'I'm alive?'
The first thing that came to mind after refusing death to enter my doorstep was this.
I've endured six gunshot wounds—five to the chest and one to the head. Any ordinary person, like myself, would have succumbed if they didn't protect themselves.
'But, I'm alive?'
"Are you deaf?"
As if a warning to align my thoughts, the chilling voice spoke again, unmistakably emphasizing the demand for a response.
I turned around to look at this 'figure'.
Clad in a worn, dark brown robe, the figure is obscured in shadow, rendering their face indiscernible. Despite a thorough examination, no facial features were discernible.
I was momentarily lost for words.
"Can you repeat the ques—"
The cloaked individual didn't permit me to complete my sentence before vanishing from their position. However, I had already initiated my technique before engaging in any conversation with them.
Solely relying on my instinct, I blocked an attack coming from the back of my head.
Pak—
The punch from the cloaked individual proved more lethal than the force of ten Lupires combined, the sensation of bones breaking in response.
"Fuck!"
Yet, such details paled in significance, for the realization at the moment was that I was alive and kicking!
But was that it?
Bang—!
Due to the swiftness and destructiveness of the cloaked individual's punch, I found myself unable to react to their subsequent move—a powerful kick to the side. It sent me flying off the bed, landing harshly on the wooden trunk outside, forcibly expelling me from my current abode.
'This intense strength… Just who—no, wait. That's unimportant now. I have to remember his question since I'm still in a daze earlier…'
After thinking for about three seconds, my mind instantly refreshed, and remembered his question earlier.
-Hey, did someone send you?
Surveying the surroundings of the 'area' I found myself in, my lips instinctively pursed in disbelief, as the realization dawned upon me that this was a familiar place.
'Swamps?'
Suddenly, the cloaked individual gets out from the hole in the destroyed hut that he made himself.
"Wait a moment! To answer your question, I wasn't sent by anyone!"
The cloaked individual appeared to have ceased their pursuit, but before this enigmatic figure could entertain any peculiar notions, I reinforced my assertion.
"You seem to be the person who cured me, for that, I'm eternally grateful." I halted, "You see me with those gunshots, right? I mean, if we're taking it logically, whoever is chasing you through me when I was supposedly dead through those shots, it wouldn't make sense right?"
The figure which I couldn't discern what it was thinking, seemed to have calmed down as his shoulders and feet were relaxed.
"It makes sense."
"Right?"
"But I just want to beat you first."
"Eh?"
You just want to beat me up?
Give me a fucking break!!
The cloaked figure poised for action once more, while I, in contrast, gently caressed my chest, feeling no pain. However, my sense of unease grew as I struggled to comprehend the unfolding scene.
I looked down and saw no gun wounds.
I experienced a renewed sense of vitality, as if the wounds were mere figments of imagination. Yet, I remained acutely aware that the injuries I had sustained were undeniably real.
For them to disappear like that…
'Just who is this person—'
Soon, I got beat up for no reason and was thrashed around like a wooden doll where you get practice around.
I did as I could but this figure… is insanely fast. Even faster than Lupire!
I lose consciousness in just a couple of blows.
It was only after a few hours that I had awoken once more, this time, I was right outside of the ragged hut which was somehow made by someone inexperienced.
Though, I find this treatment unfair since I didn't exactly do anything wrong.
But I had to know something. If this is the way to get your attention, I'll be a bastard as much as you want.
"Hey! You have your fun on me, huh!? I'm grateful for you but how could you recklessly beat someone up when facts are already on your front?! Fucking think! Who is sane enough to shoot themselves in the head and chest just to send at you?! I said I don't know you!"
The first day of badmouthing this guy started.
"You piece of shit!? Why don't we go for a round two, huh!? Are you willing to fight!? Well, technically, I don't want to but do you play chess!? Let's see who is smarter then."
The third day came and I continued badmouthing the figure inside the hut.
"You ugly figure!"
Even though I didn't recognize his face.
"You fucking fat fucker!"
Even though this seems to be discrimination, his shape seems to be robust and refined.
"You thought you were mysterious because you have a robe!? Dream on, it looks like you are a fucking groomer!"
It's been two weeks since it kept going like this and no matter what, the figure didn't budge on my snarky remarks even though they are low level.
I can do much more than this, but it would be already too rude since he was also my benefactor.
But I can't leave this place without information!
And after I left here, I've already set plans for how I will carry out my actions from now.
"Hahhh…"
After enduring an hour of relentless nagging and shouting, I pivoted on my heels and departed from the scene.
I couldn't be deterred, knowing I would return to fulfill my purpose. Time was on my side, and patience would be my ally. No need for concerns; this task would be accomplished in due time.
Clank—!
Before proceeding any further, a sound reminiscent of shattering glass echoed within the confines of the hut, instantly jolting me into a state of heightened alertness.
"Sir Figure?"
Receiving no response, a common occurrence in our interactions, I quickly sprinted toward the hole where he had thrashed me about, noticing that he had never taken the effort to repair the damage.
The reason I never sneak a peek inside was because a punch might be thrown at me which is different now.
"Sir!"
My eyes widened slightly as I beheld the cloaked figure, the very one who had inflicted a beating upon me, now appearing remarkably frail. Slumped on the ground, he trembled, desperately reaching out for something beyond my immediate sight.
Leaping through the hole, I landed beside the frail figure who was reaching for a covered flask. Without hesitation, I retrieved it and extended my hand, offering the flask to him.
Instantly, he started shaking his head and avoiding making contact with me.
"I'm trying to help…"
"Not that! Just don't touch me…!"
In a suppressed tone, the cloaked figure erupted in a shout, diverting his attention towards the table, which appeared to serve as the cooking area within the hut.
Vaguely understanding what this figure meant, I stood up and another surprise dawned upon me once more.
'This…'
On the table, an exotic purple, slimy substance caught my eye, accompanied by an array of other liquids, each boasting a distinct and vibrant color.
Elsewhere on the table, containers housing what seemed like body parts were haphazardly covered and submerged in water. Initially repulsed, I couldn't shake the notion that this might be the lair of a deranged serial killer fixated on human anatomy.
However, as I examined more closely...
'This is not it.'
These are Horror parts.
"Pick a… pot and put the purple substance right away. The parts I will be mentioning… put everything on the pot and mix it when I say so."
"All right!'
With a short cough, the figure continued, "Get that blue tongue with spores and a bloodshot eye. Next, spin it for about ten seconds. When you are done with it, grab a container that contains tar on your human language and put it on blue leaves from the third container amongst the plants I have in there. Spin it once more. This time, about a minute."
'God damn, this is too disgusting.'
Despite providing a set of instructions, the figure didn't cease his actions. In brief intervals, he paused, strategically preventing himself from taking deep breaths.
"Up next, grabbed a container that looked like a kidney, intestines, and heart. Be extra careful about them. Once you are done, mix the yellowish acid and start mixing them, this time, swiftly. For a minute, that's all you're going to do."
'Kidney, intestines, heart. Fuck, this yellow acid smells awful.'
As my face contorted intermittently, grappling with the hideous nature of the tasks at hand, my hands mechanically moved toward the specified items that needed to be mixed in the pot.
"Lastly, there is a worm in one container just right beside the liquid substances. It looked like red and blue in color. Throw it into the pot and start mixing. If you start to see that it's going white, bring the pot to me. Be careful about the worm, it's hostile and might try to bite you."
'Why say it now!'
My hand hovered just before reaching the reddish-blue worm, hesitating momentarily.
The urgency of the situation struck me—if I didn't act, the cloaked figure might perish, taking vital information with him. Suppressing my aversion, I forged ahead, determined to secure the details I sought.
I don't want to get stuck here!
Grabbing the worm, urging myself not to puke, I threw it at the pot and started mixing using the available ladle.
I relentlessly mixed the concoction as if my life depended on it, and a change in the color of the pot signaled a crucial transformation. Initially purple, then shifting to yellow, the final hue settled on a pristine white.
Seeing this, I was even tempted to drink this… if not for the fact that it was made by those body parts, those slimy and liquid substances, and a worm.
Once done, I touched the pot but it was fucking hot even though no heat was applied.
In search of a pot holder, I clicked my tongue in frustration and seized a ragged robe hanging precariously from the root of the line just beneath the hut's ceiling. Using it as an improvised holder, I carefully lifted the pot.
"Here! Drink it now!"
As the cloaked figure reached out for the pot, my gaze inadvertently focused on his brown skin, revealing intricate green lines that seemed perilous upon closer inspection.
He avoided touching me at all cause.
Then, he sat down and gulped down the whole pot using his two hands and I merely watched it with blank eyes.
'I still couldn't see his face.'
Despite facing my direction, the cloaked figure skillfully concealed his face, leaving me uncertain whether it was a technique or an inherent power. Patiently, I waited, curious about the enigma before me.
"Pwuah…"
Once he was done, the figure looked in my direction.
"…"
"…"
I kept staring at that darkness in that robe while he could see my face.
"What?"
"Huh?"
"What are you doing here? Get out. I saved your life, and you saved mine. If we put it that way, we're quits now."
"…"
A simple thanks should suffice as a starting point in our conversation. Regardless of being a Horror, acknowledging when someone has saved your life is a basic courtesy!
But not right now!
I will not get out.
Thumping my head on the ground, I shouted.
"Please listen to me first, senior!"
"…"
"I want to know where I am and how long has it been since I've been lying in unconsciousness! I-I want to know how I'm alive!"
With a pleading voice, I waited for a response.
"What's the point?"
"…"
"By the looks of it, you are betrayed. Why bother coming back?"
Reluctance grips me, urging me to resist a return, yet the sorrowful emotion that has carved a piece of me refuses to be overshadowed by fear.
The deaths of my comrade, commander, and captain weigh heavily on my heart.
"If I don't come back, I might lose my sanity…"