The True Archbishop of Envy (Re:Zero)

RE: Weakness.

AN: Welcome the the rewriting phase of The True Archbishop of Envy. Now I would just edit all the chapters of my rewrites but that wouldn't be fun at all would it? Plus, those chapters really help me reflect on my growth as a writer, it's fun to read them sometimes. (To new readers, I would advise to start the story from here, but if you want to read ahead the archived chapters ahead of this one are still somewhat relative to the story.) Also, feel free to comment! I really like hearing people's thoughts on my stories so any news is good news lol.  

Chapter One: 

Somewhere far beyond my reach of perception, a voice resounds through my head. 

"First, you must face your fragility."

*******

CLACK! CLACK!

There's a noise outside my cell. Chains rubbed against the ground, scraping at the rubble and trash on the dirty floor. The sound blares into my eardrums; it feels like someone clawed a chalkboard. It clamors against the sound of slow footsteps approaching, slothfully walking down the staircase and into the dark hallway. The person says nothing in their approach; they simply tease whomever their victim is today. Through the tiny hole in my doorway, I can see their shadow cast in front of the light. It was a taller person than I was expecting.

The sounds stopped, and the light I saw from my doorway turned black. They're here, in front of my door. Subtly but silently, I hear a sigh of relief from the person in the cell next to me. Their chains drop, and they suddenly fall completely silent. My brow furrows.

Over and over again, many many times over, we repeat mistakes over and over, correcting them more and more. I died, died, then died again, and before I knew it, I started losing count. I was disemboweled, stabbed in the back, frozen, burned—even forms of death I'd rather not say even now. I knew suffering. I knew what it was like to feel the life ooze out of your body. My personification of death was that of an old friend; he was someone I knew and trusted, but not exactly someone I longed for. But on that floor, that cold, hastily placed cement, I came to know someone else worse than death.

The door opens.

Shaking, pleading, and groveling, my body twisted into a kneeling position at the person's feet. What could possibly hinder a person from merely salivating at sadistic torture? What could possibly humanize a person who sought the pleasure of dehumanization? I didn't know, so I did what my body told me. I kissed the rocky, tasteless gravel beneath their feet. Maybe in some universe unknown to me they would show mercy seeing my benevolence. I knew it wouldn't work, but this was all my barely sane mind could concoct.

"No... NO, NO, NO, NO...!" The man screamed out, breaking the silence. "GREETING YOUR MASTER WITH SUCH HASTE, SUCH TRUE DILIGENCE! You simply cannot be Pride! YOU SIMPLY CAN'T!"

Pride, what?

My gaze was drawn to a man dressed in purple robes. He screamed and bit his fingers so hard that they bled like a fountain. He had green hair and the features of a madman, and his face was distorted in ways that reminded me of a character who personified madness, The Joker. In anguish, his eyes flashed as he glanced at the ceiling; blood mixed with the whites of his teeth. I failed to comprehend the man's strange behavior. Why would he come here if it wasn't to harm me? Confusion and exhaustion claimed my mental state. I wanted nothing more to do with this.

The man watched as I frantically crawled into a dark corner of the room, rolling into a ball that hid my teary eyes. I wanted to be wrung from this place. I wanted to escape and run to a country on the other side of the map. I wanted to die once more and return to those conversations with "Satella." I wanted to be stronger.

My heart was wrought with dark thoughts that could never be fulfilled. A life with the girl of my dreams outside this current existence of hell with a hero's smile; a reality I had desired for far too long. When will my moment come? When would the persistence of my sanity finally pay off? Trembling like a small, scared child, I awaited torment from the man in purple garb.

"..."

He tilted his head at me, as if he were in confusion at my decision to cower in fear. The bones in his neck contorted, shifting forcibly into the unnatural position. He finally lodged his head into position. He blinked, silently watching my behavior and my passing glances. I was seemingly searching for something through my trembling demeanor and watching my soul.

"Aaah..." His face twisted into a creeping smile. "You... still desire to live?"

Huh?

The man's hand slowly rose to his face, not to be eaten but to swipe the single tear from his bulging eyes.

"What a revelation! WHAT A REVELATION!" The man's scream was even louder than the first. The prisoners gasped in surprise; perhaps their ears were on the verge of bleeding as well. "In spite of how pathetic and utterly weak you are, you still cling to life! OH, PLEASE FORGIVE US!"

Grabbing the metal plating on the doorway, the man's head pulled back and with a flash thunked itself against the iron. Over and over, a process of bashing his brain against the very holdings of the door began. I saw blood drip down his face and what little was left of his nose. Finally contorting into something even more inhuman than before—if that was even possible. As he began to stop, his eyes turned back onto me, staring into my eyes.

"That pair of eyes of yours is not subject to the mere sin of pride. I see something greater within you. A wish that even you know is far less likely to be granted than you escaping this cell. A wish that simply longs for the life of the blessed is a sin among sins. Envy."

My eyes could not help but stare at the crazed man's lips. A man with his arms raised toward the ceiling was staring at me with the utmost enthusiasm. An insane person with crazed religious beliefs accused me of being envious of those with the favor of luck. He called this "envy" a sin greater than even his own.

A man whose eyes looked even further pushed beyond the brink than my own, insisting that I was worse than him. I wasn't sure what scared me more—the fact that I fit into his cultist beliefs or that I somewhat acknowledged those words.

His eyes were full of rivers that ran down to his chin and dripped onto the dried blood on the cement. He was enraptured in joy, almost breaking into a dance as he bounced across the room with a strange book in hand. His voice only got louder from that point on.

"OH GLORIOUS ENVYYYY! The Witch has chosen a vessel—not a woman of the half-devil race but a man of humble background! HOW SLOTHFUL OF ME TO NOT RECOGNIZE HER WISHES!" His head bounces off the metal once more, only adding to that dreadful face of his. "You are so loved! So much love simply corrupts the forest miles from this building! In the face of your captivity, your love has tripled—no, quadrupled—over the past year!"

My ears burned.

"THIS ROOM IS THE CHURCH OF THE WITCH!"

The strange man whipped out a pair of large iron cuffs. Heavy, round bonds I'd seen on slaves in movies. Rusty they were, but the man knew of my weakness; they would suffice.

"No," I thought.

I was a man already bound in chains. A man who had to shit in a bucket in the very corner of the room. A man who was tortured for pleasure. As a man who had no real purpose in life, I was already worse than a slave.

I rejected the massive iron links with screams in my brain; my legs scrambled against the floor, pushing against the immovable wall behind me. "Aaah... AHHH!" my voice cried out as he approached me. With my tongue cut off, I could not speak proper words, so my cries were like a wild animal's baby being torn apart by a predator. I could hear sobbing from rooms next to mine. Even the other prisoners cried out for my mental state. They felt sorry for the weak man in the next room.

Clink!

Ah, I hate myself.

"Your love will reach places even all of the sins could not!" My brain TREMBLES! LOVE~ LOVE~"

Again, my weakness laughs in my face.