I staggered, every nerve screaming in pain, yet I pressed on—I pressed on. Bones cracked, blood trickled from my nose, and yet here I was. Michael—the very definition of inhuman perseverance.
Step after step, I moved through this twisted place, thoughts running through every possible calculation and decision. Of course, this was no ordinary landscape. No, I knew exactly what I was in—I'd studied every known piece of knowledge just to understand humanity deeper, to dissect the logic (or lack thereof) in their choices. I stopped, sighed, "So out of all places, Emox had to throw us into a monster ground. Wonderful." This was a level-one Monster Ground, maybe, but that still meant anything from level one to level five monsters. And without any evaluation yet, none of us had even claimed a rank.
Looking at my current condition, I knew what I needed to do. Strength, after all, is the only currency that matters here. If I die today, my father could have another son. Elizabeth would find another distraction. And yet, I was still alive. Delusional, Michael.
For nearly ten kilometers, I'd dragged myself forward. Now, I bent down, unpacking what scraps I'd picked up for makeshift repairs. A leaf to pinch and reposition my nose with a sharp twist. I gritted my teeth. For my leg, I needed something quicker; I used a stick as a splint, tied tightly. As for my back, that was a minor misalignment at most. I took a wooden plank, calculated the angle, climbed a nearby tree, and jumped—my spine slammed into the plank with a crack. Pain flared as I bit down hard enough to draw blood, but there was no time to waste. I don't have time to waste; my life is short, my time is short. I can wait, but they can't.
I ran, picking up speed, pushing to around 30 mph and orienting west—the sun would set there first, ideal for shelter. By nightfall, I planned to circle east, where the sun would rise, to avoid night battles. I was clocking 40 mph now, focused entirely on my goal.
A sudden splat jolted me to a halt. I'd left the trees for a stretch of desert-like ground, and there, draped over a rock, a body—still oozing blood. Someone had been launched into that stone like a ragdoll, but from what? I had to pass through here. No choice.
I dropped into a launch position, muscles tensed. In 0.1 seconds, a shadow flitted across my vision—a heartbeat later, I spun to dodge. Another shadow; another dodge. No time to think, only survive.
"Stop it, you'll ruin my beautiful toy!" My head nearly exploded. That voice. Her voice. Impossible. I'd driven my blade right through her skull.
Michael, I almost imploded at the sight of her: the short, dark-skinned, sickly sweet tormentor, grinning at me like she'd found her next plaything. "Michael!" She beamed, "Did you think I'd die so easily? Come now, let's make babies, populate the world together, Michael!"
I nearly choked on air. Why is it that the one I want has no time for me, but this absolute menace wants to "extract my holy juice"?
"Michael, don't you have an answer?" Her face flushed, and she practically shivered, "Just remember the name of your future mistress—Mone."
God, what a world. Heaven above, take me now, I prayed. Her eyes glowed a sickening pink as she dropped to her knees, chanting, "Ability: Cupid's Inverse." The ground trembled, and out of the earth crawled worm-like monsters, each clutching a heart-shaped arrow. Their eyes—her eyes—leered at me with the same hungry malice.
I took it all in. Worms at unpredictable speeds, armed with arrows to turn me into her puppet. I didn't have a choice. I'd have to knock her out. I grinned. No, I laughed. My eyes went wide, my pulse quickened. I was going to enjoy this massacre.
"NOME!" I called out. She trembled, "Yes, Michael?"
"You want me?" Her head bobbed, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
I launched, a knife glinting in my hand, aimed dead for her. "Then die," I shouted, "I don't want you! You're not Eli!"