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(TATB) Ch 28: The Ones That Live In A Fantasy, Enter Viral of The Crimson Spear!
🕑 Added 2025-10-24 21:56:23 +0000 UTCAnother Day Later
(Viral)
The tent was silent, shrouded in darkness. The only sound was the slow, measured breathing of the man sitting cross-legged on the thin, tattered mattress that served as his bed. His bare chest rose and fell steadily, muscles tense even in his stillness. His red Mohawk was slicked back, perfectly styled despite the lack of light, the deep crimson strands contrasting against his pale skin.
Viral liked the dark. He liked the solitude, the quiet hum of his own thoughts filling the space like an unspoken symphony. It was the one place where he could exist without interruption, without the idiocy of the others clawing at his patience.
But, of course, peace was a fleeting thing.
"Viral! Viral!"
The shrill, panicked voice cut through the silence like a jagged knife. His lips curled in irritation. His fingers twitched.
The moment the tent flap was thrown open, flooding the space with dull, flickering torchlight, Viral extended a hand. A deep crimson glow flickered to life in his palm, shaping itself into the sharp form of a spear.
Before the man who had barged in could utter another word, the weapon shot forward, piercing his shoulder with a sickening shlick.
The man let out a strangled yell, staggering back, his hand immediately clutching the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, dark against the faint red glow of the spear.
Viral tilted his head, his golden eyes barely visible in the dim light. "Don't be so loud," he muttered, his voice smooth but laced with a warning. He lifted his hand to stroke his temple, as if trying to ease the irritation of being disturbed.
The wounded man groaned, stumbling as he tried to steady himself. "I-I'm sorry—"
"Why are you here?" Viral cut in, his tone bored, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. He never liked to be interrupted, and whoever did so had better have a damn good reason.
The man swallowed hard, clearly weighing the pain of his wound against the risk of angering Viral further. "Vu," he finally gasped out. "Vu and his gang. They've returned."
A beat of silence. Then—
"Oh..."
A small smirk tugged at the corner of Viral's lips. His fingers curled around the spear's shaft, and with a sharp yank, he pulled it free from the man's shoulder. The man let out another pained cry, nearly collapsing, but Viral barely acknowledged it.
Instead, he stood up, stretching his arms above his head as though he had just been roused from a deep sleep. His smirk grew wider, his golden eyes gleaming.
***
(Vu)
The moment we stepped into the colony, the air around us shifted. At first, there was silence—just the echo of our footsteps through the dimly lit tunnels. Then, as the first few faces recognized us, the quiet shattered into a wave of voices.
"Vu?!"
"Nemu! Sawyer!"
"They're alive!"
People rushed toward us, hands reaching out, touching my shoulders, my arms, as if to make sure we were real. Some were crying, others were laughing, but every single one of them looked relieved.
"We thought you were dead!" someone shouted.
I gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sorry it took so long."
Nemu, standing beside me, nodded. "We didn't mean to worry anyone."
Sawyer just gave a grin, letting out a breath as people clapped him on the back. For a brief moment, there was something warm in the air—something we hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
But it didn't last.
The voices started to quiet. The joy faded into something heavier.
Then, someone spoke up from the crowd. "Did you find anything? Food? Water?"
I felt my throat tighten.
The question hung in the air, and all at once, the excitement dimmed. The people around us—people who had been cheering only seconds ago—were now staring, waiting for an answer.
I exhaled, taking a step forward. "No," I admitted. "We came back empty-handed."
Disappointment settled over them like a thick fog. Some looked down, others clenched their fists.
"But," I continued, my voice stronger this time, "we brought something even greater than food."
A few people scoffed. Others frowned in confusion.
"What could be greater than food?" someone muttered.
"Hope," I said.
There was a pause. A skeptical silence.
I could feel their doubt, their exhaustion, their unwillingness to believe in something as fragile as hope.
Nemu stepped forward. "We found something," she said, her voice firm. "A place where we can be safe. Where we can build a life."
"A sanctuary," Sawyer added.
The murmuring started again.
"A sanctuary?"
"What are they talking about?"
I nodded. "There's a Brob. Her name is Skylar. She's not like the others. She's different."
"Different?" a voice scoffed. "In what way? She still towers over us, doesn't she, s-she's still a Brob."
I ignored the doubt, pressing on. "She doesn't want to hurt us. She wants to protect us. She's given us a home—a real home, one where we don't have to scavenge for scraps and hide underground. She wants to build a civilization for us, a place where we don't have to live in fear."
The murmuring continued, but this time, it wasn't just doubt. There was something else beneath it—curiosity. A flicker of something that hadn't been there before.
Nemu stepped in, her expression serious. "There's no future for us here. We all know it. We've been scraping by, hiding in the shadows, running from Brobs, fighting for whatever little we can steal. But it doesn't have to be that way. With Skylar, we can actually live."
The crowd was still hesitant, but I could see it—some of them were considering it. Some of them were daring to imagine something better.
Then—
Laughter.
Loud, mocking laughter that sent chills down my spine.
The crowd parted, and my heart clenched.
"Viral," I whispered.
There he was, standing at the back of the crowd, arms crossed, a smirk stretched across his face. His red Mohawk was slicked back, his golden eyes glowing with amusement. He stepped forward, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier.
"Hope?" Viral chuckled. "You really came back preaching hope?"
He laughed again, shaking his head.
"Brobs that are friendly? Brobs that we can trust?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Has there ever been such a thing?"
Behind him, his men appeared, slinking out of the shadows like vultures drawn to a fresh corpse. They all wore the same smug, knowing expressions. Like they were enjoying a joke we hadn't figured out yet.
"You live in a fantasy, Vu," Viral sneered. "Such things have no merit here."
A deep red glow flickered in his hand, and in an instant, a spear of crimson light formed in his grasp.
The sight of it made my blood run cold.
Viral rested the spear against his shoulder, tilting his head. "Let's get one thing straight," he said, his smirk never wavering. "This colony doesn't need dreamers. It needs survivors. And the moment you start believing in fairy tales..."
His grip on the spear tightened.
"That's the moment you die."
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