The Madman's Guide to Miracles

Voices reached me before my body did.

I stayed perfectly still, my eyes shut.

’Where... am I?’ My thoughts dragged through a haze of exhaustion.

The stone beneath me was freezing, my limbs refusing to answer no matter how hard I tried. My head throbbed. Every breath tasted like dust.

"...You dragged this all the way here?"

A woman clicked her tongue.

’Who are these people?’ I kept my eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness.

"I found him," another voice replied. Slow. Wet. Every word sounded as though it had crawled out of a swamp. "Mine."

"You find plenty of things."

"And I keep those too."

A quiet laugh drifted through the room.

"You’re both missing the point."

"What point?" the woman sighed. "It’s breathing. Congratulations."

"It walked out."

"...From there?"

A wet chuckle answered her.

Millhaven. Willard. Blood. The axe. My memories surfaced one after another, sluggish and incomplete, painting the path that had led me here while leaving my destination a mystery.

"...Well," the woman muttered, "that certainly explains why she took an interest."

’Three voices. That left one Regent unaccounted for.’ A cold shiver crawled down my spine. My body wanted to empty itself right then and there, gripped by the primal fear every living thing felt when standing before something infinitely higher on the food chain.

Stone cracked overhead.

A sound like mountains grinding together rolled through the room before the ceiling simply... folded inward. It wasn’t smashed. It gave way, yielding beneath something so impossibly massive that the building itself seemed to accept resistance was pointless.

Dust swallowed everything.

A pale hand emerged first, each finger larger than an ancient tree, gently brushing broken stone aside. More limbs followed. Far too many. They unfolded slowly from the darkness above while endless black hair spilled after them, covering the chamber like a curtain.

Even the Regents remained silent. Then she lowered herself into view. Beautiful. Motherly. Every instinct in my body told me she was the most dangerous thing in the room.

Thick black thread stitched both eyes shut, hundreds upon hundreds of uneven stitches crossing over one another until not a trace of an eyelid remained. Despite that... I knew she was looking directly at me.

A smile spread across her face.

"My..."

Her voice was warm.

Soft.

Almost affectionate.

"What a lovely little thing."

One enormous hand slid beneath me with impossible care and lifted me into the air.

The woman finally found her voice.

"Broodmother... we hadn’t finished deciding what to do with him."

’Shit... they’re treating me like I’m livestock.’

The giant tilted her head.

"There was nothing to decide."

’This must be the bitch who wrecked the cabin.’ I wanted to move. I couldn’t. Exhaustion pinned me down more effectively than chains ever could. My thoughts drifted, sluggish and unfocused. It felt like they’d put something inside me. And whatever it was... it didn’t belong. Something foreign had begun clawing at the edges of my mind.

"He was brought here."

"I found him."

There wasn’t even a hint of emotion behind her words. Just absolute certainty. The sort that only came from someone who had never needed anyone’s approval.

"So..." Her smile widened. "He’s mine."

Not a single voice rose in protest. The decision had already been made.

She cradled me against her chest, humming quietly as though she’d just brought home a lost child.

"Oh, you’re absolutely filthy." She brushed a thumb across my cheek. "We’ll have to wash you. Then I’ll find something nice for you to wear."

’I’d chew my own tongue off, gouge out my eyes, and crawl into my own grave before I became one of your children.’ My thoughts dripped with a hatred so absolute it made my stomach turn. It wasn’t just emotion anymore.

Just what the hell is happening to me? Even I was caught off guard by the sheer malice behind those thoughts.

A delighted giggle escaped her.

"You’ll fit in wonderfully."

"...Our family has been missing someone."

Every instinct I possessed screamed. The terrifying part wasn’t that she wanted to kill me. It was that she genuinely cared about keeping me.

She lifted a finger. A needle slipped into my neck. The world went black before I could even curse. Again.

I was starting to think consciousness just wasn’t for me.

Can I stay conscious for five goddamn minutes?

This was getting fucking ridiculous.

My thoughts became sluggish, then scattered completely as unconsciousness claimed me.

...

My impossibly heavy eyelids slowly fluttered open. The first thing that greeted me was the scent of blood, rusted iron, damp earth, and something floral that smelled... wrong.

’So where the fuck am I this time?’

I forced myself upright and looked around. It looked like some kind of underground cellar... or basement. Hard to tell. Stone walls. Shelves lined with strange plants that slowly writhed as if they were breathing. Glass jars filled with things I didn’t even want to identify.

...Yeah. Definitely kidnapped by psychopaths.

I tried to move.

I couldn’t.

"...Huh?"

I looked down.

My wrists weren’t tied.

They were nailed to the wooden frame beneath me.

Thick iron spikes had been driven clean through my palms. My ankles had received the same treatment.

For a second, my brain refused to process what I was looking at.

...No.

Then the pain caught up.

"GHH...!"

Agony tore through every nerve in my body all at once, so violent it stole the air from my lungs. My vision blurred as my entire body instinctively struggled against the restraints, only driving the nails deeper.

Fuck... fuck... don’t move... don’t fucking move...

My breathing became ragged as cold sweat poured down my face.

What kind of deranged bastard thinks this counts as restraint...?

Footsteps echoed through the room.

A group of... people?

No.

They looked human from a distance, but the closer they came, the less that word fit. Flowers and tangled vines sprouted from their scalps as though their skulls had become fertile soil. Some had extra arms stitched onto their torsos, others walked on mismatched legs that clearly belonged to someone else. Their skin was a patchwork of different tones and textures, sewn together with thick black thread. It looked less like surgery... and more like someone had built them from whatever bodies they could find.

...What the hell am I looking at?

Some smiled at me.

Others simply stared, tilting their heads with unsettling curiosity, as if they were deciding which parts of me would fit them best.

"Brother’s awake! Brother’s awake!" The smallest of them practically skipped toward me. She couldn’t have been taller than five-foot-three, her face youthful enough to pass for a child if not for the vines growing through her hair and the mismatched arm stitched onto her shoulder. "Look! He opened his eyes!"

There were four of them.

"Oh..." A broad-shouldered woman with a shaved head crouched beside me, her voice dripping with false sympathy. She gently cupped my face despite the blood running down my arms. "Look at you... screaming already." She smiled warmly. "Was it too much? It’s alright... big sister’s here now. You’ll get used to it."

"You coddle everything." A tall, gaunt man leaned against the wall, lazily scraping dirt from beneath his nails with a knife. One of his eyes didn’t match the other. "If he cries over a few nails, snap his neck and let Mother grow another."

"Don’t be mean." The fourth sighed, sounding almost disappointed. Unlike the others, she looked strangely normal... until she smiled. The corners of her mouth stretched far too wide. "Mother picked him herself. She always chooses the interesting ones."

"He does smell different." The little one leaned so close our noses nearly touched before taking a deep breath. Her eyes widened with delight. "Can I have him if Mother gets bored?"

"No." The shaved woman answered without looking at her. "He’s Mother’s favorite already."

The gaunt man clicked his tongue. "Lucky bastard."

"Lucky?" The fourth chuckled. "I’d call him unfortunate."

I forced my mouth open.

"W-Where am I—"

"...Where the fuck am I, you stitched-up, inbred pieces of shit?"

I froze.

...What?

That... wasn’t what I’d meant to say.

"Ohhh, little brother’s got some balls." The woman who called herself Big Sister grinned and stepped toward me.

The little one shrank back, eyes already watering. "H-How mean..."

She really was dramatic.

A lanky man with mismatched arms sighed. "Easy. He only just woke up."

Another woman leaned against the wall, lazily twirling a rusted scalpel between her fingers. "I like him already."

"Can I keep his tongue?" the little one asked timidly. "It says such awful things..."

Big Sister laughed. "Not yet. Mother hasn’t even seen her new son."

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we at least wait until Mother decides what she wants? I’d rather not explain why he’s missing pieces."

"Oh, don’t be so boring," the scalpel woman scoffed.

Big Sister stepped up until she was eye level with me. Her smile widened as she wrapped a hand around the rusted nail driven through my palm.

"Manners," she hummed. "We’ll have to teach you some. We can’t have our little brother disrespecting Mother, now can we?"

Then she twisted it.

Agony exploded through my arm.

It felt like the nail was grinding through bone, shredding flesh every fraction of an inch it turned. My vision blurred instantly, my entire body convulsing against the restraints.

"AAGHHH—!"

I bit down so hard I tasted blood.

"STOP—! P-PLEASE! PLEASE, STOP!"

My voice cracked into something pathetic. Tears blurred my vision before I even realized I was crying.

She only giggled.

I wanted to split them open. Pull them apart piece by piece. I wanted them begging. Crying. Praying. ...Why the fuck did that sound satisfying?

"There we go." Another twist. "See? You’re much cuter when you’re polite."

Every nerve in my arm screamed. The pain crawled up my shoulder, spread through my chest, and settled behind my eyes until it felt like my skull was splitting apart.

I couldn’t even breathe properly anymore.

I just wanted it to stop.

In an instant, silence descended.

The brood’s countless offspring froze. Every twisted smile vanished as they slowly stepped aside, their instincts forcing them to make a path.

Even they knew when their mother had arrived.

From the darkness beyond the chamber came the sound of something impossibly large moving. The walls trembled. The floor groaned beneath her weight.

Then she emerged.

A colossal stitched figure of flesh and thread, her body a grotesque patchwork of countless pieces. Hundreds of eyes covered her form, each one staring in a different direction, yet somehow all of them focused on me.

A monster by appearance.

A mother by nature.

She lowered herself beside me, her enormous hand brushing against my restraints with impossible gentleness.

"Now, now..."

Her voice was horrifying. A warped sound that should have caused fear alone.

Yet beneath the distortion was warmth. Patience. Affection.

"Don’t hurt your brother."

The words were soft. Almost tender.

Which somehow made them worse.

"My apologies, Mother."

Big Sister reluctantly pulled her hand away, almost pouting. "I was only trying to teach him manners."

The mother’s countless eyes narrowed onto her. Then they sharpened.

"Did I ask you... to?"

Her voice was quiet. Almost gentle.

Before Big Sister could answer, one of the Broodmother’s hands moved.

CRACK—

The impact sent her arm flying across the room like a door ripped from its hinges.

GUSH—

Blood splattered across the floor.

"Ah—!" Big Sister stumbled back, clutching the stump where her arm used to be. For the first time since I had seen her, the twisted smile was gone.

"M-Mother..." Her voice trembled. "I’m sorry. I got carried away."

She lowered her head. "I only wanted to teach him."

The Broodmother stared at her. Hundreds of eyes watched in silence.

"You always do this."

A disappointed sigh escaped her. "You become too excited and forget to be gentle."

Big Sister’s expression changed instantly. Panic flashed across her face. "No... Mother, I can be better. I promise. I won’t hurt him again."

The Broodmother reached down and gently touched her head. The gesture was almost affectionate.

"I know."

Her smile returned.

"That is why I will fix you."

Big Sister froze.

"Go wait outside. I’ll stitch your arm back on later."

"...Yes, Mother."

She bowed before quietly leaving the room, carrying her severed arm like it was nothing more than a broken toy.

I watched the entire scene unfold, unable to move. My fear kept crawling deeper, my heartbeat hammering inside my skull.

What chain of events led me to this hell

BA-dump—

Blood dripped onto the floor.

The dripping blood reached my legs. I stared at it, and what greeted me was something incredibly unsettling.

I was smiling.

My eyes were unnaturally wide open, my face twisted into a disturbing expression that looked nothing like me. Like some kind of lunatic staring at a masterpiece.

What... what is this?

I don’t think I was smiling. Was I?

Why was I smiling?

I asked myself the same question that had been following me since the cabin.

What the hell was happening to me?

The Broodmother tilted her head, hundreds of eyes focusing on my smile. For a moment, she said nothing.

Then... she smiled too.

"There it is."

Her voice was soft. Almost delighted.

"I was wondering when you would finally show me your true face."

My body went cold.

"Don’t worry, little one..."

She brushed a finger against my cheek.

"Mother will take good care of what’s growing inside you."

"Now then..." The Broodmother’s smile widened. "Shall we begin your adoption ceremony?"

My blood ran cold.

She said it with the same warmth a mother would use when preparing a birthday celebration.

"Wait—"

I tried to move, but my body refused to listen.

The Broodmother simply lifted one finger.

Snap.

The entire chamber shifted into motion.

"Prepare everything."

Her children immediately scattered.

One brought strange flowers. Another carried a bowl filled with a dark liquid I refused to identify. Another dragged over a tray of rusted tools.

Then one of them returned carrying a pair of scissors.

My eyes locked onto them.

No.

No, no, no.

"What are those for?" My voice came out weaker than I wanted.

The little creature smiled innocently.

"For making you part of the family."

My heartbeat slammed against my skull.

"Wait... what the hell does that mean?"

The Broodmother leaned closer, her stitched smile stretching wider.

"Don’t worry."

Her voice was gentle.

"Mother knows exactly how to welcome a new child."

One of the offspring carrying the scissors slowly approached me.

His expression was completely blank.

Without hesitation, he placed the scissors against my skin, moving them with the same casual ease someone would use while cutting a piece of cloth.

It was only then that I noticed it.

I was completely naked.

My pouch was gone.

A brief flash of panic crossed my mind, but not because of what was inside. Nobody else could take anything from it. To them, it would appear as nothing more than an ordinary empty pouch.

But where was it?

I needed it back.

I needed to leave.

Now.

I wanted out.

I wanted to get the hell out of this place before whatever they called an "adoption ceremony" began.

The offspring with the scissors stepped closer.

Its face didn’t change. No excitement. No hesitation. Nothing at all.

That blank stare was worse than anything else in the room.

SNIP.

The blades opened my skin.

"AAAAGHHH—!"

The sound tearing out of me didn’t feel like mine. Too raw. Too broken.

SNIP.

Deeper this time. Blood welled up in a thin line and ran down my ribs, warm against the cold stone.

"Hold still, brother." Flat. Patient. "Mother wants you beautiful."

"BEAUTIFUL?!" Spit and blood flew from my mouth. "YOU CALL THIS BEAUTIFUL?!"

SNIP. SNIP.

Each cut landed exact. Measured. Like it had done this a hundred times and forgotten how to feel anything about it.

The little one leaned in, eyes shining.

"He’s louder than the others."

"Still got fight in him." The gaunt man, almost admiring. "Won’t last."

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" My throat tore around the words. "I’LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!"

People always imagined the mind breaking slowly. They were wrong. It happened in an instant. One unbearable moment was all it took. Everything I’d clung to, every thought that felt like mine, every certainty... they cracked apart before I even realized they were breaking.

Every coherent thought was drowned beneath a single desperate question.

...

Get out.

Get out.

GET OUT.

I DON’T WANT THIS.

How to survive.

How to survive?

WHY AM I SMILING?

STOP SMILING.

STOP SMILING STOP SMILING STOP SMILING

How to survive. Get out.

THEY LOVE ME.

THEY LOVE ME.

THEY LOVE ME.

GET OUT.

HOW TO SURVIVE?

HOW TO SURVIVE?!

HOW TO SURVIVE!!

HOW TO SURVIVE HOW TO SURVIVE HOW TO SURVIVE

SNIP-

The blade caught something that wasn’t skin. White-hot pain detonated up my arm and my vision cracked into static.

"HHNNGH—!"

Blood pooled beneath me, warm, then cold, then warm again as more of it came.

They just watched. Heads tilted. Eyes bright.

Like I was a fire they’d gathered around to stay warm.

And somewhere underneath the pain, the worst part surfaced.

They weren’t hurting me because they hated me.

They were doing it because they already loved me.

My hatred curled tighter around that single fact until it stopped feeling like an emotion and started feeling like fuel.

Escape.

Nothing else mattered.

I didn’t care what it cost.

I didn’t care what I’d become to make it happen.

I was leaving this place.

Even if I had to tear it apart with my own hands to do it.

The Broodmother lowered herself beside me, hundreds of eyes settling on the ribbons of skin the scissors had left curling off my ribs.

"Let me finish what they started."

She reached down and lifted one of the strips off the floor. Mine. Still warm.

She pressed it flat against her own forearm.

A needle slid free from somewhere beneath her folds, black thread trailing behind it. She began sewing my skin into hers with the same unhurried care someone might use hemming a coat they liked.

RIP. Thread through flesh. SQUELCH. Flesh through flesh.

"You gave me something today," she murmured, not looking up. "It’s only fair I give something back."

She lifted her head toward the others.

"Bring me your sisters."

The little one went first, dragged forward by nothing but her own eagerness. The Broodmother’s hand closed around her shoulder—gentle, the way you’d hold something you loved—and peeled a strip of skin from her arm in one clean motion.

SKKT.

The girl’s breath caught. That was all. Her face folded into something closer to pride than pain.

"Mother’s giving me to him," she whispered.

Big Sister stepped forward next, the stump of her arm still weeping where it had been torn free earlier. She offered her other shoulder without being asked. The Broodmother took a strip from her too, humming while she worked, like this was a chore she’d done a thousand times and never once minded.

I gagged. My stomach had emptied itself hours ago. It tried anyway.

The Broodmother turned back to me, three ribbons of skin now hanging between her fingers. Mine. The girl’s. Big Sister’s.

"Hold still, dear."

She pressed the first one into the cut across my ribs.

The needle went through.

"AAGH—"

Fire dragged through nerves that hadn’t finished screaming from the first round. Her graft went in cold. The girl’s went in warm, foreign, a texture my body didn’t recognize as its own no matter how carefully it was sewn there. Big Sister’s came last, heavier, older, stitched along my collarbone until it sat flush against skin that used to only be mine.

"There." She tied off the final knot. "Now you carry your family with you."

I looked down at three strangers’ worth of skin settling into my body, already starting to knit itself into something permanent.

This wasn’t punishment.

Somewhere underneath it, a colder part of my mind had already started keeping score. Counting exits. Measuring how long her attention stayed on me before it drifted. Filing away exactly how many of her children stood between me and the door.

I hated her for what she was doing to me.

I hated myself more for noticing I was still thinking clearly enough to plan.

The panic died.

Something colder took its place.

A cold plan was brewing inside me.

I smiled.

The Broodmother mistook it for acceptance.

"Good boy," she murmured. "Mother knew you’d understand."

***

I’m currently focusing on writing a lot of Chapters before I start posting. I’ve already written some, but I want to wait.

If I get a certain amount of Power Stones, I’ll probably release a bulk of 5 or 10 Chapters.

Also, the MC is going to return to Earth in around 30 Chapters or more. You have to understand that about 30% of the story is going to take place in the academy.

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