course I do.

“I’m quite sure,” I say, my annoyance slightly leaking into my tone.

The boy smirks, puts his left gloved hand up to his left eye to cover it, and raises his right hand towards me, “I am Chun Seyshibyou, the Master Artificer, and the Fifth Demon Lord!” Chun raises his chin up. “I wouldn’t judge you if you were to fall to your knees right now.”

Hatriv, please take me away from this place right now.

I try my best to hide my frustration and I turn towards Sivera. “Your full name, please.”

She looks down at the ground, the embarrassment from standing next to this madman written clearly across her face. “My name is Sivera von Talon, 19th princess of the Kingdom of Talon.”

Ah, of course, this girl is the princess of the Kingdom of Talon, it makes sense...

As if I’d be expected to just say that.

You mean to tell me that one of the most powerful Mage-knights in the world is this little loli? I know that the world has clearly gone mad, but I never thought it was to this extent.

“Excuse me what?” I can’t help but ask.

Chun lightly whacks Sivera in the back of the head, “I told you to be careful about using your actual identity! Use the name I thought up for you!”

She angrily looks over towards him shouts, “Like hell I’m calling myself Esrelda Deth! Where did you even get that from?!”

“Hey, in The Lamentations of a Six-Thousand-Year Tragedy, Esrelda Deth is the most powerful necromancer in the world!”

“What even is that?!” she asks.

I too would like to know.

“Well we can discuss it later,” Chun announces as he quickly turns away from Sivera, “Right now, we’re going to have to kill all of them!”

Wait, what?

“I thought you said that we wouldn’t have to kill any innocents here?!” Sivera complains.

“Well,” a sarcastic tone accompanies Chun’s reply, “That would have been the case. If it weren’t for someone carelessly mentioning their real name!”

I attempt to interrupt, “Umm excuse me, what do you mean by kill every—“

“Well! It seems like today is your lucky day, you mongrels! All of you will get to witness the power of Chun Seyshibyou first-hand!” Chun yells out, interrupting my question.

A cylindrical black object appears in his left hand, his fingers wrapped around a small handle on the very end. He points it towards us.

“Now… die.”

A loud bang erupts from the object, a blinding flash of light engulfs my vision. My brains splatter out of the back of my skull.

This world is twisted.

---

Publisher's note:

This is not a creation of mine. This is the fiction of a friend, whom I will mask under the name "Gucci Geisha." I'm just the messenger. Please review this knowing this is his first and only serious literary project (that I know of), and that this takes heavy influence from the Japanese light novels, which are like anime shows but in literary form. This isn't so much an appeal to go easy on him as some information which can help you make a more helpful review.

Thanks for reading!