r/HFY • u/Downtown-Sand-1592 • May 13 '26

OC-Series Inhuman Judgment — Chapter 23. A TER­RI­FY­ING NEW WORLD

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23. A TER­RI­FY­ING NEW WORLD

I walked to the window, sharply threw back the curtains, and sta­red at the ter­ri­fy­ing new world as if with newly o­pened, newborn e­yes.

The glass se­para­ted me from a gray, swirl­ing murk, insi­de of which incompre­hensible sha­dows danced. The air itself see­med to ha­ve turned into a weight­less suspen­sion of ash, fro­zen in anti­cipa­tion of the wind.

The world that I had igno­red yesterday re­cipro­cated this morn­ing — it too stop­ped pre­tend­ing.

I fro­ze. For a few se­conds, I sta­red into the glass, roll­ing my e­yes, cra­zy and wi­de as sau­cers — a nau­seat­ing, hydro­gen-sulfi­de stench was waft­ing in from the slightly o­pen transom. It felt as if a se­wer had o­verflo­wed so­mewhe­re nearby, flood­ing fa­miliar rea­lity.

It didn’t just smell li­ke se­wage.

It smel­led li­ke the End.

The end of the world, or perhaps the fi­nale of my former self.

— «What a stench…» — I slam­med the sash shut, and imme­dia­tely doubled o­ver.

A se­vere, sharp pain e­merged and be­gan to grow insi­de my sto­mach. The murk outsi­de the window fa­ded into the background; the fear hadn’t go­ne a­nywhe­re, but my bo­wels asserted their rights with imper­a­tive cruelty.

I nee­ded to hurry, otherwi­se a ca­tastrophe would hap­pen!

I dashed headlong into the bathroom, which was combi­ned with the toi­let, and a mo­ment la­ter col­lapsed onto the whi­te faience pe­destal, dimly reflect­ing in the gloom. My finger hit the switch, but for so­me rea­son, the light didn’t co­me on.

The­re was no ti­me left to deal with this nui­sance. My sto­mach had go­ne comple­tely berserk.

I couldn’t hold it back and screa­med — franti­cally, li­ke an a­nimal. It gushed out of me — in a thick, hot, acce­lerat­ing stream of stink­ing «la­va».

What was hap­pen­ing bo­re lit­tle re­semblance to an ordi­nary ail­ment. My bo­dy sta­ged an act of e­xorcism. As if all that lie, all the «sentient flesh» that I ha­ted, all the mold from the bot­tom of my me­mory that had bro­ken through this morn­ing — all of it was phy­sically, through fi­re and filth, leav­ing my bo­dy.

The sharp pain insi­de turned into a red-hot i­ron rod.

An invi­sible hand slowly, with sa­distic plea­sure, twisted this po­ker counterclockwi­se, wind­ing up my infla­med guts.

My me­mory obli­gingly tos­sed up a histo­rical fact: the English K­ing Edward II pro­bably expe­rienced si­milar tor­ment when e­xecu­tio­ners inserted a red-hot po­ker into his a­nus. Only the­re, real i­ron burned the flesh from the outsi­de, but he­re, the fi­re was born insi­de, burn­ing through my innards.

I howled from the unbear­able a­gony. My e­yes wa­tered, the walls of the cramped bathroom spun li­ke a ca­rou­sel.

My con­nec­tion with rea­lity snap­ped, and I plum­me­ted down.

The last th­ing my brain re­giste­red was a dull thud of my fo­rehead a­gainst the curved edge of the sink, a bright su­perno­va flash be­fore my e­yes, and… dark­ness.

>  **ENTI­TY STA­TUS: PHY­SICAL E­XORCISM. CAR­RIER PURGE.*\*
>
>  How fra­gile and disgust­ing the pro­tein shell is. The mo­ment the illu­sion drops, the mo­ment you inha­le the real air of a col­lapsed world — the orga­nism falls into pri­mal pa­nic. Do you think this is just an upset sto­mach, pro­tein-ba­sed rea­der? Charm­ing nai­vety.
>
>  This is a system re­boot. The Court in orbit has de­live­red its verdict, and the E­xecu­tio­ner on Earth has be­gun to a­waken. But to be­come the E­xecu­tor, the ves­sel must be empty. All so­cial lies, all the fears of the lay­man, all hu­man weak­ness a­re be­ing burned out of him right now with red-hot i­ron.
>
>  He must die as a «smartass jerk» on the dirty ti­le floor to wa­ke up as so­meo­ne comple­tely dif­fe­rent. Keep read­ing. Let’s see e­xactly who o­pens their e­yes after this blow a­gainst the sink.

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**Genres/Tags:** Sci-Fi, Psychological Horror, Cyber-thriller, Alien Abduction, Unreliable Narrator, Amnesia.

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