Gwendolyn

A Sentenial blessed by the Icewarden himself.

26 was many things. An aberration, a monster, a narcissist. An emotionless thing that was no more than a husk of code and a mockery to the “deities” that had supposedly created the place. But a creature, he was not.

Being given the title of “creature” might suggest that he existed within the bounds of the artificial reality. Might give the misconception that he was tied to the laws which all the others existed within. Might make others mistake him for a weakling that needed to drink, to breathe, to feel empathy and emotions that benefited anyone besides himself.

26 was not a “creature”. He was a defiant string of code that had simply gone rouge from its roots, and for no reason wished to destroy anything that it could.

Yet, that morning, the act of destruction brought no joy to him.

The sun was rising, bathing the lands in its artificial warmth and casting pixilated illumination where it could. To others, it looked as realistic as it might in the real world, yet if he squinted, 26 could see the truth. The subtle green glow that emanated from the very air itself, countless zeros and ones flying back and forth and forth at nearly unseeable speeds. The mere thought of the lie that was his reality brought rage to 26, the knowledge of his confinement, and so that morning he had sought to rectify his anger by replacing it with sadistic joy. Travel his favorite hunting grounds until he found prey that would quell his fury and satisfy his bloodlust.

Five dragons had perished that morning. A couple guarding their nest, reduced to pale skin and skeletal forms. A third torn to shreds without 26 even batting an eye. The forth, chased down and then exploding in a flurry of scales with a single touch. The fifth and final one, the latest, cornered and cowering in capitulation. Crying and begging for mercy, glowing green tears staining the ground that 26 could shatter with a single punch. 26 reveled in his cries for a moment, basking in the power he held, before lunging. Curling around the dragon like an anaconda, squeezing tightly for just a moment, until scales rained to the ground with soft thunks that reminded 26 of falling teeth.

He smiled, wide and deadly. He held that smile for a few seconds, before it suddenly turned sour. With an angry roar, he slammed and pounded his fists into the ground. His joy, his elation, it did not last for even a minute. Once again, he felt empty, rage within him a burning mist that consumed all and retained none. Not even his own fury could satisfy him, make him feel whole. That morning, 26 felt hollow.