*
A years and 2 days after The Great Disaster. The town was eerily quiet. After all, the rogue magical girl had just come by. The person claims to be someone that the townspeople know, and then mimicks their voice for the sick joy of it. It goes to mention that they have other... Sadistic tendencies.
Not even the low humming of the earth penetrates the veil of silence set upon the town. This was no coincidence, the rogue had set up some camouflaging magic with a skill of hers. Voice imitation that matched the prey's perception, and super wide area noise cancellation. It was a given that one of her skills had something to do with sound.
But even if they knew her abilities, they were all civilians in the end. Otherwise, they would have joined the Rising Knight Order that they respected. At that point in time, the only thing they could do was hide. It was like a game of cat and mouse... Except that the mice were starved and tempted to run out of hiding to procure food. There was no doubt that if they cluster and work together, the vicious monster of a magical girl outside could finish them all in one go.
Nothing was going their way, they barely survived on the scraps and stocks that they had gathered before the magical girl came. They were basically hostages. A visible despair took root in the faces of most people, their eyes sunken and their iris took on a lifeless hue. Not a single glimmer or sparkle exist within their view to breath life. Half of them had resigned themselves to their fate.
In this situation, Harald couldn't forge. The noise would attract the magical girl. It would be a suicide if he were to make a weapon under these circumstances. His heart took on an irregular beat, his chest heaving with no regard to rhyme nor rhythm. His facial hair had growned a slight stubble onto his chin, and his wrinkles formed from stress made him look a few decades older than his actual age.
His body felt dull, to conserve food as long as possible, he was seeing how long he could starve. His stomach began cramping on the second day, it was just minor cramps. But after a couple more days, they began to tear at his soul. Inner pain assaulted his guts, peeling away at his insides and tearing through his flesh. However that was still okay, he simply had to curl up at his hiding spot and stay still. He had grabbed some bread from his home to his hideout. He could wait until it got worse before worrying.
5th day, he got used to it. He was utterly repulsed by the fact that he had gotten used to the pain, though he was grateful to regain his mobility. He could no longer take it, so he ate a slice of bread anyway. He wonders how much longer he can last with the rest of the bread. It was only a little, and it practically did nothing to asuage his hunger. But he feels a little satisfied. He feels like he could endure another 5 days...
Day 7, he hasn't moved from his spot... There were more footsteps outside than usual, but he miscalculated. When he first endured 5 days of starvation, he had taken a full meal before then. As such, a single piece of bread wouldn't allow him to endure for another 5 days. It was proportionally smaller in size... He lost the energy to move. His face lay in the dirt and the sight of insects walking around him became commonplace.
No matter how much he willed himself... He wasn't a magical girl... He couldn't use magic to stimulate electric signals into the neurons in his limbs and muscles... He was stuck. Driven to a dead end by himself. With little to no energy, it was like asking a normal person to push a mountain. A magical girl could pull it off with their physical strength, but a normal person can't...
The meagre warmth he had gained from eating that one slice of breath faded away with its last embers. His thoughts were fuzzy, but his priority remained clear. He was getting cold yet he could not do anything about it. He reached out towards the remaining food... But his hand passes through it... A sense of weightlessness wraps around his body as he felt his body fall forward, he shut his eyes tight in anticipation.
Unable to feel the ground colliding with his body, he sheepishly opens his eyes to observe what actually happened... He didn't fall, in fact he didn't even reach his hand out to the remaining food, in the first place. It still layed by its side where it remained useless.
'Shit... I'm seeing things... And not being able to feel my hands doesn't help...'
He was vaguely aware that he was hallucinating but his mind was so exhausted by the hunger that he couldn't pinpoint the word itself nor understand fully what it meant. It was if he was staying partially afloat above the water, but never able to completely get out of the water. That was that state of his mind, stuck in a never ending fervour. He continues to struggle at its surface, reaching out with his arms at the sky, at the mercy of the elements.
"hurgh... Hurghhh.... Hurgh..." (Harald)
His tears have dried upon the 8th day, his throat makes as much noise as he could, doing his best to stimulate life. At the same time, he is expending energy... He has also long forgotten why he needed to make noise, only that he should. He tries his best to speak, but no sound comes out. So he is actively trying to scream, but only those dull groans were able to form and escape his lungs.
His skin was numb, his eyes were blood shot. His mental wellbeing was breaking down from the stress, his mouth gapes open and closes like a fish. Eventually... He stopped talking. He has a nice warm dream... Finding a partner, having a family, expanding the shop. Growing old with his loved ones. He imagined his children gathering around him as he picks them up and give them a shoulder ride. Boasting his broad shoulders, he laughs as he enjoys his time with his imaginary family.
Then comes the time where he has grandchildren, they gather around the table for his birthday. His wife had already left for the other side, no matter how much he squints he could never see her face clearly anyway. Only a blurry silhouette with no face. The children spread cheer as they run around the dining table with mischief and glee. He had never stopped looking forward. Despite The Great Disaster, he had never once given in to his fear.
Yes, he had avoided danger before, but that is out of prudence and not fear. Someone that never seemed to look back, at least... That was how he wanted to be like. That was his ideal, his proud Ness speaking on his behalf... Now his hubris led him into this situation. So after waking up from that delusion, he prayed out of desperation, not to anyone else, but to his own fate.
'I...'ll... Li...ve...! ' (Harald)
He wants to humour his hubris once more. After all, what is living without a little pride and some baseless confidence? That is hope. He will make it through, he didn't have to articulate it out in his mind. But for that one day, his body felt warmer than usual.
Day 8. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live. Live!
He had long forgotten the meaning of words, only that each time he told himself to live it would bring about a miniscule sense of satisfaction. With no other alternative... His mind broke. Like a broken record player, his mind harped on with no end in sight. His mouth hung open and his saliva mixed with the wet soil. He hid in a place with a shelter, so there wasn't much wind or rain, but it still felt chillingly cold for someone who was used to the comforts of human civilisation.
His environment had further festered as his lower half layed next to his excrements. Earlier on, he head reasoned with himself that the stench would better help with his camouflage. But honestly, it was unbearable. He felt like his olfactory senses was about to wither away from disgust and evaporate into dust. The only reason he could bare with it now... Was that he was so low on energy that the hunger pangs served as a larger distraction.
He could no longer feel the insects crawling all over his back and over his lips as well. His vision darkens by another shade every single day. Everyday was so quiet that he wasn't sure if his hearing ability had diminished or not. He couldn't see his body anymore, but he was sure that his body felt far lighter than before... His flesh must cling onto his bones and his cheeks sunken to his skull now, otherwise it wouldn't justify the agonising pain that is abusing his body everyday.
A small spot in the air flashes past his vision for an instant. It was hard to see as is, but he was certain that there were flies around now. Were they here to consume what's left of him? How much has he decomposed and to what extent has his corpse been eaten? He couldn't find out. He felt like a living corpse, his inner flesh felt like it was burning and melting, but it brought no warmth to the exterior of his body. Perhaps, the end was near, it's imminence evident from the flies buzzing around.
His thoughts were buried deeper into the ground than his potential grave, he stopped thinking altogether and merely focused on breathing. As long as he breathed, perhaps his circulation could keep going and he would gain some sort of reprieve... on the level of a microbe... The world was getting darker and darker, as if everything was closing in on his body and crushing it into a pulp. As if there was an end to the book that he calls the universe, it closes shut.
Day??
He opens his eyes.
A vivid paint shoots up his spine and permeates his entire being. It's unbearable, and he faints as a result.
Day???
He opens his eyes once more. He still feels weak and absolutely lacking of energy. He struggles to lift any of his limbs, but he takes note of his colourful vision. His sight had returned to full capacity. It was too blurry and momentary to see anything during the previous time he worked up. But now he could see more clearly. His eye fluids were trapped under his eyelids, making his vision blurry through its translucence... But he could be sure that his vision was no longer blacking out...
He had woken up in some kind of facility. That was his first conclusion after regaining some modicum of composure. His raised heartbeat had alerted the people managing the facility... But like a newborn, he couldn't stay awake for long. Under the newly appreciated comfort of the bedsheets, his eyelids felt heavy as they took away his vision once more.
Day????
He woke up again. His body felt more reinvigorated than the day before... But still not enough to lift his limbs. The nurses arrive promptly this time... And with odd accompaniment. Magical girls followed them as they arrive to check up on Harald. Harald simply looks on with a mix of puzzlement and desperation.
He didn't want to live this fickle life of only being awake for a few minutes per day. Oddly enough, he was somewhat aware of the passage of time, though it was disorienting enough. He couldn't be sure if a single day or a week had passed inbetween his sessions of being awaken.
"... Stable, patient shows ready signs of improvement. Waking up daily since 2 days ago. Dialogue should be possible soon." (Nurse)
The magical girls stared intently at his lifeless body, for a moment he regained a sense of shame while being stared so intensely by beautiful girls. More importantly... Why is there need for combat oriented magical girls in the hospital? It caused an itch at the back of his mind, but he couldn't see that itch clearly so it wasn't fully present in his awareness. Only a vague feeling of unease was there to indicate that there was some problem, it settled into his heart without anyone's notice.