As another sickening bang rang out, Grey was flung away, skidding across the dirt and landing near his knife. His fingers closed around the hilt, and he quickly concealed it. He rose to his feet, a grimacing smile on his face. The cultivator rushed at him again, but his speed had diminished; his movements were sluggish and telegraphed. Grey easily dodged the clumsy strike and moved in close.
Their bodies collided, and another loud bang rang out. The cultivator staggered backward, but Grey didn't let up. He charged forward, closing the distance in a single step. As the cultivator raised his hands to block, Grey's left hand shot out. The hidden knife plunged deep into the man's stomach.
A pained groan escaped the cultivator's lips, but it was cut short as Grey stabbed him again and again, a controlled fury in every motion. Blood sprayed across his face and clothes, but he paid it no mind. His eyes remained calm, cool, and detached. He kept stabbing until the man fell, a lifeless heap on the ground.
'I just killed a human…' The implications of the act finally sank in. A moment of stunned silence passed before his inner voice responded. 'He would have killed you first.' Grey couldn't argue. He had chosen to live. In this world, there was no other way. It was a cold, brutal calculus.
'But that still doesn't change the fact that I killed someone.' Strangely, his hands weren't shaking. His eyes were calm, his mind clear. He didn't feel a shred of remorse or triumph. 'That's weird.'
He stood up, his gaze sweeping over the scene, then knelt beside the body. He reached for the middle-aged scavenger's pouch and unslung it from his waist. The weight of it was a pleasant surprise; it was full of useful items. His eyes glittered with a predatory greed he hadn't known he possessed. Knowing the scent of blood would soon attract more dangerous creatures, he kept the pouch, leaving the body behind, and quickly left the area.
He decided to backtrack, returning to his dilapidated house as the sky began to darken. He used the remaining melted items to barricade the door again, then held his knife close, listening. The chilling howls of bizarre existences reached his ears. 'They had come.'
After nearly a week in the corroded zone, he had noticed their patterns: most came out at night. Only the truly terrifying creatures wandered freely, day or night. While he had yet to see a bizarre existence with his own eyes, the terrified screams of other creatures being hunted by them were sounds he would never forget.
He took a deep breath and began to cultivate silently. The decay point on his wrist, a mark left by the corrosive substance, was growing more painful. He could feel his skin melting, and even the simple act of looking at it made his eyes burn.
He was close to a breakthrough, nearing the fourth realm of Qi Condensation, but advancing here would usher in a torrent of the corrosive substance, which would force him to either die of the corrosion or mutate into a beast.
'As much as I'd like to break through, I can't. Doing so would mean death.' He needed a medicinal pill that could suppress the decay point from expanding. Luckily, the scavenger had two pills in his pouch. He held them in his hand; they were the size of normal medicinal pills, but they had black and brown spots, indicating impurities. He opened the container, a faint medicinal smell wafting from inside, and swallowed both. Minutes later, the burning pain in his wrist subsided. He sighed, his gaze lingering on the empty container.
At least he could make it out of the corroded zone before breaking through. The purple crystal in his chest had been a lifesaver, constantly neutralizing small amounts of the corrosive substance. With it, he could survive another day, maybe two. He was tempted to leave now, but his inner voice warned him. 'No, that's how you get yourself killed.' He could hold on for one more night.
A Voice in the Dark
A shrill, distorted moan resonated outside, a sound like a crying baby on the wind. It seemed to come from all directions, swirling around his broken house. Grey squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. He had learned from his limited experience that certain creatures could hurt you even without a direct visual.
The moan echoed again, this time seeming to come from right beside him. The sound of a newborn baby's wail was so convincing that he was tempted to open his eyes. But then, it suddenly stopped.
'Don't look, don't look. Don't, don't…' he repeated to himself.
"Don't look… don't look," a dry, hoarse voice whispered. Grey's breathing hitched. The voice was eerily familiar.
It was his own voice.
"Don't look… don't look." The voice was quiet for what seemed like an eternity before it spoke again. "Open your eyes…" Sometimes it was soft, sometimes commanding, and sometimes it pleaded. But Grey refused. His fear was a powerful shield, suppressing the urge to obey.
Then, a sudden, violent crash shattered the silence. The door to his hiding place was smashed inward. The miscellaneous items he had used to barricade it were scattered across the floor. A cold chill touched his cheek. He heard the sound of footsteps—not one or two, but a multitude. They walked toward him, a soft, rhythmic shuffle, then circled him.
Through it all, Grey kept his eyes tightly shut, his hands clamped over them. He desperately refused to peek. He was terrified. His hands were cold and trembling, shaking from both the fear and the bitter cold. The footsteps drew closer and closer until he was sure they were right in front of him.
"Open your eyes… Grey."
The voice was his own. And this time, he shivered.