Hello again, my lovely readers! I've finally been able to update this thing, but I had struggled with it, because I didn't believe that it was as bloody as I wanted it. I still think it should be more gory, but as you can tell, I'm not much of one to write gore, even when it is called for. What do you think will happen in this lovely fanfic of mine? Who knows what horror awaits us. It is the mansion after all~ Enjoy! Oh, and I do need a name for 2P Steve, so any suggestions would be wonderful! If used, I guess I can let you give me a small idea that I'll use sometime in the fic! Providing it's reasonable of course.
It was infuriating, absolutely infuriating.
Before him on the ground lay the mutilated bodies of the ones who he knew as his allies. Japan and Germany. Angrily, ruby eyes narrowed and a dark gleam fluttered across the Italian nation's face. It was the work of that monster, naturally. The two were almost ripped to shreds, blood splattered everywhere; the ceiling, the walls, the ground. The German had deep claw marks in his chest and stomach area, his intestines ripped out and thrown down the hallway like ribbons of ripped tinsel. His heart looked as if the monster had chomped down on it like a snack, only to decide that it didn't want the rest of it. It had been evident that the Japanese man had been smashed into the walls several times after his throat and eyes were gouged out, missing an arm and portions of his leg. It was a gruesome sight, but all of the nations had seen this nature of warfare before, especially against each other.
Closing his eyes, the Italian took a deep breath. They had been right behind them but… they must have turned left instead of right, towards the piano room… Damnit! He should have seen this coming… Why didn't he make them run ahead of him so he knew they wouldn't fall behind? No matter what had done to save them, his choices ended up leading them to their deaths… It wasn't as if he didn't care about his allies, in fact, Japan was one of his closest friends, while Germany and him constantly butted heads over training and war time strategies in a love-hate relationship. But they all got along sometimes, even if he constantly enjoyed threatening anyone around him with his knife.
Besides… he did make that promise to get everyone out alive in the first loop, as much as he hated to admit it. So easy it had been to almost leave them dead in the mansion as one by one they fell to the damn creature. With his fast feet, he easily managed to avoid it, and now… Now he found himself going through so many loops of time just to save the nations of the world. When the hell did he care about the others? If anything, he could have ruled his country without the threat of a war overwhelming his country. The other pieces of land mass and their rulers would have been much tamer without their personifications… But what fun would that be, the only representation of a country meant that there would be no one to bicker with, to train with.
Clenched in his hand was his knife and in the other, was the journal he had used so many times to turn back the clock and rewrite time. The nation wanted to throw the journal away, to tear it up and let the monster destroy him. But that was not how the Italian played, no, he was going to kill the monster before it even had time to realize that he had company. He would make it pay tenfold and suffer so it would know true pain; the wrath and anger of a nation. But how could he make it so the others weren't in the way, so that no one else could interfere with his plans? The Italian slipped into deep thought, trying to figure out a plan that wouldn't get them all killed again. The nations could never formulate a plan without trying to outdue each other, tension always thickening the air. He could practically slice it with an unsharpened knife…
He swore this nightmare was worse than a regular world meeting on steroids…
Behind him, the English nation waited. An uneasy smile was on the gentleman's face, the tips of his lips twitching as if they wanted to frown. Bright blue eyes could hardly focus on the deceased nations on the ground; instead, they were looking over his shoulder just in case that monster popped up again. From previous experiences, it was safe to assume that he would show up when they least expected it, and this time, for them as its last prizes, or in other words, meal.
Pushing down the guilt and fury, the Italian opened the journal, flipping to a random page. The harsh strokes of ink littered the pages, the handwriting belonging to Italy. In the confines of the journal, he had recorded everything he had done, managing to plan ahead and even documented the behavior of the monster. His eyes searched for the entry that started on the page, lips twisting in a dark scowl.
Loop 23 – At least I think this was the twenty-third time. My mind is already becoming weary of this place. I'm having trouble remembering things that I had written before hand at times; it's as if I am fading away. But that's impossible. I am a nation… But our statuses as a nation, as I had written before, have no place here. When I entered the mansion, I had acted as I always did, continuing the pattern from the beginning. Everything went as planned; avoiding all the places they had first died… But then…
When I decided to split up the group, I sent Canada and England to the piano room instead of Japan and Prussia. The former managed to survive, but England once more used his magic. He got injured, and they were ambushed right when we arrived to help them. They were used as bait… This creature is getting smarter. As if it was studying how we -
The book snapped shut, Italy not wanting to read anymore of that. Somehow it was correct, what he had written. That damn thing was starting to catch onto Italy's plan; if it did and started to predict what he would do… Then it would be all over for them. He had to make sure that it did not happen. It was a simple creature, running on instincts. He was a nation, stronger and more intelligent than that thing… He just had to get one step ahead of it and put it into its place..
"Dearie, what will we do now? You said before that you have to go back again. You and I are the only ones left." The blond raised an eyebrow in questioning. Although the Italian had refused to divulge too much information on what had been happening to the group when they first walked into the mansion, he had finally told the remaining three members of his group about what was going on. Somehow that had not been enough; mistakes were still made and one by one, the nations around him kept getting slaughtered. Apparently telling them from the start wouldn't have helped them. It was interesting to see the sadistic yet playful nation want to save the rest of the nations, even the ones he absolutely despised, such as America.
"You won't remember anything when we go back, veh…" the smaller nation replied, narrowing his eyes as he looked down. His verbal tic, usually suppressed, slipped out, signaling how much this had taken out of him. Weariness had overtaken the northern Italian; it was obvious even to the other nations before everyone started to get killed. There had been a deep scowl on his face, and he was more agitated than normal, as if tired of something. And when he had fought with the creature, his fighting style had been bloodier, crueler. It was strange how pleasure he had been taking from slicing into that disgusting monster. England had noticed the peculiar ways his fellow nation was acting after a while, but wasn't sure what had been wrong. And now… everything that Italy had done made sense. It was why he had stopped them from going into certain rooms, and why he had stayed near the door. The monster mainly wanted him, as if hating the fact that he had escaped it so many times.
"Perhaps there is a spell to help with th-" Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. Before the Italian could ask why he had stopped talking, England turned around swiftly and held up his hand. Instantly a ball of swirling blue magic shot from his palm and scorched the skin of a tall black creature that loomed above the two. Still fresh blood dripped down from long jagged claws, pieces of flesh and organ bits sticking to its yellowed surface. Eyes the color of molten iron stared down at a certain nation, while a mouthful of sharp teeth twisted upwards in a malicious smile. Ruby eyes darted around to lock onto it, raising his knife up. Not now… He still needed to think of a way to finish this. If only he never challenged them to enter… If he could go back to that point, before they entered the mansion grounds. Wait.
That was it!
"Get back!" Italy snapped at England. To hell if he was going to let him die. He needed him and his magic if his new plan would work. He knew it wanted him, the bearer of the journal, the one who got away. But if his fellow nation attempted to get in the way, the monster would have had no problem tearing him apart. Hearing the urgency behind that harsh tone, the island nation retreated to the Italian's side, the magic still glowing around him, ready to be unleashed as a weapon. The creature let out an eerie growl, a drop of yellowish drool plopping onto the ground.
"Do you have a plan?" England asked, wrinkling his nose at the stench of the drool. Although the Italian somehow got around with the sometimes psychotic Englishman, due to their unique ways of cooking, he couldn't fight off the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he had a damn plan. That was how he got them this far! He had no time to spare glancing at the other nation. The creature leaped at them, claws outstretched to slash into their bodies. However, the Italian was ready for it, he only needed to distract the beast and wound it before they could escape. Darting underneath the claws, he swiped the sharp edge of his knife against the chest of the beast, feeling blood splatter everywhere, mixing in with the deceased nations' life essence. The pained roar of the monster echoed through the hallways as the Italian retreated backwards to prevent himself from being attacked back. Lady luck was not on his side. He felt teeth chomp down on his shoulder, one hand having caught him in its grasp. He let out a yell, feeling flesh being torn from muscle and bone. His mind swam with bloody stars twirling in his vision and his hand rose. It wasn't as if the monster had now just tasted his blood. He had almost been caught several times before.
"That hurt!" Swirling magic, dark amber in color, appeared around his fingers. They shot forward and wrapped around his opponent. The monster roared as the magic shifted colors to a dark red and cut into it, slowing its movement as different shapes of runes flickered around it. Another roar sounded and he managed to slip from its grip, staggering to England. They only had a small fraction of time until it would be able to move again, but any damage it could do would be reduced. If only he had cast it sooner.
"RUN! Get to the bathroom!" Italy yelled, ignoring the fact that blood was pouring from his wound. With one last glance to the monster, the two nations took off, dashing to the only safe haven in the mansion. The bathroom with that strange toilet was the only place they could cast this combined spell… They had to make it!
Gripping one side of his head, the Italian hissed. The clocks from every room seemed to suddenly start ticking, the sound echoing and filling the mansion. If he listened closely, he probably could even hear the ever deep ticking of the grandfather clock deep within the mansion. Why did that insistent noise constantly haunt him, teasing and taunting him for his failures, for his inability to make the right choices no matter what he did? The sound only got louder, pounding its mechanical rhythm into his head like a metronome.
Italy cursed himself. Why had he not realized the importance of the clocks in the earlier loops? WHY? It was quite obvious from the fact that he had to get to the grandfather clock, the red numbers on the ground in that one room, and how he had to go back through time, that those clocks in every room had a meaning to them. But… No matter how annoying they were, he couldn't break them. He had to bear the weight of all of this by himself. Flinching and nearly stumbling from the grating sound, he felt a hand grip his free wrist, guiding him through the hallway. He glanced up to see the Englishman ahead of him. He shook the thoughts out of his head. He had to focus or else he would get distracted and get killed. He turned the corner, keeping the other nation ahead of him as he jerked his hand away. He didn't need to be babied. He lived through worse.
Pointing to the first door they came to, England opened it. Italy glanced back just in time to see a black mass start to turn the corner, blood, his blood, dropping from its maw. Those iron grey eyes stared hungrily at its prey, wanting to devour its prize at long last. Glaring, he darted in and closed the door. Panting, he slid to the ground near the sink, holding the bite mark carefully, trying to stop the bleeding. Glancing up, crimson eyes noticed how the smile that usually was on the English nation's lips was almost gone. He sighed, rolling his eyes and gripped the knife and journal close.
"Let me get straight to the point. I need you to use your magic to help me turn back time. It's as simple as that." He stated that as bluntly as he could, getting tired of having to hide everything from the rest of the nations. It was tiring. The Englishman stared at him as he tried to get his breath back, tilting his head slightly. Hadn't he been told numerous times that he had to conserve his magic? Too many times had he apparently lost his life when protecting the American, or to provide help to any other nation. Luckily he had managed to still have around half. Not wanting to become a burden, he had used most of it to try and help America but… England looked away, the tips of his lips dipping down slightly. That idiot went and got himself killed, torn limb from limb; literally. If only he listened to them instead of trying to show the monster who was the true 'villain' as he loved to say.
"I'm listening, dearie." The unusually colored blue eyes turn to look into his, wishing to know what he wanted to try. They didn't have any other choice, so he hoped that the Italian knew what he was doing, for both of their sakes. He knew he could trust him on this. Italy had been through this before, but whatever he had in mind, he wanted to hear it. Italy on the other hand was unsure if his plan would work. It was so much to ask of England, especially after how his magic was what got him killed. For so many loops, he was one of the first to get killed, and had even helped save Italy. And if he used it all at once and died, it was over. He couldn't do it by himself.
The crimson eyes nation pushed himself up onto his feet, slowly making his way over to the cracked dust covered mirror. The almost hesitant steps suggested that something was wrong, something he had been holding back. He wiped the film away so that he could see through it, blood smearing onto the surface instead. Through the streaks, his reflection stared back at him, eyes weary and so strange. He hardly looked like himself at this point, his regular façade breaking down. He was getting desperate. Red liquid slowly dripped down his arm, drenching his outfit. His vision was getting hazy and his arm was numbing from all the pain.
"Like I told you and a few of the others, before the idiots got themselves killed again, that I've been through this numerous times… Each loop I've failed to save all of you. I want to end it now." The playful flame that usually burned in his eyes darkened and evolved into a raging inferno of hate and determination. This was his game now and he was going to make up the rules! He clenched his fist and banged it against the mirror, shattering it even more. Shards clattered to the sink. England stepped closer to him, the smile starting to disappear. How many memories of these loops was the other holding onto? He looked so desperate and trapped, so unlike the playful yet sadistic nation he truly was. Where was that spark, that confident attitude?
"We would have had a better chance if we had gotten to that grandfather clock. But there is no time or way that we could try to get to it now. So now… We have to combine your magic with the journal's. Perhaps we can rewind the time back far enough to the point where we were about to enter through that gate. You remember that thing right? America had bashed it in before we even managed to read what it said." At that thought, the Italian rolled his eyes. He had to show off, didn't he? It was like he was trying to be the main character in one of Japan's manga. The island nation thought about what he said, looking down at his spell book. He hadn't thought of using it like that, but perhaps there was enough magic to help power up the spell. He nodded.
"We can try i-"
Just when he was about to finish his sentence, the door almost buckled underneath the sudden attack of the creature. Splinters went flying with each blow, cracks appearing as the wood screamed in protest. It was quite obvious that the door could not handle much more. The North Italian couldn't understand how this was happening; this was supposed to be the safest place, a haven where the monster couldn't enter. In all the loops he's been in, this had never happened before! Cursing in Italian, the younger nation turned to face England. The two held up their respective books, knowing they had to hurry and cast the two spells.
"Tornare indietro l'orologio. Correggere i nostri errori con questo incantesimo e ci riporta." England was staring down at his book, holding up a hand to focus the magic upwards, away from the pages that it was being drawn from. Slowly the dark sapphire colored tendrils swirled up and around them; a sort of magic field covering them. Italy had his eyes close, holding the opened journal with both hands, chanting in a language that was foreign to him. It wasn't Latin, or Italian, it was a strange tongue that he suddenly knew when he first picked up the journal. Twisting out of the words that were on the pages, several strands of his magic began to grow, combining with the Englishman's.
They were going to make it, he swore on his status as a nation!
England glanced over to his companion, wondering exactly how many times he had to see everyone die. He knew the sadistic nation would have enjoyed bloodshed, seeing it as a game. But it was as if he refused to let someone else kill the nations that he loved to fight with. He almost furrowed his eyebrows. He always had avoided talking about how long this had been going on, even when Japan and Germany was still alive and with them. Behind him, there was a loud crack and a portion of the door fell to the ground, torn away by the claws. The monster's two eyes stared through the gaping hold, some of its wide fang-filled mouth showing. Two sets of eyes shot to where the door was, lips still moving to continue the spell. They were on guard; their freedom was so close, they could taste it. The room went silent once the spell was finished, the crackling of the magic all that was heard. Another crack filled the air as the monster snarled again.
"I thought you sai-"
"I know! He never was able to get in before!" Italy snapped, looked frustrated and slightly uneasy. He remembered that this was a safe place, but somehow the monster was getting in… The smell of raw meat and rancid breath flowed into the room, causing both of the nations to wrinkle their noses up. It was beyond disgusting. The strands around them started to solidified, translucent.
The spell was almost complete. They were going to make it.
A chill swept through the air and the two nations instantly shivered. What was that? It hadn't been from the monster, so… Their eyes were drawn up to where the magic twisted and turned around them. Instead of their respective colors, the hues had shifted to muddier colors. Sparks shot into the air and the strands began to unravel, slashing into the walls and ceiling angrily. Luckily the magic hadn't hit them, but this shouldn't have been happening. The two attempted to step back but found themselves unable to leave the circle of magic that surrounded them.
"What's going on?" England yelled over the loud humming that began to rise. The mansion couldn't be responsible for this… could it? The Italian looked around, not understanding what was going on; it was expected that something could have happened, but was the spell backfiring on them somehow?
"How should I know? I've never tried this before!" Cursing, the Italian tried to step back, but the two nations found themselves unable to move from the circle of magic around them. Breaking through the humming of energy, the ticking came back full force, assaulting his ear drums. He let out a pained cry, overwhelmed for a second as he fell to one knee. No matter what he did, he just couldn't get rid of them, could he? Why was he cursed to always hear the clock's mechanical rhythm?
A piece of the door's wooden paneling went flying as a claw punched itself through it. The irate roar of the creature froze the nations' blood in their veins. It tried to get in, drool dripping down its gaping maw, desperate to finally lay claim to its prize after so long. The sound echoed throughout the small room, causing their ears to ring painfully.
The Italian's hope of being able to escape was dropping drastically. The magic suddenly expanded from around them, doubling in size as it became even more unstable. The magic struck the lights, shattering the fragile objects. The room was bathed in darkness with the magic only casting a murky light. Italy's heart nearly stopped when the door finally gave way to the creature's brutal assault. A large grin was on its mouth as it scrambled towards them, the ground cracking underneath it. Suddenly the magic's color started to increase to white, slowing down everything around them. They closed their eyes to prevent themselves from being blinded and were suddenly slammed into the wall when the magic suddenly exploded.
As the white light faded to black as they fell unconscious, a pair of amber and emerald eyes were seen in the darkness.