Man from the moon (UNDER EDITING)

Starborn003/Alone At The Edge Of The Universe

Hope; There is no human more desperate than one on the edge of losing you.

You were impaled upon a star. I do not know if what finds you will be akin to humanity.

Y/N's flowy fabric was stiff, petrified with a thick crust of blue blood, underneath the mantle, you could see his eyes. So very dark - the humanity had eroded like a beach - swallowed to never return.

He held, in one hand, a knife. Sharply edged and curved, chipped and damaged, but sparkling like that of a jewel.

Swiftly, he stabbed it into the wall. A horrible noise of screeching metal pierced his ears. Y/N pushed all the blood off his face - down his chin - and on the floor.

It dripped, but the blood had dug into every pore and crevice, he was stained just as his hands were.

The monotone line that was his lips curled into a frown. Y/N gazed down the dark hall, pulling the sword into his slick fingers.

He hummed. Walking down the wall. The ship was silent, bereft of those occasional guttural roars of mechanical labor.

Yet to take a shower. He stunk, the filth piling up - putrid sweat that fused his skin to his collar - it pooled in his hollowed collarbones; He smelt of bad things; His eyes were those of a lunatic. Reddened and raving like neon lights after dusk, they looked for bad things, and they hid bad things.

He heard a noise. His head snapped like a slingshot. Eyeing what had been hidden in a silent hall, it was a faint whimper.

Sword in hand, lights began to bubble around him. A tiny wisp of light floated around his head like a firefly.

It was the last abomination that had run onto this ship. It was the 49th. The predator gaped at him, long strings of saliva dripping out of its misshapen jaw. Sizzling as they touched the floor. 

Y/N eyed it for a moment.

"Perish." He commanded.

Then as if an invisible knife cleft through its body, uneven ridges of flesh began to peel off it - blue blood flooding the floor - then muscle - and a second later, bone.

He walked over to the flayed creature. The only chunk that hadn't been sliced into accordion layers was its head.

Y/N broke its girthy tusk off with his boot.

"One day. I will sail again. I will sail. When I do, I will strike so severely I will never fear your kind again." Y/N brought his sword through its neck, severing it cleanly.

"As a good man, I must." He grabbed the head, a spear of twisted iron slowly forming in his hand.

Y/N threw the head up with one hand, and with the other, he impaled it to the wall. His eyes slicked over with salty spray as he walked to the bridge of the star-faring ship.

It hurt him to kill those he knew. It hurt him to see that he had been both the orchestrator and the executioner of the genocide that had taken place.

It filled Y/N's stomach with a sickening feeling like something was crawling up the walls of his gut, beating against it like his heart, it made his body feel heavier than ever.

On the captain's deck, blood both blue and red had been spilled, like an artist dropping a bucket of paint onto a canvas, it melded into purples and peeled into magentas.

It was a wide hall; Ceilings taller than necessary, two wide staircases leading up to the platform where the captain's seat was held.

He'd never ascended the steps to the pseudo-throne that was the captain's seat. It was a lavish item, resembling a diadem, it had various metals and jewels embedded into it. Fit for the one commanding "Pride"; Golden and resplendent, he closed his eyes as he walked up the steps.