It had been a long time since I last saw the sun before the mission in Rifoyd village. The world was so bright, people bustling about carrying their shopping or simply walking, meeting one another on the busy streets. Horse-drawn carriages passed between them, adding to the clamor of the crowded city.
Couples smiled at each other, looking harmonious amidst the bone-chilling air. Nearly the end of the year, and my exhalations formed small puffs of vapor in front of my face. The thick jacket I wore did little to combat the cold of the day. This kingdom never saw snow, but the piercing cold could freeze anything it touched.
The heavy rain kept pouring, making the streets muddy and slippery. Footsteps had to be careful, while notice boards plastered with papers containing news hung along the streets. People stopped for a moment, reading, discussing the scattered news.
"Did you read the news? Rifoyd village suddenly vanished without a trace, even the troops sent by the King haven't returned after five days," their voices rang out clearly, forcing me to stop in front of a clothing store.
"Does Rifoyd village even exist? From the beginning, the kingdom's map didn't include that area, even though it's very remote. Even a building deep in the forest that's long abandoned wouldn't be on the map. A village, even remote, should be big enough. So why does that forest building exist, but not this village?"
"Hey, don't be wrong. Maybe the witches discovered the place in the forest; after all, they like brewing potions there," someone else interjected.
"That's true," another said.
"Besides, the kingdom's map follows maps from hundreds of years ago," that voice added, increasing my confusion. Instantly, I realized this might be the reason the captain and Liam covered up yesterday's mission. But why would they hide something like this?
Liam didn't seem to be lying when he said he couldn't remember what happened during the Rifoyd village mission, when I myself was unconscious. He returned after a long disappearance, bringing a different appearance. His blonde hair now looked different, his expression heavier, and the aura emanating from his body made my hair stand on end. Something had clearly happened to him.
Then what about the captain? Why is the captain hiding the truth? I, who participated in that mission, should have the right to know the results. The curiosity building in my chest spread throughout my body.
'I guess that's because you think too far ahead,' a voice suddenly sounded, low but piercing my consciousness. My heart raced wildly, my vision blurred, then filled with deep red, just like when the wild spirit gripped my neck with such torturous power, holding my breath and life in a single grasp.
The world spun, it felt as if I were standing in an upside-down space, gravity itself seemingly frozen. My head felt like it was splitting, the pressure at the top suffocating my chest, pain piercing from within my bones to the surface of my skin.
What's happening? The pain was so piercing. I gently pressed the throbbing side of my head, a weak groan slipping from my lips.
"Arghh…" The scene before me wavered, as if the whole world were alive, moving wildly without rules. My eyes focused sharply back on the moment at the Rifoyd village inn. Liam, with his same blonde hair as before, fell from the inn's second floor. His body crashed below, impaled precisely on a plant that had grown into a sharp cone. His body was surrounded by level-one spirits, the small creatures horribly tearing apart every piece of flesh that touched them.
Blood splattered everywhere, gushing like a dark fountain covering the wooden floor. Flesh tore, veins and muscles unraveled, and the sound of ripping mixed with eerie chants and screams of pain echoed in my head like a never-ending resonance.
A drop of blood fell on my face, hot and sticky, soaking my temples and entering my eyes until my vision blurred further. The sound of dripping water mixed with splashes of blood erupting from Liam's body, resonated in my head, forming a terrifying yet mesmerizing symphony of death.
The world spun backward rapidly, the clock ticking loudly in my ears, each beat resonating in my ribs, making my whole body tremble.
And somehow, my consciousness was dragged back to the present reality. I looked around, seeing the same inn, the smell of wet wood and dim candlelight still lingering. Liam sat there, relaxed but with an annoying expression, smiling with a mixture of calm and tension. He was teasing the older sister who worked at the inn; she laughed lightly, her face flushed, her wavy hair stirred by the candlelight.
Wait… am I really back here? No, the world around me remained the same, familiar, but the sensation clinging to my body—the smell of blood, the burning pain, and the echo of those spirits' screams—still lingered, like a nightmare embedded in every nerve. All of it… I couldn't shake it from my head, even as my gaze stretched toward the smiling Liam, my whole body still trembling.
"What were you doing there?" His voice shattered my confusion and fear, sharp and mocking. I stared at him, my heart racing, the lingering pain from that memory flowing into every limb. His face clear, blonde, the same as before I lost consciousness, yet the aura he now radiated was colder, heavier, almost demanding submission.
I swallowed, my vision blurred, the blood still warm on my skin seemingly vibrating with my nearly uncontrollable heartbeat. Every memory, every detail of blood, flesh being torn, and the wild spirits ripping Liam's body apart in Rifoyd, spun in my mind like an endless cycle, forming a deafening fear.
I stood rigid, unable to avert my gaze from the figure who should be a senior and brother, yet the aura of death surrounding him made me realize what I saw wasn't merely a memory.
The strange feeling continued to envelop me, as if something was wrong but I couldn't explain it. My body still trembled, my heart racing too fast, and my mind felt tossed between reality and illusion. What I just saw, what I just experienced… was it truly the past, or merely a prophecy thrown in front of me as a shadow of the future? I turned back, trying to find the village chief, the figure I had just seen walking away quickly, but… he was gone. No trace, no sign of his presence.
Unconsciously, I ran after him. My feet nearly dragged from the fatigue lingering from the previous journey, but I didn't care. My breath was ragged, chest pounding, and sweat dripped from my temples.
"Peter!" Liam shouted, his voice cutting through the air, sounding annoyed and panicked, indicating he was surprised to see me suddenly darting out like this.
But my mind was still confused. Where was that man? Where was the village chief? How could he move so fast and disappear from sight just like that? I glanced around. The sun was still overhead, its rays piercing my skin, heat different from yesterday when I last remembered this inn. At that time, the sun was nearly setting, the sky red, and long shadows covered the streets. But now… everything seemed reversed, or rather, time seemed to move differently, not following any logic I could comprehend.
The village chief's footprints had vanished as well, leaving me in a piercing silence. The wind carried the scent of dust and earth, but no sign of anyone's presence. The silence made my body even more uneasy, as if every second created invisible pressure.
A tap on my shoulder suddenly startled me. Liam stood beside me, looking annoyed, his eyes staring sharply at me. "What are you doing? Damn, why did you run out like that? And why did my energy drain so fast just from a short run?!" he grumbled, his voice heavy and trembling from anger and exhaustion.
I stared at him, fatigue taking full control of my body. True, Liam and I had run from the far end of the inn to the front door, but it felt… my body was already destroyed. Sweat soaked my entire back, lungs burning, and every step added unbearable weight.
Liam let out a frustrated hiss, quickly drawing his sword and pulling it sharply. I instinctively felt my waist, my heart nearly stopping, the skin on my neck cold. My sword… gone. Vanished as if taken by something invisible, a force silently stealing without me being able to see or feel it. The longer I stood, the more heat pressed on my head, the invisible weight piling on my shoulders, pressing on my chest as if the whole world were atop my head.
"Where did you last see it?" Liam asked in a calmer tone, but every word pierced my consciousness. The village chief, his traces, his whereabouts… all blurry in my mind, faint and confusing. I tried to recall, gathering the scattered remnants of memory before finally guiding Liam to Grandmother Carte's house, where the village chief should have returned. But… the uncertainty kept piercing me. It felt like chasing a shadow, pursuing something always moving faster than human capability.
My body trembled, cold sweat on my temples, and each step emphasized that I was just a small dot in an uncertain whirlpool of time, a space not fixed, and something always one step ahead, waiting to swallow my fear and doubt entirely.
Each step felt heavier, as if the ground resisted my feet from moving. The weight descended slowly, pressing my shoulders, back, and neck, making me want to stop and close my eyes. But I looked up just to be sure, and indeed… something hung in the sky, floating directly above this village. Its shape like a giant disc, reddish-black, reflecting sunlight in an unnatural way. Its edges pulsed like living flesh, stretching to form a curved dome enclosing the entire village. A sealed space. A prison.
Liam followed my gaze upward slowly. No words from him. Silent, though his expression tense. His eyes reflected the disc, like seeing a huge monster bowing toward us from above.
"No wonder it's so hot," Liam finally muttered. His voice heavy, as if forcibly pulled from his throat. "A level-six spirit is roaming here. Binding the space. Blocking anyone from entering or leaving. In short… we're in an invisible prison from the outside, but vast inside."
Level-six spirit…?
Liam chuckled lightly, but the tone sounded more like someone realizing how bad the situation truly was. He gripped his sword tighter, fingers whitening. "Damn. I'm not sure I can fight them all. Even though it seems easy, this isn't truly safe."
He pulled off his coat and threw it at me. The coat landed on my chest, heavy and warm, as if still holding the heat of his body. I stared at it, confused. For what?
"Chase the village chief," he said briefly, his eyes never leaving me. "I'll find out who's controlling this space."
Then he turned without waiting. Without explaining the coat. Without giving time to ask. In seconds, his body shot forward, running swiftly through the empty village streets. His blonde hair whipped by the wind, then vanished behind the rows of houses.
I stood frozen, breath ragged. His coat still in my grasp. My heart… no longer racing like before. Calm. Even too calm. As if my fear was crushed by something unseen.
Was that… the future? Or a warning? Or something forcing me to see the worst possibility?
I remembered clearly Liam falling from the inn's second floor, his body impaled on a cone-shaped plant, flesh torn by level-one spirits, blood spraying to the floor, bones exposed like forcibly blooming flowers. That image still stuck to my retina.
But now… I wasn't afraid.
Rather… it felt comforting. A strange chill crept slowly from my spine, like something hugging me from within. The sensation muted the sounds around me.
No. Focus, Peter.
Chase the village chief. As long as Liam hasn't fought, as long as this space hasn't collapsed, as long as the disc remains still in the sky… I have to move. I must find him before everything happens as in my memory. Before Liam's body falls again. Before his blood flows and floods the village ground.
I took a deep breath, gripping the coat tighter, then started running.
Grandmother Carte's gate was tightly locked. Even breaking it down was extremely difficult. Groans echoed from inside, making me hit the iron door harder until the thuds reverberated throughout the yard. Fear surged again in an instant, even though I had felt so at ease moments ago.
What's really happening? It feels like something inside me resists all this, rekindling a strong fear, as if preventing me from falling into the lurking madness.
"Grandma, are you inside? Please open the door!" I shouted while continuing to pound on the iron door.
Damn… there hadn't been such a thick gate or door before.
Think, Peter.
What can open this door quickly? Injured or not doesn't matter; I'm just worried about Grandmother Carte, because the groaning continues to seep out, piercing my ears with unnatural anguish.
If only everything in this world would obey her, maybe it would all be over in seconds.
A soft click sounded. Cold air wafted from the gap in the suddenly opened iron door. I was startled, almost stepping back in fear.
Inside… it was very dark. Cold. Too contrasting with where I stood now, like the boundary between two different worlds.
I forced myself to step forward, ignoring the fear making my legs weak and difficult to move. I approached the sliding door inside, from where the loud croak came.
I held my breath when I saw something behind it, a figure resembling a human, but its back was swollen like a camel's hump, covered with oozing pus-filled wounds. Its clothes were so tattered I didn't even know how to describe them.
My eyes trembled as I looked up at the ceiling. Many heads hung there, swaying slowly. Maggots crawled across the floor, mingling with the stench and thick blood.
And among it all… I saw Grandmother Carte's face, wide open, rolling on the floor without a body.
The stench of blood thickened, clinging to my throat, making the air inside the room feel heavy, almost unbreathable. Every inhalation felt like pouring warm iron into my lungs. The floor was slippery from the mixture of blood, pus, and wriggling maggots, producing disgusting squelching sounds every time my foot moved slightly.
The wild spirit, its back swollen like a meat sack ready to explode, moved slowly. Its shoulders rose and fell, breathing harshly like a bloodthirsty animal. From behind its head, I could see traces of red dripping from its mouth, running down its chin, falling to the floor, creating ever-expanding dark circles.
Crack… snap… KRAAAK.
The sound of bones being crushed. Broken. Chewed.
The spirit was eating. Literally chewing a living human—more precisely, the remains of Grandmother Carte.
Every time its jaw closed, tiny white shards flew like broken pottery. Bones. I knew they were bones. The smell of marrow mixed with blood made my stomach rise to my throat. I closed my mouth, but the metallic taste lingered.
The pieces of her hands… I saw them clearly. Skin peeled away, muscles torn, fingers still bent stiffly as if trying to cling to the life that remained. The spirit tore her flesh with slow, deliberate movements, savoring it like a man enjoying roasted meat.
My stomach churned, not just from disgust, but from a strange, powerful sense of déjà vu. This scene…
I had seen something like this before. But when?
Pain spread through my head as if someone pressed my skull from the inside.
"What should I do…?" I whispered softly, almost inaudible.
Go to Liam?
Run?
Call for help?
There was no reasonable choice.
Especially with the echo of the gate earlier still pounding in my mind, tightly sealed as if it never intended to let anyone out.
I forced myself to look back. The motion alone made my whole body stiff, as if my bones had frozen. And there…
Someone stood upright, as if they had been there all along.
They…
They wore my face.
No, not exactly my face—more like my brother's. Dim eyes, half-open lips, a gaze cold enough to erase the concept of humanity. But still… disturbingly familiar.
"Enjoying the show?"
The voice pierced directly into my skull—bypassing my ears entirely.
Not a voice… but pressure.
My head throbbed as if struck by a heavy object from inside. My vision split, the room distorted, my body felt both weightless and heavy at the same time. It was as if my brain wanted to escape my skull.
The wave of pain felt wet.
Alive.
As if its voice were clawing at the inside of my head.
The spirit…
The one imitating my brother.
Its smile widened, the skin on its cheek cracking slightly to reveal dark flesh beneath.
And somehow, I was more afraid of that smile than the wild spirit devouring Grandmother Carte.
"Have you remembered now, Peter…?"
Its voice was so close it felt like it was pressed directly against my ear. Its breath was cold, like night air touching damp skin. My whole body shivered, and a reflexive panic made me stumble backward, hands raised as if ready to fight.
But the wild spirit did not move to chase me.
It simply stood there… its grin stretching wider, as if its mouth were made of melting wax. Red liquid dripped from the corners, staining the floor.
Its eyes were not merely black, but like two bottomless voids capable of swallowing sight.
Then it laughed.
A laugh that pierced straight into my skull.
It felt as if unseen hands grabbed my brain and twisted it slowly. My legs nearly gave out as my body staggered uncontrollably. It laughed again and again, eyes narrowing like inverted crescents. The laughter was too loud yet too inhumanly distant.
At that moment, heavy footsteps echoed behind me, and I realized.
There was another spirit in the room.
A spirit with a massive, swollen back like a living pus sack.
I turned for only a fraction of a second, enough to see its body moving impossibly close.
And without warning, its claw, long as a bread knife, slashed toward me.
Just one strike.
But the pain made me want to vomit my guts.
My skin split open, and thick black smoke rose from the wound, filling the air with the smell of burning flesh. I watched my own flesh melt at the edges.
"ARGHH!" I screamed, voice hoarse and panicked.
My body leapt backward, staggering until my back hit the wall. But the wall…
Was wet.
Not with water.
More like… crushed flesh.
Something warm, soft, and faintly pulsing.
When my palm touched it, I felt a texture like slippery, slimy human skin—but tough. Pink fluid oozed from between, dripping onto my fingers. The stench of rot made my head throb.
I looked up quickly and saw the wall 'breathing,' rising and falling slowly, like a massive organ pressed into place as a barrier.
"Peter…"
The imitation of my brother's face called again.
Its tone was soft.
Too soft.
Like someone caressing their prey before killing.
"Have you remembered?"
It grinned wider, the mouth stretching nearly to its ear.
Remember… what?
What did it mean?
Why appear after months of disappearance, just to ask something I couldn't comprehend? What should I remember? What had been erased from my mind, or removed from me?
The questions collided in my thoughts, making my chest tighten.
Tears fell… but not clear.
They were deep red, streaming from the corners of my eyes like blood filtered directly from vessels behind the retina. Each drop burned like red-hot iron on my cheeks. The flesh on my skin still burned where the claw had touched, the smell filling the room with scorched fat and melting skin.
My heart…
Ah, my heart felt crushed from within.
So strong I felt my ribs could break any second.
The pain was so pure, so raw, I could almost picture the grim reaper bowing over me now, waiting. Watching.
My vision blurred.
"Someone… help me…" I whispered, not knowing to whom.
The spirit with the massive back moved fast.
Faster than anything I could imagine with my half-conscious mind.
Its face was not a face, but a maw like a forcibly blooming flower. Flesh peeled back, the petals lined with long, sharp teeth moving like insect jaws. Its breath smelled of rotting flesh soaked in acid.
My body froze in terror.
Its huge hands gripped my neck tightly, so tight I heard cartilage in my throat crack. My breath stopped instantly.
My back felt wetter… red fluid seeped more from the wall, soaking my jacket. My black coat now felt like it had been dunked in warm blood. Or was it? The thought vanished under a new wave of pain.
I saw it.
Its claws moved slowly… approaching…
The sharp tips aimed straight at my face.
Too late to close my eyes.
In an instant—
darkness.
I saw nothing.
No light.
Only darkness pressing in like thick liquid filling an empty void.
I tried to scream.
No sound came out.
My throat was still gripped tightly, my vocal cords trapped between its fingers. My lungs ran out of oxygen as my chest pumped pain, my body forcing air that could not enter.
And my ears…
Burning.
Burning hot, as if something melted inside them.
Fluid poured out, running along my jawline. The warm liquid dripped down my neck, making my skin throb.
Everything suddenly became…
empty.
Void.
As if my body fell into darkness with no bottom.
Consciousness was pulled from me like someone snuffing a candle.
Cold.
Dark.
Silent.
---
Heartbeat monitor beeps… beeps… sounded so slow, almost giving up. The room was filled with the chaos of people in white uniforms, faces tense, panicked, confused.
A man with emerald green eyes stood frozen, cold sweat running down his temples. His gaze fixed on the body on the bed, shaking slightly.
"Doctor, what should we do? His condition is… getting stranger every day…" a female nurse's voice trembled, filling the room with silent fear.
The chief doctor took a deep breath, staring at the monitor whose line occasionally dipped dangerously.
"There's nothing more we can do… Even with all the equipment, his heartbeat only weakens. Every time we try to stabilize him, his body reacts like…"
"Just do what you usually do."
Finally, the emerald-eyed man spoke. His voice was soft but firm… and desperate.
"Don't push his body further. I don't think… he can endure all this."
The monitor slowed even more.
Beep…
…
Beep…
---
Peter's body fell hard to the ground, gasping for air before finally stopping entirely. His heart exploded inside, leaping like a decaying organ too quickly.
The massive-backed spirit crouched before Peter with jerky, crippled movements. With a single violent pull, it tore Peter's head from his body, snapping bones and veins in one brutal motion. Blood sprayed into the air in long arcs, falling like warm red rain.
"####… ####…"
The creature spoke in broken language even other spirits couldn't understand.
It lifted Peter's head, still dripping fresh blood. Its long tongue slithered out, licking the blood from the neck cavity as if savoring the metallic taste. Slurp… slurp… filled the air like a starving beast.
Satisfied, the creature threw the head against the nearest wall.
CRASH!
Bones shattered. The wall cracked from the impact.
The large creature crawled backward, shaking violently. It approached the spirit resembling Peter's brother, as if begging for help or release.
But its body began to change.
Bumps appeared on its skin, inflating like flesh balloons filled with red fluid. One by one they burst—
POP!
CRACK!
BLAM!
—spraying organs and blood in all directions like rotting fireworks igniting from within itself.
The "Peter's brother" spirit only stood watching, his dark smile unbroken despite blood and flesh fragments splattering his face.
It was as if this was only the beginning of something finally awakening.
The dark eyes of the spirit resembling Peter's brother stared sharply at the lower-level spirit, which was now almost formless. The spirit whispered weakly, pleading… help… help… but no mercy appeared in his brother's expression.
He only watched. Silent. Cold.
The lower-level creature's body erupted again, this time from the back.
SPLAAAT!!
Hot pus sprayed into the air like a newly erupted volcano. The yellowish fluid oozed like rotten lava, softening the ground beneath like wet meat.
The creature still crawled, though its body was now a bloody rag. Its filthy hands grasped for the shoes of Peter's brother, clawing desperately—
SCRAAAK– SCRAAAK– SCRAAAK!
Scratch after scratch, the leather peeled, the sound filling the room like nails scraping a blackboard.
Its movements slowed… weakened… until it stopped completely. Its body collapsed into a lump of liquid flesh, emitting a stench that burned the throat.
Peter's brother spirit didn't care. He didn't even look back.
Something far more interesting now happened behind him.
Peter's head, which had been thrown against the wall, rolled back toward his body on its own. Neither rushed nor slow, as if pulled by an invisible force. From the torn neck, red threads of veins, tendons, and flesh started crawling, reconnecting the head to the body.
Crck… crck… crck…
The sound of bones being forced back into place.
His brother's spirit raised an eyebrow, for the first time truly intrigued.
"So… this is your ability?" he murmured softly.
"Regeneration? Refusing death even when your body is completely destroyed… interesting."
Peter rose… or tried to rise. His head wasn't fully attached yet; it hung beside his elongated neck like a pear tied with thin veins.
Even so
Peter's body moved.
Even with his eyes closed, even though his soul wasn't awake, his hands lifted.
The blood flooding the floor quivered… gathered… then began to rise as if sucked by unnatural force. The red liquid spiraled around his arm, spinning like a small tornado before solidifying, forming a sword of solid blood still dripping fresh fluid.
Drip… drip… drip…
The spirit resembling Peter's brother grinned widely, his lips tearing toward his cheek.
"Ohhh… now the game gets more interesting."