Trash: Chapter 116 Show Me (Patreon)

Chapter 116

Show Me

Few words can share both an idea of trust, and a fact of personal impending hardship like show me can.  Those two words imply a lot. On their surface they state that you have a chance to prove an implied innocence, that a verdict has not been rendered so long as you provide evidence that proves your innocence.

There might be some outliers, some instances where the use of show me is applied differently or has a different meaning, but for this particular instance, the meaning was clear. I was close to getting into trouble, unless I could prove or show that what I did was not only expected, but also acceptable. That it was only idle curiosity for finding a previously unknown foreign object in broad daylight that caught my attention, and that I was not the one who placed said item in the first place.

By going down the street, and showing each version, I proved myself innocent over and over again. Particularly when we started going towards hidden ones that I had no chance of placing. Ones that were so high, or at such odd places that I would never be able to place them even while walking. I could feel the intrusive gaze of people, guards, and military officials alike peering deeply into me, to see if I used any form of magic while gathering these items.

I would remove one, and at first, no one could see what I was referring to, not even Madame Bloom. It was only after I broke two more open with Trash, and proceeded to curb stomp the shadow jelly-like material that erupted afterwards that people no longer needed demonstrations. The people who were most adamant that future demonstrations were not needed were the sensitives who all seemed to buckle over in pain at the sudden awakening of these monstrous creatures. Even Madame Bloom had issues with the noises, though it was clear that she could heal herself almost immediately, negating most of the damage.

Fortunately, by the time I really got going, Ronaldo had already closed up his shop and taken his apparently sensitive son away from the area. Though I don’t know exactly how long of a range these alien shadow creatures had to cry out their pain.

Finally by the fifth overall specimen, and the third one that I gathered after Madame Bloom made her famous request to show me, she decided to break protocol.

“We are going to do something different,” were the words Madame Bloom stated.

“Tired of the nose bleeds?” I asked somewhat jokingly. She just nodded, and put a finger up to her sinus cavity as if to relieve some form of pressure. Then with her other hand she made a come here gesture towards Markan, who began setting up supplies. There was an easel with a seemingly simple image drawn on it, one that looked almost like the Egyptian all seeing eye, but slightly smoother. At least smoother than I remembered as this was one simple loop around and back, and then a connected dot for the eye.

“Two movements,” Madame Bloom stated, and then on the empty parchment below, she took a red paint brush and chose right then and there to do a demonstration of those two movements. “Quick, simple, and don’t worry about being perfect, it will come with time.”

“What?” Was all I managed to respond.

“On these shadow stones you are finding, it is clear that you can see them, but even after holding them, all I see is a faint shadowy object that my mind wishes to automatically overlook. It is clear that there is some force at play on it, that is keeping our minds from wanting to recognize it, so by you applying paint we should be able to at least see the paint,” Madame Bloom offers, holding up the brush and gesturing for me to draw the marking as she indicated.

“And the marking?” I ask, confused if the paint alone will suffice.

“The marking is in the hopes that you eventually get the protection image correct,” Madame Bloom offers.

“And if I do?”

“Then we will see what happens,” she responds in as cryptic of a way possible.

Shrugging, I do as instructed. I take the large paint brush and try to do a quick loop and a dot, only getting some of the paint on my left hand that I am using to hold the object in place.

“Ohh,” the crowd of onlookers remarks after I hold up the now painted stone.

“Like this?” I ask.

“Yes, but work on perfecting the image,” Madame Bloom offers before pointing to a box that Markan is holding, indicating that I am apparently to place the object into the box. Taking one last look at the object, it is especially clear to my eyes, and looks almost like a smokey form is moving about a dark solid state of slime. By just looking at the stone, I can see that the smoke is somehow moving, and if I focus intensely, I swear I can see the solid dark slime tremor slightly. With my personal inspection of the stone complete, I drop it into the box. Making sure to use my Trash Skill to remove the paint, only once the coated dark stone is in the box.

From there, it is a matter of working. Markan moves the easel with the image I am to draw, making sure to dip the paint brush every other stone into the red paint. Though, a quick look lets me know that this isn’t simple paint as it seems to glow slightly. Not the way that mana infused paint would act, but it is clear that something is different about this red paint. That or I never paid much attention to the paint of this world.

“Something catching your attention?” Madame Bloom asks, when she sees me stare at the jar of paint for too long.

“That isn’t normal paint, is it?” As I ask, Madame Bloom smiles widely as if I passed some test she had been offering.

“You are correct, this is paint that is made by a specialist I know. One who all the good painters go to for their supplies to craft their masterpieces,” she offers.

At first the comment seems like the type of rhetoric one extremely rich person would give about the quality of goods that common folk wouldn’t understand. But sadly, I can now see the difference.

“Well, I can see why if this is their quality, it all but radiates with energy,” I reply. At that Madame Bloom beams with pride, as if I had given her the compliment, instead of the maker. Seeing her reaction, I do have to ask. “You didn’t make this did you?”

“No, sadly, I just met this master paint maker once, I thought I could become a famous painter if I applied myself, as my works seemed to get better exponentially, despite my Skill levels never raising more than a level or two. Only afterwards did I realize it was the paint and not the painter,” Madame Bloom replied with the same reaction one would give when recounting the very moment that they realized they would never be able to achieve their childhood dream. There was a moment of melancholy that filled us, as we made our way to the next nearest stone.

“Right,” was my one-word reply, as I left the group quickly to reach out and grab the next secured shadow stone. There was a faint squishing sound as this one seemed to be somehow softer than the others, thinner in a way that I was not prepared for. Then like picking up an egg that had been suctioned to a flat surface for too long, I yanked a bit too hard, and felt the crackling of the protective shell.

Holding up the stone that felt like it was now oozing out, as dark liquid tried to grab onto my skin, I wondered if I had messed up. It only took a second for me to realize that yes, yes I had messed up.

“SHRIEEEK!”

Being used to this process by now, I went to my patented three-point approach to dealing with these shadow stones: the stop, drop, and stomp method.

Unfortunately, there was just one problem, as it still had its protective outer shell protecting it from my stomp, and thereby preventing my build up of internal energy from being able to race through my stomping leg and explode outward and fry the creature.

Instead, I had only partially destroyed the monster, as it let out an even louder psychic scream.

“SHRRRIIIEEEEEEEKKKKK!”

Hearing this one, I even felt my own mind tense up and pulse at the pressure, but I wasn’t done. Instead, I just focused on my own actions, despite this psychic assault being far more powerful and more primal than I had ever experienced before. Unlike the others that seemed to pause as if drawing in breath, this one seemed to be far stronger, and thus able to keep the burst up for a longer time. Fortunately, I was not a sensitive, as I could still think and act during this time, despite being in clear pain from the assault. That’s when I channeled my Trash Skill through the ball of my foot, eroding the protective outer shell and then quickly raised up and lowered my heel with my full weight behind it, the way only a ballerina could. Raising quickly on my toes, and smashing violently with my heel. The process was less dramatic, but no less effective, as I felt the second surge of pulsing energy course through my heel and into the shadowy orb, only for the ruthless assault on my mind to stop a moment later.

There was silence for a moment, as once again the world seemed like it had stopped while I been moving. Now that I stopped moving, the world seemed like it was pausing, though I could see the faint traces of life slowly forming, showing signs of life. Markan fumbled the jar of paint that he had been carrying.

The officer assigned to carry my box of marked shadow stones stumbled for a second and proceeded to do a controlled crash into the ground, where he fell forward and used the wooden crate to catch his fall.

Only after a moment did I realize we had dodged a bullet.

Finally, Madame Bloom was the first to react and recover, her Bloom bloodline energy clearly coursing through her body and healing the injuries she sustained.

“What happened?” She asked in her no-nonsense attitude.

“I don’t know, it felt rotten and cracked when I tried to pull it away from the wall,” I stated, and pointed to the wall that still had a slight sliver of the outer casing attached to it. Moving closer to the wall, I could see the moment recognition hit as her eyes went wide with panic, before she turned from the wall, and looked at the box of shadowy stones. Stones that all suddenly began pulsing and moving.

I could almost hear the first crack, as if a baby bird was about to emerge from an egg. There was just one problem, these weren’t eggs, at least not in the traditional sense, though I could see that they were all going to hatch, especially as the dark slimes inside began to shake and tremble, as a thin mist of smoke began to rise, showing that cracks had formed in the half dozen or so eggs that I had found, marked, and stored for later examination. Now it seemed that, we had been mistaken in our approach as all of the eggs that were nearby began to stir and awaken as one.

“Oh shit,” was all I could muster, as my mind began piecing together the fact that this was going to go poorly very quickly.

“Don’t just stand there, do something!” Madame Bloom yelled, and as if being finally allowed to act, I moved, my body on autopilot as I began trying to stop this new seemingly larger threat from erupting.

In my mind, I could already see a world where all of these slimes opened up, and merged into one super slime, just like the shadowy creature I fought at Bloom Park. Just remembering how it tried to pull me in and suffocate me caused a wave of painful memories to rise up in my mind. Memories that I would rather avoid right now. Realizing, I was likely the only one capable of stopping such a transition, I acted.

That’s when I jumped into action—