"AHHHHHHHHH!" The scream tore itself from my lips, a primal sound echoing my inner turmoil. Chaos reigned around me, a storm of havoc and destruction that overwhelmed my senses, drowning me in a wave of despair. The pain was not merely physical; it seeped into my very being, flooding me with the weight of a thousand tragedies as I witnessed the relentless downfall of the kingdom of songs.
Visions of beauty turned to horror, racing through my mind with each one more tormenting than the last. A once-vibrant landscape now lay in ruins, vibrant melodies silenced, and joyful echoes replaced by the cries of the dying. My skin felt as though it were on fire, crawling with the remnants of every soul extinguished by the unleashed chaos. I could almost feel their desperate grasp on life intertwining with my own.
My chest tightened, pounding violently as despair settled in like a suffocating fog. Each dying note resonated in my heart, a reminder of the lives lost and the dreams shattered. I stood amidst the devastation, both physically present and emotionally torn apart, teetering on the brink of hopelessness as I bore witness to this humanity-rending disaster.
"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" I screamed, the sound echoed in my mind, a relentless loop like a broken record, drowning out everything else. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, a relentless throbbing that seemed to seep into every corner of my consciousness. My vision blurred, destruction and reality swirling together as the edges bled into the present, creating a distorted haze that made it hard to distinguish what was real. I crumpled to the floor, the impact jarring my bones, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the turmoil raging within me. I struggled to breathe, feeling the weight of my despair press down, each breath a reminder of the suffocating darkness that enveloped me. In my lunacy, I took the drastic measure of banging my head on the floor. Hoping the intense pain would wake me from this treacherous nightmare. Pulling at my hair, bashing my head, even sinking my nails into my arms as if I couldn't hug myself tight enough.
A heavy weight coiled around me, seeming to anchor me in place, a force that restricted my every movement. Restricting me from self-liberation, keeping me shackled to my own twisted vision. My mind raced with a desperate urge to break free, to liberate myself from the suffocating grasp of whatever I was being forced to witness. Yet, despite the intensity, something was forcibly restricting me, a firm shackle that felt almost tangible, wrapping around me like thick chains, preventing me from escaping the confines of my own imagination.
In my distorted state, fleeting glimpses of reality pierced through the haze of my prophetic vision. I could see Hongo, his brow furrowed with worry, darting anxious glances as he tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding around us. Shanks stood resolute, his typically carefree demeanor replaced by an intensity that spoke volumes of his concern. Beckman, ever the strategist, wore a mask of seriousness, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of urgency as they all pinned me down. The weight of their collective apprehension pressed down on me, a palpable reminder of where I was.
"It hurts…" I cried, my voice choked with emotion as tears streamed down my face, each droplet a testament to the pain I felt deep within. I struggled to anchor myself in the present moment, but the prophetic vision engulfed me like a relentless tide, pulling me under. It wasn't merely a glimpse into what was yet to come; it was as if I had become a vessel, forced to feel the anguish of all the lost souls that loomed on the horizon.
"They're crying…" I whispered, the words heavy and suffused with despair. I could sense their cries, fragmented and faint, drowned out by the cacophony of destruction that echoed in my ears—a symphony of chaos and sorrow. Each sound seemed to rattle my very core, a reminder of the devastation that was to come.
My vision blurred, oscillating between the reality of the moment and the vivid horrors of my prophecy. With each blink, the scenes shifted, a turbulent kaleidoscope of despair. I fought against the tide, desperate to hold onto the tangible world around me, but the weight of the futures yet to unfold threatened to overwhelm me completely.
Bound by the weight of my prophetic abilities, I felt as though freedom was an unattainable dream. My vision, which flickered through my mind, pushed me further into the depths of uncertainty, blurring the lines between reality and foresight. It was as if I were trapped in a relentless cycle of foreseeing tragedy that I could neither control nor escape. The constant barrage of images and sensations overwhelmed me, and I began to feel my sanity slipping away, like sand through my fingers. The incessant noise of what was to come spiraled around me, driving me to the brink of madness as I yearned for a moment of peace, a permanent respite from the gift I didn't understand that had become a curse.
"I want to die."