The gunshot's echo reverberated across the island, followed by the thud of a lifeless body hitting the ground. The cannibal, whom I presumed was their leader, now lay dead amidst a pool of his own blood. The mingled scent of blood and gunpowder hung heavy in the air, refusing to dissipate.
You reap what you sow. If you believe you're an exception, then I'll embrace my role as the reaper—a relentless hunter, unyielding until the hunt concludes. If you're a monster, I'll take on the mantle of a demon that hunts monsters.
No matter your identity—pirate, cannibal, or outcast—I'm resolved to end your existence, drenching myself in the aftermath. A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, a rush of exhilaration accompanying thoughts of the lives I could extinguish.
*Wimper*
A sorrowful whimper snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts, and there stood Rex, gazing at me with eyes filled with sadness and concern. However, he wasn't alone—the survivors were also staring at me, mirroring the same look of look that I once held when faced with the cannibals. I let the gun fall from my grip onto the ground.
"Lu-Lucas," I managed to stammer, my voice quivering. Unconsciously, I found myself trying to reach out to the survivors, although I wasn't quite sure why.
As my gaze locked onto Lucas and I attempted to bridge the distance between us, he recoiled, taking a step back. His eyes reflected the same fear that I once felt, the fear of encountering something that is no longer a human.
*Woof Woof*
Rex's bark captured everyone's attention. In contrast to the others, he regarded me with the unwavering trust that had been present in his eyes from the day my brother brought him to my home. It was the same trust that helped me through my battles with PTSD and depression following my time in the NAVY. Overcome with emotion, I approached Rex and embraced him tightly.
"I'm sorry, buddy. I don't know what came over me," I whispered, my voice heavy with remorse.
"Everyone, let's leave this place. But before that, I need your help with something," I stated, looking at the group. They exchanged puzzled glances, and finally, Lara spoke up, her voice uncertain, "What do you want from us?"
…..
Several hours had passed, during which we scoured Mermaid's Veil, retrieving the remains of the individuals who had ventured into this world alongside us. Curiously, the cannibals hadn't consumed the heads of the deceased; instead, they had amassed them like grotesque trophies.
Out of the group of around thirty people who had arrived in this new realm, thirteen were men, including both Lucas and myself. Additionally, there were roughly ten women and seven children.
Among the women, five still remained under our protection. Tragically, two had been subjected to unimaginable horrors at the hands of the cannibals, meeting a fate I couldn't even bear to contemplate. The other three women had been sold into slavery, leaving me torn between the atrocities suffered by those who perished and the wretched existence faced by those who survived as commodities.
A total of eleven heads, including Captain Alex and John, lay before me. As I approached, I couldn't help but notice that John's lifeless face still held that horrifying expression, as if his head had become a nightmarish image etched into history.
Whenever I closed my eyes, the memories came rushing back—the piercing sound of John's scream, the acrid scent of burning flesh, the streams of blood flowing through the deserted island, the unsettling laughter of the cannibals, and my own helpless state, bound to a tree, watching from a distance as John was brutally decapitated. It was an unending nightmare that haunted my thoughts.
Amidst these distressing memories, I felt an unyielding urge to give them a proper burial, a gesture of respect akin to what I had done for Captain Francis and his fellow crew members. Though I knew I couldn't save everyone, I accepted that I was an ordinary individual, striving to survive in this world just like everyone else. While my past experience in the NAVY and my training might offer some advantages, their efficacy was greatly challenged in a world now populated by literal monsters.
I don't carry any guilt about letting John die; I understand that if I had tried to stop the cannibals then, it could have been my head here instead of John's.
Yet, it still pains me to witness the loss of a friend, even in our brief time together. That's why I felt compelled to express my gratitude to John for sacrificing his life in place of mine. His death ultimately secured my survival, and I'm determined not to let his sacrifice be in vain.
Hence, the least I can do for John is to ensure he has a fitting resting place for eternity. Inside the NS Scorpion, we found shovels, their metal cold against my grip, as I put them to use. We carefully broke wood from the cannibals' boats, a somber task but one that held a sense of purpose.
With the help of the cornstarch, we created white paint, a stark contrast to the grim surroundings, to inscribe their names onto the makeshift crosses. The names etched in paint seemed to hold a silent conversation of their own, a tribute to lives cut short and companions lost. It's a small gesture, but it's my way of honoring their memory and giving them a place to rest in this unfamiliar land.
Fortuitously, we managed to locate all thirteen names of the deceased. With heavy hearts, we began the solemn task of carving their names onto the crosses. Each stroke felt like a tribute to lives abruptly cut short. Once the names were etched, we gently laid their remains in their final resting places and closed the graves, careful not to disturb the peace they deserved. Their respective crosses were positioned with care, a symbolic farewell to those who had journeyed with us.
Staring at two of those crosses, I read the words 'Here lies Captain Alex Miller' and 'Here lies John Smith.' I paid my respects in silence, acknowledging the sacrifices they made and the path that led us here. The sun was beginning to ascend, casting its gentle light over the island, as if to honor the departed souls.
With our farewells complete, we made our way back to NS Scorpion. Fatigue hung heavily upon us, a weight of grief and exhaustion. Despite the emotional toll, we knew that resting was necessary for the challenges that lay ahead. Still, a palpable distance lingered among us, a gap that needed bridging.
In an attempt to offer solace, I guided my fellow survivors to the bunk beds in the crew quarters, ensuring they had a place to rest. As they settled in, I found myself in the Captain's quarters.
Exhausted, I lay down on the bed, the weight of the day's events pressing down on me. Strangely, sleep eluded me. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a storm of confusion. What had happened to me earlier? Why had I found myself smiling at the prospect of ending lives? The scent of blood and gunpowder had stirred something inside me, something I couldn't quite fathom.
This wasn't my first time taking lives. Back in my Navy days, each life I took weighed heavily on my conscience. Even if those lives belonged to the worst of humanity, I still felt the burden of their deaths. Yet, since arriving in this bewildering world, that weight had lifted. The remorse I once felt had transformed into something else entirely. It was as if this place had altered my perception of life and death.
The survivors' gaze had etched itself into my memory, reflecting the same fear and distrust that I once held for the cannibals and monstrous mermen. They saw me as a different kind of threat now, a potential monster. Strangely, I had reached out to them, a subconscious attempt to bridge the gap, to remind myself and them that I was still human.
As I pondered these questions, one certainty remained: Rex would stand by me regardless of the path I walked. He was a loyal companion, a constant reminder that I was still anchored to humanity.
Steeling myself, I rose from the bed and stood before the mirror that adorned the Captain's quarters. The reflection staring back at me was a mix of weariness and uncertainty. This world had changed me in ways I couldn't fully comprehend. The line between who I was and what this world demanded of me was becoming increasingly blurred.
What has this world done to me? Am I really becoming one of the Monsters of the World?
…..
In a dimly lit room adorned with countless books, a mysterious figure sat near a crackling fireplace. The room exuded an air of ancient knowledge and secrets, waiting to be unveiled.
"Ah… you are back," the figure spoke, its voice carrying an enigmatic timbre. "It's been some time since we last crossed paths. Do you wonder who I am? I lack a name or a place of origin. You can perceive me as a guide or a storyteller. I observe and weave narratives. I am the Puppet Master, leading you to experience the tales that unfold in our vast universe."
"No one knows this as of now, but today marked the birth of a legend—a tale of a man with one eye who never let go of his prey, relentlessly hunting them down no matter the odds. His unwavering companion, a hound drenched in the blood of its enemies, clutches an axe in its jaws, its eyes ablaze like a predator fixated on its prey. The hound guards its master, striking at the enemies' Achilles' heels and tendons, slowing them down, at times severing their very feet."
"Today heralds the dawn of One-eyed Reaper and his devoted companion, Bloody Rex. What lies ahead for our valiant Frankie and his steadfast Rex? Will he persist as a human or transform into a demon that hunts monsters? Only time holds the answer."
"This may be the beginning chapter of One-eyed Reaper and his loyal companion Bloody Rex but unfortunately this also marks the end of volume one, but please don't be disheartened, as I always say the end of one thing often paves the way for the creation of another."
"I hope to see you all on volume two"