NSFL The Black Epoch

Thread Description
Prequel to my comic "Renege Rewrite" from the perspective of Riku/Origin's original past self, and how he got to where he was.


Author's Note
"Renege Rewrite" is a story I wrote since high school (well I say wrote like I haven't been putting it off for a while), which came from a Touhou fanfiction I wrote called "The Disappearance of Cirno," of which the stories were created from the premise of me putting all my thoughts, mental battles, philosophies, theoretical scenarios, and so on, into a book to sort of seal away and fight those dark thoughts, which came from the game "Cry of Fear," which I didn't play until last year (a great experience; play it yourself!) on a stream as a VTuber.

This story is a prequel to that, and I imagine the stories told in this series as short-documentaries that occurred in the past.
All of the thoughts and descriptions here are rather dark and gets somewhat detailed in that respect.
Go into this story understanding that the protagonist is not a good person, nor is this a story about hope.
It's a story where someone has completely fallen into despair and has given up entirely on hope.

It carries a lot of dark, messed up thoughts. Despair and depression are everywhere.
In contrast to the sequel, this story doesn't fight those things; it tries to completely embrace them and accept them for how things are.
Rather than fight for a better future, it's a sad story where the protagonist has given up on a better future.

Maybe someone might enjoy a story like this.
When all someone feels is failure and hopelessness, knowing that things sometimes don't work out is solace for them, and it isn't your fault that sometimes, things can't be helped.
Well, hope you enjoy this story.

Marked "Not Safe For Life" because it might go places.

Chapter 1: Live for Yourself
I wouldn't know if what I did was the best thing I could've done, or the stupidest, but I did what I wanted.
And for the first time in my life, I felt bliss and peace.

With only a thick coat to keep me warm at night, I try to find a spot to rest my head and fade into the dream world.
A small urban village far from the city, with birch trees and blue houses. There's plenty of space, but to find a good spot is the hardest.
A place where I can get up and run as quickly as possible is the most optimal.
But in the dark of night, I can hear some screaming.
A girl's voice, strained and crying, against two other deeper voices: one masculine, one feminine, both are probably parents.
Maybe it's because what I did is still recent that I have to take a closer look.
From the open window of a house with a wooden colored paint over it, you could make out a really pathetic looking girl with tears streaming down her face with a bunch of angry parents who I so wish to kill.
I'd certainly might kill them just because I hated their looks, but I'm not the type to kill unless I'm sure my victims deserve it, or at least if I'm allowed to have that nuance.
Yes, a murderer with standards. How surprising that such a freak like me would ever hope to be human.
Not as if I were treated like I were human, even before then.

After that happened to me, I needed to get revenge. My life was ruined, and the only thing I could do was wallow in despair.
But I couldn't wallow in despair. I refused to.
Every single time I've cried, no one would listen, but instead use it as a chance to beat me up more.
I never learned to stop crying even though that happened, and I still wonder if I kept crying because I hoped someone would reach their hand out to me, or because I could do nothing else.
Either way, my sanity was pushed to its brink.
I could do nothing as a shut-in brat who did nothing with his pathetic life, incapable of art, incapable of working, incapable of anything to anyone, even himself.
I have nothing to live for, nor passions to pursue. I've failed art and given up entirely on it, I've failed at school and thus will never get a decent lucrative job that can keep me alive.
But there was one thing I can do before I perish.
Learn as much as I can, and prepare to take as many lives as I can.
Every skill I can swallow; penetration testing, automotive technology, electronics, chemistry, social engineering, civil engineering, human biology, first aid, any field of study I can learn, I will master.
I'll always be worthless, even if I learn those things.
But they'll be worth something to me, if anything.

"All you do is spend time on that damn phone of yours, Alice!" The father yelled at the daughter, who, genius of context clues, may infer that the daughter's name is Alice.
"Can't you just leave me alone?!" Alice yells back, with a face that is more water and salt than flesh.
"Not until your grades are up!" The father yells, "If you spent more time working than-"
"All my grades are A's and B's, they're higher than most people!"
"Do you think you can get into Harvard with that attitude?!"
"I just want to have fun instead of my entire life being for school, can't I-"
The father slams his fist on her desk, "We didn't raise our child to be someone who lazes around and does nothing with her life!"
The daughter doesn't respond, but instead meekly looks away.
"Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you!" He slams his hands onto his daughter's cheeks and snaps her face towards him.
She screams in pain and grabs his arms, trying to remove them from her face, but the father responds by tightening his hold.
"Do you think we gave you this house just to spend time on your 'Vine' and 'YouTube' watching other people play games and do stupid things?!"
It's a rather poor and pitiful sight. I'd say it's ironic that I was literally like this girl just a few months ago, but I suppose it isn't surprising that in this day and age, there are plenty of people who were like me.
Certainly feels odd seeing a person somewhat like me in person, but I think that's just a testament to how wide the world is and how much I've spent withering in my room.
Nothing more but a lazy sod who wasted his time on social media, with no friends, unsuccessful in academics, honestly quite the shame.
Or maybe I'm just projecting onto her that I see so much of myself in her.
"Until your grades have improved, we're taking your phone away."
And that line immediately spurred a reaction from the internet addicted girl. "NO!"
The mother slaps her daughter's cheek, leaving a deep red mark that slowly turns purple. "Stop being so foolish and listen to us for once! All we want is for you to do well at school, and all you can do is watch some Korean dude with a fake pink mustache play creepy computer games!"
The father quickly snatches the phone from his daughter's desk when she put it down to hold her own hurt face. "You won't be getting this back until your grades improve."
The daughter does nothing to contest them as they leave and slam her door shut.
Although the door is shut, the parents can be heard still complaining about their daughter, their voices slowly fading as they get further away.
Maybe I'm a bit too invested in this little private affair. I climbed up to their window before I knew it.
It wasn't hard for them to completely cloak whatever little sounds I made on my way up, with how loud they were.
I'd say the neighbors might've found them annoying, but just like my little town, it doesn't seem like anyone cares beyond the fact it's really annoyingly loud.
What I'm about to do is probably incredibly stupid, but hey, I can kill them all in a few minutes and be gone an hour's distance.
"Well, that was certainly something," I say, leaning over the window, expressing my intrigue in the event that unfolded before me.
Alice screams in terror, but is interrupted.
"DON'T SCREAM IN OUR HOUSE, ALICE!" The mother screams from downstairs.
I sigh, "I come in peace, so you don't need to scream."
"Are you a stalker or something?" She asks, shaking in fear, but likely also due to some lingering pain.
"Nope, not really."
"A rapist?"
"Haven't considered that, so no."
"Who are you?"
"Eh." I shrug. "Doesn't matter too much, and it's not like knowing will change your little predicament in your life, would it?"
"Why do you care?"
I shrug, "I dunno, just found it somewhat funny what your mom said."
"All we want is for you to succeed at school," I recall, "or something like that?"
"Yeah, they really want me to do well at school," she says, still rather uncomfortable by my presence.
"Ain't that a Freudian slip?" I say, "They want you to do well at school, but honestly, they don't seem to care much else about you or your well-being. Only your grades matter to them, not you."
"That's not true!" She says, "They do care about me, that's why they want my grades to be up, and I don't think an outsider should be speaking about my life or my family!"
I sigh, "Oh please, if they did love you, they wouldn't have left a giant black mark on your face. Put ice over it, for fuck sakes."
She looks at the door. "I'll be fine."
"No, ice helps deal with things like this," I say, "or are you simply refusing to get it because you're afraid of your parents doing something unloving to you?"
She sighs, "Look, they want me to have good grades, so I can get into a good college, and then I can get a good job with a good degree."
"That's not how that works," I respond, "You need to have your career figured out before college, or you'll be riddled with college debt."
"I'll figure it out in college-"
"That's what everyone in debt said before they regret their life decisions."
She holds in a sob, "Look, it's not like I can just figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life, okay? My parents already give me shit for it, I don't need some random window-climbing creep giving me that shit too."
"All I'm saying is that school isn't everything."
"Yeah, try telling that to my parents."
"And why listen to them?"
"Because? They're the reason why I have a bed with air conditioning and food?"
"Every decent parent gives that unconditionally," I say, "If your parents think basic human needs to be earned, I think they aren't deserving to be called parents."
Or be called 'humans that are still alive,' but I don't think she knows I'm a murderer.
I thought the news would have my face on the front pages, but I guess my family is really just that pathetic that it isn't even worth a look-out, despite the fact I've killed people, even if it's my family.
Either that, or it's not that big to be noticed by most people.
"Yeah, well I'm still stuck with them, even if they're not good parents."
"If I had to be honest, you're not stuck with them," I say.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins, my heart beating so hard, it sounds like drums.
I killed someone.
Murders usually are caused by someone close to them, such as family, coworkers, friends, roommates, students, and so on.
And I killed my family.
Slit their throats. Removed their vocal cords. They're dead, but I'm still tearing apart their flesh.
They're dead. I can't even hear the splashes and sloshes of blood and guts.
All I can hear is blissful silence.
I no longer can remember what my mom complains about.
My father's usual whining, I can't even remember any of the sounds.
My sister's crying? I remember I once described it as a baby's screech, but I can't even picture it.
My brother's shouting? I can't tell what he complained about every single day, despite how it was engraved in my skull.
The knife in my hands has taken their lives, and mine as well.
I'm no longer the same person I used to be.
I feel enlightened. Free from Earthly tethers. That's how I could describe it.
He was a pathetic person, who couldn't fight for himself, who couldn't do anything without relying on others.
I took away everything he ever relied on, despite the fact it slowly killed him from the inside.
And now he too, is dead.
Everyone in this family is dead.
The only thing that remains is a murderer.
A disgusting freak who has no value of life, no love for anything but blood.
Something far from human.
There are no humans still alive in this house.
And anything less than human is nothing more but target practice.

At any point in this girl's life, she can easily kill her own family, like I have, and be free of their voices.
It was scary at first, losing a home, losing a stable life, losing safety of life, but it felt good afterwards.
It made me wonder, if I was truly so spoiled that I couldn't realize that I didn't need such a life to live or be happy?
It occurs to me now that maybe that thought is probably twisted, but yet, I don't see why it is, when I've found a way to survive in a few months.
It's not impossible to steal from gas stations and live off of scraps. They can't exactly do much to stop me if I really want to get lethal, and for a couple of snacks, are they willing to go that far?
Life is a struggle, and this girl, like I was before, never bothered to struggle for it.
They were all right in that regard; if you don't struggle to fight for your life, then why do you get to cry if life is miserable?
I finally figured out how to fight. Unfortunately, I doubt any of them can take their own words for advice.
But I digress.
"What do you mean?" Alice asks.
"Have you ever wished your parents just disappeared?"
"I mean, yeah, from time to time."
"Then why don't you just make them vanish? Poof? Six feet underground in parts?"
"Uh, I would get arrested."
"If you knew how to escape the cops, maybe you wouldn't have to worry so much about it."
"How the fuck would anyone know how to escape the cops?!"
"I mean, fair, but still."
"And again, I still need them for some place to sleep and eat food."
I sigh. Maybe it's a bit too much to ask someone who hasn't really experienced what I have to just go buckwild and kill their own family.
And maybe I'm a genuine dumbass for thinking that would work.
"Look, I understand your situation, with shitty parents and being dependent on them, because I was literally in the same position as you a few months ago."
She looks at me for a while, deciphering my words, until her eyes widen.
"Oh. You're..."
"Yes, a murderer."
"What? No, I just thought you're a weird edgy kid."
"The hell does 'edgy' even mean? Anyway, yes, I killed my own family and am currently on the run from the cops. I can take out your parents if you want while I'm still running."
"I genuinely can't believe someone like you killed a person."
"I'm not sure whether to be complemented or insulted that I'm being treated that I haven't killed anyone."
"As if someone who looks like they're in middle school can kill someone."
"You genuinely can't believe I'm a murderer, huh?"
"If I believed you're a murderer, I would scream."
"You screamed when I popped in the window, and stopped when your parents screamed at you to stop."
"Because I was shocked that some random stranger popped from my window and was listening to all of that!"
"Yeah, well not like it wasn't hard to listen to all of that with how loud all of you fucks were."
A short moment of silence as she takes a deep breath and for me to also catch up with mine, with the rapid-fire comments going back and forth that happened.
"We were really that loud?"
Another moment to catch up on breaths.
Probably embarrassing to hear that some random wandering murderer heard your family drama because you guys were always just that loud.
At least, assuming they often fight and shout like this.
"...so you're serious that you've killed your own family?"
"Yeah. Left the knife back at home though."
"Jesus Christ."
"Yeah, that might be shocking to hear."
"I mean, I hate my parents, and had those thoughts, but, like, taking their lives..."
"Lives really aren't that valuable."
"Well! I mean! Just how? What?"
I shrug. Not like there's a proper reaction to having a discussion with a murderer at the window that heard your family drama who turns out to have killed his own family for similar drama that you're facing.
"I feel like I should call the cops if you're serious."
"Yeah sure, tell them that you just had a casual discussion with some middle-school-looking brat in a hoodie who self-admitted to being a murderer. They'll legally be obligated to respond, but enjoy trying to explain this shit to the person at the other end of the phone."
She grimaces. That's a fun way I've been able to delay getting emergency services on my ass immediately; literally make it awkward for the person reporting. I'm casual about all this shit because I literally have no reason to be some cold-blooded murderer. I'm literally just doing what I do because I want to. No different than enjoying games or shows.
Though not often do I get to use it, since most people are scared as fuck and contact the authorities immediately. Not fun, but when it does work, it's fun.
Ignore the fact I've only pulled this off 2 times, counting this one.
"And besides," I say, "I'm just here because I'm intrigued by your situation. Feel free to report me or do whatever, but I don't think your situation will change much unless something big happens."
She leans back on her chair, gently rubbing her bruised face, thinking deeply.
Who knows what she's thinking. I could guess, but I wouldn't know for sure.
I wonder if she's considering my offer of me slaughtering her parents. It wouldn't be much off my back, nor my conscience.
"...I think I'll be fine for now."
That's intriguing. "What do you mean?"
"I appreciate the weird offer for murder, but in the end, I think this is something I have to figure out myself."
"So you want to try and figure out a way out of your situation yourself?"
"It's more that I think murder is the WORST thing that I could do or ask you to do."
I think that's rather fair.
When you take a life, they're gone forever. All their dreams and aspirations are gone forever.
The relationships they hold with others and their influence will also fade away into nothing.
It's something I was well aware of when I began this journey of mine.
But it's precisely why I spent a lot of time learning, training, and changing myself to be better.
I believe those I've killed to be worthless, expendable, and better gone than still alive.
And people could argue that they still have worth, because of their skills.
So if I learned as much, or even more than those people, and make it so that I could easily replace them, or replace them as someone better, then in the end, nothing will be lost if they're gone.
Of course, for some reason, despite the fact everyone I've ever seen and heard tell me that my life is worthless because I lack skills and I contribute nothing, when I'm suddenly worth more than them and can say the same thing about them, suddenly they find an issue, and have the audacity to say it is my words which are corrupt.
I simply follow the golden rule.
If everyone wants to treat life as if it's worth something or nothing based on someone's skill, or how many people like them, then I'll simply return their logic around and remove what little value they thought their life had. And I genuinely don't see the problem with doing that.
What goes around, comes around. Where Karma slacks, I work harder to make up for it.
"Uh, hello?" She says, slightly unnerved.
Guess I was lost deep in thought again.
"Yes?" I ask.
"Are you just going to stay there?"
And then I just realized that I'm still on the run, and I spent quite some bit talking to some random girl in some urban village about how her family is shit rather than running and finding a hiding place.
I mentally facepalm at my own idiocy. "...guess I should get going."
Murder doesn't make you suddenly gain social skills. It's more of a drug that makes you high on adrenaline than anything.
Which might make up for a lack of social skills when you're acting like an idiot while high.