Jesus Heaven for Weebs
Jeong Hakju had been raised from birth believing firmly in the innate goodness of humanity. With parents who always spoke to him kindly, taught him proper knowledge and manners, it was only natural he'd judge the world hastily. But the world was far dirtier and crueler than Jeong Hakju or his parents could have imagined. Ugly guys, poor guys, boring guys, weak-looking guys—they were nothing but a single drink's worth of snacks for the strong in this merciless society. Jeong Hakju looked weak.
A decently average appearance, an average middle-class family, and a good-natured personality made plenty of people think "pushover." The first incident happened in fifth grade. Some sixth-grade seniors barged into his class to "enforce discipline," picking on a kid who seemed a bit slow, and when Jeong Hakju tried to stop them, he got swept up too. Reasonless violence raining down indiscriminately, friends snickering behind his back calling him a fake goody-two-shoes, followed by isolation. It didn't take long for a perfectly fine fifth-grader to break down completely.
Still, he somehow scraped through sixth grade, graduated, and entered middle school. He'd heard middle school was way different from elementary, so he felt a bit relieved deep down. But that was a huge mistake. Pubescent boys overflowing with testosterone were like bombs ready to go off at any moment. At the age where they started craving girlfriends as trophies, they bared their teeth at each other in endless turf wars for higher status. A timid first-year with a history of bullying had no place there.
Social hierarchies formed naturally in the class, and the emboldened power players went hunting for juicy prey. Jeong Hakju being the first spotted was no accident. Extortion was the baseline, pranks escalating to violence the norm, forcing him to strip in front of the class or crawl like a dog routine. The real scum would smoke stolen cigarettes behind the school, using his body as an ashtray. The problem was, Jeong Hakju was a diligent student who followed manners to a T, so teachers and parents noticed nothing off. No matter how agonized his face, no matter how he dreaded the sunrise after sleepless nights.
After three hellish years of middle school, he finally entered high school—the last step before becoming an adult. This time, to avoid bullying, he picked a school a bit far from home. Long story short, it was utterly pointless. The strong sniff out the weak like ghosts, and the ins sniff out the outs like demons. Jeong Hakju, growing more introverted and passive, had switched his hobbies to shut-in subculture stuff, so standing out in high school—prime time for ins to emerge—was inevitable. To the ins, the mere existence of otaku losers breathing the same air was a grave sin. So contempt and torment following was no twist anymore.
Money saved for books got torn up, his smartphone snatched for public humiliation, girls openly calling him smelly and gross. In the end, Jeong Hakju couldn't even last half of high school's three years and holed up at home. Parents, clueless, coaxed and coddled him until they got fed up and snapped, dragging him to a counselor to force out his shameful past. Jeong Hakju, who never opened his mouth till the end, turned his back even on his parents—once his sturdy walls and lighthouse—and shut himself away again. Cursing a world that fit human evilness, not goodness.
Then one day, a voice spoke. Do you want the power you've longed for so desperately? In a situation straight out of anime, novels, or comics, Jeong Hakju nodded with strange euphoria. Power! With power, he could crush everything and stand above it all! Those demon-like bullies, those bitchy girls who'd humiliated him—all under his feet, while he laughed in bliss! So he nodded. He'd do anything—just give him that power. He prayed fervently for the strong's privilege he'd never tasted.
And opportunity knocked.
Offer the hearts of your hypocritical, selfish parents. The evil breathing within them binds you—only by sacrificing them can you claim power.
The kind parents who raised you gently and guided you right are gone. Now, clueless pigs occupy the master bedroom, nothing but coercive trash.
Jeong Hakju, emerging from his room after ages, grabbed a massive kitchen knife and a pole from the toolbox. Seeing his lonely kid suffer lonely nights while they basked in each other's warmth, happily asleep—rage boiled in his skull. I was born weak because of these parents. If I'd had proper ones, I'd have grown strong. Become an in. Gratitude for their upbringing melted away, leaving only a prodigal son's fury and murderous urge.
After that, things went smoothly. Bashed them with the pole, stabbed with the knife, killed them, sliced open bellies, extracted hearts. On the pristine white kitchen tablecloth, he drew a pentagram in dark red blood, placing the two warm hearts in the center. Right then, power flooded in. Jeong Hakju finally had power. Even if he wasn't wielding it—even if something inside him wore his skin like a mask to swing it—that was enough for a subculture proxy-satisfaction junkie. In the end, even with power, he devolved into a pathetic otaku loser patricide who could never take the reins.
Countless people suffered under his power—tortured at whim. Like a movie villain, he ran a secret org, piling corpses through minions. Lounging on his throne, savoring floods of blood, flesh, human despair, screams like a gourmet. Self-rationalizing that as enough happiness—until a lightning bolt pierced his mind, rousing the cowering Jeong Hakju in the darkness.
Heaven lets you fuck 2D otaku characters.
Whoa! Heaven has 2D otaku characters to fuck! Even with his mighty power, that'd been impossible!
"Eek, guk, kaaaaaaaah!"
"Good, this fucker's overflowing in-power can't handle the internal out-power anymore!"
The smug bastard, stubbornly cross-legged and mocking me, suddenly twisted in agony, screaming. He clutched his face with both hands and snapped his own neck with a crack. Vertebrae shattered with a gruesome crunch, but his pain didn't subside.
"W-Wait! Didn't you want power...? Just a bit more and the whole world would be at your feet—eeeeek!"
"Nah, fucking 2D otaku characters sounds better~ Heaven's packed with blonde tanned delinquent angels too—go quick or they'll get snatched! Wooohohohoho!"
"Keeek! Gack! Stop! Stoooop! Go back in! That's the life you gave up! Survive on evil and grit! Submit and obey me!"
"Jesus doesn't want your submission or obedience! Just faith is enough! Faith that he'll let you enjoy endless dom-sub pure-love sex with 2D otaku characters forever!"
"Ooooooooh!"
"You're a latecomer! Other otaku bastards ascended to heaven ages ago! Your dream 2D waifu might already be taken! Why not rush up and claim your rights fair and square? I'll be your human rights lawyer!"
Just claim heaven belongs to humans, sovereignty from humans. That'll do.
"Ooooooogok! Gek! Kak! Ooooooh!"
Make a world where you can fuck 2D otaku characters! Gurgle gurgle! Throat clear~!Spluuuurt!
Something thick really surged from his gullet, and atop the mountain of flesh, he vomited a black mass like mad. Rolling out amid the black ooze: countless human hearts. When the last one hit the pile, I grabbed the exhausted fucker's collar and yanked him up.
"We haven't properly introduced ourselves. I gave my name, so spill yours, buddy?"
"Non est super! Non est super! Non est super!"
"Critical condition, huh. Guess I'll perform the surgery."
I hurled him down the flesh heap, slid after, snatched his nape at the bottom. Back in the bleach-reeking OR, I slammed him on the now-empty table.
"Scalpel."
Scalpel in hand. Now for a serious chat.
"Okay, raise your right arm if it hurts."
I wrapped his right arm tight with a rubber band. If he lifts it, he's really hurting—no lies. I plunged the scalpel vertically into his bloated, toad-like gut's rough skin.
"Aaaaaaaaaah!"
"Roughly: 'Say your name or I'll gut you and pull it out.' Amen."
"Heh heh heh... Carve me from this body, and his soul goes too! I'll never leave his soul—go ahead, gut him!"
"On second thought, no need."
Instead of slicing, I flipped open the Bible for a fitting verse.
"Even Siamese twins go to heaven together in this advanced age—no rule saying a retard and otaku can't both ascend buddies."
No good lines. Bible's limits clear. Can't contain all Lord Jesus Father's words! Shame on Apostle Paul!
"No choice."
Pummeled his mountain-belly flat, hopped on quick. One hand pinned his sneering forehead, the other knuckle-dustered his jaw nonstop.
"Jesus! Believe or not?!" Thwack! Thwack! Fuck!
"Jesus is up there! People in heaven!" Jesus punch! Jesus punch! Jesus punch!
"O great Lord Jesus Father in heaven, look upon this lowly sinner! He's only ever been a shitting machine in life, fit to produce heaven's dung fertilizer! Forgive this turd heap, save him from evil!"
"Grk! Uwaaaaaah!"
"Amen say Jesus, you say heaven! Jesus!" Thwack!
"Infernum...!"
"Jesus!"
"Infer..." Thwack!
"Spit your true feelings!" You're jealous too! Heaven's 24/7 unlike hell—guzzle wine all you want! Shake your trained ass for angels!
"My name is..."
"Who asked for your fucking name, shithead?!"
"You..."
"Not anymore!"
I clamped his mouth shut, hammered his solar plexus relentlessly.
"Jesus!"
"Hea..."
"Too quiet!"
"Hea...!"
"Can't hear ya~!"
"Hea... guk, gek."
I released for his final words.
"My name is Ammoooooooon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Tried sending him to heaven nice, but he spat his name and crumbled to ash. I scratched my head atop the now-flat-bellied normal guy. He slept peacefully, content. Ascended to heaven for endless 2D otaku fucking.
I crossed myself, rummaged his pockets, found a beat-up smartphone—sole memento for his kin.
"May God's blessing be on your hip thrusts."
As I exited, the kid waiting out front smiled faintly, popped a candy, and vanished. A happy night for all.