Chapter 129: The Destruction

Chapter 129: Chapter 129: The Destruction

POV Switch: Lyra

Lyra stared at the statue, her eyes fixed on the figure before her.

It was tall, the height impressive. It was robed, the fabric flowing. It had a kind face, the features gentle. Its arms were outstretched, the gesture welcoming. It looked peaceful, the expression serene. It looked holy, the aura sacred. It looked like a god, the presence divine.

But it also looked like a dick, the shape unmistakable.

"You’re right," she said again, her voice flat. "It does look like a dick."

Brick Head grinned, his expression triumphant. "I told you! I told everyone! But they didn’t listen!"

"They tried to kill you."

"They overreacted."

Lyra shook her head, her expression amused. She looked around the plaza, her eyes scanning. It was empty, the space deserted. The mob had dispersed, their forms gone. The streets were quiet, the noise faded.

"We need to destroy it," she said, her voice firm.

Brick Head nodded, his head bobbing. "Right. The dick statue. How do we destroy it?"

Lyra thought about it, her brow furrowing. She looked at the statue, her eyes studying. At its base, the foundation solid. At its body, the structure thick. At its head, the shape distinct.

"I could shoot it," she said, her voice thoughtful.

"With your gun?"

"Yes."

"Will that work?"

"I don’t know. Let’s find out."

She summoned her gun, her hand extending. She raised it, her arm steady. She aimed at the statue’s base, her eye aligning.

She fired, her finger pulling the trigger.

The bullet hit the stone, the impact sharp. It chipped, the surface breaking. A small piece flew off, the fragment small.

"That’s it?" Brick Head asked, his voice disappointed.

"It’s stone. It’s thick."

"Can you shoot harder?"

"I can try."

She fired again, her finger pulling. Another chip, the surface breaking. Another piece, the fragment small. Another small dent, the mark visible.

"This is going to take forever," Brick Head said, his voice resigned.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Brick Head thought about it, his brow furrowing. His expression was confused, his mind struggling.

"I could punch it," he said, his voice uncertain.

"You could punch it?"

"Yeah. I’m strong."

"You’re not that strong."

"I’m stronger than I look."

Lyra sighed, a long, resigned sound. "Fine. Try."

Brick Head walked toward the statue, his steps heavy. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp. He raised his fist, his arm cocking. He punched, his fist flying.

The statue didn’t move, the form still. Brick Head’s hand bounced off, the impact sharp. He stumbled back, his balance wavering. He shook his hand, the pain visible. He winced, his expression pained.

"Ow," he said, his voice small.

Lyra raised an eyebrow, her expression amused. "That worked well."

"It’s harder than it looks."

"It’s stone."

"I know."

---

They tried everything, their efforts relentless.

Lyra shot it, her gun firing. Brick Head punched it, his fist flying. Lyra shot it again, her finger pulling. Brick Head kicked it, his foot connecting. Lyra shot it again, the bullet hitting. Brick Head headbutted it, his head slamming.

Nothing worked, their efforts futile. The statue was too strong, the structure solid. Too solid, the material thick. Too stubborn, the form unyielding.

"We need a new plan," Lyra said, her voice frustrated.

Brick Head nodded, his head bobbing. "Yeah. This isn’t working."

They sat down on the edge of the fountain, their bodies tired. They were tired, their strength depleted. They were frustrated, their patience wearing thin. They were out of ideas, their minds blank.

Then Brick Head spoke, his voice curious.

"Hey," he said. "Can I ask you something?"

Lyra looked at him, her eyes meeting his. "What?"

"Would you rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?"

Lyra stared at him, her expression blank. "What?"

"It’s a game. Daniel taught it to me. It’s fun."

"It’s stupid."

"It’s fun. Just answer."

Lyra sighed, a long, resigned sound. "Fine. One horse-sized duck."

Brick Head tilted his head, his expression curious. "Why?"

"Ducks are weak. A horse-sized duck would be slow. I could shoot it."

"That’s what I said! Well, I said I would ride it. But same thing."

Lyra shook her head, her expression amused. She was smiling, a small, tired smile.

"Your turn," she said, her voice soft.

Brick Head blinked, his expression confused. "What?"

"Ask me another one."

Brick Head thought about it, his brow furrowing. "Okay. Would you rather... be able to fly or be invisible?"

Lyra thought about it, her expression contemplative. "Fly."

"Why?"

"I could go anywhere. See everything. I was blind my whole life. I want to see everything."

Brick Head nodded, his head bobbing. "That’s a good answer."

"What about you?"

"I would want to be invisible."

"Why?"

"So I could sneak into the girls’ changing room."

Lyra punched him, her fist connecting.

"Ow!" he shouted, his voice pained. "What was that for?"

"For being a pervert."

"I’m not a pervert! I’m curious!"

"That’s the same thing."

"It’s not!"

---

They kept talking, their voices soft.

They talked about their lives, their stories unfolding. About their dreams, their hopes rising. About their fears, their worries surfacing.

Brick Head talked about his village, his home. About his mother, her love. About his dream of becoming a hero, his goal clear.

Lyra talked about her family, her past. About her blindness, her struggle. About her dream of becoming an adventurer, her purpose defined.

They talked for hours, the time passing. They talked until the sun started to set, the light fading. They talked until the sky turned orange, the color vivid.

"This is nice," Brick Head said, his voice soft.

Lyra looked at him, her eyes meeting his. "What?"

"This. Talking. Hanging out. It’s nice."

Lyra was silent, her expression thoughtful. She was thinking, her mind working.

"Yeah," she said, her voice quiet. "It is."

Brick Head smiled, a genuine smile. A warm smile that softened his features.

"We should do this more often."

"Destroy statues?"

"No. Talk."

Lyra looked at him, her eyes studying his face. At his smiling face, the expression warm. At his kind eyes, the gaze gentle. At his stupid mask, the object ridiculous.

"Maybe," she said, her voice soft.

---

Then Brick Head stood up, his body rising.

"Alright," he said, his voice firm. "Let’s destroy this statue."

Lyra looked at him, her eyes meeting his. "How?"

"I have an idea."

"What idea?"

"Follow me."

He walked toward the statue, his steps heavy. He stopped in front of it, his form still. He looked at it, his eyes studying. At its base, the foundation solid. At its body, the structure thick. At its head, the shape distinct.

"I’m going to push it," he said, his voice firm.

Lyra stared at him, her expression incredulous. "Push it?"

"Yeah. Push it over."

"It’s stone. It’s heavy."

"I’m strong."

"You’re not that strong."

"Let’s find out."

He placed his hands on the statue, his palms pressing. He planted his feet, his stance wide. He took a breath, his chest expanding.

He pushed, his muscles straining.

His muscles bulged, the fibers flexing. His veins popped, the blood pumping. His face turned red, the color flooding. His body trembled, the shakes running through him.

The statue didn’t move, the form still.

"See?" Lyra said, her voice flat. "It’s too heavy."

Brick Head didn’t answer, his silence speaking. He just kept pushing, his efforts relentless.

His face was turning purple, the color deepening. His veins were bulging, the pressure rising. His muscles were screaming, the pain intense.

The statue started to lean, the angle shifting.

Lyra’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating. "It’s moving!"

Brick Head screamed, his voice piercing. He pushed harder, his strength surging. The statue leaned further, the angle increasing. Further, the tilt growing. Further, the fall approaching.

Then it fell, the form collapsing.

It crashed into the fountain, the impact thunderous. The fountain shattered, the stone breaking. Water sprayed everywhere, the liquid flying. Stone crumbled, the debris scattering. Dust filled the air, the particles swirling.

Brick Head collapsed, his body dropping. He was breathing hard, the breath ragged. He was exhausted, his strength depleted. He was grinning, his expression triumphant.

"We did it!" he shouted, his voice loud. "We destroyed the dick statue!"

Lyra stared, her eyes fixed. At the rubble, the debris scattered. At the destruction, the fountain broken. At the empty space where the statue had been, the void visible.

She smiled, a real smile. A happy smile that lit up her face.

"We did it," she said, her voice soft.

Brick Head stood up, his body rising. He dusted himself off, his hands brushing. He looked at the destruction, his eyes moving. He looked at Lyra, his gaze meeting hers.

"We make a good team," he said, his voice warm.

Lyra nodded, her head bobbing. "Yeah. We do."

---

Then they heard it, the sound sudden.

Footsteps, the noise heavy. Many footsteps, the count high. Loud footsteps, the volume increasing. Angry footsteps, the intent clear.

They turned, their bodies spinning.

The mob was back, their forms emerging.

They were standing at the edge of the plaza, their numbers vast. Dozens of them, the count high. Maybe hundreds, the number uncertain. They were armed with sticks and stones and tools, their hands full. They were angry, their faces red. They were furious, their expressions twisted. They were out for blood, their intent clear.

And they were staring at Lyra and Brick Head, their eyes fixed.

"Heretics!" someone shouted, their voice high.

"Blasphemers!" another shouted, their voice sharp.

"They destroyed the statue!"

"They destroyed the Lord of Peace!"

"Kill them!"

"Kill them both!"

The mob charged, their bodies surging.

Lyra looked at Brick Head, her eyes meeting his. Brick Head looked at Lyra, his gaze meeting hers.

"Run?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

"Run," she confirmed, her voice firm.