Note: [This chapter is irrelevant to the story. You may choose to skip it and move onto the next chapter, if there is.]
[WARNING: This chapter depicts violence and contains gruesome scenes that may cause discomfort to the readers. Proceed with caution.]
***
Marco watched the girl vanish from his sight as she entered through the woods. He silently stood in front of the forest for several minutes before he exasperatedly sighed and hopped on his motorbike.
The young man took a last glance at the silent sanctuary that he accidentally found. Somberness strangely filled his heart. He shrugged it off and ignited the engine, roaring within the silence of the place.
Under the faint illumination of the crimson moonlight seeping through the gloomy clouds, the lone figure drove off, at last, tracking the road by the cliff. The sea reflected the shade of the night, its depth mystifying.
"Ah… It's cold." Marco shuddered as he fought against the frosty night breeze.
After a few minutes of driving within the cold smog, he got a glimpse of the silhouette of signage at last. His heart thumped, and he accelerated his driving speed. Upon nearing, he noticed that the signage was made out of stone, and there were conspicuous damages and cracks, along with withered vines enveloping it.
Marco stopped and angled the headlight of his motorbike towards the landmark before hopping off. Although illuminated by the motorbike, the signage was still engulfed by the darkness. He approached it and started peeling off some withered vines to see what was written on the slab of stone.
Bit by bit, he could make out a few engravings. Marco got thrilled and pulled the chunk of several vines on the center. The engravings were now entirely visible.
"Arcadia," Marco read in a whisper.
'Well, that's a fitting name.'
Marco remembered the sanctuary he came from. 'I looked like a heavenly paradise, indeed.'
Although the signage was open, he could only read the large engraving and couldn't comprehend the small writings that looked like scrawls and were damaged with cracks.
The young man hopped back on his motorbike and continued his journey to the heart of the town of Arcadia.
Marco didn't notice how several soul fires circled the signage, and the vines started enveloping the landmark all over again, hiding the words engraved on it. The fog became denser and seemingly swallowed the path from the world.
He continued driving and wondered why the town was unusually quiet for such an hour. The place was silent, and there weren't any people loitering on the streets. Each house passing was neither big nor extravagant and had a few distances away from each other.
Marco parked his motorbike right in front of a convenience store. It was the only establishment open. He stormed inside the store with one hand in his pocket and the other gripping the strap of his bag.
As soon as he entered, his head started throbbing, and his vision became unclear. Marco held onto his forehead. The frosty air assaulted him; it was worse than the sea breeze earlier, and there was an indistinct smell wafting the air. The atmosphere felt heavy, and he felt like he was sinking in a quicksand.
'I've had enough for today.'
Marco grimaced at the sudden pang on his head and tried massaging his temples to ease the pain. He got dizzy and almost lost his balance if not for the table supporting his weight. It was aching so much that it felt nauseating.
'Fuck! It hurts like hell!' He willed himself to walk with a blurry vision and pulled the nearest bottled water from a fridge.
"I'll pay for this," Marco quickly said. He didn't wait for a response and chugged down the bottle.
Although Marco could sense the cashier eyeing him across the counter, he did not put it into mind. After a couple of minutes, his headache felt lighter, and his vision returned to its normal state.
The young man roamed the establishment and stopped on the displayed easy to cook foods. The sight of it made his stomach grumble and made weird scorching sounds.
"Oh, right… I haven't eaten," Marco mumbled to himself. "Maybe that was the reason why I got dizzy. Well, other than being worn out."
The lad did not feel embarrassed when his empty stomach growled. It made him cringe. He picked a few goods before heading to the counter.
A young-looking man was manning over the cash register. He wasn't wearing a uniform or even a name tag and clad in loose black clothes. He was languidly sitting on a stool, listlessly resting his head on the palm of his hand on the countertop. His long raven-colored hair was disheveled and covered the upper half of his face.
Marco waved his hand over the face of the other man, who seemed not to notice him. He didn't get any response, and Marco wondered if he could even see with such long strands of hair blocking his eyesight.
He puffed his cheeks, a little annoyed yet on the verge of laughing. He doesn't know why.
"Hey, mate. Do you mind?" The hungry lad knocked and pushed his items on the counter, trying to catch the attention of the detached and aloof man.
The man snapped his head towards him and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He grudgingly stood up and spat, "I heard you. Shut up."
Marco couldn't see his eyes, but he could sense the glare passing through the black locks. The unseen gaze was terrifying, the atmosphere getting heavier one more time, it's getting harder to breathe, and it was suffocating.
"Well… Ain't ye rude," he mocked, hiding his trepidation towards the man.
"This is your purchase," the man pushed the goods over the counter. He was oozing a cold temperament.
Marco was about to say thanks when that chilling voice cut him short.
"No refund. Don't come back."
Marco was flabbergasted. His reaction was written all over his face as he cock an eyebrow.
The cashier ignored him and brought out an ancient-looking book from somewhere.
'Is he a magician? That book just appeared out of thin air,' Marco thought, impressed.
Marco grew curious of what the gloomy lad was reading so leaned a little closer. He didn't know if it's because he was looking from a different angle, but he couldn't understand any word or even characters of the letters. All he saw were scrawls all over the page.
He stared at the aloof man, then back to the book just as the man turned to the next page. His eyes widened when he saw his name written on it.
Marco blinked a few times, closed his eyes for a good three seconds before peeking at the book once again. All he saw were scrawls and incoherent writings, his name nowhere to be found.
The young man sighed, 'Maybe I was just imagining it.'
'Is that really an ancient book, or is the content just in a different language?' Marco wondered, 'Can he even understand that?'
Marco didn't prod anymore and went to have his meal. He immediately took a bite of the burger once he settled on a seat. His face distorted at the taste.
The young man immediately pulled the plastic bag and spat out the burger in his mouth. He pukes his heart out till his throat is sore.
'It tastes awful,' Marco disappointedly thought. He wiped the excess red stain of sauce from his lips.
He grimaced at the food in his hand, then glanced at the counter with a scowl on his face, especially directed to the man in black.
"No refund," he grumbled to himself. Marco scoffed, "How utterly smart."
Marco directed his attention back to the food. He lifted the upper bun and separated the rest with the use of the wrapper.
The patty looked unsightly; it was a slice of thick minced meat covered in a dark crimson of moist sauce. It gave a foul smell that irked the young man's nose. The sauce was oddly red and thick like it was made of blood mixed with whatever there was to make it soggy.
Marco's face distorted in disgust. He stuffed the disembogued burger back in the plastic wrapper, sealed it securely with knots, and made sure to keep it from the world.
'Being hungry wasn't so bad than eating this burger shit.' Marco set aside the food unhappily.
The young lad rested his head on his palm while the other met his forehead, massaging it a little. He heaved a sigh, lamenting his current predicament.
Marco sighed once again that seemed to harbor the misery of the world. He shifted his head to look outside the window, and his eyes caught something that made his heart jump in a fret.
He came to where he parked his motorcycle and stopped a few meters away from it, dumbfounded when he saw a man running his fingers on it. The ragged-looking man was even sniffing his seat, left side brake, and throttle like a rabid dog.
'Shit, another weird dude,' Marco was weirded out by the man. 'Let's get him away from EM, first.'
He cleared his throat loud enough for the old man to hear him.
"Excuse me. I don't mean to be rude, but that right there is my bike, Sir," Marco reluctantly added at the end. It was an offhanded remark, sarcasm, and irritation apparent in his voice.
"You got a pretty good bike, boy." The man's voice was raspy and deep, which perfectly fits with his huge physique.
Under the flickering lamppost from his back, the strange man's shadow loomed over the asphalt flooring of the parking lot. It merged with the shadow of the bike, creating a silhouette of a Viking riding a bull.
It caught Marco's attention before he felt a sizzling gaze dart at him as if to bore a hole on his head. He warily looked at the stranger keenly eyeing him from head to toe, as if inspecting his insides.
"Holy shit! It's fucking creepy as fuck!' Marco internally screamed.
Although the stranger was standing on a dimly lit area, the little light the lamppost produced let him see that the stranger was a middle-aged man with a mustache covering his mouth. The stranger was a few inches taller than him and had a well-toned body. His blonde-brown hair was messy with the ragged cap on.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, kid. I just adore the whole…" The stranger's intense stare met his eyes, left it quivering as the old man averted his gaze and gestured towards the bike, "This."
Marco stiffed for a second, heaved a sigh, and relaxed his tensed posture.
He squinted his eyes, dumbfounded, 'The old man was too energetic, ecstatic, for the freezing night.'
Marco let the old man ogle at his motorbike. He leaned on a nearby car with soiled tires and specks of dust on the lower fraction. He trailed his eyes on the convenience store, the only one other than the flickering lamppost that's lighting the quiet street.
As he looked at it, he couldn't see a trace of the man on the counter earlier. The stool was left unmoving with no one on it.
'Maybe it's because of the angle. Or the lad left to somewhere, much probably,' Marco convinced himself.
He averted his gaze, pocketing his concern to himself, and looked towards the old man. There wasn't much to see. It was rather unpleasant at the lack of manner with the lingering fingers on the tank of the bike and the inhuman sniffing.
Marco cringed, both in bewilderment and disgust. He raised his head and absorbed his surroundings for proper grounding.
The cold night wind blew, making a few fallen golden leaves swirl in the air. The street was empty, devoid of people and silence enveloped the surroundings. Even the convenience store seemed distant. The flickering light on the lamppost dimmed down, and it wholly dies thrice longer than its usual pace before lighting up again. Only the faint rustlings of leaves could be heard in the fleeting darkness.
Marco quietly shivered at that and pondered to himself, "I should really put on something for this weather. It's still early autumn, so why is it so cold in this town?"
The stranger chuckled after seeing the lean young man shivering. He stood up from his crouching position and reached out for something in his pocket.
"I'm heading home, kid." He made an overall look at the lost young lad and then grinned. "You should too."
Marco was taken aback by that. His emotions were all over the place. He felt like his heart was stuck in his throat. It was getting harder for him to breathe.
'There's no home,' a shaky voice whispered in his mind.
His eyes widened for a second at the thought that crossed his mind before gradually returning to its lifeless demeanor.
"There's no home…" Marco whispered to nothingness.