Bizarre Honkai, a Wife-Chasing Crematorium

Volume 2: Sickly Fiction

A dilapidated cabin stood hidden amidst the dense foliage of a desolate forest. Inside, cheap furniture and torture devices lay scattered, coated in grime and emitting a foul stench. Flies buzzed, and rats scurried across the rafters.

In a dark corner, a small girl with purple hair huddled, her head buried in her knees, thin shoulders trembling. She wore a tattered white dress, barely clinging to her small frame.

Thunder rumbled, and rain lashed against the cabin, heavy enough to wash away blood.

Her arm was broken, the bone crushed. Her Achilles tendons had been severed. She was trapped in a small cage, her frail limbs bound by heavy chains. Her body was covered in wounds, old and new.

Rats gnawed at her matted hair. Blood and dirt stained her face and neck. Her lips were cracked, her eyes vacant. Tears mixed with blood streamed down her face. She was so tired…

Time had lost all meaning. Only endless darkness and torment remained.

A radio crackled, a jarring voice echoing through the cabin:

"An escaped mental patient from our city's prison is at large. Citizens are advised to be cautious of individuals exhibiting unusual behavior. Do not approach, and contact authorities immediately."

"According to official sources, the patient has violent tendencies. Again, do not engage, and contact authorities immediately…"

Creak… creak…

The sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs filled the girl with dread. She trembled, her body swaying weakly in the cage, the chains rattling. She couldn't speak, only whimper softly, her face hidden behind her tangled hair.

When the door opened, the devil would appear.

Six months ago, she'd been brought here, subjected to unspeakable cruelty. Treated like an animal. No dignity. No respite.

She ate like a dog, lapping food from a dirty bowl on the floor, her hands useless.

One eye was gone, the socket a gaping wound. Her tongue had been cut out. Her skin festered, crawling with maggots and flies.

There wasn't a single part of her body that wasn't broken. In her nightmares, she saw even more gruesome visions of herself: limbs severed, stomach ripped open, organs spilling out…

Even though it was just a dream, the terror and pain felt real, visceral, shaking her to her core.

Especially when facing her tormentor, the man named Li Mo…

Mei shed tears of despair. Would this nightmare ever end?

Outside, Li Mo had just killed a man.

A man who looked just like him, wielding a katana, had attacked him without provocation. Li Mo, now a five-year-old child, had intended to subdue the man and gather information. But uncertain if he was already under the Bizarre's influence, and facing a potentially memetically contaminated copy of himself, he'd shown no mercy.

One thing was clear: the attacker was an ordinary human.

As the man lunged, Li Mo drew his gun and fired a single shot into his head.

You want to kill me? Be prepared to die.

He fired several more rounds into the man's limbs and head for good measure, then stepped over the body, approaching the cabin.

The Bizarre cave always led to the source of the contamination. Every detail, every anomaly, every unusual sight and feeling, had to be noted.

"Another cabin?" Li Mo felt a surge of unease. He'd built a similar cabin in the snowy wasteland of the Bizzare Kiana's world. This one was almost identical, except for the wooden stairs.

Bizarre events rarely happen by coincidence. The source of the Bizarre in Kiana's world was connected to the cabin. Is this the same?

He hesitated, then decided to investigate. He hadn't died yet. He had room for error. And clues about the Bizarre's origin were too valuable to ignore.

"Easy, Li Mo," he muttered, steeling himself before pushing open the door. This world was already contaminated. He just hadn't noticed the signs yet. If he stayed too long, his own perception would be twisted, making it impossible to identify the memetic corruption.

Creak… The door opened, releasing a wave of putrid air.

"Ugh!" Li Mo covered his nose, his stomach churning. This wasn't the scent of blood and decay, but something far more foul, like rotting food.

"Eee…" A whimper came from the shadows.

Li Mo's eyes widened as he saw the girl in the cage.

"Mei?!"

He didn't move, his gaze sweeping over the room, taking in every detail. Mei was covered in filth and blood, a far cry from the elegant heiress he knew. Her usual grace and poise were gone, replaced by the desperate air of a beggar.

Judging by the stench and her festering wounds, she'd been here for at least a month, perhaps longer.

In the original timeline, Mei was the cherished daughter of Raiden Ryoma. 

Kidnapping her from Nagazora, even for a day, was practically impossible. Ryoma was fiercely protective, willing to do anything for his daughter, even making deals with Cocolia to implant the Gem of Conquest, despite the risk of unleashing the 3rd Herrscher.

Li Mo didn't judge Ryoma. Every choice had its consequences. It was better to follow your own convictions, regardless of others' opinions, than to live with regret.

He'd faced similar choices, though his had been between the world and himself, not between the world and a loved one.

He'd chosen the world with Kiana.

"This world… it's not what I expected…" He stared at the broken girl in the cage. He, a five-year-old, and Mei, seemingly the same age… A five-year-old Mei, tortured and imprisoned…

What was Ryoma doing? 

Did he not care? Or was he dead?

And the man outside… the one who looked like him…

"I'll check the body first," he decided. The corpse was less of a threat than a living, potentially corrupted Mei.

He stepped outside.

"No unusual activity." The body hadn't vanished, nor did it emit any Bizarre aura. Just an ordinary corpse.

I don't believe it. Not in a world saturated with Bizarre. Not at the epicenter of the contamination.

He turned the body over.

"He really does look like me… even the white hair…" Am I hallucinating?

He pulled open the man's shirt, revealing a bloody inscription on his chest, six characters in Chinese: "I am you. Leave me." Neat, precise handwriting, not the work of a Bizarre.

"A fresh wound? But how…?" He replayed the encounter in his mind. He'd emerged from the cave, followed a path, and seen the man standing outside the cabin. They'd made eye contact, and the man had attacked, wielding a katana as if facing a deadly foe.

"Why the katana? I was a child. He could have easily overpowered me without a weapon. Why the hostility?"