He woke up abruptly.
The many years he spent under the siege of the apocalypse allowed him to be as attentive as possible, even in his deep sleep. The senses sharpened by the extreme pressure of survival rendered him extraordinarily sensitive to his surroundings, prompting him to react unreservedly, particularly during instances wherein his death is highly plausible.
For example, he could feel a threat coming from behind him this time.
The body, which had been resting still as if it were a corpse, suddenly flashed its eyes open. Without missing a beat, the head jerked swiftly to the right, just in time for a gleaming piece of sharp metal to slide through the soft, padded fabric.
Two orbs of beautiful green emerald eyes widened in shock upon seeing the glistening weapon, reflecting an image he wasn't familiar with. The blade was barely a few inches away from his neck and would most likely stab him in the head if he moved any slower.
It's a very close call!
A terrifying chill radiated from the cold metal, leaving him utterly breathless, as if draining his blood from his body system. He could sense the murderous intent expressed by the weapon. It was so overwhelming to the point of feeling a tingling sensation of something cold slithering up on his back. Goosebumps filled his whole body as he subconsciously inched away from the blade.
Before the blade was withdrawn, there was an unmistakable sound of tongue clicking. Though, as if the person wielding the weapon couldn't believe they'd missed the target, they wiggled the blade around to see whether the person was nearby. Only after feeling no flesh or blood did the blade entirely draw out, leaving an opening large enough for an eye to peer through.
But he never dared to look at it, afraid that he would see something sinister.
The image of a dagger piercing his bedding and almost severing his head in half is enough to keep him awake all night; what if he sees another horrifying sight that would likely cause him to pass out in an instant?
It's not a great time to faint, or else the next time he opens his eyes, he will surely find himself in the afterlife again to meet the Old Lady Meng Po brewing her tea. Although he liked the ambiance that place had, he was not interested in dying once more.
At least, not after a few seconds of receiving his new life.
His thoughts did not stray around for so long as the second assault came by. The killer, or the assassin, whoever it was, was plainly upset to not see blood, since it began stabbing around the same area like a madman, just a few inches from where he was sleeping. It was much more ferocious this time, as though he was making sure that just one stab would be enough to kill him.
The well-dressed, white-haired individual rolled over to evade the poking blade, but a portion of his clothes was scratched by the weapon. The assassin, feeling that faint touch, enthusiastically pushed the knife through. He was caught off guard by the unexpected position and was unable to prevent his head from knocking against the solid ground.
The pain seized the back of his head instantly, black spots cropping up in his sight. His body writhed up in reflex while both of his hands hugged his head in a hiss. However, as if fate wasn't bad enough, it did not let him recover. The killing intent he could feel ever since he woke up shot up more aggressively, subconsciously making his insides quiver.
His instincts were telling him to run.
Despite the dizzying ache in his head, he forced himself to carry out. He reached out to the spot where he had been before falling and supported himself to stand. The soft couch, which should be regarded as exquisite and expensive, is now riddled with holes that are both unnerving and terrifying.
Actually, the assassin is still stabbing the location as if it were playing whack-a-mole in reverse.
"What the fuc-" is his only reaction after seeing it.
Sweat dripped from his brow, making him thankful that he had awoken just in time. He would have been beaten into mincemeat by this heinous assassin if he had woken any time later. Just looking at the holes bored by the blade is enough to make anyone's blood drain.
The assassin must have noticed the change in movement in the area since it ceased stabbing, leaving behind a work of art that everyone would agree is quite unsettling. They apparently changed their course to ambush him from a new point. He strained his eyes open to attentively scan his surroundings, while his ears perked up to listen for movement.
The cushioned seats and short drapes stretched over the square glass windows showed him that he was inside a carriage. The entire area looked warm and inviting, with a fancy-looking glass bulb flickering despite the lack of wind. He was perhaps resting since he was rolled up in a thick blanket surrounded by pillows.
He was taken aback by the grandeur of the setting. It does not appear to be from the modern era. The materials chosen are also clearly of excellent quality, implying that they were very expensive. Even the hole-ridden couch retained its radiance, as if to remind him that it is of excellent quality.
His gaze was drawn to the glass window, which had a section exposed. He saw a reflection in the dark night of an individual who looked like a young man wearing garish clothes. The image was blurry, but the shoulder-length, silvery-white hair and emerald green eyes stood out against the person's features.
He made a gesture toward himself. The person in the mirror followed his actions. He was about to ask himself if it was him when another face materialized from his reflection. It wasn't a complete face since the person was covering the upper half of their face with some black cloth, leaving two holes to expose their crimson bloodshot eyes, which are enough to note that the person is here to slaughter.
The assassin wrenched the door open. It's not giving him a chance to fight back. Fortunately, his response time did not fail him, as he immediately grabbed the handle and hoisted it inside. It had devolved into a tug-of-war.
However, he could not contest with the assassin, who obviously had greater strength. He had shifted his position to gain leverage, but it had little effect on his ability to fight back. In every inch he amassed, the assassin would garner double. And probably, because of this body's physique that looks weak and delicate, the difference is getting more distinct.
The door made creaking noises, strained by the two forces stressing it in opposite directions. The gap between the door opening was getting wider and wider until he could see the assassin's foot trying to squeeze into the gap. Once the entire leg entered the door, it would be his end.
But he did not feel discouraged. He might now have enough strength to parry the enemy, but there should be a way to counterattack. The carriage is bare of any weapons, not even any sharp-edged objects that he could use for stabbing. Everything in this small room screamed nothing but spoiled comfort to ensure someone's satisfaction.
What could he do to make the assassin go away?
The glass window separating them was thin. He could see, despite the flickering candlelight, the cunning grin of the assassin. There were no words exchanged between them, but he could tell that the assassin was just playing with him, like a mouse caught in a cheese trap.
Does he really have a chance to escape?
If it was the previous soul, of course not. There's no chance that a spoiled and arrogant young master could have the capability of overthrowing the assassin. Heck, it was already a miracle that the white-haired prince stood up after all those attacks.
But he is a different soul. He is someone who has survived an apocalypse. In such a situation, he will not be an easy prey.
He smiled. The assassin suddenly felt fear.
The prince forcefully yanked the curtains covering the glass window, exposing the dark surroundings and the night sky. With much effort, he wrapped the curtain hastily around his fair and flawless hand and made a fist.
He did not wait for any signal and just punched right through the thin glass with all the strength he had and easily shattered it. The assassin widened its eyes as it backed off to avoid the debris.
Everyone was alerted by the loud noise. The silence of the night is suddenly broken by the sounds of people yelling. There were clashes and people rushing about. The words were muffled, but he could tell from the clamor that they were confronting the assassin.
With no one pulling from the outside, the door was forced to shut. The sudden loss of support hurled the white-haired individual to the other side of the carriage. The momentum dragged him quite heavily, resulting in some sprains and fractures. If it weren't so noisy outside, anyone would probably hear something cumbersome falling.
A groan escaped from his lips, his back and brows drenched in sweat. He tried to move his injured body, adjusting his position so he was sitting upright, trying to ease the pain in his sides. He had long forgotten the same pain as before, not after he had learned how to run away from the beasts and monsters chasing him all the time.
'Was I this vulnerable before?' Of course, not.
Julian Moore is not a person who easily gets injured.
During the apocalypse, getting wounded and earning injuries is almost equivalent to having a death sentence. It's common knowledge in the apocalypse that's why it is better to get tired than to get injured. He never thought he would experience such a thing again.
It's probably this body that is weak.
He has been trying to adjust his breathing to relieve his loud, thrashing heart. There is no use in figuring out too much, and he should just accept his predicament wholly. It wasn't the same as in his previous world, where death was a common event. While he was contemplating these topics, something weird suddenly happened.
A blue, translucent screen materialized in front of him out of nowhere.
It's similar to the holographic features in games where the user can view their character's status or inventory. However, he wasn't seeing anything of those either. Instead, a loading cursor appeared together with a string of words.
"Distress Progress bar?" He read.
The loading cursor ended a few seconds after loading the screen with a new interface. The words 「Distress Progress Bar」 were minimized and placed on the upper left corner of the translucent interface, overlapping the square border outlines on the edges. An image of a familiar loading bar appeared in the center, with its gauge almost filled.
It is almost filled since at the end of the progress bar is a numerical representation showing 「99.98%」-- there remains a 0.02-point difference to get the perfect score.
"What is this? What does it mean?"
The translucent screen seemed to have heard his question as it buzzed lightly, creating a glitch in the interface, minimizing the progress bar, but still large enough to be seen. Words appeared one by one below the progress bar, answering his questions.
"The Distress Progress Bar is a system that estimates its host's current danger level. The danger level means the probability of dying..."
"Fck-"
He was not able to finish reading the next phrases because he was hauled forward. He could still hear the clashing of swords from within the carriage. As to why there were swords instead of guns, he had some gist. The Old Lady Meng Po did not tell him where he would be reincarnated, but it's a possibility that it would not be the same as his previous world.
This world is not a modern world. Perhaps, something that resembles eighteenth-century Europe, where there was a significant movement of enlightenment. It might not have the same historical significance as the Earth he was from, but it could have similarities, like having royalties reigning over countries and empires.
And by the looks of it, he seems to have been born into an affluent family. And that made him confused. The Old Lady Meng Po said that he would be born unlucky because of the cursed die toss he made.
Yet, he seems to be part of a wealthy family. How is that being unlucky?
The brief break he had managed to get was cut short when the carriage he was riding began to move. The three horses tied up front neighed loudly before running after a loud smack on their side. The prince was then pulled by the force.
After all, there are no seatbelts to keep him in place.