Beware Of Chicken

Book 5: Chapter 31: The Monster Inside of My Head

The first concept the Puppet Worm ever learned was agony.

It was crafted in a jar full of poison and corruptive Qi. Its flesh and very soul burned at the touch. It flailed and thrashed, as within moments of its birth it was gripped by one of its siblings. The pincers pierced its flesh and its sibling tried to eat it. The Puppet Worm had flailed harder at the sensation, and while its sibling had caught its rear it reached down and impaled its sibling’s head.

It was hungry, so it feasted. Another of its siblings tried to kill it, so it ate them too. It had to keep eating—it had to fuel its body’s repairs, as it was constantly regrowing flesh destroyed by its environment.

It ate and ate and ate until it was the only one left—and then it started eating the poison too, until that was drained. And still, the torment did not stop.

One day, it was plucked out of its jar and brought into the light. Its skin burned. Its eyes were blinded. It writhed once more with pain. It was cut open. It was crushed. It was stabbed. It had foreign Qi shoved into it day after agonizing day.

And then it was placed into its first Host. It did as its instincts demanded, burrowing into its brain and attaching to its spine. The Host was confused. Confused, and terrified, as it felt its control over his body disappear.

But still the agony did not relent.

Limbs it never had before screamed as they had been broken. Its new throat was raw from the maddened howling. Its body shook from fever it had gotten from having to survive in this cold wretched place.

But the worst thing was the memories, the pain they had within them. It relived the destruction of its village and the pain of losing friends. It relived the tortures visited upon it as it curled up into a ball and whimpered.

[Directive. Stand.]

The command reverberated through its being. It could not! It was hurting too much!

The pain increased.

[Directive. Stand.]

The Puppet Worm forced itself to its feet this time. A new sensation, fear, driving it forward. If it did not obey, it would hurt more. The Host begged it to stand. The Host showed it how, so that some of the suffering would be alleviated.

So it forced the dying Host to its feet. It staggered around.

Some of the pain vanished. Some measure of relief came, as it diminished from an all-consuming blinding horror to a dull throb.

Its eyes adjusted to the dark room. Its eyes saw the hunched and huddled forms of others. Others the Host recognized.

[Directive. Kill.]

Once more the command cut through the Puppet Worm. The Host, at first relieved, suddenly lost that feeling. Instead, dread started to manifest in its mind.

Please. Please no. The Host begged, but the pain was starting up again.

The Puppet Worm raised the Host’s fist. It leapt upon one of the hunched and huddled forms. It swung with all its might as the Host pleaded for it to stop.

But it could not stop. Even if it could, it would not.

Because as it struck, as the thing beneath it started to scream, the pain finally went away.

And thus, the Puppet Worm learned.

The only time where it did not feel agony was when it was inflicting it upon others.

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It was torn out of its old Host and placed in a box. There, it went to sleep, feeling nothing but satisfaction and relief.

And then, it was released again into another Host. Into another set of memories.

The directives became more complex. It was given things to say. It was given objectives to complete.

And each time it did so, it would feel good.

Each time it did so, the Hosts got stronger… but none of them lasted long. Their bodies could not handle the Puppet Worm’s existence as it extracted every scrap of power from them. It got better at looking at its Hosts’ memories. It got better at using their knowledge and techniques.

And somewhere along the way, it started to feel pride in what it did. It began to look forward to the time when it once more had a Host and it could be unleashed.

In a Host, it was not just a Puppet Worm. It was instead a powerful cultivator, a being of fury and Qi. It could carve up the land. It could stand under the glare of the sun.

It was mighty, then. Even the techniques from its Hosts’ memories would kill the Host could not touch it. It would burn out the Hostʼs body, to be sure, but there was one thing the Puppet Worm knew:

There were always more Hosts. It would be retrieved. It would once more have both the power, and then, the blessed painless sleep.