Steve saw.
This time, he saw everything.
The man before him was no longer hidden by the cloak or the tent's shadow. The moon illuminated the exposed face, human... or what remained of it. The skin still had form, still resembled someone alive, but the mouth — the mouth was wrong.
The lips were torn, retracted backward like dead flesh. Teeth exposed, darkened, some broken. The gums seemed rotted, black at the edges, as if something had gnawed from the inside out. A thick thread of saliva mixed with blood dripped slowly down the chin.
Steve felt his stomach turn.
He took a step back.
Then another.
His hands trembled without control. His entire body sweated despite the night's cold. His heart beat so hard it muffled the distant sound of the forest. Every instinct screamed danger.
— W-who... — his voice failed. He swallowed hard. — Who are you? — he asked, almost begging. — What do you want with me?
The man tilted his head slightly.
The skin on his face began to contract.
Steve watched, horrified, as small fissures appeared around the mouth, like cracks in dry clay. The jaw cracked. The eyes lost their human gleam, becoming opaque, dead. The smell changed — grew stronger, more putrid.
— That... — the voice came out dragged, thick, distorted — ...no longer matters.
The man's body began to tremble.
It wasn't a shiver from cold. It was convulsion. Bones cracked under the skin. The neck elongated at an impossible angle. The spine arched with a dry snap, and Steve heard something tear inside his body.
Then the transformation ended.
There was no longer a man there.
The creature before Steve was a complete undead. Grayish skin, empty eyes, mouth open drooling dark blood. There was no expression, no reason — only hunger.
Steve broke.
He turned and ran.
His legs moved in pure desperation. He bolted through the village, passing between straw houses, barrels, extinguished fires. His breathing burned in his lungs. Behind him, an inhuman sound echoed.
A growl.
Heavy.
The Abject entered fury.
The creature ran after him with awkward but too-fast movements. There was no hesitation, no fear — only the blind need to reach him.
Steve threw whatever he found along the way: a wooden bench, a basket, a stone. Nothing stopped it. The objects hit the creature's body and fell, useless.
— Help! — Steve screamed, his voice tearing through the night.
Then, a metallic sound cut through the air.
Ding—ding—ding!
A bell.
— Abject alert! — someone shouted. — Abject alert!
Lights began to appear in the houses. Doors opened. Inhabitants awakened, rushing out, some armed, others just watching. The entire village awakened to horror.
Steve ran a few more meters.
His foot slipped on a stone.
The world spun.
He fell hard, air being ripped from his lungs. He rolled onto his back and saw.
The Abject was on top of him.
Mouth open, drooling blood, the putrid smell invading everything. The creature fell on Steve, teeth snapping centimeters from his face.
Steve screamed.
An arrow cut through the air.
THOCK.
It embedded right in the center of the creature's forehead.
The undead's body fell heavy on Steve, motionless.
For a second, everything went silent.
Steve pushed the body aside, gasping, heart racing. Sweat ran down his face, mixed with dirt and blood. He looked at the fallen creature, alert, too tense to relax.
— It's over... — he murmured, trying to convince himself.
Then the body moved.
The Abject's eyes opened.
The creature rose at once, too fast, blood gushing from its forehead. An inhuman roar escaped the destroyed mouth, and it lunged at Steve again.
Without thinking, Steve grabbed something on the ground.
Bread.
He shoved it forcefully inside the creature's open mouth.
The Abject bit anyway, trying to reach his face. Drool, blood and flesh remnants splattered on Steve, dripping down his clothes and skin.
— Get off! Get off! — Steve screamed, using all his strength to hold on.
Two spears cut through the air.
One pierced the creature's stomach.
The other perforated the forehead again, making blood explode everywhere, covering Steve completely.
The Abject was thrown away, falling to the ground and thrashing uncontrollably.
Then the leader appeared.
Sword in hand.
Without saying a word, he advanced and, with a single precise strike, decapitated the creature.
The body stopped.
Silence fell heavy.
The inhabitants watched. Some with empty expressions. Others cried silently.
An older woman broke through the crowd, screaming. She fell to her knees beside the headless body, hugging it tightly.
— My son... my son... — she cried, desperate.
Steve stood still, covered in blood, the bread still crushed in his trembling hand.
Not understanding.
Unable to breathe properly.
And feeling, for the first time, something much worse than fear.
Doubt.
---
Steve walked back to the room as if his body were on autopilot.
The village resumed an artificial, forced silence. People dispersed slowly, without murmurs, without questions, without prolonged looks. They just obeyed. As if that scene — the Abject, the blood, the mother's crying — was something... too common to deserve reaction.
Steve looked back one last time.
He saw the leader kneeling beside the decapitated body, holding the crying woman. He spoke something low, inaudible, while with his other hand he closed the dead eyes of the young man who had become a monster. The gesture was careful. Respectful.
But Steve felt a chill.
That didn't seem like mercy.
It seemed like ritual.
He turned his face and entered the room.
Closed the door.
The smell of blood was still on him. Even after cleaning his face with water, the odor seemed stuck to his skin, impregnated in his pores. He lay on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. His heart took a while to slow down.
Abject.
The word echoed in his mind.
"He was human."
"He had a mother."
Steve closed his eyes.
He slept poorly.
Dreamed of mouths opening. Of teeth. Of chewing.
When he woke up, the sun was already high.
For a moment, he thought everything had been delirium. But then he moved — and felt it.
His body... was different.
Steve sat up slowly.
He expected pain. Expected stabs, stiffness, the weight of the forest wounds. But what he felt was the opposite. The muscles responded better. His chest rose more easily. The arm that could barely lift before now moved firmly.
He frowned.
— ...What?
He got out of bed.
Flexed his fingers. Rotated his shoulders. Took a few steps. No sharp pain. No collapse. The wounds were still there, covered by bandages, but his body seemed... more whole.
— This doesn't make sense... — he murmured.
He looked at his own abdomen. Breathed deeply. Didn't feel the burning he remembered from the night before. On the contrary — there was a strange sensation of solidity, as if something were reorganizing inside.
Steve swallowed hard.
— I should be worse... not better.
Moved by a strange impulse — almost nervous — he positioned himself in front of a small metal mirror hanging on the wall. Observed his own body. The posture. The natural tension of muscles.
He tried a pose.
Then another.
Flexed his arm, like he'd seen in videos in the real world. The muscle responded. It wasn't huge, but it was more defined. Firmer than he remembered.
— Okay... this is officially weird — he said, letting out a short, incredulous laugh. — Did I become an adventurer now?
That's when the door opened.
Steve almost jumped back.
— AH—!
The leader was there.
Standing in the doorway, silent as always. His calm gaze rested directly on Steve... still shirtless... in the middle of a completely ridiculous pose.
The silence lasted one second longer than necessary.
Steve felt his face burn.
— I-I can explain — he blurted out, lowering his arm too quickly.
The leader tilted his head slightly.
— It's not necessary — he said, with a serene voice. — I see you recover quickly.
Steve cleared his throat, embarrassed.
— I... also found that strange.
The leader entered the room and closed the door behind him. He approached unhurriedly and sat on a wooden bench. The environment seemed to become heavier with his presence.
— About last night — the man began —, it wasn't something you should have seen.
Steve felt his stomach tighten.
— That man... — he said. — He was one of you, wasn't he?
The leader didn't respond immediately.
His hand slowly rose to the veil covering the lower part of his face. His fingers stayed there for a moment, as if pondering something.
— This village exists to serve the Goddess of the Forest — he said. — Not everyone who lives here can bear the weight of that.
Steve felt a cold rise up his spine.
— What happens to them?
The leader looked directly into his eyes.
Then pulled the veil down.
Steve held his breath.
The face still had human features. The nose. The structure. But the mouth...
The mouth was dead.
Lips retracted, grayish flesh, exposed and irregular teeth. The surrounding skin dark, rotted. It was the same deformation. The same horror.
The same fate.
Steve took a step back without realizing it.
— ...You... — his voice failed. — You're like him.
The leader smiled.
Or something close to it.
— No — he responded calmly. — I just still control myself.
Steve felt his heart accelerate again.
And for the first time since arriving in that world, he was absolutely certain of one thing:
He hadn't been saved.
He had been accepted.